The thorn caught the skin at the base of Oscar’s nail. He swore softly, and pulled his hand back from the rose bush to suck on the wound.
The injury would have been prevented by the wearing of gloves, but that was not Oscar’s way. He preferred to work with his plants with his bare hands.
He loved his garden, and spent many hours weeding, watering, and trimming the leaves just-so. He’d given names to some of the older plants. It was Diana that had just cut him.
“I shall have to be more careful,” he told himself quietly. Standing up, he shivered as he caught the early-morning breeze. “Much more careful, indeed,” he said as he walked slowly back into the house.
He returned a short time later with a bandage on his finger. He crouched down in front of Diana, and studied the flowers intensely.
“Now, where were we, dear?” he asked as he began his work again.
He clipped delicately at one brown leaf and then another. “There we go. That’s much better,” he said.
It would be a long time before he was finished. And then he would shift his attention to Victoria.