The Light Through the Leaves

by Vanderah, Glendy

  She had time to make only one planter. The garden shop was busy for a Monday morning. She helped a customer select ten shrubs to make a privacy barrier and loaded them into her pickup. She discussed different kinds of bamboo with another customer. A woman using a cane asked for help pulling her cart around the lot as she selected annuals.

  At noon, she took time to eat lunch because the shipment would arrive soon. She sat in her usual place at the picnic bench beneath a huge live oak behind the garden shop building. Ellis loved it back there. There was a small trickling pond—one of four the owners had built to display water plants—and the space was bordered with blooming azaleas in the spring and camellias in the autumn and winter. The large shrubs provided complete privacy because they were planted thirty years before by Ruth and Anne, the two sisters who owned Southern Roots Garden Shop and Nursery.

  Ruth entered the employee garden while Ellis was eating the second half of her sandwich.

  “Is the truck here?” Ellis asked.

  “Not yet.” The white-haired woman limped to the other side of the bench and sat down. “I have some news. We have a buyer.”

  Ellis set down the sandwich.

  “Yeah, I know,” Ruth said.

  “When would it change over?” Ellis asked.

  “Not sure. But before it’s final, I’ll ask you once more: Are you sure you don’t want to find a partner and buy it?”

  “I can’t. I think I’m going to buy that place out in the country. There’s no way I could afford both.”

  “This is the place you looked at last Friday?”

  Ellis nodded. “Twenty-eight acres with an old house and barn.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  “The house is a shack and a fair portion is wetland.”

  “And you still want to buy it?”

  “It’s gorgeous. Huge live oaks, old pastures with wildflowers, and even a cattail marsh. You should see it.”

  Ruth smiled.

  “I’m hoping I can get the price down. The seller is the granddaughter of the former owners. She lives in LA, and she’s been trying to sell it for four years.”

  “Be careful. A property that’s been on the market that long must have problems.”

  “I know what the main problem is. The house is basically unlivable.”

  Ruth looked alarmed. “And you’d still buy it?”

  “I need somewhere to live. Both my roommates are finishing their doctorates and leaving soon. I don’t want to live in town anyway.”

  “But where would you live if the house is that bad?”

  “It’s livable enough for me. I’m used to camping.”

  “Are you sure the house is worth fixing?”

  “I’m going to bring Max out there after work today and see what she thinks.”

  “That makes me feel better,” Ruth said. “She’ll tell you straight.”

  “If she thinks it can work, I’m going to ask her if she wants to hire on to do some of the labor.”

  “Great idea!” Ruth said. “Anne and I have been worried about her. If the new owners won’t let her stay on here, I don’t know where she’d get a job. She’s been with us for twelve years.”

  “She could get a job anywhere. She’s a brilliant carpenter.”

  “I know, but why do you think she works here instead of with a contractor? No one would hire her. The communication situation was seen as a problem.”

  “Well, their loss.”

  “It is. I bet she’d love fixing up a house.”

  Ellis hadn’t intended to talk to Ruth about her idea yet, but it burst out before she could stop herself. “Do you think she’d have any interest in running a plant business?”

  “There’s no way she can buy this place. She and her father are barely holding on.”

  “I didn’t mean Southern Roots,” Ellis said. “I’m thinking . . .”

  It was all so unlikely. But it was a goal. A dream. The first she’d had in years.

  “I’m thinking of starting a native plant nursery on the property.”

  “Ellis!” was all Ruth could say.

  “You’ve seen how everyone comes in here asking for natives. They’re growing in popularity.”

  “But our bread and butter is the nonnatives.”

  “I know. But gardeners are becoming more ecologically conscious. Even the big landscape companies are doing natives.”

  “You’d be out in the country. Who would drive that far to buy plants?”

  “People who really want native plants. I’ve seen them. I’ve talked to them. I think this area is ripe for natives.”

  Ruth grinned. “Damn, I wish you could buy this place. You haven’t been here two years and look at you! You could easily take over.”

  “Thanks to you and Anne. You’ve been great teachers. How is Anne doing?”

  “Not good. They say she needs another surgery.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ellis said.

  Ruth nodded and patted Ellis’s hand. “I like this idea you have. I’ll help you with it as much as I can. I want you to quit work early today and show that house to Maxine.”

  “What if it gets busy?”

  “This is more important.”

  Three hours later, Ellis left in her SUV, Max following in her old pickup. The property was rural but only about thirty minutes from Gainesville. The old cattle gate at the entrance was open when they arrived. The real estate agent was already there.

  Ellis drove slowly down the winding gravel road that led to the house. Her reaction was as intense as it had been on Friday. As she drove under the huge moss-draped oaks, cabbage palms, and loblolly pines, she felt giddy with need for the place. It was wild like Wild Wood, like the mountain forests she’d camped in, yet wholly different. Nowhere she’d lived looked like Florida’s forests. There were no memories here. None. Not even ravens. There were only crows, including a new kind she’d never seen—the fish crow that said “carr” instead of “caaw.”

  Ellis pulled up to the old house with its wide porch and tin roof. She could so easily imagine herself living there. And she already knew the name of her business. Wild Wood Natives. She would allow that one memory from her past. Nothing but those two words.

  Even Keith would be banished from this place. How appropriate that their texts ended today. Ellis would erase the conversation. She would delete his number. And very soon, she would forget him because she would be starting a new life.

  Ellis greeted the real estate agent on the front porch, being careful of the rotting boards beneath her feet. Max ignored the agent, immediately sizing up the house. She shot Ellis an amused look, an expression that seemed to say, “Seriously? You want to buy this piece of crap?”

  Ellis shrugged.

  Maxine smiled, shaking her head, and walked into the house.

  The agent followed the sturdy middle-aged woman into the kitchen. “I hear you’re a carpenter?” she said.

  “She can’t hear you,” Ellis said. “She’s deaf. But yes, she’s a carpenter. She does all the building repairs at the nursery where we work. Last year, she built a new pavilion for the shade plants. It’s really beautiful.”

  “I’ve seen it,” the agent said. “I buy all my plants at Southern Roots. I’ve seen her working there but never knew she was deaf.”

  Many nursery customers thought Max was either very rude or had a mental problem. When they asked questions, she’d ignore them rather than signal that she couldn’t hear them. Ellis liked that about her, her refusal to explain herself. She had lost most of her hearing and was badly scarred in an accident that killed her mother and nearly took her life when she was a teenager. She never talked about what happened or her reasons for refusing to learn sign language. Her father had taught her his plumbing, electrical, and carpentry knowledge, hoping the skills would provide her with a livelihood. But few employers other than Ruth and Anne had been willing to adjust to Max’s code of silence.

  Max spent an hour looking at the house. She delve
d into every closet and cabinet, beneath every sink. She took her ladder off her truck and walked all over the tin roof. She climbed into the attic and crawled around in the dirt beneath the house. She looked at the water pump and the septic hill. Then she spent another half hour inspecting the barn.

  The real estate agent was getting impatient. Ellis lifted her eyebrows at Max to ask what she thought.

  Max took her notepad and pencil out of her pocket. I like it, she wrote. Really cool Old Florida style. Roof and barn in pretty good shape.

  Ellis nodded.

  But needs LOTS of work, Max wrote.

  Ellis took the pencil and paper and wrote, I know. But I can barely afford it as is. And I love the acreage that goes with it. Is the house fixable?

  Max looked thoughtfully at the house, then wrote, Would be sad if it was torn down. It is beautiful.

  Ellis agreed, but she needed more advice than that. She let the question remain in her eyes.

  Max looked around at the mossy live oaks and palms, the two huge swamp chestnut oaks rising up from behind the house. She took a few steps toward the porch, her gaze distant, as if she were seeing what the house could become. She wrote, It can be fixed. But will take a long time.

  Ellis took the paper and wrote, Any chance you’d want to work on it? I’d pay the going rate.

  A sudden brightness appeared in Max’s eyes. She liked the idea.

  And after that—maybe help with the native plant nursery I want to open here?

  Max’s eyes lit up even brighter. She’d been despondent since Ruth and Anne had decided to sell Southern Roots. The nursery and Ruth and Anne were like her home and family.

  Ellis flipped to another page in her notepad. Wild Wood Natives, created by Ellis Abbey and Maxine Kidd.

  Max frowned, grabbed the pencil, and drew a big X over the words.

  Ellis felt awful. She’d presumed too much.

  Max flipped to the next page in the notebook. Don’t let the agent see how eager you are! I hope you haven’t told her these plans?

  Ellis shook her head.

  Good. Keep quiet. Say I said it’s worth 80K less than they’re asking.

  Ellis took the pencil. 80K! It’s already been reduced.

  Max shook her head and tapped her finger on her words.

  Ellis wrote, If I buy, are you interested?

  Max stared at the old house, a little smile on her lips, and that was answer enough.

  6

  Ellis lightly touched Max’s boot to let her know dinner was ready. Max withdrew from under the sink and eagerly took the sandwich Ellis handed to her. They ate seated cross-legged on the sandy floor planks. When she finished, Max leaned her head toward the sink and nodded to indicate that she was almost done.

  “Wow, running water in the kitchen,” Ellis said. “That will be luxurious.”

  Max smiled.

  Ellis had learned she could lip-read many words, or at least understand the gist of much of what she said. Ellis nodded to the front door, code for quitting time. Max shook her head and held up a finger to say, One more minute. They both still had jobs at Southern Roots but tried to cram as much renovation as possible into their evenings and days off.

  Ellis walked to the front porch to watch the sunset through the trees. Max had fixed the porch boards when Ellis took over the house two weeks earlier. Ellis sat in one of two rocking chairs Dani and Brad had given her as a housewarming gift.

  Above her, one of the pair of barred owls called, “Whoo-a!” Its mate returned a call from down the hill. Ellis had a feeling they had nested in a sizable hollow in one of the chestnut oaks behind the house, close to the screened porch. Ellis had laid her queen mattress on the floor out there. She liked to listen to the owls, tree frogs, and katydids as she fell asleep.

  She wondered where Quercus was. Usually he sat on the porch with her in the evening.

  Ellis had adopted Quercus from animal control. She told the woman at the shelter to take her to a big dog that had been there for a long time. As soon as Ellis set eyes on the Newfoundland mix, she knew he was the one. Few people wanted a dog that size, and at age four or more, he’d already lived out half the expected years for a large breed.

  Quercus was barking at something up by the road. Maybe the lady with the horse who occasionally trotted by.

  Ellis stood when the dog’s barking got closer and more intense. Someone was on her property. The usual panic crushed down on her. It always felt the same. Her chest was tight, and she could swear the scar from the stab wound ached.

  She reminded herself that Max was there, and she carried a gun in her truck. Ellis jogged up the hill to see what was going on. When she was halfway to the fence, Quercus quit barking. A few more steps and Ellis saw the dog. He was standing over a man lying on his back on the ground. Quercus appeared to be licking the man’s face.

  “Quercus!” Ellis called.

  The dog looked at her for a few seconds, wagging his fluffy tail, then returned his attention to the man.

  Ellis approached slowly. “This is private property,” she called to the man.

  “I could use some help here, Ellis,” the man said. “I’m drowning.”

  “Keith?”

  “Yes, Keith. Soon to be ex-Keith . . .”

  Ellis hurried over. “Quercus, come!” she said, pulling on the dog’s collar.

  “Quercus. Good name,” Keith said from beneath the dog. “I feel like there’s an oak tree on my chest.”

  Ellis lifted the dog off him, and Keith got to his feet. But as soon as she let go of the dog’s collar, Quercus nearly knocked him over again.

  “No! No!” Ellis said.

  “Quercus, sit!” Keith said in a firm voice.

  The dog sat and stared up at him, tongue lolling out of his grin.

  “How did you do that?” she said.

  “Firm tone. He has to know you mean it.”

  “Well, that’s not good if someone with bad intentions knows how to use it.”

  He looked at her as he petted the dog’s head. “I figured that was why you had him.”

  His comment irritated her. Since she’d bought the property, she’d been getting the same warnings she used to get when she camped alone. It brought back fears she’d worked hard to conquer.

  “How did you get in?” she asked.

  “The gate was locked, so I climbed the fence. Dani gave me your address—but failed to provide the tiny detail of this behemoth guarding your property.”

  Behemoth. How could she be angry at a man who used such a great word? Was she angry about him suddenly showing up in her front yard? And why had he come? She truly couldn’t sort out how she felt about Keith Gephardt being there.

  “You went to my old house?”

  “Yes, and I couldn’t call to ask if I could come over because, according to Dani, you never turn on your phone.”

  “Not never. Only when I have to.”

  “Which is nearly never.”

  That was true. Since she’d stopped communicating with him, she had no reason to leave her phone on. It was off except when she had to make a call.

  “This is a big surprise,” she said.

  He studied her eyes. “A bad surprise?”

  “Just a surprise.”

  She saw that had hurt.

  “Should I leave?” he asked.

  “Of course not. Come down to the house.”

  “Talk about surprises. I could hardly believe it when Dani said you’d bought a place.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why. You’re the wandering queen.”

  “People change.”

  His sympathetic look irked her. Because he knew what had changed her. Dani often looked at her like that, too.

  Just as the house came into view, Keith stopped walking. “Can I tell you something?”

  She stopped and faced him. “What?”

  “You didn’t kill that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “You don’t have to
hide it from me. I haven’t told anyone.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “I know you stabbed one of two men who attacked you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m a park ranger. I know cops. I did some research.”

  How she felt about that confused her as much as his sudden appearance.

  “He and the other guy showed up at an ER. They said he’d been mugged. He very nearly died. He needed emergency abdominal surgery.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “To give you peace of mind. And closure. You might also want to know he’s in jail now.”

  “Oh god. Did he attack another woman?”

  “He stole a car and robbed a store at gunpoint. It wasn’t his first offense. He got twenty years.”

  Someone could have died in the robbery. Ellis had felt guilty about that—the possibility that her failure to report the crime might lead to another person’s death. Or rape.

  “The other guy is dead,” Keith said.

  “What happened?”

  “Not sure. A fight that went wrong, from what I can tell.”

  “Why did you look them up if you weren’t going to report the crime? Why do you care so much?”

  An odd look surfaced in his dark eyes. “You should know why.”

  “What should I know?”

  “It’s that spell you put on me back at Pink Horses. Do you remember?”

  She remembered.

  “It won’t rub off no matter how hard I try. I came here to ask you to take it off.”

  “Does what’s-her-name know you’re here?”

  His lips curled slightly. “No. Chloe knows nothing of my whereabouts since I broke off our engagement.”

  Ellis tried to conceal how that news made her feel—mostly from herself. “Why did you end it?”

  “Aren’t you listening?”

  “Oh—the spell?”

  “Yes, the spell.”

  “You drove all the way to Florida to ask a witch to take a spell off you?”

  “A gorgeous witch.”

  “Just so you know, flattery gets you nowhere with a witch.”

  “What does? I can’t handle this much longer. Please remove it.”

  She saw by the look in his eyes that it was no joke. The park ranger had fallen for her. But how could she pretend not to have known that? He’d come rushing to her aid from miles away in the middle of the night. He’d spent a whole day driving her to Florida. He’d texted all those months when he was living with another woman.