Steady (Indigo)

by Robinson, Ruthie

  She missed her parents and the unconditional love they’d shown her, loved that they’d been able to see the scared, lonely little girl underneath her barbed walls and thorny defenses. She loved her parents tremendously and missed them fiercely, and learned early that life was tenuous and filled with risk. One had to be careful.

  CHAPTER 4

  Monday morning at work, Katrina washed her hands and went in search of her favorite mug, the one she regularly used to make tea. She and Amber were taking a morning break. Katrina added hot water from the dispenser and a tea bag, orange spice. She purchased a package monthly and hid them in the back of the cabinet behind the paper towels. She added two packets of sweeteners and joined Amber at the table.

  “So what’s the latest on your neighborhood’s competition? Looking to win again?” she asked. Katrina brought her up to date on the committee’s selection of Will.

  “What are you going to do?” Amber asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I tell you what I’d do if I had half your talent. I’d quit this job, one that you only endure, and start my own landscaping business. How many times have I told you that you should turn your passion for gardening into a business? I don’t know anyone who loves it as much as you do.”

  “Don’t start with that again,” she said, giving Amber the evil eye. “Did you know that 95 percent of small businesses fail within the first five years? People mistake a hobby for a business. Just because you love to cook doesn’t make you a restaurant owner,” she said.

  “Oh, Katrina, you make my head hurt sometimes,” Amber said, putting her fingers against her temples and rubbing them. “I know you love what you do with flowers and gardening. I know you do. And you already have an in with your godfathers; they would help you. I bet they would provide funding if you were to ask.”

  “They have done enough for me.”

  “Fine, but you should give some serious thought to doing your own thing. And speaking of doing your own thing, Claudia and I are having some folks over. You remember I told you that we’d hooked up with an entrepreneurship group we found through the chamber of commerce? Every member has to host a party, and it’s our turn this month. You have to come.”

  “Why do I have to come?” Katrina asked.

  “Just come, see if you’re interested. You may catch a good vibe and decide to quit this job the next day and start your own business.”

  Katrina blew out a breath. “I doubt that. This isn’t you and Claudia’s attempt to set me up again, is it?” she said, squinting at Amber, not putting anything past them.

  “Will you come?” Amber said, smiling but not answering the question, a detail not lost on Katrina.

  “When is it?”

  “A week from Sunday, 7 p.m., and once you commit you can’t back out, either. I know you.”

  “Okay, I’ll come, but you had better not have an ulterior motive.”

  “Who, me?” Amber said, smiling. “I’d better get back to my desk. I’m behind schedule.”

  Katrina raised her eyebrows.

  “I know, right. I’m never behind. But don’t worry, it won’t be for long,” she said, walking out the door.

  What Katrina hadn’t shared with Amber was that she had given serious thought to starting her own business, doing her own thing, had even considered switching her major to agricultural economics, especially after she’d started in the master gardener’s training program. It was so much fun, didn’t seem like work, really. Practicality won out; she’d decided to stick with her business degree instead, her parents’ recommendation. After their deaths, she’d felt like she should honor their wishes. They’d taken a big risk on her.

  Amber was into baking—pies, cakes, any type of dessert. And she was also big into entrepreneurship; hence her desire to push Katrina. She’d launched her own website a few months ago and had successfully begun taking orders. She joined this network of other small-business owners in the city, and was always after Katrina to make her hobby work for her. But Amber had financial support from Claudia, her Mommy Warbucks. Katrina just had Katrina.

  And anyway, what was wrong with having a job you could tolerate, okay, endure, and a hobby that you loved?

  ***

  “What a mess,” she thought, looking inside the pantry at Charles and Colburn’s home. She was here to cook dinner for them. She stopped by the grocery after work, picking up a few things. She’d known not to expect much from their refrigerator. With Charles at least, there was an outside chance that he might have cooked something healthy. Not so with Colburn; he could eat off of that little truck that came around selling tacos every day and not miss a beat.

  “What are you cooking?” Colburn asked, peering over her shoulder at the chicken breasts that lay on the counter. “You’re going to fry those up, Katrina girl?” he asked.

  “No, I’m putting them on the grill.”

  “Grill, huh?” he said, giving her a noncommittal response. “I can’t remember the last time I had some good old-fashioned fried chicken,” he said, going for the pitiful look.

  Katrina rolled her eyes and opened the refrigerator door, pointing to the bucket of KFC on the top shelf. “It must have been this week. Not so long ago, it appears,” she said, closing the door.

  Colburn smiled. “Can’t get anything past you, Katrina girl,” he said, walking away.

  “You really need to watch your diet, Colburn. Did you know that a heart attack occurs about every twenty seconds with a heart attack death about every minute?”

  “Don’t start. I’ve got one more job to do. How long before dinner?” he asked.

  “Give me thirty,” she said.

  She was in the process of slicing vegetables when Charles walked in. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, taking a seat at the table to watch her, stretching out his long legs.

  “Long day?” she asked.

  “Not too bad,” Charles said, stretching his arms over his head. “Pass me a cold one, Kat, would you?”

  She grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, searched around in a drawer for the bottle opener, removed the cap and handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” he said taking a long swallow. “So you couldn’t convince the committee this year.”

  “You heard that, huh?” she said.

  “Yep, gardening news is big news around here. The unseating of a legend is what it’s being called. You had to know it would happen at some point.”

  “I know,” she said, continuing to slice vegetables.

  “So are you going to help him?”

  “Don’t think so,” she responded, turning on the grill. It was quiet while she seasoned the chicken and vegetables.

  “Come on, Kat. I thought you said he was attractive. There’s something in that,” he said, trying for humor, to make her smile at least. He knew what losing had meant to her.

  “He’s not interested in my type, so what would be the point?”

  “I don’t need to remind you how difficult it was to lead without prior knowledge. You do remember your first year?” he asked, looking at her and putting on his cloak of the parent about to deliver a lecture to a recalcitrant child. “And remember, you had us to help, too, and it was still extremely difficult for you.” She didn’t respond. “It wasn’t his fault he was selected,” he added.

  She sighed. “I know, C, I know what you’re saying is right, and maybe I will, but give me a little time. I know, I know, I hear you coming through loud and clear. Okay?” she said, looking at him. He gave a small shake of his head.

  “So how is work, your customers still making you crazy?” he asked, changing the subject. She was grateful. Her loss still smarted. She smiled and brought him up to date on some of the more interesting customers she’d dealt with this week. Colburn joined them ten minutes later and they ate dinner together in their regular way, talking and harassing each other, followed by coffee to go along with the dessert Katrina had purchased.

  She left later, leaving them to their ciga
rs on the front porch, having enjoyed the evening with them. She always did. They loved her and she took comfort in that knowledge. She didn’t even want to consider them not being in her life. They were all the family she had.

  ***

  Will walked out of his home mid-morning, headed to the gardens on a beautiful Saturday to look around. This would be his first trip there. He probably should have taken a tour before agreeing to lead the competition, but he’d been sure he would be up to the task. Very few things got in his way for long. After giving his consent to lead he’d started to pay attention to the gardens in the city, particularly this one.

  There always seemed to be people here at all the times of the day, especially children. He could vaguely recall his real estate saleswoman mentioning a playscape and park area for the neighborhood children, but kids had been the furthest thing from his mind at the time he’d been in the market for a home.

  He looked up ahead as he turned the corner and spotted his neighbor. Of course, she was dressed in sweatpants, flannel shirt flapping in the breeze behind her. But it was her pony tail sticking out of the back of her cap that had given her away. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since the committee meeting last weekend.

  “Katrina,” he called out. She kept walking, but he bet she heard him. He watched as her steps picked up a little in speed. “Katrina,” he called again. She still didn’t turn around. Okay, she was going to be difficult, he thought, jogging lightly to catch up to her.

  Katrina had stepped off the sidewalk, pretending to look over some of the flowers that were blooming on the fence in front of the entrance to the garden, hoping Will would run past her. Of course he didn’t. He stopped, coming over to stand by her side.

  “I guess you didn’t hear me calling your name?” he said, not even breathing hard, the dirty dog. Did nothing come hard for him?

  “Guess not,” she said, turning to face him, her eyes coolly regarding him now.

  “Heading to the gardens?” he asked, and looked her over as she shrugged.

  “Yep,” she said.

  “Mind if I walk the rest of the way with you?”

  “What, the last twenty feet?” she asked, looking toward the entrance. “I don’t care,” she said, shrugging.

  “So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  “Been busy.”

  “Busy at work?” he asked. He didn’t know where or if she worked. He’d assumed so.

  “Yep.”

  “Not going to be helpful, are you? You could give me something other than those one- or two-word answers,” he said, smiling, hoping that would help.

  “I could.”

  “Look, Katrina, I’m sorry for the way things turned out. It was not my intention to usurp your place as leader of the competition. They came to me, and if it’s any consolation, I think the committee was going to select someone new this year anyway, even if it hadn’t been me,” he said. Ignoring her grunt of a response, he plowed ahead. “If you’re not busy, this is my first trip here. You could show me around, give me the tour. After all, you are at the top of the gardening food chain, or at least that’s what I’ve been told,” he said, trotting out his sexiest smile.

  “Your first trip here, huh?” she responded, disdain clear in her voice.

  “Yes, oh leader of the gardening world, my first trip here, but don’t hold it against me. Give me a tour. You know, help me, give me the experienced gardening professional’s perspective,” he said, bending at the waist, teasing her.

  “Why would I do that?” she said, walking away.

  “Because you want what’s best for the neighborhood, even if the committee has made a mistake in choosing me,” he said, picking up his pace and turning to face her, walking backwards so he could see her face. “Come on, Katrina, give me a tour . . . please?” he cajoled, smiling playfully, his eyes twinkling. Dangerous, this one was, she thought as she flashed back to them on her bed, with him pushing into her, making her all gooey inside.

  Sensing her resistance fading, he intensified his pleas. “Come on, Katrina, you used to like me, remember? Used to think I was pretty, tasted good, too. Hell, I’ll even wear my cycling gear if that will help,” he said, repeating her words to him the night of the party, turning on his full arsenal of charm, puzzled that it mattered to him.

  “So it’s back to bringing that up again,” she said.

  “I learned a lot about you.”

  “Okay. Fine. One tour. Come on,” she said, walking away.

  He followed, pleased with the outcome, with having her here. Slow down, dude, he said to himself, turning his attention to the beautifully designed wrought-iron gate and fence that ran in both directions away from the large arched entrance to the gardens.

  “We’ve just entered the main gate to the overall garden,” she said, stopping and letting Will look around. “The land for the gardens was set aside by the original developers when they purchased the land from the city for subdivision development.”

  They took a few steps down the main path that separated the garden into two large halves. The right half, the more developed side, contained large flower beds filled with native plants, shrubs, flowers, and trees, and a white medium-sized pavilion was set in the middle of a large expanse of grass.

  “For weddings,” she said, answering his unasked question. “Shining Creek’s gardens sit on about five and a half acres, one of the largest gardens in the city. One acre holds the flower portion, another two contain the vegetable section, and the remainder is for our new composting business, which is small scale for now. We are trying both the old-school system and vermin-composting. So far, we’ve managed to produce enough to supply the neighborhood and local businesses only. But we’re hoping to grow that area of the gardens. What you see now is the flower section, to your right and left. This is the part you’ll be redesigning.”

  “With your help, maybe?” he said.

  She made a face. “Don’t push your luck. I only agreed to give you a tour. The vegetable section sits in the back behind the flowers, behind our composting area and greenhouses. You can’t see it from here, but there’s a fence separating the flower section from the vegetables,” she said, pointing to an area off in the distance. The area she pointed to was covered in vines—Carolina jasmine mixed in with English ivy. Will recognized the plants.

  He turned to look over the other half of the garden, the more unused section. It was similar in style to the right half and not completely undeveloped; the play area was there. The left side had the highest point of the garden and was a perfect spot for the waterfall feature Will wanted to include in his design. It could start here, the beginning of a stream that would wind itself throughout the garden.

  Toward the back, near the children’s play area, surrounded by several enormous old oak trees, was an area filled with swings, a sand pit, and a few rocking horses. Here the flower beds weren’t as deep, allowing space for the many chairs and loungers placed beneath the trees or inserted between medium-sized shrubberies. People were sitting and reading on benches and loungers; a mom with a child appeared to be sleeping in a very large hammock under one of the trees. Very nice, Will thought.

  “I like this area; did you design it?” he asked.

  “Yes. It was last year’s winner, the first year we’ve ever had anyone nipping at our heels. This new neighborhood is gunning for us; lots of money behind them, too. Anyway, last year’s theme was Family Living Outside.”

  “It’s very thoughtful,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she responded, smiling a little. Looking over the garden, Will was quiet. He always liked a challenge, and making changes to this one would be a big one, as well as a whole busload of hard work. They reached the end of the flower section and walked through an opening.

  “About two years ago we started a rainwater collection and irrigation system. Are you familiar with those?” she asked, pointing to two large rain barrels placed side by side.

  “Yes. Ex
pensive,” he noted.

  “Donated,” she explained. “In this part of Texas, it’s feast or famine with the rain. These bad boys hold up to about 3,500 gallons and fill up five to six times a year,” she added. She started walking again.

  “Behind them are our greenhouses. Most of our perennials, annuals, and vegetables come from seedlings. We hope to start producing our own Shining Creek salad mix. Long way off, though,” she said, walking over to the greenhouses and pointing in. “This is the short tour, you’ll have to roam around on your own,” she said, pointing to the other side. “That’s our worm casting factory, or what we hope will grow into one. And last in this area is our old-school composting part,” she said, stopping at huge piles of compost, piles of sand, and another pile of what looked like evergreen mulch.

  “So on to the vegetable section,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said. Walking back through the composting section, they entered the gate leading to the vegetable area. Totally different from the flower section, here about fifteen rows of plants stood in raised beds. Four or five people were working here bent over plants, some further back digging in the dirt, some with wheelbarrows, others picking vegetables from the plants. Will’s eyes traveled over all of it, stopping at what must be the garden’s farmers market over in the corner, covered by a small tent to provide shade. Katrina walked toward it, talking still.

  “Most of your neighbors volunteer to work in either one of the two gardens. There is always plenty of work to do. A committee of volunteers work alongside a master gardener who oversees the planting and work schedules.”

  “You’re a master gardener, the youngest in the state, right?” Will asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, impressed and surprised that he’d known. “I am one, along with John and Mrs. Washington.”

  “I do my homework.”

  “So I see. Anyway, as a neighbor, whether you worked in the Shining Creek garden or not, the vegetables are available to you, usually free or at a very minimum charge, just enough to cover seed cost. On the weekend, we, like most of the other neighborhoods in the city, run a small farmers market for people who live in other parts of the city and are looking for a specific item. Our gardens also provide fresh vegetables to some of the local restaurants.