by Girard, Dara
She pulled the bowl back. “No.” She took a spoonful and shut her eyes in ecstasy as the sweet tastes engaged her senses. No Jamaican snow cone could compare with this
“Is it good?” he asked, reaching for a taste.
She slapped his hand away.
He rubbed it, feigning hurt. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
After a few more spoonfuls, she allowed him a taste and he gave her a sip of his milkshake. Then they fell into a conversation about the desserts they’ve had and those they would like to try.
“Robert, it’s been a long time.” An attractive woman in a soft gray linen suit approached the table.
Robert glanced up and held out his hand. “Lilah.”
She slid into the seat next to him, wearing such a strong perfume that Victoria sneezed. Robert blinked to keep his eyes from watering. “I read your latest book and thought it was fabulous. I totally agree with your crusade to change the view of arson investigation. I recently attended...”
“This is Victoria Spenser,” he interrupted, gesturing to her.
The woman glanced at her and shook the tips of Victoria's outstretched hand. “A pleasure.” She turned back to Robert. Her dismissal subtle, but poignant.
They began a conversation while Victoria finished her banana split, which suddenly didn’t taste as heavenly. She struggled not to let her spirits fall. She had no idea what they were talking about and hated the feeling of not belonging that stole her joy. She watched Braxton as he tried to explain his opinion in large foreign terms and remembered that she just cleaned his house and worked in his garden. The few hours she had spent with him had caused her to forget that. They had made her forget that they weren’t equals.
“Thank God,” she heard Robert mutter. She looked up and realized the woman was gone.
She glanced around the restaurant then at him. “Where did she go? What happened?”
He stirred his milkshake. “A miracle apparently. She received a phone call, and had to leave.” He shook his head in wonder. “Every time I meet that woman I’m convinced that she’s an imbecile and she always confirms my theory.”
Victoria swallowed a spoonful of ice cream to keep from smiling. “She sounded intelligent to me.”
“Probably because you couldn’t understand a word she said. Unfortunately, I could and found nothing of importance to salvage. The only thing that saves her from being a social outcast is that she’s pleasant to look at.”
Victoria rested her elbows on the table. “So you wouldn’t give an ugly woman the time of day?”
“No.”
She stared at him appalled. “That’s dreadful.”
He shrugged, scooping up some of her ice cream. “It’s a compliment to you.”
“I’m not sure I trust your compliments.”
“Be honest. Appearances count.”
She frowned unconvinced. ‘“No they don’t. It’s the inside.”
“One of our long lasting myths. Yes, on other deeper levels it’s the inside that counts, but most people aren’t deep. Would you rather take medicine from a spoon or a dirty palm?”
“It’s not the same. You can’t compare people to medicine.”
“Sure I can. People are pretty much like it, something you endure.”
She licked some ice cream off her spoon. “You don’t like people very much.”
“Does it show?” He gave a world-weary sigh. “And I’ve tried so hard to hide it.”
“Strange profession you chose, for someone who doesn’t like people.”
“Yes, I know.”
She rested her chin in her hand. “Why did you choose arson investigation?”
He thought for a moment then began to smile. “You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
He lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. “Because I want to know the answers to things that at the surface seems unexplainable. My major originally was psychology.”
“Why?”
“I needed answers.”
She leaned forward. “To what?”
“To why we are the way we are. Why certain systems never change. Why we continue on a path of destruction though we have the answers to avoid it.”
“Did you ever find the answers?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She let her hand fall. “No one can know everything anyway.”
“I can try.”
“And fail.”
“Not necessarily.”
She let the subject drop and they finished their desserts. Later they picked up the headstone and returned to the house. Victoria saw Foster staring at the garden with hollow eyes. She -ran up to him; Robert followed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Foster covered his eyes and shook his head. Behind him the answer was obvious.
The garden was dying.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The once flourishing garden bed looked like a tiny war zone—skeletonized leaves, wilting branches, and flowers losing petals but still persevering, like a smile with missing teeth. Other flowers lay prostrate on the ground like stricken soldiers.
“It’s an infestation of some sort,” Foster said gravely. He stared at the garden and continued to shake his head. “But I can’t figure it out. I was sure I did everything right.”
Robert gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure you did, but Mother Nature, being a typical woman, is hard to figure out.”
Victoria spoke up. “She’s not that difficult I think—”
Foster hung his head. “It’s awful. All our beautiful babies, dead.”
“Don’t take it so hard. There’s still plenty of time before the contest. We can dig up the most diseased plants and treat the others.”
Victoria tried again. “I don’t think—”
“That will be costly, won’t it?” Foster chewed his lip anxious. “To get a whole new batch? My ideas were kinda big. I knew I shouldn’t have made them so big.”
“Cost is not a factor. You know that I am pleased with the design. You did careful planning. Remember the herb garden for the Sunshine Nursing Center? The residents there were thrilled.”
“I was a man,” he scoffed. “Those old biddies were just happy for the attention.”
“I’m sure they enjoyed the garden as well. Your ideas are not the issue. What’s killing the plants are.”
Victoria cleared her throat. “I think—”
Robert squatted and stared at the damage. “ I’ll take a sample to get analyzed and figure out what the problem is. Once we figure that out we can go from there.” He stood. “Don’t worry, we haven’t been beaten yet.”
“I think I know what you have,” Victoria said in a loud voice.
Robert frowned at her. “Why are you shouting?”
She lowered her voice. “I’m not shouting.”
“Sounded like you were shouting,” Foster said.
She rested her hands on her hips.. “I wasn’t shouting.”
“You’re shouting now,” Robert said.
Foster sighed. “She’s probably upset about the garden.”
“Sure she is, but that doesn’t explain why she was shouting.” He looked at her concerned. “What’s wrong?”
She threw up her hands. “You two are impossible. I’m trying—”
“Impossible? I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s the first. I’ve always thought we were pretty easygoing guys. And considering our entrance into the competition is dying and I’m not pulling out my hair is a good sign. I don’t...”
And from there he began to speculate what was wrong with the garden. Foster added his gloomy predictions and they both ignored her. Victoria watched them then decided to do something to get their attention.
“Braxton, I really do feel bad about...” Foster’s words trailed off as be stared at Victoria. Robert turned to see what had diverted his attention and nearly choked.
“What are you doing?” he said.
Victoria quickly buttone
d up her blouse. “Now that I have your attention, I think you have a plant eating insect.”
“What?” Robert asked a bit dazed, his mind still on what he might have seen if she’d completely unbuttoned her blouse. He wished he hadn’t stopped her.
“I saw a garden that looked like this in Jamaica and my aunt said it was something, but I forgot the name. But it’s this nasty little insect that feasts on anything. We’ll have to get rid of the completely dead plants, bathe the leaves of the ones left, and use a special treatment for the soil. It is a clever insect.”
“I’ve never heard of something like that. Have you?”
Foster shook his head.
“Besides, the bugs in Jamaica are not similar here. I’m sure once I have one of the plants analyzed I’ll find a way to treat them.”
“But I--”
“Thank you, Victoria.” He handed her the headstone. “If you want to finish your striptease act I’ll be happy to watch, but I’ve finished listening.”
She snatched the headstone. “Fine.”
He shoved his hands in his pocket and walked away.
Victoria glared at his back, wishing she could burn a hole through his shirt. “I could like that man if he wasn’t so arrogant.”
“He knows what he’s about,” Foster said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s that you’re holding?”
She glanced down at the headstone and held it out for him to see.” It’s for Bailey’s funeral.”
“I didn’t know he was going to have one. He’s been dead a long time.”
“Amanda and I are putting it together. We’re having one Saturday morning after breakfast.”
“Oh.” He bent down and lifted one plant, tearing out its roots. “I’m surprised Braxton is going along with it. He didn’t want any fuss when Bailey died.”
“He doesn’t have much say in the matter. I doubt he’s coming.”
He twirled the plant in front of him then tossed it away. “He was a good dog. Benjamin misses him.”
“You’re welcome to come, if you want.”
Foster lifted the head of a plant with the toe of his boot and nodded his head. “Thanks, perhaps I can bury my hopes as well.”
* * *
Victoria went inside the kitchen to show Dana what she’d purchase, but saw Katherine instead.
“You look bright today,” Katherine said with a slight smile.
Encouraged by the smile, Victoria felt free to share. “I had the most wonderful dessert I’ve ever had. I had a banana split. I’ve never had anything like it in Jamaica.”
Katherine sent her a cool look, though her slight smile remained. “That’s because you were poor, not because you’re Jamaican. I think it best that you rid yourself of this childlike naiveté. Though American’s will find it enduring, it gives a false impression. People will use your experience and apply it to others. You must see yourself as an ambassador and only show your strengths. I am careful to do the same myself for Barbados. Though most people hear a Caribbean accent and think Jamaica since your sort are everywhere.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d better go. Good day.”
“It was,” Victoria muttered, hearing Katherine’s heels click down the hall.
* * *
Clouds the color of dirty cotton stretched across the sky the morning of Bailey’s funeral while a heavy fog settled over the lawn. Victoria wanted to be suitably somber so she pulled back her hair in a tight bun and dressed in a simple black cotton dress.
“This is nonsense,” Janet mumbled to her reflection in the hallway mirror as she pinned on a hat
“You don’t have to come.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “You don’t have fi tell me what I already know. Where’s your shawl? It’s chilly.”
She fetched her shawl and the headstone then they left. They met Amanda at the willow tree. She wore a black lace dress and had two black ribbons on her pigtails. Ben sat beside her with a black bandana around his neck
“Where are the flowers?” she asked.
“I bought a headstone,” Victoria said.
“But we should have flowers. You’re suppose to put flowers on a grave.”
“We’ll do that later.” Victoria held out her hand and took Benjamin’s leash. “Come on. Let’s go.”
The walk to the twig that marked Bailey’s grave had the same disoriented feeling as a dream. Fog covered everything causing the house to disappear into nothing and surround them in gossamer gray. Slowly dark shapes formed in the distance like shadow puppets. As the fog cleared they saw: Foster, Dana, and Dana’s assistant Trish all standing around the spot.
“You all came,” Amanda cried jumping up and down. “This is great.” She saw Foster with a bunch of daffodils. “And you brought flowers.” She gave a happy sigh. “Now everything is perfect.”
“I brought muffins for after,” Dana whispered, as if they were in a cemetery.
“We’ll go to my place afterwards and have tea,” Janet said. “Now let’s get started.”
Victoria was a bit vexed that her aunt was taking charge of something she and Amanda had thought of; however, she decided not to make an issue of it and allowed her to continue.
“I’m glad you could all come and give our friend Bailey a proper send off. He was in pain towards the end and knows that his forced sleep, though sad, was a blessing. Now would anyone like to say a few words?”
One by one they all said a quick word about the beloved dog that had roamed the property and had been a companion to each of them for over seventeen years. In closing, Foster replaced the twig with the headstone, and then there was a moment of silence. Amanda ended the gathering with a poem she had written for Bailey, then they all said their final goodbyes.
“It was a nice funeral,” she sniffed. “I wish Uncle had come. He would have liked it.”
“It might have made him sad.”
Her brows fell together in a frown. “I never thought of him being sad. He didn’t even care when Bailey died.”
“Of course he cared. Everyone shows sadness in different ways.”
“Then why—”
“Enough questions,” Janet said, taking Amanda’s hand. “We’re going to the house to eat and give your mouth something else to do.”
Victoria began to follow the group, but Benjamin wouldn’t move. She tugged on his collar; he refused to budge.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Victoria shouted into the fog where everyone had disappeared. She knelt next to the dog and hugged him. “Poor boy.” She kissed him on the head. “You know what this is, don’t you? But you mustn’t be sad, Bailey didn’t desert you, and hopefully soon your father will come around to know how special you are. Because you are special and we love you just as much.” She felt the dog stiffen as if it wanted to run, but was stopping. itself.
She looked up and saw a silhouette pushing through the heavy mist.
“Aunty, I said I’d be right there...” Her words faded as the silhouette became more distinct. It was clearly too large to be her aunt.
Robert appeared through the fog dressed in a dark suit with a black hat. He took it off when he saw the headstone. He began to kneel next to it, but halted when he noticed her.
“I thought everyone had returned to the house,” he stammered, straightening.
“They did, but I stayed here with Ben. He didn’t want to leave.”
“Oh.” He toyed with the rim of his hat “I just wanted to see what the headstone looked like.”
“You saw it before. You were there when it was made remember?”
“I mean, what it looked like in the ground.”
She wanted to tease him that he hadn’t needed to put on a suit to do so, but he was already embarrassed to see her there so she decided against it.
“I‘d better go.” She stood.
“You don’t have to leave because of me.” He put on his hat ready to go.
“I’m not leaving because of you. I thought maybe...” You’d like time al
one, she silently finished, but it was clear he would balk at such a suggestion. “Why don’t we both keep Benjamin company for a while?”
“Okay.” He looked down at the dog. “He misses Bailey.”
“He misses you even more,” she said gently. “Bailey’s dead, but Ben’s still here. Don’t punish him because he wasn’t your favorite.”
“That’s not why I—” He drew his lips in thoughtfully. “Granddad died the day I put Bailey to sleep.”
“I’m sorry.”
He pushed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Yes, well, so am I.”
She touched his sleeve. “You did the right thing.”
He stared at the ground. “When I came back to the house Benjamin seemed so lost, roaming like a puppy. He’d spend hours waiting in the kitchen, Bailey’s favorite spot, as if he expected him to return. And I couldn’t explain things to him.” He turned away.
“You’re thinking too much.”
He touched his hat in acknowledgment. “Guilty.”
“And you’re not telling me the truth.”
He spun around startled.
“You’re telling me part of it, but not all.”
“Is that right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Stupid me.” He slapped his forehead. “I spend all my life trying to find the answers and you have them all.”
“I don’t have all the answers. I just know what you feel.”
Dark, dangerous eyes captured hers. “And what do I feel?”
She tugged on her earring. “You don’t want to deal with the pain of burying Benjamin, so you shut your heart to him.”
His anger died. “It’s foolish to love an animal that much,” he said in a rough whisper.
“Why? Bailey loved you more than any other person could. With an unconditional love that humans only have a fleeting understanding. He was with you through everything. Every success, and every error, and he never judged you. He gave you a kind of loyalty that has no definition. He made you feel okay. I love animals for that. I’m always okay with them. I seem to make people nervous.”
“Probably because you see too much. You seem to know everything about me.”
“No I don’t. I don’t understand why you talk more about your grandfather than you do your father.”