Enchanting World of Garden Irene McGeeny

by Kennedy, Concetta

  None of Garden Irene’s moments of silence during the weekend were comforting. She kept asking herself: How could she do this to her parents?

  Each day it got worse. She wouldn’t want them to keep a secret from her. She was just going to have to tell them. She decided that secrets aren’t so fun if they are kept from the wrong people.

  CHAPTER

  11

  All day Saturday, Garden Irene pretty much stayed in her room watching the waterfall and planning her moment of truth. Her parents thought she was doing homework.

  Just to do something different, she rearranged her stalactites about ten times, by shape, color, and degree of shine and sparkle.

  Sunday was even worse because she spent so much time with her parents. First there was church, then breakfast out, then ice skating, before finishing homework. There really wasn’t time to have private thoughts about the guilt she felt by keeping the big secret from her parents.

  The last bus arrived in the back parking lot Monday, and Garden Irene was the second one to step out. Usually she was about the last one off the bus. When she heard the bell telling them it was okay to go into the school, she rushed to find Peter. Once she was inside, she quickly went into her classroom.

  “Good morning, Garden Irene,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said in a voice that told Garden Irene she was very happy to see her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” answered Garden Irene, half looking at Mrs. Fitzpatrick, while at the same time searching for Peter.

  When she found Peter, she saw him crouched down in a corner of the room reading one of the library books that Mrs. Fitzpatrick made available to everyone. Just as Garden Irene started toward Peter, Mrs. Fitzpatrick said for everyone to take their seats. By this time Peter saw that Garden Irene had started toward him across the classroom. He thought it was best that no one got the impression that they were getting friendlier than they usually were.

  Luckily, he did catch Garden Irene’s eye just before perfect silence was obtained by Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Peter gave her a quick smile, and for the first time, tried to give her a knowing wink like he saw older men give girls, but he wasn’t sure if it came out right. At least Garden Irene smiled back at him, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

  There were the usual student hands that went up to tell about something that happened the night before or over the weekend. These were fun and adventurous stories that the students wanted to share with their classmates. Mrs. Fitzpatrick called on Chester first, who couldn’t wait to tell about the three-week-old fox his dad got for him from a man who raised them just for their fur. He planned on treating this like a pet dog. Everyone was in awe.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick called on Molly Dune, who said, “Could Chester bring his fox in for us to see him?”

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick said, “We’ll see if it’s safe for him to do so. You know that a fox is not a domestic animal. It’s actually a wild animal, and we don’t always know when or if these animals may turn on us.”

  “Gosh! I never thought of that,” said Chester. “I’ll ask my dad.”

  Garden Irene was so relieved. The students seemed to have forgotten what she had said last Thursday about her underground castle. At least the worry was over. She didn’t have to fret about the class remembering, because they were too immersed in Chester’s fox.

  Next Joelle told about her cousins who came to stay with her from South Bend, Indiana, and how they had a major pillow fight. Then Cameron told about his goldfish dying because he forgot to feed him for four days. He went into detail about how the goldfish bowl smelled like rotten eggs because he forgot that he hid the fish from his sister in his closet for two of the four days he forgot to feed him.

  Life sure was going to be easy for Garden Irene. She had nothing to worry about anymore. When she saw Peter’s hand go up, she figured that he just wanted to be Peter, and tell something about his weekend, or maybe he wanted to be in charge of something in the classroom that day.

  “Yes, Peter,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said as she nodded her head toward him.

  “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, what about what we were talking about on Thursday? Aren’t you going to let us ask questions of Garden Irene about where she lives?”

  CHAPTER

  12

  Peter Pranston had just become the worst enemy Garden Irene could think of ever having. He had betrayed her. Now she would keep his coin forever.

  “Go ahead, Peter,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said in a voice that sounded like she agreed with him.

  “I know that Garden Irene lives in a tiny house at the end of Pleasant Street hill, and it’s not underground,” said Peter in one breath. “And my dad works for her dad, and he told me that she lives there, too,” he added in his next breath.

  “Garden Irene, is what Peter is saying true?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick asked in an almost disappointed voice.

  It wasn’t like Garden Irene to tell stories just to call attention to herself. After she let out the biggest sigh ever, she sadly nodded in agreement with Peter’s story.

  After a moment of silence—which Mrs. Fitzpatrick must have allowed for any additional explanation from Garden Irene—she quickly mentioned to the class that there would be no more discussion about the subject, and that it was time to get down to work.

  But before she let anyone start their work, Mrs. Fitzpatrick told everyone that it is wonderful to make believe, but that there are times when we can do such a thing, and times when we shouldn’t. Garden Irene stood corrected.

  Later, when they went outside for gym class, Garden Irene’s humor was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t worried about who saw her march toward Peter. She just knew that she had to have words with him.

  He could see her coming, and he could also see she wasn’t happy. He had practically given himself a badge for handling the “castle story” so heroically. Women are so confusing, he thought.

  “Hi, Garden Irene. How did you like what I did?” he asked very proudly. “You sure don’t look too appreciative about it, that’s for sure.”

  Garden Irene’s steady march toward Peter was not with any intention of wishing him a good day. Her eyes were squinting and her lips were set in an exaggerated pout. Her hands were where they belonged, on her hips, as she stopped before him.

  “Just what were you trying to prove by scaring me like that?” she said in a very bossy voice.

  It wasn’t Garden Irene’s nature to act this way, and she realized how awful she sounded after it was too late.

  “I was just trying to steer everyone away from your story. That’s why I winked at you. Didn’t you get the message?” asked Peter in an almost disappointed voice. “I figured that nobody would bother you anymore if I did that.”

  Garden Irene didn’t know what to say. She suddenly realized that Peter had taken care of everything by telling about her tiny house. That was brilliant! she thought; truly brilliant, truly clever. And it made it so she never had to worry about her castle secret ever again.

  She gave him a big grin and said, “Peter, that was perfect! And I’m sorry I got mad at you. I didn’t know what you were doing.”

  Garden Irene knew then that Peter was about the best friend anyone could have.

  Later that day, Garden heard her parents come home. She jumped out of her chair and ran to greet them. Although this was a bit unusual for Garden Irene, her parents thought that perhaps she had been frightened by something and needed them for support.

  “Hi, honey. What’s wrong?” asked her dad.

  Both her mom and dad put down their grocery bags and went to Garden Irene’s side. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes. It was like the time she had broken the blue delft vase and she hadn’t known how to tell them. They, of course, forgave her, and all was well.

  “Garden Irene, what’s wrong?” asked her dad a second time.


  “Mom and Dad,” Garden Irene said, hesitating. “I have something very important to tell you, but you have to promise not to get mad . . . ”

  There was a heavy silence that seemed to weigh on Garden Irene. But, she was going to be strong, and tell them. It was going to take all the strength she had in her heart and soul to confess to her parents that she had shared their secret with her best friend Peter Pranston.

  She took a deep breath, and let the words come out . . .

  “Mom . . . Dad . . . sometimes things happen, and we know it’s wrong, and that we will get in big trouble, but we just can’t do anything about it,” she began. “Things happen, and we get so scared; but if it happens with our best friend, it’s still bad, but not so bad if it’s something we do with this best friend rather than if we do it alone. Anyway, I couldn’t tell you that I needed help with this big problem because you were both working, so I did the next best thing. I closed my eyes and tried to think it over and make the right decision – like you always tell me to do before I act.”

  “Garden Irene,” said her dad, “this doesn’t sound like we’re going to like what we are about to hear.”

  “Mom and Dad,” continued Garden Irene in her very angelic voice, “my best friend is Peter Pranston, and I want you to meet him. He helped me in the classroom when everyone was going to ask me about our castle. He saved me by telling everyone in the class that we just live in the little tiny house. Now, because of Peter, they won’t ask me anymore about our castle.”

  In a very serious tone, her dad said, “Garden Irene, go on. Tell us what this problem was that seems to be making you so nervous. That’s nice that Peter helped you, and that should have been the end of it.”

  “Okay,” Garden Irene said as she took a deep breath. “I had no choice. I had to show Peter that I wasn’t really making it up about the castle. He thought that I was a terrible person who just wanted attention. Anyway, I got so scared on Friday, that I decided to leave school and come home so I had the weekend to figure out how to deal with Peter and the class. But when I was walking home, I didn’t realize it, but Peter followed me. He thought of me as such a good friend that he didn’t care if he got in trouble for leaving school.”

  “Go on,” said her dad as her mom looked on with a bit of a frown on her brow.

  Garden Irene continued. “I think he is the best friend anyone could have for leaving school with me.”

  “Garden Irene, what are you getting at?” asked her mom.

  “Well,” continued Garden Irene, “we walked the whole way home. But we didn’t walk very fast because I was trying to figure out what to do with Peter when we got here. He also told some girls who weren’t very nice to me at school to become my friend, so now they are really nice to me. And he knew he would get in trouble for leaving school, but he did this for me. I had to show him that I was not a liar, or someone who just wanted attention... He saw the castle.” The words hung in the air, so she quickly added, “And he promised he would give me his mountain bike, or his bug collection, or this special coin that his uncle gave him if he ever, ever told anyone about our home. Please believe him. And please forgive me, but I had to do it.”

  Garden Irene waited what seemed like an eternity before either of her parents said anything. She figured that they were in a bit of a shock because they never had this happen before. They certainly looked like they were in shock.

  “Well, Garden Irene,” said her dad, “your mom and I already discussed this. We came to the conclusion that you stirred up interest about our castle when you brought it up in your class discussion. And, we decided that whatever happens, happens. We hoped that our secret would never get out, and maybe Peter will be true to his word, but if word gets out, it will be something that we will deal with; not you. We understand your predicament, and we thank you for being so honest with us. So, now, when can we meet this Peter Pranston? His dad is a good friend of mine. He cleans our building.”

  Garden Irene was so excited over her parents’ reaction that she ran over and gave them the biggest hug ever. And with that she said, “You can meet him anytime you want. I can call him now. I know he’d love to come back to our secret castle!”

  Relief flooded them, and they all had a good, hearty laugh.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I need to thank my husband, Arthur Kennedy, who was my support system all through the ups and downs of getting this book published. At times he was my editor, my financial director, but most of all, my partner with patience and love.

  Without the dedicated effort and support of the BQB publishing team, none of this would have happened. Terri Leidich, my publisher, and I bonded as soon as we had our first words by phone, and then had a personal meeting shortly thereafter. She was the energy and guiding light to my first book. Thank you, Terri!

  Katy Whipple, my production manager, had more patience than I thought was possible. She was the very necessary liaison between all who made this book possible. Thank you, Katy!

  Leah Jennings, my illustrator, was excellent at working with me and getting exactly what I thought was necessary for this story to be exciting. Thank you, Leah, for your time and effort, and keeping at it until I saw what I wanted in your beautiful artwork.

  Julie Breedlove, the marketing manager for BQB Publishing, helped me get this book out to the public eye. Thank you Julie, for all your help in dealing with the technology necessary for this to happen.

  Robin Krauss did the cover and interior design of my book. Thank you, Robin, for taking such pains in getting the cover and interior design with the perfect colors and print to my liking.

  Kim Fout, my ever faithful, hard-working (through the wee hours) editor, who worked with me until the story was polished and ready for publication. Thank you, Kim.

  And last, I want to thank all my family and friends who kept encouraging me to carry on with my plan of becoming an author. Most of all, I want to thank God for hearing my prayers.