The Gardener

by Michelle DePaepe

  Georgia thought about asking them if they knew about the shed with the scarecrow, but decided not to...probably not ever. She was going to have to dismantle the shrine before anyone else found out.

  “Glad to see you’re putting that boy to work. Too bad he’s not into gardening. Virginia let the gardens go this summer,” Fred said.

  “Yes...I suppose she did,” Annie added. “But, then...she planted so much every year. It’s a wonder she kept up what she did at her age.”

  Georgia winced as she thought of all of the abandoned tomatoes, peppers, pumpkins, and corn that were drying up and going to the raccoons, birds, and mice.

  As Fred turned to watch Stevie work, Annie whispered to her as though Fred couldn’t hear her (and maybe he couldn’t with the sound of the lawn mower and his finicky hearing aid). “I told you...she just lost it this summer. She wouldn’t come and visit. She wouldn’t even take my baking! I brought her fresh cinnamon rolls one morning, and she slammed the door in my face! Poor Virginia! I kept trying. I was bringing her some eggs the morning I found her out by the river. I take pity on her soul now. But, if you’d have asked me a few weeks ago, I might have cursed her.”

  “Annie,” Georgia whispered back. Do you know Opal Peabody?”

  “Not personally. It’s hard to believe she makes a living reading palms and crystal balls or whatever it is that she does. Most folks in this town are God-fearing churchgoers. Why do you ask?”

  Georgia decided not to mention seeing her at the funeral or the encounter at the house. “I’ve just heard her name around town...“

  Annie didn’t seem to hear as she looked towards the parlor windows. “You really ought to get an electrician out here to look at the wiring. I know Virginia was having some trouble with it. I’d hate to see the house burn down because of it.”

  Georgia followed her pointed finger to the living room window behind her. Behind the closed drapes, a light flickered. It sputtered, went off then burned very bright as if there had been a power surge.

  “I’d let Fred take a look at it for you, but he knows just enough to be a danger to himself.”

  “What’s that?” Fred asked when he heard his name.

  “Nothing, dear. Just telling her about your duck hunting plans this fall.” She winked at Georgia. “We’d best be getting home. It’s starting to get dark. The nights are coming earlier now. Are you staying here tonight?”

  Georgia thought for a moment. She really didn’t want to spend her last few nights in Jarrod’s little boy bed amongst the chaos of the Hayden household. It might be nice to have the peace and quiet and make her own decent pot of coffee in the morning.

  “Actually, I think I will. I’m going to run back over to Marsha’s and get my things. It would be nice to hang out here for a couple of nights before I have to leave.”

  “We’re right next door if you need anything. Have a good night...”

  She watched them drive past the field to their house next door then she stayed on the porch until Stevie finished the yard. “How long do you think it will take to do the spot in the back?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “I’m going to run over to your house before it gets dark and pick up my suitcase, so I can stay here tonight. Park the mower on the side when you’re done, and I’ll leave some money for you on the kitchen table. Just be sure you two lock the door when you leave.”

  He gave her a salute.

  She popped back in the house and told her sister what she was doing. Marsha responded with a sullen, “Whatever—” .

  As Georgia backed out of the driveway, she wondered why her sister and brother-in-law had so much trouble with Stevie. He seemed like a good kid who just hadn’t found his purpose yet. But, who had at that age?

  As she pulled the car onto the road, she looked back at the house and saw the lights still going on an off like a strobe. Whatever happened with the house, it was obvious that it was going to need a lot of work. If she kept it, she didn’t know how much she could count on Stevie and his dad to help her out with maintenance on it when she would be so far away in New York.

  The wheels in her mind kept turning as she drove across town. The house was a gem—a family heirloom. So many of the old homes all over America were falling apart when there wasn’t enough interest in the younger generations to stay put and keep them going. The small towns were dying as the children grew up and moved away to bigger cities—like Topeka, and Kansas City, and New York.

  She realized that she was as guilty as any of them.

  By the time she had reached the Hayden house, an idea had begun to hatch in her brain. Now, she just had to find a way to give it wings.

  Part II

  Chapter 36

  A half hour later, when Georgia returned to her grandmother’s house, there were no cars in the driveway. She wondered how she had missed passing Marsha and Stevie on the road.

  The sky was a strange shade of violet with wisps of orange. As she lugged her suitcase up the porch steps, she realized that she felt a little uneasy about staying in the house overnight alone.

  Once inside, she saw a pool of light at the top of the staircase and wondered what Marsha or Stevie had been doing up there before they left. Then, she tripped over a screwdriver and flashlight lying in the middle of the floor. She shook her head as she picked them up, wondering what it must be like for her sister to constantly clean up after so many kids.

  With a sigh, she picked up her suitcase and walked back towards the stairs, anxious to get settled in for the night.

  But, before she got very far, the doorbell rang. Startled, she dropped the suitcase and wondered if Marsha, Stevie, or the neighbors had come back for some reason.

  She tried the porch light switch, but the front of the house remained bathed in darkness. Then, assuming that it really couldn’t be anyone except Fred or Annie, she opened the door.

  To her surprise, there was a man standing there with his hands in his pockets. Though the Tiffany lamp on the table behind her cast a soft rainbow glow towards the doorway, her own body blocked what little light there was, ensconcing his face in shadows. Though, she could see that he wore a white t-shirt and long trousers rolled up into cuffs and had a dark complexion.

  “Good Evening, Ma’am. Sorry to bother you so late. I used to do some work around here for Virginia, and I just wanted to stop by and give you my condolences.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mister…”

  He took off his cap with a grandiose swoop and bowed before her, then placed his other hand over his heart. “Moreno. My name is DanielMoreno.”

  Replacing the cap back on his head, he reached out his hand to shake hers, and she took it. His grip was solid, but his skin felt like ice, much cooler than the breeze wafting in. A strange tingling sensation transferred to her hand as he held it a couple seconds longer than propriety normally allowed. When he finally let go, he rocked back on his heels and tilted his head to his left as if pondering what he should say next. She caught a better glimpse of him as he moved out of her shadow. He had shoulder-length dark hair and a trim goatee. His eyes were a sparkling green, and he was a very handsome man...perhaps just a few years younger than herself. She detected a slight accent in his voice, a sharpness to some of his consonants that sounded like he might have a bit of Latin blood.

  “What kind of work did you do for my grandmother?”

  “Gardening, mainly. I specialize in roses, and I know you’ve got that old garden back there probably just turning to brambles. I spent a lot of time over here helping your grandmother with its upkeep, but she stopped having me over late this summer.”

  “Are you looking for a job, Moreno?”

  He smiled, and she was sure that she saw his brilliant green eyes twinkle and flash just like the stars behind him. But, she wrote it off as a mirage—a fictional concoction of her tired, emotionally overwrought brain.

  “There isn’t much work for a gardener in a small town like this. People get old a
nd don’t have the money for help...or they just stop caring and let it all go to weeds. Nobody has a passion anymore. I may have to move on to a bigger city if I don’t round up some more work soon.”

  As she stood in the doorway just a few feet from him, she could tell that he smelled sweet—like flowers—and a bit earthy like freshly turned soil or cut grass like he had just come from a job. She thought that it certainly wouldn’t hurt to hire a professional to clean up the mess in the vegetable garden out back and maybe give the heirloom roses a good pruning. She didn’t trust Stevie to do much more than create a massacre if he was given free reign with a pair of clippers or a power tool.

  “I’m only here for a few days, but I’d sure like to have the gardens out back cleaned up before I leave. How much do you charge?”

  “Tell you what...tomorrow...I’ll do some work for you. Then, when you see what I’ve done...you tell me what it’s worth. I did a lot of favors for your grandmother for free. She was a very sweet lady.”

  She smiled back at him, appreciating his work ethic and the compliment to her grandmother. “Alright. When can you come by?”

  “Unfortunately, not until very late. I have an unusually busy schedule tomorrow.”

  “Okay. What time then?”

  “Around six?”

  “But, it will be getting dark by then.”

  He pointed towards his eyes. “Ahhh...but I have magic eyes ...and tools. You will see what a fantastic job I will do.” His eyes crinkled up at the edges as he smiled.

  She laughed at the thought of a gardener who worked by the light of the moon. As she glanced at the night sky behind him, she saw that there was only a sliver of moonlight this evening. It was going to be interesting to see if he could live up to his word and prowl the garden with cat’s eyes. She hoped that he had insurance in case he lopped off a finger instead of a branch. “Alright, Moreno. I’m game, but how will I be able to see the results of your work if it’s dark?”

  “Come outside just before you go to sleep. You will have very sweet dreams after you see the beauty I work. Bring a flashlight if you wish...” Then, he put his fingers to his brow and tilted his hat to bid her goodnight.

  She shut the door behind her and couldn’t stifle the laughter in her throat. A moonlighting gardener. She hadn’t heard of such a thing, even in New York. Maybe it would be a new trend. If global warming got out of hand, everyone might eventually garden at night with a flashlight, because it would just be too dang hot during the day to water your tomatoes and hoe the weeds around your corn.

  She remembered that Grammie had once taught her and Marsha how to go outside late in the evening and pick up the marauding slugs as they came out from their daytime lairs. Night was also the best time to smell some of the sweet white flowers that only bloomed at night to attract pollinating moths. So, apparently, there were chores that could be done in the garden at night. But, she didn’t envy anyone who had to clean up smashed fermented tomatoes and bloody strawberry pulp by the light of the stars.

  Her drifting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of scratching on the back door. It startled her for a moment before she realized that it was the cat.

  She let the beast in and fed him a bowl of tuna-scented crunchies before making herself a cup of warm tea and unpacking her suitcase.

  Later, she said a little prayer to the Almighty and the universe before going to bed that night. Please don’t let the dream come back. I’m too tired to be murdered again tonight.

  Chapter 37

  The spirit kicked up his heels as he danced around the fountain in the rose garden.

  Yes! I’ll charm this woman like a turbaned Indian enchants a snake with his flute.

  I am Daniel—Daniel the Gardener. And like a magical serpent, I have shed my old skin and begun anew. A new life. A new name. And now...a new lover. I’ll sow the seeds of love in her heart and this time—I will not be rejected.

  He circled the fountain again, alternating between his human form and a mass of ectoplasmic smoke. His excitement with each change of form caused sparks to flit about in the air like fireflies.

  Margaret...Margaret...baldracca! You were a mere whore compared to the exquisite refinement of my new love. Though, she may be descended from your tyrant father’s loins, she is a refined model of the clay that you came from.

  After wallowing in his imagination for a few minutes, he settled back down and let his feet touch the soil. Sadly, he remembered that not a single one of his schemes in his former life had ever panned out.

  But, this time was different.

  He knew, because he saw it in her eyes. Unlike Margaret’s initial aloofness and unspoken disdain for his low position, he detected a curious amusement in Georgia’s first impression of him. She was weary and wound up as tight as a penned cavallo. But, she had looked him up and down and found something pleasing in his appearance.

  He had his plan of seduction mapped out—uno, due, tre. Now, he just had to put it into action.

  Such hypnotic fantasies. He knew that he had to put them aside for now. As he regained his human form, he paced among the rose brambles and tried to focus on the things he needed to do before tomorrow evening arrived.

  An unexpected pain in his chest made him stop and rest for a moment. His labored breaths caused him to wince. Apparently, his celebratory flight had taken a lot of energy. Before he could plan tonight’s tasks, he needed to replenish his life force. He did not know where he would go to find his victim or what ruse he would use to approach them...but it needed to be simple and quick.

  Because, after that, he had to find a truck to steal.

  He had only driven a motorcar once and it had been a perilous affair, shifting all the gears and trying to keep it on the road. He lamented the fact that he had never made Virginia teach him how to drive, and he hoped that modern vehicles had been constructed with more simplicity, because he needed something to haul away the garden debris tomorrow. He would roam the town tonight until he found the perfect opportunity.

  For the first time, since his resurrection, he felt confident enough to venture away from the house. He set off on foot down County Line Road, keeping to the shadows in the tall brush and grasses along the ditch.

  With his skin now plump and tawny, nearly indistinguishable from any other human’s, he did not stay secluded for fear of anyone seeing him and thinking him a specter. He kept himself camouflaged under the cover of darkness, because he knew that he was a predator. Just like some wild beast from the jungle, he needed to maintain stealth and the power of surprise. Who knew when he might happen upon the perfect prey?

  He hadn’t chosen to come back like this—a parasite feeding on the emanations of others. And he wondered for a moment if his revival and unnatural hunger was some sort of test—one that he had surely already failed. Or, if it had just been sheer bad luck.

  Luck, he smirked as he strolled towards town. He didn’t believe in luck. Nothing had ever seemed to happen to him by chance. “Luck” required planning and fortitude, a sleight of hand, and sometimes an accomplice.

  Tomorrow...he’d stir the ingredients of luck into his recipe for success.

  She will not be able to resist me.

  But, a dark cloud of doubt hovered over his braggadocio as he neared the neon sign of a gas station. But, if she turns out to be as foolish as Margaret…

  Chapter 38

  The next day...the sun gleamed with ruby red and burnt orange autumn light as it streamed in Opal’s eastern kitchen window. Its brilliance illuminated the colorful glass beads dangling from a wind chime just inside the frame, and the pretty sight seemed like an auspicious sign. It lifted her mood and gave her a morsel of optimism as she poured a steaming cup of rose hip and cinnamon tea. Then, she hurried to get dressed, knowing that the old Innkeeper had risen with the dawn and maybe even before the roosters began to boast of their conquests.

  A few minutes later, she fled out the door, not bothering to bring a sweater into the chilly air.
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  Everyone in town knew that EdHanson had sat on the front porch of his Calathia Inn every day for the last seventy-three years. In that time, he had gone through only eight rocking chairs, because he refused to give each one up until his bottom end fell through the weave, and it was repaired at least twice.

  She parked her car in the cracked concrete parking lot erupting with weeds in front of the hotel and waved as she approached. “Morning, Ed.”

  But, he didn’t seem to hear as he sat in his chair and rocked, puffing on a corn cob pipe that was so old it looked like a chunk of petrified wood on a stick.

  His face was tanned and wrinkled like an overripe potato dotted with moles and skin tags that looked like sprouting eyes. She saw him run shaky gnarled fingers through the dozen strands of white corn silk on top of his scalp and squint through his thick gold-wire glasses as she neared the porch.

  “Sorry, Miss. We ain’t got no rooms left. There’s a football game over in Madison. Lots of folks here.”

  “Oh, Ed. It’s me, Opal.” It wasn’t surprising that he forgot that he used to bowl on a team with her father quite some years back. “Opal Peabody. Zeke’s daughter.”

  He squinted at her through the shimmering rays of sunshine. “I know you...” he said as he craned his head forward like a turtle stretching out of it shell.

  ”You’re not so young no more. But, I’m older than you. I’m older than everybody. You know...I was born in 1904. TheodoreRoosevelt became President that year. Hadn’t even started World War I. I’m probably older than that dirt you’re standing on, young Missy.”

  Opal looked down at the dust covering her shoes in the bare patch of lawn and laughed. “Ed, you’re a wise old owl. You’ve been around this town for a long time. Seen generations of folks born, and married off, and died. Yet, you’re still here. I’m surprised you haven’t rocked yourself clear through this porch a dozen times.”