The Gardener

by Michelle DePaepe

  Daniel stormed out of the room, shoving people aside as she fell to her knees.

  “Help me...” she pleaded to anyone within earshot.

  But, they all stood still and stared as if wondering if this was all just part of the evening’s entertainment. Were they supposed to clap and then get another drink before the next act?

  A second later, a hand reached up under her arm and lifted her up to her feet.

  “Are you alright?” Stevie asked.

  “Yes.” But, she yelped as she felt the pain again and bent over. When it ceased and she looked up, Annie was by her side. “Are you okay, dear?”

  “Yes,” Georgia said again as she saw a couple of partygoers helping Fred to his feet. “But what about—”

  “Fred? He says he’s fine. Just a tumble. But you...you look like someone’s ripped your insides out. You just had

  quite an emotional toll. Are you sure you’re okay? Should we call an ambulance?”

  Her knees felt weak as she braced herself against a plaster pillar with a potted fern next to the sofa. What had just happened to her? The numbness in her arm was gone, but she felt different inside, like she had been burned from within. Heat radiated throughout her chest. It was an awful feeling...as close to death as she ever wanted to feel. Even so, she didn’t want to go to the hospital.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve just had a bit too much to drink and Daniel’s proposal was quite the surprise.”

  Annie shrugged then offered to go to kitchen and get her a glass of water.

  As she waited for her return, a slew of people came up to express their concern. She assured them that everything was okay.

  Her pity for Daniel began to turn to anger. How could he put her on the spot like this in front of so many of her friends? She felt humiliated.

  Despite her frazzled mind, she knew that she didn’t want to let him sulk by himself for the rest of the party, and she couldn’t allow this scene to be the denouement. Now that she was beginning to feel a little better, she had to bring him back...and restore a sense of liveliness to the atmosphere.

  But, her thoughts were interrupted as a slow chanting began in the room.

  “10...9...8...7...”

  She tried to make her way through the crowd, squeezing through dozens of torsos and limbs.

  “Happy New Year!” The room seemed to shake with every syllable.

  Caught amongst the paper horns, kissing, and clinking glasses, she stopped as she felt a strange electricity reverberate throughout the air, making her skin tingle. She didn’t know if it was from the excitement around her, the adrenaline flowing through her, or some other unknown cause. But, the guests didn’t seem to notice anything peculiar as the revelry continued.

  She found a free spot on the sofa and collapsed. When she regained some strength, she intended to search inside and out until she found Daniel. This was such a rotten way to end the evening.

  Chapter 82

  AlphonsoGiovanni leaned against the back of the garage, enraged by Georgia’s rebuff. The fury inside was so strong...he felt like he might literally combust from within. His appearance, irrefutably human just minutes before was now altered by an ectoplasmic lava flushing through his veins that illuminated his skin and turned it an eery red as he paced under the eaves.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This was supposed to be the most joyful night of his second life. Why did everyone impede his dreams? He thought that he had set up the most perfect proposal, so that it would be impossible for her to refuse him.

  And yet...she had.

  He hated her now. He hated this house...the gardens...the land...and everyone on it. Now, there was no chance that any of it would truly be his...and he knew that he had earned it. All the time he had spent pruning, weeding, digging, caring for Crawford’s damned roses...and for what? Not even Crawford’s descendent wanted anything to do with him, even after he doted upon her and helped to launch her new career.

  He thought about all of the people in the house—people that he had brought to this place—the art critics, gallery owners, connoisseurs. They were probably laughing at him now, thinking what a poor idiot he was to think that someone as beautiful and talented as Georgia would have him for a husband.

  A curse upon them all! He spat on the ground, and the frosty earth sizzled.

  Snowflakes stung his skin like shards of glass as he pondered his next move. He was ready to march back inside the house and devour them, feeding on their energy...one by one. He imagined the horror and revulsion in their eyes as body after body dropped to the floor. The thought of such immense power thrilled him. He had felt so emasculated in his previous life—so subservient to those with wealth. But now, no amount of money would give him more satisfaction than absorbing the essence of so many souls in one night.

  Perhaps, he should start with Georgia. No...that wouldn’t do. He must first go in and sweep the rooms...bringing down the hammer of death in rapid succession. Then, with the vigor of their energy coursing through him...he could take his time and enjoy the fear pulsing through her as he pursued her...just as he had done with her grandmother, Virginia.

  His thoughts were interrupted as he saw a figure emerge from the darkness behind the house and walk down the path towards him. Was it Georgia? Did she think to find him out there...cowering from embarrassment...too afraid to show his face again at the party? Perhaps, she was trying to find him to chastise him for ruining the glory of her evening.

  He decided to stay in the shadows and let her pass by without seeing him. He’d let her search for him and freeze for a while before he went to her. Then, he would show her! Zoccola! The women of this family were all unappreciative bitches.

  Chapter 83

  Opal and Karl made slow but steady progress on the hole at the base of the fountain. But, they still had far to go. She imagined that the stone slab at its base went down at least two feet, and if there was a grave under there, it was probably at least another foot down.

  She paused from her work of aiming the blowtorch at the hard ground and scooping away the soil as Karl dug. “It’s midnight. I have to go—”

  He leaned on the shovel. Sweat and dirt dripped down his face, and he wiped it away with his sleeve.

  “It’s the witching hour. If there’s any chance of contacting my mother for help, I have to do it now.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked, breathless.

  She looked north towards the black brambles of thorns behind them. “I’m going to the river...where Virginia died. Maybe, I could make contact with her too. She might be able to tell me something that could help.”

  “Whatever, Ma.” He sighed. “I’m literally in this so deep now...it doesn’t matter what you do.”

  “Just keep digging.”

  He saluted her with a crazed grin then went back to his backbreaking work.

  She grabbed a small tote out of the duffel bag and headed out of the rose garden towards the field.

  When she reached the edge of the field, she could see the black silhouettes of the massive cottonwoods near the river—an army of titans reaching as high as the moon. She traipsed towards them, disturbing the virgin snow.

  A few minutes later, she reached the riverbank and found an old tree stump for a seat. Then, she sat and listened to the water. It gurgled and sputtered under the ice, and she heard an animal scuttling about on the other side of the bank. There was the very faint sound of music coming from the house, half a football field away, but other than that...she could only hear her own breath which impressed upon her the fact that she was out there all alone. Would anyone hear her scream if she found herself in trouble?

  Though it was still snowing, the clouds parted enough for her to see the moon through the claw-like branches of the treetops. It looked like a fat crescent, a big yellow eye winking down from above.

  She opened her bag and took out a flashlight. As she turned it on, a noise startled her from above. She swung the beam in a wide arc, catching t
he silhouette of a large bird settling on the branches of a tree. Her heart slowed as she saw that it was only an owl with its eyes glowing in the reflection.

  Alright...time to get this show on the road.

  Since God hadn’t answered her prayers and helped her, now she was going to call for supernatural assistance. She realized that it might end up being the dumbest thing she could do, but at this point she felt that she was out of options.

  Of course, she hadn’t told Karl about her doubts, but she had little faith in Aunt Grace’s instructions about destroying the spirit’s bones. By now, they had probably turned to muck or dust anyway. Her determination to excavate them was just an attempt to cover all bases out of desperation.

  She began to shiver as the wind picked up and moist air from the river rattled her bones. With stiff fingers, she pulled her cross out of the bag and rested it on her lap.

  Filling her lungs with deep draughts of the icy air, she tried to focus on her purpose. After a few moments of meditation she began.

  She followed her normal routine, just as she did with her clients, but this time there was a passion and despondency in her voice as she chanted. She called both the spirit of her mother and the spirit of Virginia for guidance, hoping that at least one of them would answer her call.

  Closing her eyes tight, she chanted their names with every safe invocation she knew...growing louder and louder with each verse.

  After a couple of minutes, she opened her eyes and panned the flashlight around the riverbank seeing wild grasses, cattails, and the icy river...but nothing out of the ordinary. It was quiet—very quiet now. She couldn’t even hear sounds from the party. The world seemed to share in her anticipation, holding its breath...

  After another minute of silence, she felt despair. Was she just wasting her time? Would she have better luck if she waited until a night with a full moon? She knew that she didn’t have time for that. Too many people were dying.

  But then...something happened.

  The wind began to howl through the massive arms of the cottonwoods. She heard the owl flap its great wings and take off into the sky as a dark nebulous fog emerged from the river like a cloud seeping up from the bowels of the earth.

  She froze to the stump as she gripped the cross tighter.

  Something stirred inside the river.

  She heard the sound of ice cracking, a trickle of water, then the sound of footsteps padding up the muddy bank. She trembled and squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she was really ready to face her mother or Virginia. She had disappointed both while they were alive. Would they be helpful now or wrathful?

  The smell hit her next. There was nothing subtle about the foul odor. It stank of stagnant water and rotten vegetation, underlain with a sickening sweetness. As putrid as a pile of manure...covered with honey. She gagged.

  The sound of sloshing footsteps stopped a few feet in front of her.

  Before she braved opening her eyes to see the apparition that answered her call, she reminded himself that she had to put her fears aside and remember her purpose. No matter how hideous her mother or Virginia looked, she had to speak with them. She had to know if they could help call AlphonsoGiovanni back to the land of the dead.

  She sucked in her breath...and opened her eyes.

  As she clenched the cross with a rock-hard fist and squeezed the flashlight with the other, she saw not one...but two apparitions before her.

  They stood inside the beam of her flashlight with tendrils of dark fog swirling around them. She blinked and opened her eyes wider, not believing what she saw at first. But, the pain in her wrists as her fingernails dug into the flesh reinforced the fact that the two figures were real and not part of some nightmare after falling asleep on the riverbank.

  The girl on the left had long dark hair that reached down to her waist. Strands of slimy water plants hung down over her chest like living dripping scarves. Her white cotton gown was a second skin made of wet cloth clinging to her dead flesh. There were purplish black marks about her throat and her skin was mottled with a network of red veins that covered her bloated pale form.

  Opal had trouble tearing herself away from the girl’s eyes. They were black holes—empty lifeless sockets except for the small round circle of light reflecting from her flashlight.

  She forced herself to look away towards the other apparition.

  He was a tall, robust-looking man with hair as white as the snow. His sideburns swooped down to a beard-covered chin framing a scowl. He looked angry, like a man who had been wakened from a deep slumber on a false pretense, and his eyes had the same hollow darkness. But, unlike the girl, his suit was dry and covered in caked mud. She imagined that it came from filth seeping into the old man’s grave, not from the bottom of the river where the girl had drowned.

  But, she hadn’t drowned there...had she?

  She had been drowned in the fountain...by AlphonsoGiovanni.

  Opal had read the journal. There was no doubt in her mind that standing before her were the ghosts of WilliamCrawford and his daughter, Margaret.

  The stench in the air emanated more from the direction of his body than the girl’s. It was the foulness of decay mixed with that horrible sweetness...as if the perfume of the roses he bred had permeated his body and remained with him even in death.

  As the two souls stared, they seemed to be waiting for some response from her. The man frightened her the most. The scowl between his jowls looked like a precursor to violence. It took every molecule of courage left in her shuddering frame to remember what her desperate mission was that night.

  The two took a step closer to her. She cringed as she imagined them dragging her body down to the river and pulling her under. Virginia’s body had been found near the river. What if the ghosts had pulled her in and drowned her?

  She could feel the prickles of hair still standing up on her arms and the back of her neck as she pondered the idea of negotiation. Maybe these two could help her more than her mother or Virginia could have. All she wanted to do was get her business done with them and get the hell away from this unpredictable situation.

  She spoke to them, telling them what had happened—how she had accidentally summoned the spirit of AlphonsoGiovanni and now couldn’t get rid of him.

  They seemed to listen to her. But, their transparent rotting bodies were like filmy images of their former selves—simple memories of the people that they had once been. Had she seen them stiffen when she mentioned the spirit’s name? Their mouths hung open like empty caves, once full of words and wisdom that seemed to no longer be there.

  Then, Margaret made the chilling gesture of raising a finger and pointing it directly at her. She saw the tip of a bone sticking from the nail bed shining white in the moonlight. The gesture seemed accusatory. Was she angry that she had been summoned? It was all Opal could do to keep from screaming and running away as fast as she could.

  Water dribbled down the young woman’s chin, and Opal heard warbled words...or was it her imagination coupled with the sound of the blowing wind?

  Her jaw remained open as William spoke in a deep growl. His words came out in a gurgle, and she couldn’t make any sense of them. He repeated the same unintelligible thing as he grabbed Margaret’s hand—a gesture that seemed protective and comforting.

  Margaret’s finger now seemed to point over Opal’s shoulder. She ventured a quick glance behind, but saw only a wall of darkness in the shadows behind the triangle of light from her flashlight.

  When she turned back to face them, they hadn’t moved. Sadness seemed to ooze from them, weighing them down more than their lifeless bodies. And, the snowy river behind them sparkled as the beam from her flashlight shone through their bodies.

  The specters stood still as if waiting for a response from her.

  She pleaded with them, asking once again how to get rid of Alphonso and send him back to eternal rest. But, instead of answering, their forms begun to quiver...oscillating from side to side like a bad picture on
a television, and they began to fade from view.

  “No...come back! Please…” she pleaded. But, a moment later, they were gone. All she could see in the spot where they had stood was the mist, slowly retreating back to the river.

  She slumped over, feeling the agony of failure.

  A second later, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped off the stump and screamed. Then, she tried to run, but her left ankle pitched down the slope, nearly causing her to roll down it.

  “Ma...it’s okay. It’s just me.”

  She turned and threw her arms around Karl.

  “You won’t believe what just happened.”

  “I’m sure I won’t,” he said.

  “The fountain. Are you still digging?”

  “No. I found something.”

  Chapter 84

  When Georgia didn’t see Daniel out back on the patio, she looked towards the path to the gardens. Of course, that’s where he is. She knew that he often went out there to think and be alone.

  In her heels, inebriated and filled with adrenaline, she wobbled along the stone steps. With no coat on, her arms began to shiver. But, she was too absorbed in thought to notice.

  When she reached the arbor, she stopped as she heard a voice behind her.

  “Is this how it ends?”

  She turned around as Daniel stepped out from the shadows onto the path. “I thought things might be different this time,” he sighed. “All I wanted was another chance...to be with a woman I loved...to fit in...and finally be the rightful owner of this house as I should have been so many years ago.”

  “Daniel,” she said as she turned and walked towards him. “What are you talking about?”

  “My name isn’t Daniel. It’s Alphonso...AlphonsoGiovanni.”

  “Alphonso...” she repeated as her foggy mind snapped to attention at the sound of the name. “My grandmother...”

  “Virginia,” He laughed. “I might have been happy here with her. We were at first. Then...she began to doubt me and things turned sour. It was a shame that I had to end it the way that I did.”