The Naked Gardener

by L B Gschwandtner

  “How about you?” I asked Valerie.

  “Me?” said Valerie, pointing to herself. “That’s simple. I was bored. And I guess I like anything that gets me in front of people. I get to buy a new outfit twelve times a year for the monthly public meetings. That’s about it. Oh, and my husband, Dr. Reconstruction,” she nodded at Charlene, “is against my doing it. So that’s a plus.”

  “Val’s not being entirely honest about this,” said Erica. “She’s also a distant relative of the founder of Trout River Falls. The original mill owner I think. Isn’t that right?”

  “So they’ve told me,” said Valerie. “Personally I think it’s probably a lot of bunk. I’m not very big on ancestor worship. My family on my mother’s side was in this area for a long time. But there aren’t any of them left as far as I know.”

  “I guess that leaves me,” Roz said. “I’m a sucker for a cause. Anyone will tell you. I take in strays. It’s probably why I got married three times. Saving Trout River Falls is going to be a lot less of a headache than trying to rebuild another wreck of a man.”

  I slipped off the rock ledge into the cool water. It was time to be on our way.

  “We have to get to our campsite before dusk,” I told them. I dipped my head back, dunked my hair into the river and came up shaking off the excess water.

  “Are you going to catch us more fresh fish for dinner?” asked Charlene as she let herself down from the rock into the water.

  “If there’s a good place to fish where we land later.”

  Erica was the last to lower herself. We made our way across to the sandy island where we’d left the canoes. We passed around towels to dry off and put our clothes back on. “Let’s rearrange canoe partners so we all pair with someone new,” Roz suggested.

  After we packed up the cooking equipment and stowed all our gear back in the canoes, I showed Hope some paddling techniques. How to feather parallel to the canoe to come up alongside something sideways. How to back paddle to steer and how to alternate sides to keep a steady rhythm with the bow paddler.

  We pushed off, Roz now partnered with Erica, Hope with me, Charlene with Valerie. The strong canoers sat in the bows so the weaker ones could get some practice in control and steering.

  “See, you have the power to direct where the canoe goes, how fast, and when and how to change direction. If we were negotiating rapids, you’d have to be switching sides and steering to avoid rocks and pillows.”

  “What’s a pillow?” Hope asked.

  “When you see a bulge in the water, that tells you that something hard is under the surface and you want to avoid it.”

  “But what about you in the bow?”

  “The bow has no power to control the boat. I can only paddle harder and faster. You control what happens.”

  We tried a few tests and I was surprised at how quickly Hope caught on. “Oh, I see,” she said and feathered us over to Erica and Roz. The others listened and tried what Hope was doing and pretty soon we were paddling hard down the river.

  The river wound around in this section, curving in and out, skirting shoals and creating more islands like the one where we had stopped. You could see where the spring floods had left a water mark along steep banks, gouged out earth exposed tree roots dug deep back into the bank. Here and there large boulders were exposed with now and then a turtle resting on a rock ledge. Birds called, flying over the canoes. A crow cawed. Two wrens sang a lively, complex song answering each other in turn. The motion of the canoes spooked a great blue heron standing on a dead tree limb by the water. It took off with a raspy complaint. We paddled with regular strokes now, moving downriver faster than the current. The sun’s rays peeked through the leaves in a scattering of light on the water, which ran clear and brown, bubbling in spots, swirling in others, its surface like undulating velvet.

  I thought about Maze and me, tried to picture what the future looked like. I didn’t want to repeat my past where the deal we made – the music man and I – had changed into something unrecognizable. How could I count on a deal with Maze to stay the same? Maze. He seemed to know who he was. He wouldn’t suddenly give up teaching, researching, being fascinated by native cultures. I was worried about nothing. But I was still worried. If we got married, how would the ground between us shift? Rocks that were now hidden would work their way to the surface. I had no idea what was down there. Or what it would require of me. I was afraid of losing myself. It seemed as if it was always the woman who got lost in marriage. Even her name was not her own anymore. I would not change my name.

  In time we arrived where we would spend our first night and set about making camp. The chores were not unlike what we were used to doing at home. If any of the forest creatures that emerge at night were watching us, they might have wondered at these invaders who pitched tents, gathered firewood, unloaded mess kits and cooking gear and prepared for supper and sleep later. We set up a temporary mini village, with eating area, cooking area, and sleeping area. We unpacked duffels and food packs, went into the cooler only once to remove whatever fresh food we would need for this meal and then shut it tight to keep the rest of the food fresh as long as possible. By the next night, we would be eating canned or dried food or what we could heat in water like rice or pasta. Unless we found wild berries, or I caught more fish, fresh food would not be on the menu.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE CAMPFIRE

  Daylight faded. The fire grew brighter; it popped and crackled. Flames licked the air. A sweet smoky aroma permeated the clearing. The daytime breeze faded away with the setting sun. To keep the fire going, Hope and Charlene piled extra wood next to a large rock. The rest of us set up three small tents, carried sleeping bags inside and unrolled them for later. When we had finished our chores, cleaned the mess kits and placed them on the rock to dry, we gathered around the fire and sat on leaves, legs crossed, ready to relax.

  “Did any of you go to girls’ camp?” Valerie asked in a general way. She didn’t strike me as the camp girl type. Uniforms. Unheated cabins. No mirrors. Then again, she was out here with us, so who could predict what anyone was likely to do or had done in the past?

  “I did.” Roz? I tried to picture her in a cabin with a bunch of other girls. She would have been the one organizing pranks against the counselors.

  “Remember the campfire songs?”

  “Oh God, yes. And the girls who would start weeping,” Roz groaned.

  “I was one of those girls.” Valerie said it quietly. She seemed a bit cowed by Roz..

  “I never understood that. You know, got the whole thing.” Roz again.

  “I can understand how that feels,” said Hope. “It’s like in church sometimes. People feel at one with each other and with their faith.”

  “You equate camp girl songs with church singing?” Charlene asked.

  “Not exactly,” said Hope. “But I think sometimes in a group something special happens that’s hard to put into words.”

  “I think I was hoping that would happen for us on the council,” said Erica.

  “But we were already friends. What more did you expect?” Charlene asked.

  Erica shrugged. “Magic?”

  “I think the camp singing was a mood thing,” said Valerie. “Everyone would sing some sentimental song and I think that would lead to a kind of group emotional letdown. We knew we were only there for a short time. We were going to say goodbye soon.” She shrugged one shoulder a little defensively and tilted her head. Here we were, all grown women, yet it was not so hard to remember a time of sentimental longing.

  I thought about what I was like back then. The teenage angst years. Rebellious. So sure I knew what I wanted. Where was that chin stuck out at the world girl now? A disgruntled woman who couldn’t decide which direction her life should take. Who couldn’t wholly commit to the man who obviously loved her.

  Erica added, “There’s something about sitting around a fire outside in the woods that takes you to another place.”

  �
��It’s true. Some place primitive,” said Valerie.

  “Yeah. Cave girls,” Roz added.

  I poked at the fire and threw a fat branch onto the top where the flames were dark orange. It caught quickly and spat sparks into the air. The trees took on phantom shapes in the fading light. Boughs heavy with leaves rustled and then became still. They seemed to be patiently waiting for the coming of night. A bat swirled and dipped overhead before it darted out of range above the treetops.

  “Cave girls with secrets,” Erica mused.

  “Do you have a secret?” asked Valerie.

  “Everybody has secrets,” Erica answered. “maybe not exactly secrets. But those things you never tell anyone. Or even admit to yourself.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “If I’m going to share one, then everybody has to.” Erica looked around at each of us in turn.

  “Do we have to take a blood oath? A menstrual blood oath maybe?” asked Charlene.

  Erica tossed an acorn cap she’d been fiddling with at her. “That would let me out.” Charlene ducked to avoid the tiny missile. We all agreed. Something private that no one else knew. One secret. We each threw a piece of fresh wood on the fire to seal the oath. The fire rose up higher, burned with a bright light, crackled and threw out tiny glowing red sparks.

  “I’ll start,” said Erica. “I used to be even heavier. You didn’t know me then.” She pointed to me. “Not all of you did either.” She motioned to the others.

  “You’ve lost weight since I met you last summer,” I said.

  “Yes but I had been even bigger before then.” She never used the word fat.

  “Tell us,” said Hope.

  “I set a goal in the beginning to cut myself in half,” she said. “That meant losing more than a hundred pounds. One hundred and eleven to be exact.” She stopped talking but then said almost to herself. “I never said that out loud before.” Somewhere a group of ducks quacked as they flew over the river to their night roosts.

  “Wow. I had no idea it was that much.” Charlene didn’t say it with malice or in a competitive way. She was letting Erica know she had done something significant.

  “I know. Until I got on a scale I didn’t either. That first weigh in was a complete shocker. I fell over and nearly passed out. Two people had to catch me as I went down.”

  “What got you started?” That was me. It just popped out. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything but Erica seemed relieved to be talking about it.

  “It started when my son joined the marines. Then, after basic training, when he got orders for Afghanistan and after he shipped out, I was so upset I couldn’t eat for a week. Every time I looked at food I felt my stomach turn over. That’s when I decided to change my life. To take control. When he comes back to us, I want him to see the mother he used to know before. When he was younger. Before I lost control of something inside of me.” She pointed to her heart.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to any of us?” Hope asked.

  “I’m not sure. In the beginning I was afraid to fail. And later I couldn’t stand the thought of everyone telling me how much I had changed. Or how good I looked. I felt so awful about myself. And I was angry at everything, I couldn’t share it with the world. I was too ashamed of what I’d become.”

  “I know how that feels.” Valerie’s voice came as if from far away.

  We all turned to look at her. Erica stared in disbelief. “Are you mocking me?”

  “No, of course not. I think I’m a little jealous of the way you’ve taken your life into your own hands.”

  “Well then tell me how someone who’s always been beautiful and thin all her life can possibly know what it feels like to have a body that’s out of control.”

  Valerie stared at the fire for a long time while we waited. “I’m forty-eight. And I’ve added boob implants, had my thighs lipo-ed, my eyelids and forehead done and when I was twenty I had my nose fixed because I was told it was too wide to photograph well for modeling. Now I’m looking at the day that’s coming very soon … ” she broke off and stared at the fire again.

  “You mean you’re getting older, like the rest of us?”

  “Come on, Roz, give her a break. She’s always relied on her looks to get along. She still models sometimes. She has to look good. It’s just part of who she is,” Erica said and then reached over to pat Valerie’s arm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to speak about you in the third person like that.”

  “I’m just saying, it ain’t that tough to accept you’re going to get older. We all have to do that. But we don’t all have to lose a hundred eleven pounds. That’s a big nut to pay down,” Roz insisted.

  I poked at the fire again, making it spark with life. “Maybe there’s something else that Valerie’s not told us yet.” I spoke cautiously.

  “It’s true.” Valerie looked across at me. A sad and angry look. “My husband,” she began but stopped.

  “What?” Charlene butted in before Valerie could finish. “What about Dr. Reconstruction?”

  “You’ve never liked him,” said Valerie.

  “I’ve never trusted him. And I’ve never liked the way he’s treated you.”

  “How has he treated me?” Valerie asked her. “Any different than any other average husband treats his wife after eighteen years?”

  “Charlene’s just being protective,” Roz held up her hand. “In a crude and thoughtless way. But she’s concerned about you.”

  “Is it all over town then? Did everyone know but me?” Valerie looked at Roz and then Charlene.

  “Know what?” Erica asked. “I don’t know anything.”

  “He’s having an affair. With a 30-something who works at the pro shop at the club.” Valerie blurted it out. “I always knew this would happen someday. I knew he would move on when I got beyond repair.”

  “Jesus, you sound like you think of yourself as an out of date car that’s ready for the used car lot. You’ve got more going on than that. You’re not just a pretty doctor’s wife,” said Charlene.

  “I’ve built my whole life around being pretty and looking good. The perennially beautiful doctor’s wife. The trophy.”

  “This is exactly why I never want to be tied to one man,” Roz muttered.

  “When was the last time you were tied to one man?” Charlene asked her.

  “I was tied to one man three times and that was enough for me”

  “Exactly my point. And now you’re dating that truck driving gambler. So you’re tied to another one.”

  “I am not tied to him. I am using him for sex and excitement. That’s totally different.”

  “He’s so far beneath you I can’t even begin to explain the problems with that.”

  “You’re just being a snob. And if you’re so dedicated to one man, how come you don’t live with yours?”

  The question went unanswered. We sat quietly for a time watching the flames lick the air. Sparks erupted now and then and flew into the darkness then flared out to nothing. The river gurgled along nearby. Night sounds began to come alive. Somewhere a frog croaked and crickets sang. I listened for an owl but there were none nearby or perhaps our voices inhibited their calls. The night sky was clear and I thought that when the fire died out there would be many more stars visible way out here in the woods. My mind brushed by a thought of Maze in the chicken coop. I wondered what he had made himself for dinner.

  When Charlene spoke her voice trembled slightly and she held her hand in front of her face.

  “I’m sorry, Roz. I didn’t mean anything about Ed. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Just right for you. Lots of fun. No commitment. Out of town a lot on the road.”

  “What is up with you?” Roz seemed genuinely shocked by this change of tone.

  “Nothing. Not a thing. I’m perfectly fine. I mean I’ll be perfectly fine. That is when I make the decision and then everything will be fine,” Charlene shook her head.

  “What is it? Something with Jake? Are you two having trouble?”
r />   I thought I heard a note of triumph in Roz’s voice. But maybe I was wrong. I hoped I was wrong.

  “Why is it whenever a woman is upset everyone always assumes it’s because of some man?” Charlene glared at Roz.

  No one seemed to have an answer to Charlene’s question so it hung there for a few seconds like a hawk hovering over us.

  “I think it’s because a woman defines herself by the man she’s with,” I said. “We almost never stand completely alone and feel satisfied with that.”

  “I never had a problem with a man.” Hope broke the silence.

  “You never had a man.” Roz quipped and then shook her head almost as if saying to herself that she shouldn’t have said that.

  “I do now. At least I may.”

  “What?” Erica and Valerie asked at exactly the same time. “Who?”

  “He and a partner own the new landscaping company the church hired and he manages the crews. He came by the first day and showed them where to plant our hydrangea bushes. You know the ones that are right up against the east side of the church, under the maple trees? They’re really pretty. He fed them with something that he said will make their flowers blue.”

  “Enough gardening news,” Roz said. “What about him?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. But I kind of like him. After he finishes with the crew and they leave he stays and talks to me.”

  “What are you doing, praying together?”

  Erica shot Roz a look that said ‘Lay off.’

  “Well,” Hope dropped her voice and shrugged a little. She pulled at a leaf stuck in her sneaker lace. “He asked me out.”

  “And?” Roz asked.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Whether to go out with him?” Erica asked her.

  “No. I said I would go,” said Hope.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Valerie had perked up. In fact the mood had shifted again for all of us.

  “I don’t know what to expect,” Hope’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I’ve never been on a date. I don’t know what he’ll do. Or what I should do. Or say.”

  “There’s nothing different about a date than what you’ve already been doing with him. Except there will probably be food involved,” Charlene broke in. “Unless. Wait a minute. Are you really asking about sex?”