“Your nails are very pretty,” Laney noted. “Did your mommy paint them for you?”
Shanna laughed but didn’t look away from her computer. “I got them done at the salon.”
“Ooh,” Laney said. “Fancy.”
“I go to Dazzle Nails around the corner. Ask for Jupiter. Her nail art is good.”
Hyacinth and Laney filed that information in their heads to ask Mama about later.
“You visiting Charles Jeet?” Shanna asked, finally looking up at the kids.
The Vanderbeekers nodded.
“He’s in Intensive Care on the sixth floor, but you can’t go up without an adult. You got an adult with you?”
“Do I count as an adult?” Jessie asked, looking around the tree to see Shanna.
“How old are you?”
“Almost thirteen?”
“Then no.”
Laney, who had guzzled two large cups of lemonade at Castleman’s Bakery, suddenly had to go to the bathroom. Immediately. She tugged on Jessie’s sleeve. “Bathroom! I need to go now! It’s an emergency!”
Shanna pointed a finger. “Bathrooms are down the hall to the right,” she said. “Next!” she called to the line that had built up behind them.
“I want to visit him today,” Oliver grumbled as they made their way down the hall. “That’s a stinky rule.”
“You guard the tree,” Jessie instructed Oliver, leaving him outside the ladies’ room with Tilia, the bakery box, and the bag of gardening supplies. She disappeared inside with Hyacinth and Laney.
His sisters took their sweet time in the bathroom, so Oliver had plenty of time to people-watch. He noticed the elevators were right next to the bathrooms, and he remembered that Shanna had said Mr. Jeet was on the sixth floor. It seemed a shame to come all this way and not even say hi to him. A quick visit couldn’t hurt, right? They were kids, sure, but they were family. Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie would count as the adults once they got upstairs.
Oliver glanced back at the information desk, where Shanna was mobbed by a new group of people needing visitor passes. Then he rolled Tilia to a sunny window next to another plant so she could get some sun and have company. He returned to his spot by the bathrooms just as his sisters emerged.
“Where’s Tilia of the Eternal Spring?” Hyacinth said immediately.
“She’s hanging out by the window, soaking up the rays, living the good life,” Oliver said. “Come on, let’s go see Mr. Jeet.”
Nine
Jessie wasn’t so sure about breaking into the Intensive Care Unit, but Oliver gave a persuasive argument. They joined a herd of people entering the elevator, and no one seemed to care that four unaccompanied kids were wandering around. They made it to the sixth floor and exited with a couple who did not look one bit like them, but the Vanderbeeker kids were biracial anyway, so maybe the hospital staff would assume they were all together.
The kids trailed the couple, who weaved through the hallways as if they had navigated them before, and Jessie was glad to follow them, because the hospital was a maze! They were almost in the Intensive Care Unit—they had passed a sign with arrows pointing in the direction they were walking—when their luck ran out. The couple stepped into a patient’s room, and the Vanderbeekers had no choice but to keep going. Jessie kept a lookout for a room with Mr. Jeet’s name on it, but then they turned a corner and ran right into the nurses’ station.
The Vanderbeekers hoped no one would notice them, but three nurses behind the counter raised their eyebrows and stood up at the same time.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” asked one, while another inquired, “Who are you with?” and the last one said, “Are you lost?” The nurses wore matching teal-blue scrubs, but their expressions ranged from unamused (the first nurse) to concerned (the second nurse) to pleasant (the third nurse).
“We’re here to visit Mr. Jeet!” Laney said, smiling up at them. “We brought him treats from Castleman’s Bakery.”
The unamused nurse clicked her tongue. “This is an intensive care unit. Kids shouldn’t be wanderin’ around.”
“He’s family,” Oliver said. “We have to see if he’s okay.”
“How are you related?” she said, eyeing Oliver’s bandaged knee and elbow.
“We’re neighbors,” Jessie clarified. “But he’s like a grandfather.”
“Like a grandfather means he’s not actually your grandfather,” she replied, her voice sharp.
Laney pushed out her lip. “He belongs to us. We love him.”
The third nurse, the pleasant one with eyes that were warm and happy, put a hand on the mean nurse’s arm. “I got this,” she said to her.
The mean nurse rolled her eyes, dropped into her office chair, and went back to her paperwork, muttering to herself.
The second nurse, the concerned one, wrinkled her brow. “He’s not well enough for visitors right now. Maybe you can come back—with your parents—when he’s moved out of the Intensive Care Unit.”
Then the pleasant nurse said, “But it is so sweet of you to come and to bring food. I will definitely let him know you stopped by.”
“Can we stick our head in and say hello? Just for a second?” Jessie pleaded. “I think he would want to see us.
The conversation was getting to be too much for the unamused nurse, because she stood back up and swept her hands away from her, as if she was shooing the Vanderbeekers away. “Go on, we can’t have you gettin’ in the way while the doctors are workin’.”
“I’m sorry,” the pleasant nurse said. “I wish I could help you.”
Laney beckoned her to lean closer. “Are you sure Mr. Jeet is okay?” she whispered.
“We’re taking very good care of him,” the nurse whispered back.
“You can have this whole box of pastries if you take extra, super-duper good care of him,” Laney said, taking the box from Hyacinth and holding it up to the nice nurse.
“Well, isn’t that sweet of you? We do love pastries, but we would take good care of him regardless.”
“Can you make sure to give a couple to Miss Josie? That’s Mr. Jeet’s wife,” Jessie said.
“I sure will,” the nurse said, taking the box. “And I’ll let Josie know you came by. She’s a real sweetheart.”
“But don’t give any to that lady,” Laney said, pointing at the mean nurse, who was scowling at them.
The nice nurse winked at the kids, and the Vanderbeekers turned around to go back to the elevators. They followed the signs, but somehow they got turned around in the maze of hallways.
“I thought we went past here already,” Oliver said. “We’ve seen that picture before.” He pointed to a picture of a waterfall with the words “Believe in Yourself” written in curly script.
Jessie peered down the hall. “I think the elevators are that way,” she said.
“Wait! Look!” Hyacinth said, pointing.
There, across the way, was a patient room with a card that said JEET stuck into a clear plastic holder.
The Vanderbeekers crept to the door and peeked in.
Mr. Jeet lay on a hospital bed, his eyes closed, surrounded by machines that were beeping and flashing. A bag of fluid hung from a rod, and the bottom had a long, clear tube that attached to his arm. His hospital gown hung loose over his shoulders, and his face was sunken and filled with wrinkles, like craters on the moon. He was very, very still.
Mama and Miss Josie were sitting on chairs across from Mr. Jeet. Miss Josie had her head on Mama’s shoulders, and their bodies were hunched over, weighed down with grief.
The Vanderbeeker kids slowly backed away.
“He’s really sick, isn’t he?” Hyacinth whispered.
“I want to give him a hug,” Laney said, tugging at Jessie’s hand.
Jessie put her arms around Laney and squeezed her tight. “I think he needs rest, Laney Bean.”
Oliver scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. Big tears rolled down Hyacinth’s face.
They stood there
, clumped together in the hallway, until a nurse rolling a gurney gave them a funny look as she passed by.
“We should go before we get in trouble,” Jessie finally said. Her siblings nodded, then turned back down the hallway and found the elevators after paying extra-careful attention to the signs. They went back down to the ground floor, wheeled Tilia of the Eternal Spring out of the hospital, and walked all the way home in complete silence.
Ten
That night, Mama put together a gigantic salad for dinner. She was so distracted, she didn’t even ask the kids about their day. Which was good, because they had done a lot of things they didn’t really want to share with their parents.
“How’s Mr. Jeet?” Hyacinth asked, even though she had already seen with her own eyes how he was doing. She plucked a piece of spinach from the salad bowl and offered it to Franz. He snatched it from her hand, chewed it for half a second, then spat it out on the floor in a slobbery green blob.
Mama pasted a big smile on her face. “Oh, he’s doing fine. Just fine,” she said as she shook up the salad dressing. “Put this on the table for me, sweetie.”
Mr. Beiderman came clumping down the stairs with a stack of tins in his arms.
“I brought some food to share,” he announced.
“You shouldn’t have,” Oliver muttered under his breath.
Mama’s face hardened when she saw what Mr. Beiderman was holding. “Mr. Beiderman, you cannot keep eating that!” She grabbed the metal tins of SPAM and glared at the nutritional information. “Sixteen grams of fat in two ounces!” She tossed the tins into the trash as if they had said rude words to her.
Mr. Beiderman immediately went on the defensive. “I’m perfectly healthy.”
“Ha!” Mama said. “You haven’t seen your doctor in six years!” She grabbed the spare set of keys to Mr. Beiderman’s apartment from a nail on the wall next to the laundry room and tossed it to Papa, who caught it cleanly in one hand.
“I’m on it!” Papa said, jogging up the stairs.
“Don’t you dare get rid of my SPAM!” Mr. Beiderman yelled.
“Sorry! General’s orders,” Papa called out before the stairwell door closed.
Mama set out their largest serving bowl, filled with enough salad for a ravenous herbivorous dinosaur.
“Is that all we’re eating?” Jessie asked, squinting at the salad.
“Of course not,” Mama said. She put on an oven mitt and pulled a tray of baked chicken breasts from the oven. She slid the chicken onto a serving platter and handed it to Oliver, who staggered from the weight. Mama took the serving utensils and piled the salad and chicken on everyone’s plate.
The kids pushed the salad around and occasionally passed greens under the table to Paganini, who hopped between them with glee.
Papa returned, a bulging bag of tinned meats in his arms. They clinked against one another when he walked down the stairs. “I think I got all of them!”
Mr. Beiderman scowled, but Hyacinth sensed that he was secretly pleased that someone cared enough about him to make sure he ate something that didn’t come from a can.
After he stuffed the bag of forbidden food into the trash can, Papa sat down. His face fell when he saw the huge salad Mama had loaded onto his plate. He took the fork and bravely put a big bite into his mouth.
“When is Mr. Jeet coming home?” Hyacinth asked.
Mama choked on a piece of chicken she had just put into her mouth, then took her time swallowing a big gulp of water.
“Well . . .” she began. Everyone stopped eating and waited for her to respond. Laney passed Paganini a piece of arugula. “There are some . . . complications—”
“What complications?” Oliver demanded.
“Is he going to die?” Hyacinth asked.
“—so he’s going to stay longer than we thought,” Mama finished. She looked at Hyacinth. “Honey, he’s not going to die! Don’t cry. They want him really healthy and with a better range of movement before they release him. When he comes back, he’ll have to go upstairs on his own, which won’t be easy.”
“He can stay in our apartment,” Laney suggested.
“That’s a great idea!” Hyacinth said. “He can stay in our room. I can bring him food.”
“That still requires stairs,” Oliver pointed out.
“But only one flight instead of two,” Hyacinth countered.
Papa leaned over and kissed Hyacinth’s cheek. “We’ll see.”
Hyacinth knew “We’ll see” was really adult code for “No,” but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not if it meant Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie could come back home as soon as possible.
* * *
Jessie couldn’t sleep. The image of Mr. Jeet lying in the hospital bed—so, so still—haunted her. She stared up at the ceiling, at the cracks that Isa said looked like Eastern Europe but Jessie thought looked more like a tryptophan molecule. She held a finger up and traced the shape in the air, then let her arm fall back down at her side.
Her legs felt jumpy, as if she could run for miles and not even be tired. She got out of bed and put her phone into her pajama-pants pocket. She yanked the window up, but before she could crawl out onto the fire escape, her bedroom door burst open and her siblings tumbled in.
“You can’t go up to the REP without us!” Laney said, glaring at her. The REP, or Roof of Epic Proportions, was where the Vanderbeekers liked to hang out when they had important things to discuss.
“Yeah, not cool,” Oliver chimed in.
“We’re going with you,” Hyacinth said in an uncharacteristically stubborn way, her hands on her hips.
Jessie glared back at her siblings. “How long have you been standing outside my door?”
“A super-long time,” Laney said.
Jessie made a big production of being annoyed, but she was secretly glad for the company. Her bedroom was lonely with Isa gone. “Fine, let’s go up.”
“Oh goody!” Laney said, running across the room and climbing out the window first.
Laney was getting good at navigating the fire escape, but when she reached the second floor, she leaned down by Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s window and peeked in. The curtains were still open from the day before, and the window was halfway raised.
“I can’t believe it all happened only yesterday,” Jessie said as she came up behind Laney. She took a deep breath, but she couldn’t even get the slightest whiff of Miss Josie’s Southern Rose perfume.
“Do you think Miss Josie’s plants miss her?” Hyacinth asked.
“Plants don’t have feelings,” Jessie said. “They lack brains and nervous systems.”
“Mr. Beiderman told me once that Luciana played the violin for her plants,” Hyacinth said.
“I never knew Luciana did that,” Oliver said.
“And Miss Josie always sings to them and touches the leaves,” Hyacinth continued. “Why would they do that if plants don’t have feelings?”
Jessie sniffed. “People believe tons of unscientific things.”
Hyacinth stared into the apartment. “Maybe you should study that for the next science fair, because it sure does look like the plants miss her.”
Jessie peered into the dark apartment, ready to discount Hyacinth’s theory.
“Look at the seedlings!” Laney yelled, pointing at the trays. “They’re dying!”
“They are not dying,” Jessie said, but she took a closer look.
“They’re dying,” Oliver observed.
“I told you,” Hyacinth said to Jessie. “They miss Miss Josie.”
“They’re just thirsty,” Jessie said. “Come on, let’s water them.”
Oliver yanked up the window, and the kids jumped into the apartment.
“I don’t like being here without them,” Laney said.
Hyacinth looked around. “It’s spooky. It doesn’t smell right. And the plants miss their music.”
“I can sing to them,” Laney offered.
“NO,” her siblings answered immediatel
y.
Jessie snapped her fingers. “Let’s get the music prodigy on the phone.” She dug her cell out of her pocket and dialed, then put it on speaker.
Isa’s panicked voice came out moments later. “Is Mr. Jeet okay? Oh my gosh, should I come home right now?”
“Isa, chill. He’s fine.”
A relieved sigh came through the phone. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought it was an emergency. You never call me.”
“Hi, Isa!” Laney said into the speaker. “Can you come back early? I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Isa said.
Oliver leaned close to the phone. “I didn’t even realize you were gone.”
“Ha-ha, I miss you too, Oliver.”
“We’re in Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s apartment,” Jessie said. “Hyacinth thinks the plants are sad without them and need music. What about some violin?”
“It helps them grow,” Hyacinth chimed in.
There was a pause; then Isa’s voice buzzed through the phone. “Sure. Let me get my violin out.”
Jessie grabbed the watering can from the kitchen counter and filled it up while Isa got her violin and listened to Laney, Hyacinth, and Oliver tell her all about the church garden project.
Jessie tried gently pouring water over the seedlings, but they had weak stems, and a lot of them collapsed. Hyacinth attempted to prop them up, but they flopped back down. A moment later, Isa began playing Borodin’s “Nocturne” on her violin, and Hyacinth picked up the phone and brought it from seedling tray to seedling tray, and from plant to plant. Laney ran her hands over Miss Josie’s larger plants like she had seen her neighbor do. The brownstone seemed to sigh with relief at the music, allowing a sweet summer breeze to come through the open window and flutter the curtains in a dance.
When Jessie said goodbye to Isa a few minutes later, another breeze drifted through the window. She took a deep breath, and for a brief moment, she could feel Miss Josie’s all-encompassing hug wrap around her.
Eleven
The Vanderbeekers headed to the garden right after breakfast the next morning, armed with their new garden tools and some trash bags Oliver had taken from Papa’s closet of superintendent supplies. They picked up Tilia of the Eternal Spring from where she had been hidden in a corner of the alley next to the brownstone, right behind the trash cans, and they arrived at the garden a little before nine o’clock. Yesterday, they had taken so much care to close the gate and rearrange the plants to cover up any hints of an opening that it took several minutes of rooting through the ivy to find the lock again.
The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden Page 5