Laney thought she was caught, but Mama hadn’t heard the man and was leading them down a hallway. Laney knew she needed to get to Mr. Jeet’s room quick, in case the security guard came looking for her. Thankfully, the room was down only one hallway. Mama knocked on an open door that had the name Jeet written on a tag on the outside.
“Knock, knock!” Mama called.
“Come in!” Miss Josie’s voice replied.
The three Vanderbeeker girls released a huge breath at the reassuring sound of their neighbor’s voice. They peeked into the room, and there was Miss Josie, sitting in a brown plastic chair by the hospital bed, wearing one of her brightly colored dresses, which flowed down to her ankles. Then Laney turned her head, and there was Mr. Jeet! He was sitting up, and he didn’t look like himself at all because he was wearing a gray hospital gown with tiny blue dots all over it instead of a button-down shirt and a bow tie.
Laney was so relieved to see him that she put the picnic basket down right on the hospital bed and climbed up next to him. She put her face two inches away from his and looked into his dark eyes. He still smelled like butterscotch candies. He put his right hand on her cheek, and Laney leaned in to give him a kiss. When she pulled away, she noticed tears in his eyes. Then she looked around and saw that Miss Josie was also crying, and Mama and Jessie and Hyacinth too!
Laney knew who could cheer everyone up. She put the picnic basket on her lap and flipped open the latch. Paganini popped his head up out of the basket, and Laney beamed a smile at everyone around her. But it was strange: no one looked happy to see Paganini! Mama looked horrified. Miss Josie looked stunned.
After a dazed moment of silence, Mr. Jeet began to laugh. He laughed so hard that more tears came from his eyes, but even Laney could tell they were happy tears. And the sound of his happiness suddenly made it worth all the trouble of bringing Paganini to the hospital.
* * *
“Holy cannoli!” Hyacinth blurted out when Paganini hopped out of the picnic basket and landed nimbly on Mr. Jeet’s lap.
“Oh dear,” Mama said, peeking outside at the nurses’ station before closing the door to the room.
The sound of Mr. Jeet’s laughter filled the air. “This is the first time he’s laughed since the accident,” Miss Josie said.
And Hyacinth had to admit that Mr. Jeet did look really happy. His mouth was crooked up on one side and his right hand was rubbing Paganini around the ears, the way Paganini liked best. Laney bounced on the bed in excitement.
“Laney, stop bouncing!” scolded Jessie.
Laney stopped, and Paganini stood up on his hind legs and snuffled at Mr. Jeet’s chin. Laney rifled through the picnic basket and found some last pieces of food, then put the scraps into Mr. Jeet’s right hand. Paganini immediately found them.
“Laney,” Mama said, reaching for the rabbit, who jumped just out of her reach. “We should probably put Paganini back. He’s not allowed in the hospital.”
“But Mama! Mr. Jeet loves Paganini! Look how happy he is!”
Hyacinth watched Mama’s face and saw it soften as she looked at Paganini and Mr. Jeet. Her hands pulled back. “Well, maybe for just a few min—”
Before Mama could finish the sentence, the door burst open and a tall woman wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck entered. “Hello, Mr. Jeet!” she boomed. “And how are you feeling to—Holy heck, is that a rabbit?”
Then Hyacinth heard heavy footsteps running toward the room from the hallway.
Hyacinth looked at Laney, who was trying to shove Paganini back into the picnic basket. But Paganini had other plans. He sprang out of Laney’s hands and hopped onto the wheeled side table by Mr. Jeet’s bed. There was a jug of ice water and a stack of plastic cups on top of it. Mama crouched down like a football player and tried to grab Paganini, but the velocity of his jump made the table swing out and she missed him by a few inches. As Paganini scrambled to regain his balance, he knocked over the water jug. The jug hit the floor, the top burst open, and water and ice splashed all over.
Then a man in a security uniform burst into the room yelling “Is everything okay?” and promptly slipped on the water and ice. He went airborne for one second before falling smack on his back on the linoleum floor.
“Ouch!” Laney exclaimed.
“Are you okay, sir?” Miss Josie inquired, peering over the bed at him.
“Holy heck!” the doctor blurted out again.
Hyacinth picked up some ice from the floor and walked over to him. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” the man groaned.
Hyacinth put some ice cubes on his forehead, then piled some on his stomach just in case. Paganini scrambled off the table and back onto the bed, and Laney swiftly returned him to the picnic basket before she jumped down and helped Hyacinth gather more ice cubes for the injured security guard.
The doctor was not pleased. “This hospital has a very strict no-animal policy,” she lectured Mama and Miss Josie. “Any that enter this medical facility must be certified therapy animals. Each one goes through an extensive training program here.”
“We’re so sorry,” murmured Mama, while Miss Josie said, “Thank you for letting us know, dear.”
“Stop with the ice,” the man groaned from the floor. Laney ceased immediately, but Hyacinth had just gathered a big handful and didn’t want to waste it, so she put it on his neck. She knew neck injuries could be very serious.
“Are you cold?” Hyacinth asked, concerned. She grabbed the blanket at the bottom of Mr. Jeet’s bed and draped it across the man. “Don’t worry. We’re really great at making people feel better.”
“That’s quite right,” Miss Josie said, leaning over to pat Hyacinth on the shoulder.
“Please leave me alone,” the man said.
“I know who will make you feel better!” Laney said, reaching for the basket. “Paganini makes everyone feel better, right, Mr. Jeet?”
“No!” shouted Mama, Miss Josie, and Jessie. Mama yanked the basket away and put it down by her feet.
The right side of Mr. Jeet’s mouth kicked up, and he waved his arm in the air.
“I’ll walk you out,” the doctor said to the Vanderbeekers. Her face was grim.
Miss Josie hugged Laney close. “I think your visit has been very good for Mr. Jeet.”
“Even though we got in big trouble?” Laney whispered.
“It was worth it,” Miss Josie whispered back.
Twenty-Five
Three days before the Garden Extravaganza, the Vanderbeekers walked to the garden to find the sidewalk in front of the gate filled with plants. There were two big pots of bright blue hydrangeas, four filled with peach-colored roses, a small tree with a scattering of green leaves, and twenty pots of lavender.
Laney ran to the tree and hugged it. Hyacinth leaned over to smell the roses. Jessie and Oliver noticed ribbons attached to notes on some of the branches. As they peered at the cards, Orlando arrived carrying a bucket of his gardening tools. He refused to leave them inside the garden gate overnight, in case they got stolen.
“What are you guys looking at?” Orlando asked.
“‘To plant a garden is to be believe in tomorrow,’ ” Oliver read from one card. “Looks like a lady named Audrey Hepburn gave these plants to us.”
Jessie looked over his shoulder, then rolled her eyes. “Audrey Hepburn is the one who said it. She’s an actress who died a long time ago!”
“How would I know that?” Oliver retorted.
Jessie picked another card. “Look at this one,” she said, and read it out loud. “‘If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.’ ”
“Audrey Hepburn said that too?” Hyacinth asked.
Orlando chimed in before Jessie could respond. “Marcus Tullius Cicero.”
“Yeah,” Jessie said, reading the card. “How’d you know that?”
Orlando shrugged.
Hyacinth looked at a card attached to a rose plant, rubbed s
ome dirt from it, and read it out loud.
“It’s from The Secret Garden!” Hyacinth exclaimed.
“Ooh, there’s another one!” Laney said, running to the little tree. “Read it!”
Oliver read the card. “‘Every time I doze off, I dream of gardens.’ It’s from a book called The Gardener.”
“It looks like these are all from the same person,” Jessie observed. “Same handwriting.”
“Do you think this mystery-plant-giver person knows this garden might be bulldozed soon?” Oliver said.
Jessie stood up tall. “It only strengthens our case. The more beautiful the garden, the likelier that it gets to stay, right?”
“Where would we even put them?” Oliver said. “There’s no space.”
“That’s no problem,” Jessie said. “Orlando and I can install the jug planters on the fence; then we can move the plants from the northeast quadrant into the planters. That will make space to plant the rosebushes and lavender.”
Oliver sighed. “Fine, let’s put them in.” He tried to pick up one of the rosebushes, with little success. He looked over at Orlando, who leaned down and lifted one of the other rosebushes with ease.
Hyacinth raised her hands like a crossing guard in the middle of a busy intersection. “Wait! I want the cards.” Orlando set the roses down, and together he and Orlando helped Hyacinth carefully remove the cards. She stored them safely in her knitting pouch.
A blur of movement and the screech of bike tires announced Herman’s arrival. He grabbed his big bag of yarn and supplies off the handlebars. “What’s with all the plants?” he asked.
After Hyacinth showed off the gorgeous plants and Herman demonstrated sufficient enthusiasm for the new additions, Herman helped lug the pots inside while Orlando and Jessie got to work installing the painted jugs along the fence.
Jessie noticed that Laney kept staring at the area where she had planted Luciana’s seeds. She considered telling Laney that she had done some research the night before and found out that seeds—even stored in the best of conditions—could survive for only two to four years. If Luciana had buried that box when she was about four, the seeds would be at least eighteen years old. Laney looked so hopeful about the seeds, however, that Jessie decided she didn’t want to be the one to spoil her sister’s day.
Hyacinth and Herman spent the rest of the afternoon knitting up a storm. They had only a few more days before the Garden Extravaganza.
During a water break, Hyacinth pulled out the cards with quotes and admired them. “I love these cards,” Hyacinth said to Herman. “Whoever wrote them has such beautiful handwriting.” The writing was swirly and fancy, as if it had been penned a hundred years ago, when people used feathers dipped into inkwells.
Herman didn’t respond; he was knitting a design for the fence so rapidly that his hands, the needles, and the yarn were all a blur.
* * *
After lunch and some more weeding, Laney sat next to the circle of bricks and stared at the bare patch of earth inside. It had been ten days since she had sprinkled Luciana’s seeds onto the dirt, but there were no signs of life.
“Maybe you’re not watering enough,” Oliver said to her when she expressed her concern.
“Or you’re watering too much,” Orlando told her. “The problem is we don’t know what kinds of seeds they are. Maybe they need more light. Or less light.”
Laney sighed and stared at the dirt. Why weren’t they growing? Meanwhile, her siblings seemed utterly unconcerned. They were pulling weeds, plucking dead leaves and flowers, and building tomato cages from pieces of PVC pipe they had found in Mr. Smiley’s basement.
The garden was coming alive, and Laney had to keep herself from poking at Luciana’s seeds, urging them to grow.
* * *
That night before dinner, Hyacinth plugged in the laminating machine Mr. Beiderman had bought her for her birthday and carefully laid the garden notes between sheets of laminating plastic. When the machine was warmed up, she ran the sheets through. After the laminated sheet came out, she cut off the extra plastic, punched a hole in the corners, and threaded her favorite mauve ribbon through them.
When she went downstairs, everyone was gathered at the table, about to start dinner. Just as they picked up their utensils to dig in, Mama’s phone rang.
“Miss Josie?” Mama said into the phone. Then there was silence, and a big grin spread across her face. She looked at the kids, then said to Miss Josie, “Let me put you on speaker.” She clicked the phone button and held it out to Papa and the kids.
Mr. Jeet’s rich baritone filled the room. “Love—you,” he said.
The kids looked at one another in stunned silence before yelling, “We love you too!”
“Miss—you,” he said.
Miss Josie’s voice came through the speaker. “He’s perked up since your visit. Thank you, sweethearts,” she said.
“You can thank us by coming home soon!” Jessie said. Mama brought the phone back to her ear and said a few more words to Miss Josie before putting the phone down.
Mama looked out at her kids, their faces happy and relieved. “The doctors are working on a treatment plan that gets him home by Friday. His occupational therapist said he’s been doing great this week with independent walking and going up and down stairs.”
“Yay!” cheered Laney.
“He’ll be home in time for—” Hyacinth started.
“—Isa’s return!” Jessie finished, casting Hyacinth a warning eyebrow raise.
Oliver paused. “Did he really look okay at the hospital?”
“He looked great!” Laney said. “He petted Paganini and everything.”
“You should have come, Oliver,” Jessie said.
Oliver thought about that day two weeks ago when Mr. Jeet fell down, and he blinked the burn of tears away. “I didn’t want to see him all sick.”
Mama stood up and wrapped Oliver in a big hug. “We should have a big welcome-home party for him. I’ll bake.”
Oliver squinted at her. “No green cookies, right?”
Mama paused. “Have I really been that bad?”
The kids nodded.
“Well, let me make it up to you, then. What do you want for dinner?”
“Fried chicken,” Jessie said.
“Double-chocolate pecan cookies,” Oliver said.
“Macaroni and cheese,” Hyacinth said.
“Bread,” Laney said. “Lots of bread.”
Mama smiled. “Done.”
Twenty-Six
On Thursday morning, the Vanderbeekers headed to the garden with buoyant hearts. Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie were coming home, the garden was thriving, and there had been no word from the contractors for eleven days. About halfway down the street, they could see Herman Huxley’s familiar slouch next to the garden gates.
“He looks like he’s doing something to the fence,” Hyacinth commented, squinting down the street.
“He really shouldn’t draw attention to the garden like that,” Oliver said. “People will get suspicious.”
Herman turned his head and spotted them, and when they got close, he quickly threw what looked like a knitted blanket onto the fence and stood in front of it.
Hyacinth stared at him. “What are you doing?”
Jessie spoke. “That blanket draws attention to our garden, don’t you think?” She reached over to pull it down, and Herman tried to block her. Jessie had an extra six inches on him and was able to reach over his head; she easily grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it down with one yank. Underneath it was a sign.
“I’m sorry,” Herman said miserably. “It was here when I got here. I didn’t want you to see it.”
Oliver ran to the gate and pushed away the ivy. The new bike lock was gone, replaced with an imposing heavy-duty lock that looked impossible to open without a jackhammer. On the ground were metal shards of the bike lock, as if someone had used power tools to break it.
“I cannot believe this,” Jessie fume
d. She jammed a stick she found on the sidewalk through the fence, hoping to peek inside to see if there was any damage, but the ivy was too thick. She shook the gate in frustration.
Oliver tried to climb the fence, but his feet kept slipping because of the twisting vines that covered it.
“It wouldn’t matter even if you could climb it,” Jessie said, pointing to the top of the fence, where someone had spiraled fresh barbed wire.
“Our garden is going to be bulldozed, and we’ll never see whether Luciana’s seeds have grown, and Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie won’t ever sit under the Silver Queen and Tilia of the Eternal Spring and hear the birds chirping,” Hyacinth said.
“I can’t believe we’re so close, and now . . .” Jessie trailed off.
“. . . it’s gone,” Hyacinth finished.
“Too bad Mr. Beiderman can’t get his friend to protect it,” Laney said, leaning against the fence and trying to bury herself in the ivy. “He has a friend who saves buildings.”
There was a pause before Jessie said, “How do you know that?”
“I heard him on the phone,” Laney said.
Jessie looked at the church. “This church is one of the oldest in the city. I remember Miss Josie telling me it used to be a safe stop for people traveling along the Underground Railroad.”
“So let’s talk to this Mr. Beiderman guy,” Herman said. “What are we waiting for?”
The Vanderbeekers hesitated. “We haven’t told any adults about the garden yet. And Mr. Beiderman has a . . . history here. Back when this was a preschool, we think his daughter, Luciana, went here,” Jessie said.
Herman threw his hands up. “Wouldn’t that make him want to save it more?”
Hyacinth looked at her siblings, then back at Herman. “Luciana is dead, and Mr. Beiderman hasn’t left his home in over six years.”
Herman opened his mouth, then closed his mouth, then opened it again. “He’s your only hope right now,” he said. “Triple J still hasn’t come back, right? Has he called you?”
The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden Page 12