Jessie shook her head. “I don’t know why he suddenly disappeared, and I don’t understand how the land could have been sold without his permission. I’ve left a dozen messages on his phone.”
Oliver turned on his heel and started walking back home. “I think Herman is right. Mr. Beiderman is our only hope.”
* * *
“You knock,” Oliver told Herman. “It was your idea.”
“No way,” Herman called from behind the Vanderbeeker family. “I’ve never even met this dude.”
“Hyacinth, you do it. You’re his favorite,” Jessie suggested.
She shook her head. “Laney, you love knocking on doors.”
Laney bit her lip. “I don’t want to bring up Luciana. It makes him too sad.”
From inside the apartment, Mr. Beiderman yelled, “What’s the racket? Come in, already!”
Jessie looked at her siblings and Herman, then opened the door. Everyone filed inside.
“Who are you?” Mr. Beiderman demanded when he saw Herman, who kept one foot outside the door.
“This is Herman Huxley,” Oliver said. “My friend from school.”
Mr. Beiderman sized Herman up and deemed him worthy. “Come in. I’m not going to bite,” he grumbled. Herman shrugged, then stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Princess Cutie leaped off the couch and landed at his feet, then batted his shoelaces with her paws. Herman leaned down to stroke her forehead.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Mr. Beiderman asked.
Jessie nudged Oliver, Oliver nudged Hyacinth, and Hyacinth tried to nudge Laney, but she had crawled under Mr. Beiderman’s kitchen table and was out of reach.
Finally, Hyacinth spoke. “We started a project. Down the street by the church.”
Mr. Beiderman raised his eyebrows. “You think I don’t know where you’ve been disappearing to all these weeks?”
Hyacinth, remembering the garden gloves, stared at him. “How did you know?”
“I looked out my window,” he said.
The Vanderbeekers rushed to the window overlooking 141st Street and looked out, and sure enough, there was a clear view down the street from the third floor.
Jessie turned around. “Well, okay, then. We wanted to do something special for Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie—”
Mr. Beiderman waved her words away. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen you bring flowers and gardening supplies in there.”
“Did it bother you?” Hyacinth asked.
“Why would it?”
“Because Luciana went to that school,” Oliver said.
“How did you—Oh, never mind,” Mr. Beiderman said. “It didn’t bother me. I think it’s nice.”
“Boy, am I glad you said that,” Oliver breathed, “because we need to ask you a huge favor. That person you know, the one who saves the buildings . . . can you call them? Because a sign appeared in front of our garden that says the land is sold. We overheard people talking about putting a condo there. Triple J is nowhere to be found, and the only thing we can think to do is ask your friend for help.”
Mr. Beiderman’s eyebrows rose. “They’re selling the church?”
“No, just the land next to it,” Jessie clarified.
Mr. Beiderman shook his head. “I don’t know if my friend can help if it’s already sold. It’s land, not a building . . .”
“But it’s part of the building’s history,” Oliver said. “Right?”
“Miss Josie said it was a stop on the Underground Railroad,” Hyacinth added.
“It’s of historical importance,” Jessie said. “A treasure.”
“And your daughter buried stuff there!” Laney finished, pulling Luciana’s box from the front pocket of her backpack and holding it out to Mr. Beiderman.
Everyone stilled. Showing Mr. Beiderman Luciana’s box was not part of the plan.
“But how did you—That was—She loved that box,” Mr. Beiderman stammered. He reached out slowly, as if it were a ghost and would disappear if he touched it. Gently he picked it up and opened the latch, his fingers tracing the writing inside. “I made this for her. She used to store seeds from her mother’s garden in here; she said they were magic.” He closed the box, and his fingers wrapped around it, as if trying to hold on to all the memories that opening it had conjured.
“So . . . can you help us?” Laney asked.
“You’re the garden’s last hope,” Jessie said.
“Please,” Oliver said, picking up Mr. Beiderman’s phone and handing it to him. “Please.”
Twenty-Seven
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Mr. Beiderman said. He had just hung up with Ms. Lin from New York City’s Landmarks Preservation Commission. She told him that in order to start the process immediately, they would have to go downtown to the office.
In person.
There was paperwork to fill out, Ms. Lin had told him, and signatures, and it all had to be notarized. This had to be done by the weekend if there was any hope of stopping a sale that was already in progress. The office closed at five o’clock sharp, and it was already past three.
“Put on this purple tie,” Laney said, rummaging through his drawers. “It’s my favorite color.”
“I haven’t worn a tie in six years.”
“Believe me, you will look fancy,” Hyacinth said. “Franz looks great in purple, too.”
“Stand still,” Jessie said. “I can’t comb your hair when you’re jiggling around.”
“I don’t want my hair combed,” Mr. Beiderman said, swatting her hand away. “It’s fine.”
“You’ve cut it yourself for nearly a decade,” Oliver said, “and it shows. You’re going to scare the people.”
Mr. Beiderman looped the tie around his neck and did a complicated twisting thing that made it into a neat knot. Hyacinth tried to remember the steps so she could help Franz put on a tie one day. Then he put his arms out to the side and glared at them. “How do I look?”
“You look very handsome,” Laney said, jumping from foot to foot.
“No one is going to mistake you for a werewolf,” Hyacinth said solemnly.
“Do you have everything you need?” Jessie asked.
“Are you ready?” Oliver asked.
“Of course he’s ready,” Laney said. She took his hand and they went down two flights, the stairs creaking happily as they descended.
Jessie opened the door of the brownstone, and the street spread out before them. Trees filtered dappled sunlight onto the sidewalks and against the buildings, and a cab honked as it veered around a mail truck.
Mr. Beiderman stood in the doorway and shaded his eyes. He looked up and down the street, and he squeezed Laney’s hand.
Then he stepped outside the brownstone for the first time in six years.
* * *
The Vanderbeekers led Mr. Beiderman to the subway, saying goodbye to Herman at Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard. He needed to get home because he always had a video call with his mom on Thursdays at four thirty.
Hyacinth was worried about Mr. Beiderman. He hadn’t left the brownstone in years, and now he had to walk down the street and all the way to the subway, dodging late-afternoon summer-camp groups, mail carriers, kids on scooters, and dogs on leashes. The sun was bright against his skin, and the wind from passing traffic blew his hair straight up in the air. Hyacinth felt as if the honking cars and squealing bus breaks were louder than usual, and she fretted about Mr. Beiderman’s sensitive ears.
They descended into the subway station, and Hyacinth watched as Mr. Beiderman fumbled for his wallet and unearthed a faded MetroCard. It had expired years ago, so Jessie swiped him through with her card and dragged him onto the number three train right before the doors closed.
The train, which originated only one stop away, was mostly empty, and they found five seats in a row with no problem. They put Mr. Beiderman in the middle, with Laney and Jessie on one side of him and Hyacinth and Oliver on the other side, the better to keep him from bolt
ing. He kept checking his pockets for his wallet and cell phone and subway directions to the Preservation Commission offices and avoided eye contact with anyone.
“Are you nervous?” Laney asked him.
Mr. Beiderman wiped his brow with a handkerchief and stared at a subway pole. “Of course not.”
Laney glanced at his trembling hands gripping his checkered handkerchief, then changed the subject. “Did you know foxes come from the dog family?”
Mr. Beiderman checked his pockets for the directions again, then said, “I did know foxes come from the dog family.” Then he closed his eyes, as if needing to shut out the world.
The Vanderbeekers fell into silence as the train rumbled downtown. Hyacinth leaned against Mr. Beiderman’s shoulder and did some finger knitting, Jessie fiddled with her phone, Oliver tapped his feet on the ground and read every one of the subway advertisements, and Laney struck up a conversation with the stranger next to her about how she wished Mama would buy her shoes with heels. Passengers got off, but more people got on, and the train soon filled with all sorts of people, including a group wearing fancy clothes and carrying bunches of balloons with glitter inside them.
As Hyacinth wrapped yarn around her fingers, she wondered if Mr. Beiderman was okay. She had always imagined that his first time outside would be to their backyard, or a few blocks away to Castleman’s Bakery. But instead, they had asked so much of him; not only did he leave the brownstone, but he was now underground and traveling all the way to the bottom of Manhattan. She felt him take in a deep breath, then release it in a shaky exhale. Hyacinth wondered if he would make it all the way downtown.
They were on the subway forever, and Hyacinth overheard Laney ask Oliver again how many stops they had left. When Oliver announced that they were only two stops away, Laney cheered at the exact moment the subway groaned to a stop in the middle of the subway tunnel. The lights flickered. Mr. Beiderman opened his eyes and looked around. Other passengers sighed and glanced at their watches.
Oliver looked over at Jessie. “What time is it?” he asked.
She looked at her watch. “Four-oh-eight. Fifty-two minutes before the office closes.”
Mr. Beiderman’s lips set in a straight line.
“It’ll get moving soon,” Hyacinth assured him, hoping what she said was true. “This happens all the time.”
Then a muffled subway announcement said, “Due to a police investigation at Chambers Street, all downtown express trains are being delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
* * *
There were stages to how subway passengers reacted to delays, Jessie thought. Within the first fifteen minutes, people would talk to one another about what they were going to be late for. The guy across from them, who was wearing a crisp business suit, was telling the woman next to him that he had a meeting at four thirty. The woman was wearing her baby in a sling and trying to keep it from waking up by rocking it back and forth to mimic subway movements.
Laney, who had been chatting with the woman next to her the whole way down, started telling her all about the garden, and how it was going to be bulldozed over if they didn’t get to the building-saving people who worked for the government. The woman asked lots of questions, and Oliver soon joined in on the conversation while people around them shamelessly eavesdropped.
Jessie could hear the story spreading around the subway car in bits and pieces.
“Did you hear about those kids?” a guy holding a skateboard was saying to his friend. “They’re trying to save a garden on their block from being made into a condo. They need to get to a government office by five.”
Another subway announcement came on, saying that the police investigation was ongoing and all express trains were delayed and they apologized for the inconvenience. Jessie looked at her watch again. Half an hour had gone by. By then, the whole subway car was looking at the kids sympathetically, which was made worse by the fact that Oliver had told both Laney and Hyacinth that they weren’t going to make it in time. Now both sisters were crying.
At five o’clock, when all hope was gone, the subway riders started murmuring sympathies to the kids. Jessie, however, was more worried about Mr. Beiderman. He hadn’t spoken since right after entering the subway, and the tremors in his hands had become more pronounced. She wondered what they would do if he needed medical help. Just when she considered asking whether anyone on the train was a doctor, the subway lurched, and a few minutes later it rolled into the station. The doors opened and the Vanderbeekers filed out onto the platform, Mr. Beiderman’s hand in Hyacinth’s.
It was 5:37 p.m.
Jessie wordlessly led her siblings and Mr. Beiderman up over the overpass and back downstairs to the track for the uptown trains. No need to even try to go to the government office; it was too late for that.
Jessie had learned a lot about her family in the past few years, and she knew they would bounce back . . . eventually. Maybe the garden next to the church, the way they’d dreamed it up, wasn’t meant to be. Maybe they would find another spot, another neglected lot, that needed the Vanderbeeker treatment.
Surely this wasn’t the end of the story.
* * *
That night, the Vanderbeekers went up to the roof. It was a dark, cloudy night, and Harlem spread out around them in a matrix of buildings and streets. They leaned against the ledge and looked out at the city.
“I hope Mr. Beiderman is okay,” Hyacinth said. By the time the subway had brought them back up to Harlem, Mr. Beiderman was so silent and exhausted that once they reached the brownstone, it took him five minutes to climb up to the third floor, his hand gripping the banister the whole way up. He shut the door behind him without saying goodbye.
“He’s never going to leave the brownstone again,” Oliver said. “We’ve ruined him forever.”
“We didn’t ruin him,” Jessie said. “But we may have . . . rushed him.”
“He needs some alone time,” Laney said, repeating a phrase her parents used frequently.
“I wonder how our plants are doing,” Hyacinth said. She turned her head to see if she could glimpse inside their garden, but buildings obscured her view. “The Silver Queen and Tilia of the Eternal Spring miss us.”
“Maybe the builders will let us in before they begin construction,” Jessie said. “Maybe we can relocate the plants.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Oliver said. “But where?”
“Our backyard, for now,” Jessie suggested.
“I guess.” Oliver thought about their backyard, which was about one-tenth the size of the garden and already full of plants. “That garden felt like the perfect place for Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet.”
“It felt like the perfect place for us too,” Jessie said.
“Can we take the Silver Queen with us?” Laney asked.
“No,” Oliver answered. “She’s too big. They’ll chop her down.”
Hyacinth’s heart gave a painful thump as she considered the Silver Queen, a tree that had watched over 141st Street for decades, being cut down.
She took a deep breath, and a light rain began to pitter-patter against the tiled roof floor. “I wish Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie could sit under the Silver Queen just once before we say goodbye to the garden.”
And the rest of the Vanderbeekers silently agreed, dwelling on that image and holding it close to their hearts as they descended the fire-escape stairs and slipped back inside the brownstone.
Twenty-Eight
ISA: Is Mr. B coming to my concert?
JESSIE: No.
ISA: Are you sure??? Ask him one more time. We’re playing Luciana’s favorite piece.
JESSIE: Okay. But don’t be sad when he doesn’t show up.
ISA: Did you pack barf buckets for Laney?
JESSIE: Yes.
ISA: And everyone has backup clothes?
JESSIE: Yes.
ISA: Because remember the last time—
JESSIE: I REMEMBER. I’M TRYING TO FORGET.
ISA: Okay! See
you soon. I’m looking forward to sleeping in my bed again. The bed here is so lumpy.
JESSIE: Love you.
ISA: xoxo
* * *
Jessie glanced at Isa’s bed, which still had that chocolate stain from a few weeks ago. Isa’s usually smooth covers had permanent wrinkles from all the times Laney and Hyacinth had burrowed themselves into her bed because they missed her. Jessie’s messy habits had slowly crept over to Isa’s side, so science books, food wrappers, and dirty clothes were now evenly scattered throughout the room. Hopefully Isa would be so happy to be home that she wouldn’t get too mad.
There was a good, soaking rain when Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet finally came home that morning. Mama and Papa had warned the kids not to overwhelm them when they arrived, but when Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet came out of the cab, both Mama and Papa ignored their own advice and rushed over with umbrellas and started fussing and asking a million questions. Then Mama started crying, her tears dripping on Mr. Jeet’s shirt, so Jessie nudged her out of the way and helped Mr. Jeet herself. Oliver took Miss Josie’s hand, and Hyacinth and Laney lugged their bags up the stairs of the brownstone. They helped them into the apartment, which had been cleaned multiple times and stocked with enough healthy food to last for weeks.
After settling Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie in, the Vanderbeekers went back downstairs to get ready to leave for Isa’s concert. It would take four hours to get to Ferris Lake, and while the Vanderbeekers were not looking forward to the long drive, they couldn’t wait to see their Isa. Finally, everyone who belonged in the brownstone would be back again.
Jessie finished packing her bag with a biography of the botanist Maria Merian (it had caught her eye at the library), her notebook, peppermint drops for Laney for when she started getting carsick, and headphones to block out the inevitable family sing-along.
The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden Page 13