The Ghost with the Green Thumb

by Maggie M. Larche

  “The flowers are from your grandma’s garden. The Lovers' Garden.”

  I jumped. Somehow, hearing the name of the Lovers' Garden spoken out loud in this normal setting sent a chill down my spine. Mentally, I was back in the garden, wondering who kept the garden neat and flourishing, glimpsing my grandmother.

  “Are you the one taking care of it?” I asked before thinking.

  “Taking care of what? The Lovers’ Garden?” Ms. Matilda looked concerned, and I tried to tone down what must have been an intense expression. “No, sweetie, I’m afraid not. I assumed that your grandpa was caring for it. I just go to the garden sometime to feel close to your grandma. And then I brought some lilies back with me as a nice reminder of her as I go about my business.” She searched my face. “I hope you don’t mind me taking them.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “That’s fine. You just surprised me.” I trailed off. “Never mind. Thank you for dinner.”

  “Sure,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Feel free to stop by any time while you’re here in town, ok?”

  I returned to our table and handed Grandpa the bills.

  “Thanks, darling. Shall we go?”

  I felt unsettled, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. I was ready to get home.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 6

  Maybe it was hearing Ms. Matilda mention the Lovers' Garden, maybe it was too much food at dinner, but that night, I dreamt of Grandma.

  She looked so happy. She was gardening, as usual, with big gloves on her hands and dirt on her knees. A half-planted flat of purple flowers sat on the ground beside her, and she sang a jazzy tune softly as she worked.

  She saw me coming and broke off. With a big smile, she beckoned me over. I sort of zoomed toward her, as you sometimes do in dreams, and she folded me into her arms. I sank into the hug, inhaling the scent of her perfume.

  She pulled out of the embrace and held me out at arms length. She looked me up and down and gave a satisfied nod.

  “Come visit me, sweetie,” she said.

  “I am visiting,” I said. “At least I think I am.” I paused, trying to remember something important. “I know I’m staying with Grandpa. Aren’t you there?”

  Grandma shook her head. “No, dear. You’re forgetting something.”

  “Am I?” I felt light and happy, looking at her. “Couldn’t be that important, could it?”

  She placed her hand on my cheek. “Come visit me,” she said again.

  I woke with a start. It was still the middle of the night. I could hear the sounds of crickets and frogs in the grass around Grandpa’s house. The garden had felt so real. I could almost feel Grandma’s presence in the room with me, inviting me back.

  I settled back into my pillow.

  “Just a dream,” I whispered and closed my eyes. “It was just a dream.”

  Slowly, I drifted back to sleep, drowsily noting the scent of flowers somewhere in the hazy recesses of my brain.

  When I awoke in the morning, everything felt normal again. I briefly considered going back to the garden that day, but shook off the idea as a nighttime fancy. I already had plans to hang with Billy, and I couldn’t spend my entire visit chasing down a ghost.

  Not that there really was a ghost, I told myself.

  Billy came over as planned, and I dug out some of Grandpa’s old board games that he kept at the top of a closet for my visits.

  I beat Billy three times at Connect Four before he finally made us switch to Monopoly. Two long hours later, we were both sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by money, deeds, and hotels, without one of us within sight of actually winning the game.

  “I quit,” I said and threw my money down onto the board. “This is taking too long.”

  “Good.” Billy fell onto his back and spoke towards the ceiling. “I was about to quit, too, but now I can claim victory because you forfeited.”

  “No fair. Here, help me clean this up.”

  We gathered all the pieces of Monopoly and threw them back into the box. I folded the game board on top.

  “I’m hungry,” said Billy. “You?”

  “Starved. Grandpa got some snacks for me. Let’s go raid the pantry.”

  In the kitchen, I found some fruit roll-ups and handed one to Billy.

  “Thanks,” he said and took a bite. “So what’s the plan for this afternoon?”

  “Actually, I thought I’d visit Grandpa up at the church to see what he’s working on.”

  “Cool! Can I come with you?”

  “You want to?” I was a little surprised by his enthusiasm. Visiting an old church was not my idea of the most exciting afternoon.

  "Absolutely.” He seemed to read my expression. “I love remodeling projects. That’s what I’m going to do for a living one day, except I’m going to do it on my own TV show.”

  “Sure you are,” I said with a laugh.

  “I am,” he insisted. “Anyways, why are you going if you don’t care about it?”

  “Grandpa mentioned last night that he wanted me to see the work he was doing. Plus, I kind of want to encourage him. I’m just glad to see him do something to move on with his life.”

  “Move on with his life? Move on from what?”

  I lowered my voice. “From my grandmother’s passing.”

  Billy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re trying to get your grandpa to forget about his wife dying?”

  “Not forget about it,” I said. “Just not to focus on it. What’s the point of being sad all the time?” I ran my hands through my hair. “I loved Grandma more than anything, and I’ve managed to move on. Grandpa needs to also.”

  “Ok, ok,” said Billy, raising his hands. “Sorry. It just seems – I don’t know – a little callous, you know?”

  I crossed my arms. “It’s going to work. It’s my mission while I’m here.”

  “If you say so,” he said.

  “I do.”

  There was a moment of tense silence.

  “So,” said Billy slowly, “want to head on down?”

  I nodded. “But pass me another fruit roll-up first.”

  He tossed me the snack. “You sure do love to eat.”

  “Everybody does,” I ripped open the package. “Anyone who says otherwise is pretending.”

  Billy answered me with a grin.

  We started down Grandpa’s long driveway. Billy grabbed a big stick from the ground and swung it back and forth as we walked along. We just reached the main road when he called out, “Look! It’s my mom!” Billy pointed to a blue minivan coming around the corner. “I’ll flag her down.” He ran after the van as he shouted over his shoulder, “It’ll save us a ten minutes walk to town!”

  The minivan slowed to a halt as Billy ran up to the driver-side window. I couldn’t hear him, but I followed when he waved me over. I came up to the window.

  “Mom, this is Beth,” he said, gesturing to me.

  A pretty, blonde woman looked out the car window at me. “Hi, Beth. I’m Mrs. Fitzgerald. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Do you mind giving us a lift to the church, Mom?”

  “No, that’s fine. Hop in, you two.” Billy pulled open the back door and let me get in before him. I thought him quite the gentleman until he closed the door behind me and went and sat up front.

  Typical.

  I think Mrs. Fitzgerald shared my feelings because she gave Billy a pointed look when he got in the car.

  “What?” he said.

  She shook her head and started driving again.

  The van showed definite signs of carting around lots of kids. A Spiderman action figure lay at my feet by an empty potato chip bag and a sippy cup. I realized that Billy’s little brother must have been quite a bit younger than he was.

  “So,” Mrs. Fitzgerald asked, switching off the radio, “what are you two going to the church for? I assume you’re not eloping.”

  “Mom!” exclaimed Billy. I could see red creeping up
the back of his neck.

  “Oh, I’m just kidding,” she said. She ruffled Billy’s hair and turned the car onto Galton’s Main Street.

  Billy pushed his hair back down, and I grinned. He stared out the window.

  “My grandpa is remodeling St. Patrick’s,” I volunteered, seeing that Billy wasn’t going to talk. “He wanted to show me his progress.”

  “That’s right. He told me about that project. How’s it coming?”

  “I guess, good. Today will be the first time I’ve seen the inside in years.”

  Her eyes crinkled at me in the rearview mirror. “Then I’m sure your grandpa is looking forward to having you there. You sure Billy won’t be in the way?”

  “Mom!” he said again, breaking his stare out the window to give her a look. “It’s not like I just invited myself along.”

  I stifled a laugh, thinking that this was exactly what Billy did. Still, I didn’t mind. I was glad to have his company.

  We came to the church, and Mrs. Fitzgerald pulled the minivan alongside the curb. “Here we go. Nice to meet you, Beth.”

  “You, too,” I said, “and thanks for the ride.”

  “Happy to help.” She turned to Billy. “Make sure you’re on time for dinner. Dad will be home tonight.”

  “Really?” His face brightened. “I thought he wouldn’t be home until later this week.”

  “His plans changed.” Billy’s mom smiled. “For the better.”

  “I’ll be there,” said Billy.

  We got out of the car and waved goodbye. As we headed up the brick pathway that led to the church, I decided to pry.

  “Where’s your dad been?” I asked.

  “He started a new job a few months ago, and now he’s travels all the time. He just took a business trip to Hawaii.”

  “Hawaii? That’s awesome.”

  “Except when you’re the one left at home.”

  We arrived at the church doors, and Billy seemed ready to be distracted. I put on a bright smile. “Let’s go find Grandpa.”

  I always loved St. Patrick’s. It was one of the prettiest churches I’d ever seen – on the outside, that is. It was made of a white stone with a red, tiled roof that stood out for miles. It had lots of towers and spires and beautiful stained glass windows. I always thought that if I were a princess, this is what my castle would look like.

  Unfortunately, the inside was a different story. For years, the interior of the church had been dark and damp, and sometimes a little smelly, especially when it had just rained. The kneelers were so old and heavy that it was almost impossible to move them anymore. Whenever you did manage it, they let out such a creak that everyone in the building would jump.

  I pulled on the old heavy door. Time to see if it had changed.

  “Wow,” was all I could say.

  The inside of the church was nothing like I remembered. For one thing, all the pews were gone, as were all the decorations on the wall and ceiling. The walls looked fresh and new, and light streamed through clean windows. I caught sight of Grandpa at the front of the large room. He was measuring the width of the aisle between the stairs to the choir loft with two other men. I almost called out his name, but then stopped myself. It seemed a little sacrilegious to yell in a church. Instead I started the long walk through the empty pew area.

  Grandpa caught sight of me and called out, “Hi, Beth! I wondered when you’d make it down. Good to see you brought Billy with you.”

  Well, I guess Grandpa didn’t mind yelling in a church. He walked down to meet us.

  I grinned and said, “I told you I’d come!”

  “Hi, Mr. Shepherd. I hope you don’t mind me coming with Beth.”

  “Why would I mind? I know you’ll really be interested in what we’ve been doing.” He turned to me. “You know Billy’s very keen on remodeling work.”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  Grandpa grabbed my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. What do you think?” He gestured to the room around him.

  “It’s amazing. It looks so totally different since the last time I saw it. How long have you been working on it?”

  “Oh, about six months or so.”

  Since Grandma died, I thought to myself. So this was how he’d been keeping busy.

  “So,” I said out loud, “show me what you’ve been doing.”

  “I hope you’re ready for the grand tour.” Grandpa led us on a walk around the perimeter of the room and pointed out improvements they’d made as we passed them.

  “See, here, we had to totally replaster the wall… Of course we’ve repainted… See the tiny speakers hidden on these columns? Those are state of the art…”

  Billy nodded enthusiastically at everything Grandpa said, and Grandpa grew more and more animated as he described the improvements.

  “Now you two see this added light here in the corner? That wasn’t so easy to do.”

  At this point, I thought poor Billy was going to fall out of his tennis shoes, he was nodding so hard.

  Members of the construction team were dotted around the building. As we walked, they waved greetings to us. Grandpa exchanged words with a few of them, issuing instructions or compliments, before going back to his tour with Billy and me.

  I lagged behind just a bit to examine some of the hardwood flooring that Grandpa had restored. As I last remembered it, the floor had been dull and scratched. Now it was shiny and radiated a deep warm glow.

  Clearly, Grandpa had put a lot of work into the project, and he’d built a nice feeling of camaraderie with his team. I found myself nodding in approval. This was a great project for him. He could stay busy and productive, without thinking of Grandma all the time. It might even be responsible for how well he seemed to be doing.

  I caught up to Grandpa and Billy.

  “Getting a little bored of construction?” Grandpa asked me with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Never.” I matched his joking expression.

  “Never,” echoed Billy, though I thought he was probably serious.

  “How about I knock off work a little early? I can walk you kids back.”

  On the way home, Grandpa and Billy chatted about the remodel, while my thoughts wandered. It was amazing the difference that had come over St. Patrick’s. An old building, suddenly it looked shiny and new. That was what I wanted for my grandpa.

  Billy left us at the turnoff to his driveway,

  “You’ve done a ton of work on the church, Grandpa.”

  “It has been a big job.”

  “I bet running a vineyard would feel like a piece of cake after this project.”

  He laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  He looked so happy, walking along, that I thought I was safe to tackle the subject of the garden.

  “Grandpa,” I said, “if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you ever go to the Lovers' Garden anymore?” I looked at him. “Do you just miss Grandma too much?”

  Grandpa looked surprised at my question. He paused, I assume to collect his thoughts.

  “When your grandma died,” he began, “I was too sad to do anything but sit and think about how much I missed her.” He paused. “Once I managed to muster up the energy to go back to the garden – a couple months later, I’m embarrassed to say – I was too late. It had been so long since anyone had taken care of it, the garden had already started to die.

  “To be perfectly honest with you, when I saw that garden dying, that special place that your grandmother loved so much, it just about broke my heart for the second time. So I closed it up and haven’t been back since.”

  He looked at me. “You and Billy were probably the first people to go in there in months.” He looked ahead again. “I hate to think of it just sitting there, falling apart, but sometimes… you can only handle so much.”

  “I understand,” I told him. “I’m sorry for asking.”

  “Nonsense.” He threw an arm around my shoulder. “You can ask me whatever you want, any time. You know that.”


  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  Suddenly, something Grandpa had said hit me. “Grandpa,” I asked, “you said that by the time you went back, the garden had already started to die?”

  “Yes, it had.”

  I was confused. It started to die, and then someone came to fix it up? Because it certainly wasn’t rundown anymore.

  Either way, it was clear that Grandpa felt guilty because he let the garden go to ruin. He already had grief weighing him down. Did he really need guilt as well? How could he move on then?

  I considered telling him that the garden was in good shape – that he had nothing to feel guilty about – but then I got a great idea. I would show him instead.

  Chapter 7

  “Grandpa, could we swing by the Lovers’ Garden on the way home?” I asked. I saw that he was surprised. “Please? I’d really like to show it to you. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  He hesitated for a moment. “All right. If it will make you happy, I’ll go with you.”

  “Thanks!” I exclaimed. “You won’t regret it.”

  As we walked on, I became more and more excited about my idea. This was just what Grandpa needed. He could visit the garden, see that it was doing just fine, and then get it out of his system. No more guilt, easy peasy.

  We didn’t talk much as we walked. He seemed a little nervous actually, and so I kept quiet and anticipated how happy this was going to make him.

  A few minutes later, we reached the stone wall and the wooden door. I grasped the handle and pulled the door open with a grunt.

  Inside, the late day sun shone down at the perfect angle to highlight the flower borders that ran everywhere. I glanced quickly around the enclosure. I told myself I was being silly, but I still felt relief when I didn’t see any signs of a ghost. I turned back to Grandpa.

  “Well,” I said to him, “what do you think?”

  Grandpa still stood in the doorway. He hadn’t come in. He had a strange look on his face, almost as if he were about to let out a sob.

  He is going to cry, I thought. He must be really happy!

  And yet, he didn’t actually look happy. His face seemed to twist itself slowly into a dark mask of sadness.