Chapter Six

The Garden

 

I WOKE UP the next morning and the sun was painting the entire room yellow. I flipped on my side to face the wall and I buried my face in the pillow to block out the light. I didn’t feel yellow, I felt black, like my heart.

It would be another week before I could talk to Mom. I thought about her last words to me before she drove away: “Be brave.” So that’s exactly what I did. I got up and faced the day, knowing I was one day closer to getting home.

Since it was Sunday and my aunt and uncle were home, we didn’t dare chance going to the river. Besides, it seemed like we were just one step ahead from getting in trouble. Everything we did was against the rules. So instead of going to the river, we decided to go to Crazy Mary’s house to visit the cats again.

After lunch, we packed a baggie full of leftovers for the cats to bribe them out of their hiding places.

I wanted to do something nice for Crazy Mary, so I looked around the yard and my breath caught when I saw the deep purple pansies swaying in the breeze. I walked over to Aunt Lori’s flowerbed and brushed my hand over the velvety flowers. They were perfect. They were pretty and they were also my favorite color. I knew I had to share them.

I plunged my fingers underneath a bunch of pansies and scooped them up. The earth felt cool and damp. I put them in an empty flower pot lying on its side next to the garden. As I scooped up another bunch, my finger caught the edge of something sharp, and I jerked away quickly. A tiny line of blood spiraled down my pinkie. I looked at the hole where the flowers had been and saw something reflecting the sun.

“Look at that,” I said, digging out the flash of light with my fingers.

“What are you doing?” Wendy asked.

“Looks like I’m digging up glass.” Another piece sparkled, and I plucked it from the earth with a trowel that lay beside the garden. “Look at this. It’s a bottle.” I could barely make out the label of the clear broken bottle, but I could tell it was whiskey. I tossed it aside and covered the hole I had just made with some soil from around the other flowers. No one could even tell where I’d dug.

We got to Crazy Mary’s house, and I took the flower pot full of pansies up the steps to the cement containers. Wendy waited on the road while Paige followed me. It felt weird being all the way up on the porch, but I had an important mission to do. I was just a few feet away from the door where I had last seen Crazy Mary, and I moved with caution. I put the flowers down and turned my attention to the two containers on either side of the porch. I pulled and tugged at the weeds, but they resisted my efforts. They had lived in those pots a long time.

Finally, I got the weeds out and dug a hole in the dirt with my hands. Then I placed the pansies in the hole and spread the dirt back around them. I looked at my handiwork. It sure did spruce up the place. I thought it was the least I could do for Crazy Mary since she was letting us visit the cats.

Mom loved flowers and each spring, we planted pansies in our front yard. I missed doing that with her. She would call what I did a “good deed,” so I felt a little better about all the Rule Breaking I had been doing. I hated disappointing her. I couldn’t wait to talk to her again and tell her all about Crazy Mary and Oreo.

My hands were filthy, so I rubbed them on my shorts to wipe the dirt away, but that didn’t do much good. Who was I fooling anyway? There were the girls like me, and then there were girls like Julie. I was never a painted nails kind of girl.

I didn’t want to ruin the moment by staying too long, so I turned to Paige and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

The door cracked open with a swoop. Crazy Mary peeked out from behind the door that separated her from the world. The fragrance of lilac swept out. She was the most dignified woman I had ever seen. She was carrying a tray with three glasses on it. “Would you like some lemonade?” Her voice was like baby oil. Clear and smooth.

Well, this was a shock. Not wanting to be rude, I said, “That would be great, thank you.”

I walked toward Crazy Mary and took a glass of lemonade. I reached my hand out but I saw how dirty it was and pulled it back quickly.

“There’s no shame in dirty hands,” she said kindly. “It shows that you’re a gardener. A friend to Mother Earth.” She was taller than I had imagined, and thinner, but not in a frail way. She placed the tray on the porch rail.

I picked up a glass. “Thank you.”

“How about you, sweetie?” she asked Paige. “You want some lemonade?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Paige picked up a glass and smiled big, pushing her tongue through her missing front teeth, and then took a big sip. “Thank you.”

“What about your friend over there?” she asked, pointing to where Wendy stood motionless.

“I don’t think she wants any,” I said, sipping on my drink. “She’s my cousin Wendy.” I touched Paige’s shoulder. “And this is my cousin Paige.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re new around these parts.”

“Yeah. I’m here visiting my family.”

“So, Butch Morgan is your uncle?”

“Yeah,” I said shyly.

She nodded. “The flowers sure do look pretty. Thank you. It’s been a long while since I’ve had visitors.”

I drank my lemonade.

“I notice that you come most days to feed the cats.”

I got excited. “I named the kitten Oreo.”

“Oreo? Good name. A good solid name.” She smiled a wide smile and adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders. She pushed back a loose strand of her hair.

“And I named his mother Midnight.”

“Midnight is a good name for her. When she hides under the porch she is hard to find. She just came back from the vet.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, concerned.

“Oh nothing, honey. I just didn’t want her to have any more kittens. I try to keep up with as many of these strays as I can. When I can get a hold of them, I call someone from the local vet to come get them to be spayed or neutered. Midnight, as you call her, had eluded my grasp for some time.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad nothing’s wrong with her.” I finished my lemonade and put the empty glass on the tray. “Thank you, Cra —uh . . .”

“I’m Mrs. Weaver. And you’re welcome, my dears. Don’t be strangers, hear?”

“Okay, Mrs. Weaver,” I said.

I took Paige’s hand and we walked down the steps together. I looked back and waved goodbye and then she disappeared back inside the house. I knew then that she wasn’t crazy after all, and couldn’t wait to rub it into Wendy’s nose.

 

DINNER WAS A testament to Aunt Lori’s good cooking and we ate heartily. After my dad left, Mom didn’t cook much, so Aunt Lori’s home cooking was a welcome change.

“How was your day, girls?” Uncle Butch asked. He slurped coffee from his “World’s Best Dad” mug.

“Fine,” I said and took a bite of mashed potatoes and gravy.

“Chris dug up a broken whiskey bottle from the garden,” Paige tattled.

Uncle Butch chuckled. “Yeah?”

“I think it was a whiskey bottle,” I said.

“That sounds about right, Chris. You have just discovered your grandfather’s secret whiskey garden.” Uncle Butch shoved in a big forkful of meat.

“Did Grandpa grow whiskey?” Paige asked with amazement. It was cute. I didn’t need to wonder if I was that naive when I was six. I knew I was.

“No, Paige, you can’t grow whiskey in a garden,” Wendy said, looking at her dad for reassurance.

“That, my dear, is true. You can’t grow whiskey in a garden. A whiskey garden is just a garden your grandfather created. Whenever he wanted to drink, he would tell your grandmother that he was going to work out in the garden. Instead, he went outside to sneak a drink because Grandma didn’t allow any spirits in her house. To hide the evidence, he buried his bottles in the yard.”

“Did Grandma ever find out?” I asked.

“I think she turned a blind eye on a lot of things that went on in those days. She was a peacekeeper, not a fighter,” Aunt Lori said.

I couldn’t wait to tell Mom how much I’d been learning about my relatives. I’m not sure if she was going to like what I was finding out.

“Did my mom know?” I asked. I had never seen her take a drink.

Before Uncle Butch could answer, Bob came banging out of his cottage with a beer in hand. “Hey, Butch, hey girls,” he said, walking up to the screen porch.

“Hey, Bob,” Uncle Butch said, pushing his plate away. He went to the refrigerator and got a beer, then grabbed his cigarettes from the table and met Bob outside.

We left them to their secret gardens and cleared the table. Without him in the cottage, I relaxed. I liked being part of the women with my cousins and aunt. I liked being part of something separate from my uncle and his gruff, overbearing presence. When he was around, he smelled hot, like sweat, and now beside Aunt Lori, I smelled the coolness of her, like lavender.

After he left, Aunt Lori hugged my cousins. She always seemed to be touching them lovingly, making sure they were okay. Then she looked at me and opened her arms. I walked over to her and tucked myself into her embrace, taking to her like a baby bird taking to a worm. I felt safe in her arms. She was as light as Uncle Butch was dark. I wanted to borrow her angel’s wings and fly away home.