Prelude

“Once there was a beautiful garden.”

“Like our garden?”

“Almost, but so much bigger.”

“Were there trees? Like Father grows? Or just fruits and vegetables?”

“Every kind of tree grew in the garden. There were maple trees and oak trees. Fig trees and olive trees. There were orange trees and . . .”

“Apple trees!”

“Yes, apple trees.”

“What kind of animals were there?”

“Oh, more than I could name before bedtime. Let’s see. There were tigers and rhinoceroses and brilliant white unicorns . . .”

“Unicorns aren’t real. Father said so. He says none of your stories are true, because if magic were real you wouldn’t be sick.”

“Is that what Father says? Well, I’ll tell you a secret, but you musn’t tell anyone else.”

“What secret?”

“Father doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t even know enough to come inside for stories at night and that is very important, now isn’t it?”

“Yes. Very.”

“But you know what? Someday even Father might find a magical garden.”

“Would he take us to see it?”

“He’d bring you, Evie. Father always remembers you, even when it seems like he’s forgotten.”

“And will he bring you, too?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I will already be there, waiting where the grass is green and the trees are always in bloom, and the cherry tree petals blow along on the wind like the rain.”

“Mom? Was there really a Garden of Eden ? Not a story, but an actual place?”

“That all depends on whether you believe. Some people say there was a real garden, but it withered up and blew away. Other people say it was a story. A few people think it still exists, but no one knows for sure.”

“What do you think?”

“Me? I think a real garden would be pretty overgrown by now, wouldn’t it? So maybe someday we’ll each find our own perfect garden instead.”

“But how will we get there?”

“That’s a good question. Maybe we can only go to our garden after we die. Perhaps that’s why we’re not allowed to live forever.”

“Will you die?”

“Yes. We all will someday.”

“Will you find a beautiful garden, Mom?”

“I hope so, Evie.”

“Then I will meet you there. And I will bring Father with me even if he doesn’t believe in perfect gardens and wants to weed instead.”

“Okay, that’s a good plan, but you should only come when it’s the right time. Until then, help Father here with his garden. Promise?”

“Well . . .”

“You must.”

“Okay. I promise.”

But behind her back, Evie crossed her fingers.