Chapter 3

 

The next morning, I slept in. Grandpa told me the night before that he needed to go to work. He was nearing the end of a big restoration job at a local church, St. Patrick’s. The church was over a century old, so it had been a big project. Apparently, Grandpa and his crew were almost finished, and he didn’t want to take any time off.

I knew he hated to miss my first day with him, but I didn’t mind the extra sleep.

When I finally rolled out of bed at 11:00, the sun shone brightly through the windows. I could see little specks of dust floating in the air, illuminated by the midday glare.

Dimly, I realized that I hadn’t woken up naturally. Someone was rapping loudly on the door. I shuffled down the hallway as I struggled to shake off the vestiges of sleep.

Grandpa’s front door was beautiful, old, and solid oak. So solid that it didn’t even have a peephole. So it was with no warning that I swung the door open and found myself standing – with morning breath and bed-head – right in front of Billy.

I suddenly felt very aware of my old t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Hey,” he said. “Wow. Are you just getting out of bed?”

I shaded my eyes. “No. I look like this all the time. Of course I’m just getting out of bed!”

“Late night partying with your grandpa?”

“Very funny,” I said. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, sorry. Is your grandpa around?”

“No. He’s at work at St. Patrick’s.”

“Oh, right. I just need to drop off the weed whacker he let me borrow. I do yard work for a couple other neighbors, and Mr. Shepherd lets me use his equipment. He’s a good guy, your grandpa.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, a little annoyed. Obviously, I didn’t need someone else to tell me how nice my grandpa was. I stood there for a moment, wondering if Billy had anything else to say, and, if not, wondering why he didn’t go. “Well…” I started.

“I saw your parents drive off last night,” he broke in. “How long are you staying?”

I sighed. Obviously, Billy wanted to talk. “Would you like to come in?” I asked him.

“Sure!” he said. I held the door back for him, while he walked past me like he owned the place. He strode into the living room and plopped down on the sofa.

I followed him into the room. “I’ll be here for a month.”

“That’s cool,” he said. “I bet your grandpa’s glad to have the company.”

“Why do you say that?”

He gave me a funny look. “Because of your grandma.”

Of course. I don’t know why, but I had forgotten that Billy would have known her, too.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

We both paused for a beat. Time for me to hint that I had things to do.

“Listen,” I started, just as he said, “I was thinking…” We both stopped again and laughed.

“Go ahead,” I said.

He cleared his throat. “I was just gonna say that if you want, we could hang out today.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, ready to say, “No.” After all, I had my visit to the Lovers' Garden to make. But something stopped me.

If I were being truthful, I’d have to admit that I was a little nervous about seeing the garden again. For all my talk about moving on, I was scared to see that bit of my past, of Grandma’s past, withering away. Some company might help.

When I said, “Ok,” it sounded surprised even to my own ears, but Billy didn’t seem to notice.

“Cool,” he said. “I’ll wait here while you get dressed.”

Oh yeah. I forgot about my pajamas. And I still hadn’t eaten. My stomach rumbled as I thought of breakfast.

“I tell you what,” I told him. “Give me half an hour to get ready, and then we can pack a picnic. I’ve got somewhere I want to see.”

“Ok,” he said, getting up from the couch. “Just so long as you’re not ditching me.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He grinned. “Good deal, then. I’ll be back in 30 minutes.” And with that, he walked into the hall and out the front door.

I shook my head. Hanging around Billy had a tendency to feel a little like being hit by a tornado. Still, at least I’d have new things to tell Laura.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was dressed in khaki shorts and a t-shirt, ready to set out. I heard Billy’s knock on the door as I pulled on my tennis shoes. “Coming!” I called. I ran to the door, sweeping my hair up into a ponytail as I went.

“Ready?” asked Billy as I opened the door.

“Almost. Come on in, and we’ll pack some food.”

We went into the kitchen and put together a lunch. Billy was surprisingly helpful. He packed baggies of chips and grapes while I made sandwiches. He knew where all the supplies were located, and I got the feeling that he had been in Grandpa’s kitchen before.

I finished compiling the sandwiches while he grabbed us two sodas from the fridge.

“Good to go?” he asked.

“Yep.”

I directed Billy out the back door. Just as I pulled the door closed behind me, Grandpa’s cat suddenly darted out through the crack.

“Whoa,” said Billy. He jumped to catch Luigi, but missed and ended up on the back porch floor.

I tried very hard to hold in my laughter and managed to pass off the little bit that escaped as a cough. “It’s ok. Luigi goes all over the place. He always comes back.”

“Cats,” muttered Billy as he pulled himself up.

I hid one more smile, and we started off down the back steps.

“Where are we going?” Billy asked me as Luigi vanished through the trees.

“A special garden of my grandmother’s.” I paused. I didn’t know why, but I felt shy about revealing the garden’s name to this boy. “She called it the Lovers’ Garden,” I said finally, not meeting his gaze. I was aware of a blush spreading across my cheeks, so I kept facing forward. “She named it that, I think, because she built it around a tree that she and Grandpa carved their initials into a long time ago.” I glanced at Billy. “Have you ever been in there? While you were doing yard work for my grandpa?”

He shook his head. “I think I’d remember that. Besides, I mainly do basic stuff around here. Mowing. Trimming. I’m not really a gardener. I’m more of brute labor.”

“My grandma wasn’t just a gardener. She was an artist. She loved all her flowers, but the Lovers' Garden was really something special. It was beautiful.”

“Why do you say it was beautiful? Isn’t it still?”

“That’s just it. I have a feeling that Grandpa’s let the garden go since she died. I’m actually a little nervous at what we’re going to find. Probably a big, overgrown mess rather than my grandma’s special place.”

We walked on in silence for a minute. To reach the garden, we had to go through a small grove of magnolia trees that my grandfather had planted years before I was born. The dirt under our feet was hard packed, and it muffled our footsteps as we went.

“So,” he said, “what grade are you in?”

“I’m about to start 7^th.”

“Cool. Me too.”

We walked in silence for a minute. I tried to think of something to talk about.

“You said you had a brother,” I finally said. “How old is he?”

“Which one?” asked Billy with a laugh. “I’ve got three brothers.”

“Wow. There are four of you?”

“Yep. Two older, one younger.”

“Your poor mom.”

I couldn’t even imagine being one of four kids. Sometimes my apartment felt crowded with just Laura over. But then, she did have a pretty big personality.

“I’m an only child,” I said. “I think it would be nice to have a sister or brother to keep my parents busy every now and then.”

“Trust me, having brothers can get old, too.”

“Especially three of them, huh?”

“Exactly.”

We walked on in silence.

“Is your real name Elizabeth?” Billy asked abruptly.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just wondering.” He paused. “It’s pretty.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly, I felt shy. Where did that come from? Luckily, we were getting close to the garden, so I quickly changed the subject. “We’re almost there. See that door through the trees? That’s it.”

The entrance to the Lovers’ Garden was unobtrusive. The trees grew almost to the ivy-covered stone wall and hid much of it from view. The wood of the door blended perfectly into insignificance behind the magnolias.

“So that’s what this is. I’ve seen the door before when I was working back here, but I never knew what was in there.”

As we neared the door, I hesitated. I was afraid both of what I might find and of the bittersweet thoughts of my grandmother that were already flooding me. Billy hung back, seemingly waiting for me to take the first step. I squared my shoulders. I could do this.

I grasped the iron handle of the big wooden door. It was heavy and hard to move from months of disuse, but I dug my heels in and pulled. Billy lent a hand, grasping the edge of the door as it opened and pulling it with me. The door creaked, and the garden slowly came into view through the opening.

My initial feeling as I looked through the doorway was relief. All my worst fears about the state of the garden were totally unfounded. It hadn’t fallen into disrepair at all.

As I walked through the doorway, my relief increasingly turned to amazement. Not only was the garden not ruined, it was in better shape than the last time I had seen it. The flowerbeds overflowed with blooming lilies and pansies, without a weed in sight. The azalea bushes were big and healthy. The water in the small pond was still clear and clean; I could see the oversized goldfish swimming in it as if I were looking through glass. Even the cobblestone path had no overgrown grass between its stones.

I followed this path dazedly to the back of the garden where there was a grove of dogwood trees. There in the middle was the original hickory tree with my grandparents’ initials carved in the middle of a lopsided heart. Underneath the heart was a deep hollow right in the middle of the trunk.

I collapsed onto the wooden bench that circled the tree, overcome with memories.

“Whew,” Billy whistled. “This place looks great! I don’t know what you were so worried about!”

“But,” I said, “I don’t get it. Grandma died months ago, and Grandpa hasn’t even had the heart to take care of a few measly flowers out front. Has he been working back here?”

“Maybe he has,” said Billy. “It’s not such a crazy idea. You said this place was really special to your grandmother, right?” I nodded. “So he might have put a little extra effort into the place she really cared about.”

“I guess it’s possible,” I said.

Billy sat down on the bench beside me. He turned and traced his finger over the initials. “K.S. and E.M.”

“Karl Shepherd and Elizabeth Martino,” I said. “I was named for her.”

“Cool,” said Billy. “Hey, have you seen this?” His hand had found the hollow in the tree. He felt around inside the hole. “It’s pretty deep,” he continued. “You could hide things in here. It would make an awesome mailbox.”

I drew back on stories I had been told countless times. “That’s what Grandma and Grandpa used it for, when they were young. Grandma’s dad didn’t want her to get married at first. He thought she wasn’t old enough. So she and Grandpa exchanged letters here in the tree for a couple of years. Then they bought the neighboring house when they finally got married.”

“No kidding?” He stood up and stretched, then turned and looked at me. “Don’t look so down! The garden’s just like you hoped it would be! That’s a good thing, remember?”

I nodded. “I guess so. I mean, I’m surprised. But, good surprised.”

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat!” He pulled open the bag with our lunch.

I stood up, roused to action by the thought of my turkey sandwich.

“Wait for me. Don’t eat all the chips!”

We shared our lunch on the wooden bench. A light breeze kept us cool, and butterflies danced from blossom to blossom.

I leaned back against the tree and relaxed, thinking this was just the sort of day that Grandma would have liked best. I could almost see her kneeling in the dirt with a trowel in her hand. A big sun hat on her head and a smile on her face.

Suddenly I sat bolt upright. Surely, I could not have just seen what I thought I did.

Because just for one moment, I don’t think I imagined Grandma in the garden.

I actually saw her.