With the days stretching longer as the summer solstice approached, Summer found she had more daylight to play with and took full advantage to start in on her obligation to Ms. Midnight.
Summer pulled the better part of the weeds that had taken over the garden strangling the herbs and flowers. Given her affinity for all things herbal, she was able to discern the weeds from the plants, and with the omission of the dense tentacles of wayward creepers and stems, a pattern started to emerge beneath the chaos of plants. A pathway of crushed slate in blue-gray lay under a crushed gray-white granite path in some places and over in others, like two ribbons forming a Celtic knot, defining specific areas of the garden. A square within a circle joined together by the interlacing, never-ending ribbon of pathways to form four marquis shapes that pointed to the four points of a compass.
The garden measured fifteen feet by fifteen feet (roughly) and approximately twenty-one feet diagonally. Summer drew out the pattern on a piece of paper, trying to keep it to half-inch scale equaling one foot so it fit nicely on a regular sheet of graph paper.
The plants she found under the weeds she carefully examined, clipping any existing dried flowers and depositing them into handmade transparent vellum envelopes with a sticky note. She also tied a different colored piece of ribbon or yarn to the plant she took the sample from and put a small piece of it in the envelope. On a sticky note she wrote any distinguishing characteristics of the plant or what she thought it might be. After one week she had so many notes, envelopes, and sticky notes, she had to buy a binder to hold it all.
This became a nightly ritual—coming home from work, working in the garden and then sitting in an old beat-up lounge chair she found in the potting shed, researching and making tons of notes from botanical books she borrowed from the library, the gardening magazines that littered Paws and Whiskers’s lobby and bookmarking sites on the internet. Once she discovered what plants she had, she’d note them in her binder. To Summer it was relaxing—like putting a jigsaw puzzle together and deciphering some kind of mystery.
However, with relaxing came the disturbing—peering out the second-story window of the deteriorating old mansion—old Ms. Midnight. She’d leer at Summer and watch every move she made in the garden. Her short silver hair glowing in the orange light of the evening made her look much like a jack-o-lantern. A raised eyebrow over one bugged eye and her other squinty eye made her look perpetually displeased. It didn’t help that her arms were always crossed under a shawl or wrap and her thin lips were incessantly two taut lines of unhappiness.
The first couple of nights it bothered Summer to have the unhappy looking Ms. Midnight overseeing everything she did. She tried to wave hello to her, even waved her down inviting her outside to talk with her, but the woman’s vexation was steadfast. She seldom even moved; only her facial expression changed from disgruntlement to annoyance, then back again.
Summer wondered if Ms. Midnight might be related to the Reverend Mother at the orphanage—they had a similar kinship for disapproving faces—Summer laughed as she thought of the likeness of the two women.
Summer learned to ignore the “evil eye” of Ms. Midnight and, to some extent, took comfort in the diligent scrutiny of her progress as a type of enjoyment for the old woman. Summer would wave hello and goodbye every night to the stoic woman and in a strange way, she felt a little closer to Ms. Midnight even though they’d never spoken. It was nice to know she was always there—like a guardian angel, or maybe in her case, a guardian gargoyle. She wasn’t sure Ms. Midnight would do anything to save her if something went awry, but being an orphan, for Summer it was kind of nice.
*****
Saturday morning came and Dr. Stuart, keeping good on his word, closed down the office and had all the employees and a couple of the nuns come to help paint. He had Tori help him pick out the paint, ignoring some of her suggestions of black and purple for the inside of the tiny cottage.
He took the liberty of doing a drive by to note the exterior color of the cottage so he could get paint for the outside too. He was glad Summer’s cottage wasn’t as bad as the small house on the wooded lot next to door. It was hidden by brush and trees, but what he could see wouldn’t benefit much from paint.
Armed with paint, tape, brushes, plastic, tarps, donuts, coffee and anyone he could con into helping, he and his crew arrived at 10:00 a.m.
Like everything, Dr. Stuart made painting fun. Summer was so grateful she found him and had the opportunity to work with him. His skills as a veterinarian were impeccable, but it was his manner, his ease with speaking to anyone, and his natural kindness that made him the special man Summer knew he was.
Animals sensed this gentle kindness too. Summer had never seen an animal dislike Dr. Stuart. Summer sometimes wondered if he had some kind of superhero power to engage with animals’ inner thoughts. Despite what an owner might say, he’d let the pet tell him what ailed it. He’d ask the owners questions that didn’t seem to pertain to anything in particular all the while mumbling things to the animal, and yet he’d hit the nail right on the head at diagnosing the problem every time. Summer hoped she, one day, could be this attuned to her animal patients.
But Dr. Stuart wasn’t good only with animals and their owners; he was good with people in general. Summer knew this was a gift she could only hope to find and utilize someday. She wasn’t exactly considered outgoing—friendly, yes, maybe even well-liked, but a little afraid of the big world beyond her perimeter of friends and acquaintances. Tori, on the other hand, was far more adventurous and she admired this fierce courage that Tori had for life.
Summer watched as Tori and her very pale boyfriend Nick painted alongside one another. Nick was very handsome, as all Tori’s boyfriends were. He had a few more piercings and tattoos than Summer personally liked, but something in his eyes told Summer he adored Tori.
They both laughed and joked with Dr. Stuart, Sister Margaret, Paul Barnes (the grocery mart bagger who used to be a delivery guy for the office), Katie Petersen (the nurse aid), Juanita Holmes (friend of Katie’s), John Thomas (the Whiskers and Paws website guy and part-time janitor) and the present delivery guy, Tommy Sinclair.
*****
Summer asked Sister Margaret why Sister Mary Louise hadn’t come to the painting party.
“Well, my dear, I’m not sure. The Reverend Mother has been tight lipped as to her whereabouts, but I haven’t personally seen Sister Mary Louise since graduation night.”
“Really?”
“To my knowledge, no one has seen her.”
“Isn’t the Reverend Mother worried?”
“I’m not sure. She won’t speak of it. She seems to be rather miffed about the whole subject, so the rest of the sisters have said little or nothing.”
“Do you think the Reverend Mother knows where Sister Mary Louise is?”
“Oh, the Reverend Mother knows all and the rest is ‘in God’s hands,’” Sister Margaret said and Summer echoed the last part in stereo with the sister, then they both had a little giggle.
“Well, if you do find out what’s happened, will you let me know? Or if you see Sister Mary Louise, will you tell her to contact me?”
“Of course I will, dear. Of course I will,” the sister insisted.
“Thank you, Sister. Sister Mary Louise means an awful lot to me,” Summer said.
“I know, dear, and you mean a lot to her. You were her special little one. The Reverend Mother, I can tell you, gave Sister Mary Louise a lot of discord regarding her penchant for you, but Sister Mary Louise would take her penance and go right back to her pampering. I never really saw the big issue; it wasn’t as if Sister Mary Louise did anything for you she wouldn’t do for any of the other girls, she enjoyed spending time with you. We’ve all had our favorites from time to time, despite the Reverend Mother’s advisements.
“Don’t you worry yourself about Sister Mary Louise. She’s a smart one. Whatever she’s up to or wherever she is, she’ll be okay and if she will contact anyone, I would guess she would contact you. But if I hear anything, I will let you know,” the sister reassured her.
“Thank you, Sister, and thank you for coming and helping. What did the Reverend Mother say when you told her you were helping me paint?”
“She didn’t say a word…after all, I told her I was helping the needy today—doing God’s work.”
“Sister…?”
“Well, I didn’t lie and as far as God is concerned, I am doing his work, and He agrees with me,” she laughed and Summer laughed with her.
By one o’clock, the inside was pretty much done except for some touch up once the masking tape was taken down. After a truckload of pizzas and sodas were delivered, the crew turned their attention to the outside. Summer offered sunscreen to everyone. Somehow Nick claimed all the shady painting areas, like the porch and the northern side of the house. The rest painted whatever they could get to.
*****
Around six or seven, most everyone had said their goodbyes; only Dr. Stuart, Nick and Tori stayed to take down the masking tape inside, touch up the paint and move the furniture back into place. The little house looked a billion times better both inside and out. The problem now was the mansion looked that much more dilapidated. Nick and Tori headed out since they wanted to get showers in before their date. Dr. Stuart spotted Summer’s garden binder and after explaining what she had been doing, she took him out to tour her latest undertaking.
He saw the excitement in her eyes as she explained how she’d found the ribbon of intertwined paths and how she hoped she could rehabilitate the neglected garden back to a thriving beauty she was sure it had once been.
He was intrigued by her diligence and forethought. After listening to how she was going about defining what the plants were, he said, “You do realize what this is, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The garden—it’s a medicinal herbal garden,” he said.
Summer looked at him with puzzlement. Sure, she knew it was an herb garden, and that some herbs were considered medicinal, but ‘medicinal herbal garden’? What did that mean?
“I’ve always been into gardening. I find it relaxing and gratifying, although I don’t have the green thumb my mother had, I do okay. In college I did a paper on the subject of Macbeth’s three witches and their strange brew, so I learned a lot about the odd old names for plants.”
“How fascinating.”
Dr. Stuart began to quote Shakespeare.
Fillet of fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth broil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark;
Live of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingredients of our caldron
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
“What’s all that got to do with the garden?” Summer asked.
“Everything.” He pointed to a plant. “That purple daisy looking flower—Hedgehog or hedge-pig in this poem or to you and me, Echinacea.”
“Hedge-pig?”
He nodded and then pointed to a nearby shrub. “And that would be ‘Bat Wings or Wool of Bat’ in this poem.”
“Holly?”
“Yes, holly leaves could be described as looking like a bat’s wings, don’t you agree?”
“Oh? Yes, I see!”
“This here,” he said as he broke off a stem, raising it to his nose for a smell. “Blind-worm’s sting.” He was introduced to the beer brewers of the world, wormwood was used to flavor beer. Its primary ingredient is absinthe used as a tonic for stomach and intestinal problems.”
He took another step and pointed. “This here is ‘Witches’ Mummy’ in the poem otherwise known as Mugwort. It’s used for all kinds of things from kidney stones to menstrual cramps. And over there in the lawn, the little white daisies?”
“Yeah?” she said as she spied a few tiny flowers.
“Eye of Newt.”
“No way.”
“Seriously. In fact, the Romans were the first known people to use the lawn daisy. They’d have slaves pick bags of them and carry them into battle because when crushed, the juices are a powerful astringent. They’d soak the bandages in the juice and apply them to wounds,” Dr. Stuart explained.
“That’s amazing, but why the crazy names? Eye of Newt?”
“It’s said that the lawn daisy was called the ‘eye of day,’ because, well, it looks like an eye in the middle, but in ancient times when a person made their livelihood from their own special recipes and concoctions, they would write the recipes in code so if they were to get into the hands of some passerby, they wouldn’t have a clue what the ingredients were. Of course, another practitioner might be able to figure out the code since they too probably used a similar name.
“Of course, I always thought if the practitioners hadn’t used such gruesome names, maybe the witch trials would not have been as bad. Having cookbooks with such nefarious ingredient names certainly didn’t help their cause, I’m sure.”
“No doubt,” Summer said.
“I have some books I could loan you to help identify some of the more obscure plants and I would certainly enjoy helping you with any you can’t figure out,” Dr. Stuart offered.
“Thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that. I love plants, but I never really looked into herbs that much. I mostly planted flowers for the nuns by the rectory, so any help I can get on herbs would be great.”
“No problem,” Dr. Stuart said.