Temporary. Clara couldn’t get the word out of her mind as she dressed the next morning. The day before had been long, tiring and, if she were honest with herself, fairly upsetting.
I’ll show you temporary. She pulled her best day dress over her head and brushed her hair in long, strong strokes. Pulling her bonnet from the hook by the door, she stopped and turned back to the vanity.
Quickly, she fastened her mother’s pearl earrings as she brushed angry tears from her cheeks. As the earrings caught the light in the mirror, she said, “Thanks, Mama. I’ll need courage today.”
She pulled her bonnet on, tying the strings beneath her chin when she closed the front door behind her. She set out with long strides toward her destination.
The sun had just risen, the dew sparkling on the trees and shrubs as she passed—even on the cactuses that spotted the yard.
As she reached the small, iron gate, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She hesitated slightly, fleetingly wondering if this was a good idea or not.
Shaking off the thought, she opened the gate, striding into the dilapidated garden in front of the little white house.
As she pulled on a pair of worn, leather gloves and kneeled, she was startled by the buzz of a hummingbird. Mesmerized, she watched as it flew around the garden, finally hovering very close to her for a moment as the deep blue and green of its neck shimmered in the early morning light.
As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving Clara with a smile.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as she turned to the task at hand.
She’d never been able to have a garden of this size in Chicago and she lost herself in the pleasure of it. The pile of weeds in the far corner of the garden almost reached the top of the short, white fence when she heard the distinctive clopping of horse hooves coming up the drive.
She stood, rubbing her lower back as she bent backwards, wondering how long she’d been at it.
The horse stopped behind her and she turned slowly, looking up into the darkened face of her new father-in-law.
“What are you doing in there?” he said, his voice tight and his hand gripping the saddle horn.
“Good morning. I saw a task that needed to be done and I’m doing it. There are lovely herb plants in here under all the dead things and I thought Maria might be able to use some in the kitchen. I’d like to, too.”
“Young lady, this is my wife’s herb garden. No one has been allowed in here since she passed. I would appreciate it if you would leave it alone and go back to the house.”
Clara sat on the short adobe fence and smoothed her apron over her skirts. She looked at the garden now with most of the weeds gone, and regarded the small starts of new plants alongside the larger ones that had been there for a while.
She reached up to her ear, fiddling with her earring, before she stood and turned to Mr. Archer, who still glared down at her from atop his horse.
“Mr. Archer, there is great beauty here. And abundant life. New plants and new beginnings. I believe it should be tended, for everyone to see that life goes on.”
He gripped the reins tighter, his knuckles turning white. His face reddened even more as he said, “This is my ranch. I am in charge here. I say what changes and what stays the same.”
Clara looked down quickly, her stomach fluttering for a moment, then looked back up, meeting his gaze.
“I know you mean well, Mr. Archer, but things always change. Nothing stays the same, no matter how hard we wish it would.”
The horse he was riding was unfamiliar to her, and as he gripped more tightly on the reins, it neighed loudly, rearing its head up.
He regarded her for a moment, looking quickly up to the porch as his daughters came out, staying put but watching the scene unfold before them.
“It is important that things are as they were. I just need things to stay the same. My future is over. All I have is memories.”
Clara shook her head slowly.
“But there are a lot of people here besides you. People who have dreams as well, and who are too young to have them put on hold. For things to stay the same.”
“I can’t. I—“
Mr. Archer’s eyes flew wide open as his eldest daughter, Meg, strode past him and directly into the garden, followed by her sisters. She smiled at Clara before bending over, clearing away brown stems and leaves in a corner of the garden Clara hadn’t gotten to yet.
Clara’s heart swelled and soon, the garden was a flurry of activity with all the girls taking a patch as their own and adding to the pile of weeds in the corner.
Mr. Archer sat rigid in his saddle, watching in silence as his horse began to stomp and neigh louder. As Pepper, the sixth of his daughters, passed through the gate and pulled it closed behind her, he stiffened even more, his horse rearing up on its hind legs as it took off toward the stables, its rider trying to slow it without much success.
As he turned at the bottom of the road after having regained control of the horse, Meg stood, shielding her eyes against the sun and looking after her father as he became smaller on the horizon.
“We didn’t dare come in here before, even though we wanted Mama’s garden to be alive again.” She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.
“I know this hasn’t been easy for any of you,” Clara said as she wrapped her arm around her new sister-in-law’s shoulder.
“Least of all for Papa. He’s just not been the same,” Tara said as she tugged more weeds, throwing them behind her in rapid succession.
“Well, what’s going on here?” Hank said as he spotted them from the porch. “Clara, you missed breakfast. I looked for you.”
He strode down the drive toward the little white house and enclosed garden, his chin falling as he saw all seven ladies turning the garden into something he hadn’t seen for too long.
Clara stood, looking to where Mr. Archer had gone. “The girls and I would like the garden to be as beautiful and alive as when your mother tended to it.”
Hank ran his hand over his forehead. “But Pa—”
“Trust me, Hank. It’s time,” she said softly as she turned and smiled at the girls busily tending to their mother’s handiwork.
Hank shook his head with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, if you say so. Mama would be proud, I just know it.”
“Yes, she would,” Sage said as she stood, holding a small cherry tomato in her hand. “Look what was underneath all the brown?”
She popped it into her mouth and the girls all smiled as they returned to vigorously cleaning out the garden.
Hank took Clara’s hand and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
The butterflies Clara thought had left her returned, the warmth of his hand sending tingles straight to her heart.
“I have a horse to work before its owners come. I’ll be down at the stable. Maria’s saved a breakfast plate for you if you’re hungry.”
Clara stood and watched Hank walk down the drive and turn into the big, wide doors of the stable. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was a good first step, or the beginning of the end of her stay at Archer Ranch.