The First Gardener

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  Soft steps came up beside her. “Hello, Mrs. London. Jeremiah gave me this to bring to you.”

  Mackenzie turned to see Jessica holding a mirrored container with an orchid inside. Five dainty blooms hung from its bending stem as if they too desired to simply fall away.

  “Who did you say gave you this?”

  “Jeremiah Williams. Want me to set it right here?” Jessica motioned toward the table.

  Mackenzie nodded and turned back to the window.

  “Can I get you anything else? Are you hungry? Rosa made some chili.”

  Mackenzie shook her head.

  “Okay, then. Well, I guess I’ll leave you alone.”

  Jessica’s footfall was quiet across the damask carpet. Mackenzie heard her bracelet hit the doorknob. “Why an orchid?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  “An orchid? Why an orchid?” Mackenzie now stared at the flower. “He’s always given me a single-stem flower. There has never been a potted plant.” She turned quickly toward Jessica, who stood at the door, her gaze gently landing on Mackenzie. “Tell me what an orchid means.”

  “What an orchid means?” Jessica’s eyes registered her puzzlement.

  “Yes, you know, that every-flower-has-a-meaning stuff. I want to know what an orchid means.”

  Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know, Mrs. London. I didn’t even know flowers had meanings.”

  “Would you get my phone from the bathroom and look it up for me?”

  “You want me to look it up?”

  “Yes, please. Just look it up.” Mackenzie laid her head back. She felt as if that short conversation had drained the very little bit of life she did have out of her.

  Jessica walked into the bathroom and returned with Mackenzie’s iPhone in her hand. “Okay, let’s see here.” She squinted at the screen. “Orchids mean ‘love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady, Chinese symbol for . . .’” She stopped in midsentence.

  The silence was long and obvious. Mackenzie raised her head. “Chinese symbol for what?”

  “Um . . . okay, here are a few more: ‘thoughtfulness, maturity, charm.’” Jessica clicked the phone off and returned it to the bathroom. “That’s all.”

  Mackenzie knew that Jeremiah could say all of those things to her, but she also knew that since he had quit giving her roses, his flowers had conveyed very specific messages. And each one had, in a strange way, given her a little peace—dare she say, the only peace anything had given her.

  “Chinese symbol for what?”

  Jessica emerged from the bathroom and shook her head, her lips pursed so tight her eyes bulged.

  “Jessica—” Mackenzie slowed her words—“what did you not read to me?”

  Jessica’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sure he didn’t know this one.”

  “Jeremiah knows everything about flowers. What are you sure he didn’t know?”

  Jessica paused, her eyes darting toward the window as if Mackenzie might forget her question. Finally she let out a slow sigh. “Orchids are the Chinese symbol for many children.”

  Mackenzie’s eyes narrowed. Surely she hadn’t heard right. “Did you say ‘for many children’?”

  Jessica nodded slowly. “Yes, they are a symbol for having a lot of children.”

  Mackenzie felt the anger start from her toes and work its way up as if it were going to come out of every orifice in her head. She pushed her body hard into her chair, scooted the ottoman out from under her legs, and stood up quickly. She snatched the container from the table and walked past Jessica, bumping her as she did. She headed down the stairs, slipped her feet into boots at the back door, and walked straight outside, the cold instantly beating against the exposed portions of her arms. The wind seemed to slice straight through her. But her anger had her virtually on fire.

  “Jeremiah!” Her loud call echoed through the meandering garden lanes.

  “Have you seen Jeremiah?” she asked two young men in orange jumpsuits who were shoveling snow from the terrace. They looked at each other as if scared to answer, then pointed in the direction of the back of the property.

  Jeremiah was bent over, large pruning shears in his hand. She came up behind him and stopped just inches away. “What were you trying to say with this orchid?”

  Jeremiah rose slowly, his left hand pressing the small of his back. “Hope it ain’t gone and made you angry.”

  “What were you trying to say?” she repeated. “After Maddie died, you sent me hyacinths and some kind of daisy and—”

  “Zinnias. Zahara zinnias.”

  “Okay, zinnias. But each one had a different meaning, right? Then when I got pregnant, you went back to the roses like you had always done. And since . . . since . . .” Her words softened slightly. “Since the baby died, you’ve gone back to giving me different flowers. And trust me, my mother tells me every day what they mean. But today . . .” Her back stiffened. “So what were you saying today with that orchid?”

  Jeremiah pulled his work gloves from his hands, revealing a slight tremor before he placed them in his pockets. “Now, Miz Mackenzie, I need you to know I ain’t had no desire to give you that there orchid. But I just keep gettin’ this thought stirred up inside a me that this be the flower you be needin’. And, yes’m, I know very well what it means. Well, I know what meanin’ you referrin’ to and all.”

  “The one about many children?”

  “Yes’m. That one. That be the one just couldn’t quit diggin’ in my gut. I can’t explain it none. Alls I know is that I felt like I s’pose to give it to you today.”

  “Do you think this is a joke, Jeremiah?”

  He shook his head, his face solemn. “No, ma’am. Ain’t never thought none of this be a joke.”

  Her face was burning. “Do you think this is some game you and I are playing?”

  “No, ma’am. Don’t think that at all. Just be doin’ what I feel I’m s’posed to.”

  She threw the container against a tree. The mirror cracked instantly, and the orchid flopped against it, its stem broken in two by the time it landed on the snow-covered ground. “I don’t want another flower. Do you hear me?”

  He looked at her steadily. “Yes’m.”

  “Don’t try to tell me anything. Don’t try to give me some message. I don’t want to hear any of it. All I want is for you to leave me alone. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes’m. I sure am sorry, ma’am. Ain’t mean no disrespect or nothin’—just thought it might give you a li’l hope.”

  She let out a mocking laugh. “Hope! For children! Don’t you know my track record?”

  He didn’t speak.

  “This body can’t do children! And this woman can’t either! When I finally had one, I couldn’t even protect her.” The break was hard in her voice, and tears began to stream down her face. “I couldn’t even protect Maddie! No child deserves me, Jeremiah! No child deserves me!”

  The emotion was deep and raw. It left her scared as she ran down the path toward the mansion and cut through one of the rose beds. A large thorn caught her arm, but she paid it no attention. Her tears flowed as fast as her feet ran.

  She passed Jessica, who was standing at the back door, and never said a word. She went straight to her room and into the bathroom, where she jerked the bottom drawer with such force the items resting in it bounced in unison. Dropping to her knees, she reached inside and began to grab wildly at the pregnancy tests that sat in a line as if ridiculing her. She threw them across the bathroom with all her might and let out a scream as they flew through the air, hitting the far bathroom wall and then scattering across the stone floor. Then she stared at the bottles of Pregnyl and the needles.

  She jerked her chair out from under her makeup counter and flung it behind her. It toppled over with a crash. She yanked out the trash can, gathered up the medicine, and threw it in with all the force her arms would allow. Heaving tears shook her body as she flung the trash can back underneath the counter, only to watch it toppl
e over, its contents spilling on the floor.

  Weariness washed over her as she slowly got to her feet. She walked into the bedroom and threw her body across the bed. A trickle of blood from the cut on her arm created a small red splotch on the duvet beneath her.

  I knowed it. I knowed Miz Mackenzie gon’ go and have that freak-out.

  Well, maybe I ain’t knowed it for sure. A piece a me thought maybe she wouldn’t even notice. But she notice. She really notice. That’s why I ain’t wanted to do it.

  ’Course, maybe that anger be a good thing. Maybe it prove that sump’n still alive up in there, that she still gots a li’l fight in her. Anger be part of healin’ too.

  Did hurt a li’l though. Miz Mackenzie ain’t never talk to me like that. Come to think of it, I ain’t never hear her talk to nobody like that. Ain’t seen her brow all scrunched up like that neither.

  Alls I ever seen her doin’ is smilin’—’til this past year, anyway. Ain’t been much smilin’ this year.

  I still don’t know ’xactly why God made me go and give her that orchid. But him and me sure done stir up a nest a angry hornets, look like. Maybe that what he want. Maybe he want Miz Mackenzie to go and feel sump’n. Just ain’t quite figured out why I be the one had to do it. One thing sure—I gon’ be hearin’ from Miz Eugenia ’bout this. She gon’ say sump’n nasty and mean and probably gon’ get me fired too. That woman’d just love to get me outta what she think is her own garden.

  Well, alls I gots to say is, the good Lord gon’ have fun fixin’ this one. ’Cause I ain’t gots nothin’ can calm down a woman like Eugenia Quinn when she up on her high horse. Can’t get rid a her neither. I gots stuff to take care a beetles, mites, borers, caterpillars—you name it—but I ain’t find nothin’ yet to get rid of Eugenia Quinn.

  Sometimes I think the Lord be keepin’ her ’round ’cause I needs some thorn in my flesh. But last I check, I gots plenty a them thorns already.

  So next time she show up here in my garden, I just gon’ step back and let God handle her. Ain’t even gon’ say nothin’. ’Cause all this be his bright idea anyway.

  Chapter 33

  Gray felt heaviness crashing down on his shoulders as he pulled into the mansion’s garage and walked with Sophie down the long basement corridor. He had told security that he was going by the nursing home and might be gone for a while. Then he’d spent the day sitting at a local sports bar in Green Hills, had found a seat in the corner and turned his back to the rest of the patrons. The college student who waited on him apparently had no idea who he was, so he’d guzzled one too many beers while eating chicken wings and watching a basketball game.

  He hadn’t had a beer in years. But today he’d needed one. Okay, a few. He’d needed something. When he returned to the capitol to get Sophie, he’d used the back entrance and made a special effort not to breathe on the state trooper stationed there. Now he just needed to sweat some of the alcohol out.

  On his way to the basement workout room, he heard a noise down the hall. A light was on in Jeremiah’s workroom.

  Gray looked at his watch. Five o’clock. He hadn’t thought about Jeremiah still being here and he didn’t feel like talking, so he moved quietly through the workout room and into his private bathroom, where he kept his workout clothes. He put them on, walked to the treadmill, then punched buttons and got started while Sophie wrestled one of her ropes in the corner. But halfway through mile one, Jeremiah’s head popped through the door.

  “Home kinda early tonight, ain’t you, Gov’nor?”

  Gray’s words came out in puffs. “Needed to get some stress out.”

  “Well, I sure ’nough glad you gots you some time. Keep that heart good and healthy.”

  “Yeah.” Gray nodded dismissively, but Jeremiah didn’t leave. He just stood there watching him, a pair of pruners in his hand, the silence awkward between them. Gray kept running, staring straight ahead at the television in front of him.

  After a moment, Jeremiah walked in and placed a hand on the treadmill’s railing. “Saw Miz Mackenzie today. She not doin’ so good.”

  Gray didn’t say anything. He just gazed straight ahead, his feet moving at a quick clip. Sweat already rolled down his face.

  “I’d say you both be hurtin’.” Jeremiah fiddled with the pruners.

  “Grief usually hurts, Jeremiah.”

  The old man shook his head slow and steady. “Yep, it sure ’nough do. Get you real good. Sometimes it even get worse ’fore it get better.”

  “Thank you. That’s reassuring.” Gray didn’t even try to soften the sarcasm, but Jeremiah didn’t seem to notice. He just pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and ran it down the blades of his pruners.

  “I been out prunin’ roses today, y’know. Lots a folks don’t know it, but roses, they sturdy creatures. Treat ’em right, they hard to kill. But my azaleas out there, they ain’t like that. Gots to baby ’em along. You ever knowed the Chinese meanin’ of azalea?”

  Gray’s arms moved in rhythmic motion with his feet. “Can’t say I do.”

  “It mean ‘womanhood.’ Some say another meanin’ is ‘fragile.’” He paused. “Miz Mackenzie seem real fragile to me right now.”

  “Well, she’s been through a lot.”

  “Yeah, I know it been real tough. We’re all feelin’ the hurt ’round here. That’s what gots me thinkin’ ’bout them azaleas, how they so different from roses. Gots to have lots a shade, gots to be watered all the time, soil gots to be just acid ’nough. Sometimes they ain’t even feel worth all the trouble.”

  Gray wiped sweat from his forehead. His feet were feeling heavy, and alcohol seemed to ooze out his pores. He watched Jeremiah through the mirror in front of him, wishing for five thirty to come.

  Jeremiah stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket. “Y’know, after the flood come through here, I done lost a bunch a them blasted azaleas. They roots so shallow, they just come right up outta the ground—left big ol’ holes in the plantin’s out by the front gates. I just wanted to throw my hands up and give up on ’em. I mean, after I gone and worked so hard with ’em and all.

  “But I ain’t done that, Gov’nor. I didn’t give up on them azaleas. And y’know why?”

  Gray shook his head. “No. Why?”

  “’Cause ever’ spring, they just bust out with this gaudy display a color—kinda like Miz Berlyn’s dresses.”

  Gray smiled slightly at that.

  “And people come drivin’ by just to look at ’em. And y’know what else?”

  Gray wasn’t sure if Jeremiah was looking for a response or not, so he just shook his head and kept running.

  “Not one person notice the holes from what’s gone ’cause what still there so dang beautiful.”

  Jeremiah dropped the pruners down to his side. “All life’s gots holes, Gov’nor. Some holes be bigger than others. But that don’t mean you don’t keep takin’ care a what you gots. And you know what’s crazy? Spring always come. Never found me a year yet that ain’t had a spring. It always come. And when it do, when it show up, I be so grateful I ain’t give up on them temperamental, ornery shrubs.”

  Gray blinked sweat from his eyes. He heard the old man. He just didn’t feel like admitting it.

  “Yep, y’know, Gov’nor, them azaleas be so beautiful, they worth the trouble. They worth tendin’ to. Fightin’ for. And a really wise gardener, a gardener that know he don’t know it all—he get real good at listenin’ to what heaven tell him ’bout how to tend ’em.”

  Gray still didn’t answer. Finally Jeremiah nodded and turned toward the door. “Well, I headed out now. See you tomorrow.”

  Gray nodded as the old man walked away. “Good night.”

  Jeremiah stopped at the door and turned. “Oh, them azaleas have one more meanin’ I ’bout near forgot.”

  “What is that?”

  “They also mean ‘take care of yourself’—” he paused—“‘for me.’”

  With that, he left the room. When he was gone
, Gray hit a button on the treadmill and brought his feet to a stop. He walked to a bench and sat down. Sophie came up beside him and swung her rope wildly at his feet. He bent down, wrestled it from her mouth, and threw it across the room. Her little feet floundered underneath her until she got enough traction to propel herself across the room, grab the rope between her jaws, and carry it back to him, nearly tripping over the end that dangled beneath her. Gray pulled the loose end of the rope while she growled and jerked madly at the other end.

  He and Mack had been through a flood. And for some unknown reason, they had survived, despite their desires to the contrary. He had never felt so ravaged, so broken. And there were more holes in Mack than in anyone he knew. She was like an open pasture full of holes left by detonated land mines.

  He let go of the rope and stretched his body across the top of the padded bench. Sophie dropped her end too and began licking his arm. He lay there a long time.

  He knew Mack needed him. But in that moment, it all felt too hard. He didn’t have it in him to fight for her. Not anymore.

  So he made the conscious decision simply to take on a fight he thought he could win.

  Becoming governor again.

  Chapter 34

  Mackenzie watched Gray come into the room. He said nothing when he entered, nor did he even look in her direction. She watched him walk into the bathroom and then heard water as it fell in the shower.

  Darkness had settled an hour ago, but moonlight on the snow outside made it easy to see in the unlit bedroom. Mackenzie lifted herself from the chair and walked into the bathroom. When light hit her, she saw caked blood on the side of her arm. She got a washcloth from the linen closet and walked to the sink, letting water soak the brown fabric. She placed her hand on the travertine countertop and wiped at the blood.

  In the mirror she saw Gray’s outline through the steam on the glass shower door. He looked foreign to her. She had once known him so well and been curious to know more. There had always seemed to be something new to uncover, something about the way his mind worked that she had never realized, something about his heart that she had yet to explore. Now she was curious about nothing. Except what it would take to make all of this pain go away.