The First Gardener

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  Eugenia walked to the window, keeping her eyes on her daughter. Mackenzie had needed her these past six months, and she had been there. There had been moments when she needed to be pushed, and Eugenia had pushed her. And there had been moments when she simply needed to be loved and held, so Eugenia had loved her and held her.

  But Jeremiah was right. Eugenia knew it.

  That was why she hated it so much—because it had come from him. She flipped her hand in disgust and walked to Mackenzie’s bed. “Mackenzie, I want you to get up.”

  She saw Mackenzie’s eyes move slightly.

  “Come on. I know you can hear me. I need you to get yourself out of that bed and get up. You’ve got company to tend to.” She reached for her daughter’s arm.

  Mackenzie’s embrace around her pillow tightened.

  “Now you listen to me, Mackenzie. Your mother has told you to do something, and it’s time to do it.” Her voice shook, and she could feel her fear rising rapidly. “Now, come on. You need to get up and get dressed and come help me take care of these visitors we’ve got.”

  Even as the words came from her mouth, she knew they were useless. Banging gongs. Clanging cymbals. Biscuits made without Crisco. Useless. But she was a mama, and mamas didn’t let their babies drown. They dove in after them and would pummel sharks with their bare fists if that was what stood in their way.

  She was leaning down to tug again at Mackenzie’s arm when the tug of something else arrested her. Her body moved back instinctively. She felt it again. It was pulling her away from Mackenzie. A thought fluttered through her soul—I’ve got her.

  She pushed against it. But she knew where it had come from.

  “I can’t trust you with her,” she whispered. “Not now. Not after all of this.”

  She moved closer to the bed. Mackenzie stirred. Another thought dug deeper still. Broken worlds hold broken things. But only one can put it all back together.

  Eugenia stepped back. She knew it was true. She knew this world was broken and cruel and nothing like what had originally been intended. And she also knew from losing Lorenzo that heaven was the only place big enough to put the kind of agony that travels through your insides and doesn’t stop until it has removed half your heart.

  It was time to let go. Strangely, it felt like she’d known that for a long time, long before Jeremiah had said anything. But knowing it and doing it were not the same thing.

  She retreated to the bay window and stood there a long time, watching a sky that still held the fleeting blue of day. Finally she spoke. “Father, I’m good at a lot of things. I’m good at gardening—better than Jeremiah. I’m good at deciding and dictating. Without me, those three down there would be lost. And I’m a good mama. You know that. You made me one. But I have never been good at letting go. I can beat a dead horse, pick it up, and then beat it again.”

  She chuckled to herself. “At least that’s what Mackenzie always says, but I guess you made me that way too.”

  She felt the knot grow large in her throat, and she had to wait for it to subside. “Father, my baby girl is broken, and I can’t fix her. I see that now. I really do. I’ve done everything I know to do. I’m all out of fixing.”

  She shook her head and then stood silent for what seemed like days. Finally she cupped her hands and raised them toward the blue of the sky. “All right, Lord. You gave that baby girl to me. Now I give her to you. She’s in your hands.”

  Tears fell freely down her face. “But please, if you can bring her back to us—the real Mackenzie, our Mackenzie—” she had to fight to get those words out—“Gray and I would sure appreciate it.” The next pause was long, and what transpired in the middle of it would redefine Eugenia Quinn forever. “But whatever you think is best for my baby girl . . . I’ll trust you.”

  When she finally knew her surrender was complete—or as complete as she was capable of—Eugenia walked to Mackenzie and kissed her softly on the cheek. And with that, she left her alone.

  As soon as she closed the door, she heard a scream.

  Obviously Sandra had gotten the laundry out of the car.

  I knowed soon as I let go her arm, that woman ain’t gon’ listen to a thing I say. So I gone and did what I knowed to do. Marched right down them stairs to my workroom and tol’ them boys to leave me be for a few minutes. They all knowed why. When I clear ’em out like that, it be ’cause I gots business to do.

  I knowed the gov’nor and Miz Eugenia wanna save Miz Mackenzie. I wanna save her too. But she gots to want to be saved. So this be Miz Mackenzie’s fightin’ place too. This ’tween her and God.

  And so I do the only thing make a lick a sense. I get down on my knees, grateful they still good ’nough to be gotten down on, and I start prayin’ for all a them. Prayin’ for the gov’nor, prayin’ for the crazy lady, and prayin’ for Miz Mackenzie. That each one a them find strength to let go they pride if they got any.

  And pride hard, ’cause it like to pretend it sump’n it ain’t—like a rescuer or a protector or a griever or a pitier. I’m thinkin’ sometimes pride can pretend to be an ol’ man tellin’ gov’nors and such what they oughta do.

  But no matter what it pretend to be, pride be such a liar. It make us think we sump’n we ain’t. Make us think we can get by without God.

  Way I see it, God thought it’d be okay to get all a life started in a garden. Then, after ever’body thought he gone for good, he show back up in another garden. Women that saw him after he raised up from the dead, they thought he be a gardener. Always did love that story. Way I see it, he be a Master Gardener. So now, good Lord, please help us all to keep our prideful hands outta your garden and get outta the way a all the growin’ things you be tryin’ to do.

  Chapter 51

  A shrill scream pierced through the haze in Mackenzie’s mind. She blinked hard. The sun was still up. She had no idea what time it was, when Gray had left, or whose scream had just awoken her.

  She tried to pick up her feet to move them to the edge of the bed. They felt like they had soaked in concrete all night. She finally got them over the side and managed to sit up. Everything hurt. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her body had spent more time against that mattress than it had anywhere else. It was a miracle her muscles hadn’t atrophied completely.

  Loud voices sounded down the hall. A knock landed on her door, loud and forceful. “Mrs. London?”

  She didn’t respond. She just sat still on the edge of the bed.

  Another knock, harder this time, and the voice at her door was louder. “Mrs. London?”

  “Would you stop it! She’s resting!” Her mother’s voice was loud enough to wake the dead, let alone someone sleeping in the other room.

  Mackenzie pushed to her feet and picked up a white fluffy sweatshirt that was draped over the foot of the bed. She realized that Gray had known what she’d want when she got up. She’d want her sweatshirt. That sweatshirt. And he had left it there for her.

  She put on the sweatshirt and looked around. Something felt . . . different. Her senses seemed more alert than usual. She walked to the door and opened it.

  Jessica and her mother stared at her, wide-eyed. She immediately knew why. Her mother had seen her this morning, practically dead to the world. Jessica had seen her yesterday, sitting in her chair like a zombie. Right now she didn’t feel so great, but she was neither of those people.

  “Oh, Mrs. London,” Jessica said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were sleeping. I just . . .” Her words trailed off.

  Mackenzie leaned against the doorframe. “It’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “What’s going on?”

  Jessica’s look was uptight. Her words followed the same pattern. “Did you decide you wanted to bring a family in today from the mission?”

  “I decided for her,” Eugenia said.

  Mackenzie rubbed her eyes. “What do you mean? What family?”

  “There is a family here. A mother with two girls—”

  Eugenia interru
pted. “Three.”

  Jessica turned toward Eugenia and shook her head. “Okay, there are four people downstairs, all seemingly here to be fed and housed for the evening. And I know you’ve done this in the past, but usually you run things like this through me.”

  Her head kind of tilted toward Eugenia as the last sentence came out, a subtle declaration of what belonged in a home.

  Mackenzie moved past them and down the hall. She looked over the railing to the foyer below. A tall, dirty woman with three scraggly redheaded children waited there. One girl sat on the floor, another at the bottom of the steps, and the other ran wildly through the foyer, arms stretched out and airplane noises coming from her little but boisterous mouth.

  Dimples chased her as best she could, barely missing the wall. Berlyn was sitting on the steps with a child’s head resting on her large bosom. And Sandra was in the corner holding on to her purse. Bags of dirty laundry sat across the foyer from her, and every now and then she’d pat the running child on the head as if the girl were a porcupine.

  “Yes,” Eugenia responded in a rather mild tone. She walked to Mackenzie’s side. “But it’s not for you to worry about. We’ve got it under control. So just go back to your room. And, well, me and the girls and Jessica—” she grabbed Jessica’s arm and pulled her toward the stairs—“will handle it. Just trying to help some people out here.”

  Jessica looked at Mackenzie, her eyes pleading, as Eugenia dragged her down the stairs. Mackenzie watched as her mother hit the foyer and went into her familiar drill sergeant routine. Much more her style.

  “So,” she said, “Rosa informs me we’ve got some time before dinner. That’ll give us time to get y’all settled.”

  The mother took a step toward Eugenia. “If we’re going to be staying here for a little while, ma’am . . .” She seemed to hesitate. “Would you mind if me and my girls could wash up somewhere?”

  Eugenia patted the woman’s arm. “Sure, honey. We’ll get you all taken care of.” She turned to her friends. “Dimples, why don’t you and Berlyn take the kids upstairs to the guest bathroom and get them all bathed.”

  The littlest guest stopped in the middle of the foyer, studying the woman handing out bathing instructions. The look on her face made it evident that she had no interest in a bath. She raised her face to her mother. “Ma, do we have to?”

  The mother patted the little one and leaned down to whisper in her ear. The little redhead’s shoulders slumped, but she started toward the stairs.

  “Mother, I’m going to take you to the other guest bedroom, let you have some time all to yourself,” Eugenia said. Then hollered, “Rosa!”

  Rosa came out of the kitchen.

  “We need it big and bold and—” she stopped and gave Rosa that look—“preferably fried. And plenty of it.”

  Rosa gave her a smile and disappeared behind the swinging wooden door.

  “Joseph, make sure the table is set for dinner. And show Sandra where the upstairs laundry is.” She looked at Sandra. Sandra just glared at her but bent to gingerly pick up a bag. One of the housekeepers hurried over to help her.

  Eugenia wasn’t through. “Berlyn, you and Dimples need to slather, smother, and cover these children. Make sure they scrub in places they didn’t even know they had. And be sure and use bubbles—kids like bubbles. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Berlyn stood and saluted, then leaned over to the oldest girl. “She always tells us what to do. She came out of the womb bossy.”

  “You got it!” Dimples tried to clap her bony legs together, which only made the extra fabric of her baggy, celery-green pants seem to billow in the wind. The tops of her white socks showed as her black orthopedic shoes clomped together. She tried a salute but missed her head by an inch.

  “Jessica!”

  Jessica’s head turned hard toward Eugenia.

  “You go do whatever it was you were doing. I’ve got this under control.”

  Mackenzie could see Jessica’s twitch from upstairs. Eugenia took the mother’s arm, and in less than a minute, the busy foyer was silent again.

  And that was how quickly it could happen. Mackenzie had seen it. One minute, life filled every crevice, and the next it was snatched away. Gone in an instant. Mackenzie stared at the empty space.

  But this particular life had not gone away. It was heading up the stairs toward her. Mackenzie leaned back instinctively as they all trooped by. The children eyed her curiously as Berlyn scurried them to the bathroom.

  “Grace, this is my daughter, Mackenzie.” Eugenia introduced the children’s mother. “Excuse us, darling. We’ll try not to disturb you.”

  “Nice to meet you, Grace.” Mackenzie dredged up a smile, as much as she had given anyone in the past six weeks. She saw Sandra at the bottom of the stairs with an arm wrapped over her mouth, tugging a bag of laundry in one hand while the housekeeper waited behind her.

  The commotion down the hall couldn’t be ignored. Mackenzie followed the noise to the guest bathroom. Berlyn was leaning over the tub, testing the water, her behind high enough in the air to prop a small child on. Dimples was entertaining the children—or horrifying them—by popping her teeth out and sucking them back in.

  “What’s wrong with your eye?” one of them asked.

  “Not a thing,” she answered. “God gave me two eyes that could move in opposite directions so I could keep better eyes on kids like you.”

  One of the older children shrugged. One took a step back toward her sister.

  Dimples started tugging a sleeve of the youngest, the child’s head caught somewhere in her dingy yellow long-sleeved T-shirt. Dimples yanked while the little one hollered, “Ow! You’re going to kill me in here.”

  Mackenzie reached over and took the sleeve from Dimples’s hand, pulling the shirt up gently. Red curls popped out with a bounce, and big blue eyes were wild with animation.

  “Thank goodness you showed up, lady.”

  Mackenzie looked at the three sisters standing in a line. Three stair steps, each with wild, curly red hair and a grimy, freckled face. And in that moment something inside her shifted, turned, dislodged. Something small but key.

  She knelt by the smallest one. “Hey, what’s your name?”

  Wide blue eyes turned toward her, then looked at the floor and spoke softly. “Suzy.”

  “That’s a beautiful name.”

  The eyes popped back up. “I got it ’cause it’s my aunt’s name.”

  “Really? Well, is she as beautiful as you?”

  “Yeah.” Her head bobbed up and down. “And know what?”

  “What?”

  “She’s got red hair too.”

  Mackenzie touched a bright-red curl. “Your hair is certainly beautiful.”

  The child nodded as if she knew that too. “Yeah.”

  The middle sister tugged at Suzy. “Hush,” she scolded.

  Mackenzie studied her face. It was way too serious for one her age. She couldn’t be more than seven or eight. “It’s okay, honey. I was just asking her questions.”

  The oldest turned around then. And something else turned over in Mackenzie’s soul. For one brief moment it wasn’t about death or loss or dying, not about the past or the bleak, endless future. It was about right now, in this moment. It was about three little girls and one woman who, more than anything in the world, loved taking care of little girls.

  “How about you three come with me,” she said. “I’ve got another bathroom down the hall with a big ol’ tub that I bet you all could fit in at once.”

  Suzy’s smile grew. The other two looked hesitant. Mackenzie stood and leaned toward the oldest. “It’s okay. This is my house.” She smiled at them and placed her hand on the oldest’s back. “Berlyn, I’m going to take them with me for a minute. I think they might like my bathroom more than this one.”

  Berlyn raised a bubble-covered hand. “That’ll work. Me and Dimples here can go help Rosa with dinner.”

  Dimples’s tongue ran
across her lips at the mere mention of food. Mackenzie had no doubt they would enjoy those activities far more than the ones they had been ordered to handle. Whether Rosa enjoyed their help was a different matter. She steered the three girls out of the bathroom and down the hall.

  “I ain’t never seen a house this huge before,” Suzy said.

  “Don’t say ain’t,” the oldest sister scolded.

  “What’s your name?” Mackenzie asked her.

  “I’m Lily, and this here is Toby.” The mama of the bunch pointed to the middle sister.

  “Our daddy wanted a boy,” Suzy announced.

  Toby punched her. “I told you not to tell everyone that.”

  Suzy rubbed her arm and furrowed her brow. “Still true.”

  Mackenzie felt a bubble of laughter somewhere inside. It never escaped, but it existed. And it struck her as both foreign and beautiful. She took them into her bedroom, which they beheld with the wonder of children on Main Street at Walt Disney World.

  Suzy ran straight for the window and looked out over the backyard. “Is that a pool?”

  Mackenzie walked behind her. “It is.”

  “You swim in it, lady?”

  “You should ask her name,” Lily said.

  Suzy shrugged. “What’s your name, lady?”

  Mackenzie laid a hand on Suzy’s soft curls. “My name is Mackenzie.”

  “You swim in it, Mackenzie?”

  Lily joined them. “Miz Mackenzie.”

  Suzy huffed. “Gee whiz.” She rolled her eyes before she was willing to obey. “You swim in it, Miz Mackenzie?” She emphasized it clearly for her sister’s sake.

  Mackenzie felt the revelation rise hard in her throat. Suzy was like her Maddie. She was a little full of herself. She said whatever passed through her mind. And she was captivating. The girl couldn’t be any more than five herself. Looking at her was like staring at a strawberry version of Maddie’s chocolate. And Maddie had always wanted to swim in the reflecting pool too—they’d had to watch her like hawks when they first moved in.