The Gardener

by Michelle DePaepe

  “Officer Bauer!” Marsha interrupted from behind, looking sheepish as if he might have shown up just to arrest her.

  “Marsha—” he nodded with a glance. “Georgia—” he nodded again as he looked into her eyes and clasped her hand in his. “I had some time off this morning and came to pay my respects. Your grandmother was a fine woman.”

  Georgia admired the way he looked in his charcoal suit with a burgundy tie. It was a different shade of handsome from the tight tan uniform she had seen him in the day before. “It’s very kind of you to take the time. I’m sure you must be very busy... protecting the town and all.” That sounded dumb, she thought.

  He released her hand. “Well, if I haven’t said so already, I’m very sorry for your loss. I know this is very difficult for the both of you.” He looked over at Marsha and squeezed her upper arm as he walked past them and sat down in a chair.

  “What a nice guy,” Georgia whispered as she saw Annie and FredBirmann at the door.

  Marsha scowled and then forged a smile as they went to greet their grandmother’s neighbors.

  Annie hugged them both at the same time as Fred stood behind her, looking uncomfortable in his starched suit and slicked back hair.

  “This is hard,” Annie said as she released them to search for a tissue in her pillbox purse.

  After a few more tearful exchanges, they took their seats, and Georgia turned to greet the next arrivals, members of the Calathia Ladies’ Garden Club. They both wore black straw hats with silk roses trimming the brim.

  “My condolences, sweetie,” the taller one said as she squeezed Georgia with arms much too powerful for a woman who appeared to be at least sixty-five.

  The other woman had lavender hair tucked up under her hat, spun up into a bun, looking much like a wig of cotton candy. “Virginia had the best garden in town. It’s a real loss to all of us.”

  A few seconds later, Vivaldi played softly around them.

  Georgia saw two last arrivals hurrying to make it in before the service started. A young woman in her twenties pushed a wheelchair with an older redheaded lady, barely out of her fifties, wearing a midnight blue sweat suit with a cast on her right leg.

  “Sorry about my chariot here. Broke my leg out in Sedona. I’m so sorry about Virginia. She was one helluva gardener; I’ll tell you that. She taught me a thing or two about getting rid of my aphids...and just between you and me...” she whispered to Georgia “...she was a much better president than that Millie woman we got now and…”

  Georgia followed Marsha’s eyes to the Pastor who was walking towards the podium at the front of the room.

  Her daughter rolled her eyes and smiled her apologies. Then, she edged the wheelchair forward.

  “I’ll talk to you two later. Maybe you can come by sometime this week and I’ll show you what Virginia helped me do out back. She sure was kind to...” Her voice faded away as the young woman pushed her charge toward the back of the rows of chairs.

  Marsha gestured for Georgia to lean in closer. Then, she whispered, “I can see now why Grammie quit.”

  For once, she agreed with her sister.

  As they took their seats in the full room, it seemed that everyone from Grammie’s postman to the local grocery manager had heard the news and came to say their last farewell.

  The service went as planned and Georgia read her eulogy, cursing herself for the tears that fell onto her notes as she spoke. Several people raised their hands when the Pastor asked if anyone else had any words to add. A couple of people stood from their seats and spoke of VirginiaBlake’s generosity or her love of gardening. But, Georgia was stunned when the woman in the wheelchair wrenched herself free from her daughter’s grasp and wheeled herself up to the front of the room.

  Chapter 30

  “Well...I just want to say that I’m damn mad!” the red-haired woman shouted as she pounded a fist in the air.

  Georgia’s mouth gaped open as she heard gasps across the room.

  “I loved this woman, but she shut me out and a lot of other people in her last days. First, she quit the garden club. Then, she wouldn’t let nobody come to her house, and wouldn’t go to anyone else’s. And, if you knocked on her door...she wouldn’t even answer.”

  There were murmurs and a few nods.

  “If she knew her days were drawing to an end...why didn’t she let us spend time with her?” She shook her fist at the open coffin. “She just shut herself up and wouldn’t let anybody in.” Then, she buried her head in her hands and the tears began to flow. “All of my petunias died this summer. I planted a whole bed out front by the drive. I didn’t trust anyone’s advice but hers...and they died...and she died...and it’s just not fair!” Her sobs disintegrated into a caterwauling bawl.

  Her daughter walked up to the front of the room and knelt beside the wheelchair. “Mom...it’s okay...that’s enough. Let’s let someone else...”

  The woman flung her arm away, rejecting the assistance and wheeled herself to the back of the room where she sat and sobbed as the Pastor assumed the podium and regained control.

  “A lot of anger often goes with death. We wonder why our loved ones left us…”

  *****

  A half an hour later when the service was over, Georgia’s eyes were red and swollen. The crowd abandoned their chairs and mulled around, waiting for the journey to the cemetery.

  KarlBauer approached her. “It was a very beautiful service,” he said as he looked down at the flashing red light on the pager on his hip. “Unfortunately, I can’t make it to the cemetery—I’ve got to go. Deputy Ingram will be here in a few minutes to lead the procession.”

  Georgia wondered why the other deputy couldn’t respond to the page. Maybe it was personal. Perhaps KarlBauer had a wife at home who couldn’t wait any longer for him to bring home a quart of orange juice and a package of diapers. Out of habit, she resorted to using The Smile. “Thank you for coming, Deputy.”

  “Please”, he said. “I’m not on duty. Call me Karl...” He took her hand and held her gaze just long enough to make her heart start to quiver.

  “My condolences, again,” he said as he backed away and almost fell backwards down the stone steps to the first landing.

  She rubbed her stinging eyes as she watched him go. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, and she was relieved to see Marsha and Clarissa standing near a water cooler. She walked up to them and filled a paper cup.

  “Well...that went mostly well,” Georgia said.

  “Except for the near riot to get the raging invalid off the stage,” Marsha whispered.

  Georgia’s tongue spoke of its own accord. “I suppose you’ll be relieved when Grammie’s six feet under—”

  “That was uncalled for.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m still a little shaken up.”

  “I know,” Marsha said, sounding like she meant it.

  Neither of them paid any attention to Clarissa who had sunk down to the floor. She held a paper cup in her hands, twisting and tearing the paper apart into tiny pieces, watching them fall like snow to the carpet.

  “I didn’t sleep good last night either. I had weird dreams.”

  “The old dream?”

  She was surprised that Marsha remembered. She hadn’t spoken of the nightmare for years. “No. Actually, the one I vaguely remember was about my ex.”

  “That’s not surprising. Divorce can be pretty traumatic. It might take you years to get over it...”

  She refrained from making any comment about Marsha’s lack of expertise in psychology.

  “I hear plenty of stories at the shop. You’d think a small town like this would have a lower divorce rate, but...everybody knows everybody...so it’s easy to get to know your neighbor’s wife a little too well or...even some annoying, but attractive man on the town’s police force.” Marsha nudged her elbow into Georgia’s side and winked.

  “Ow...” she said as she rubbed her hip. “That hurt.”

  A woman approached and interrupted them.
Her face looked red and swollen and several hankies were balled up in her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to go to the cemetery. My Terrier is ill, and I have to give her medicine every other hour.”

  The mention of the dog made Georgia think of the cat at Grammie’s house. After the woman left, she turned to Marsha. “That cat of Grammie’s...Alphonso...I wonder if he’s been getting into the house and...”

  “You think he’s the one who’s been eating pie?”

  Before Georgia could reply, Clarissa stood up and tugged on the hem of her dress. “Aunt Gorgie...”

  “Shush!” Marsha scolded. “The adults are talking.”

  But, the little girl persisted. “AunnnttGorrggie...” she whined with more insistence.

  “Yeah. He’s a cat burglar. Get it?” Marsha said.

  Georgia moaned.

  Clarissa stomped her feet. “Mommm...AunnnttGorgggie... please.”

  Marsha glared and seemed about to get physical. Georgia held up her hand to allay Marsha’s fury. Then, she bent down and patted Clarissa on the head. “What is it sugar? I’m sorry”.

  “His name is Max.”

  “Who?”

  “I was over there when she found him. Grammie let me name him. I named him after a boy named Maximillian in a story I read...”

  “Who are you talking about?” Marsha asked.

  “The cat,” Clarissa said. “The big one with the striped fur and the big orange eyes. He’s my friend.”

  Georgia gave the girl her full attention. “Oh, the stray. His name is Max? How long ago did you find him?”

  “Just before school started. Grammie found him by the river. We got him some food, and he decided to stay and live with her...at least sometimes.”

  “He certainly doesn’t look like a starving stray. He must weigh a ton,” Marsha said.

  Georgia glared at her sister. “I thought you didn’t know anything about him?”

  Marsha didn’t answer. She turned away and shook the hand of an elderly man as he passed by and gave his condolences.

  “Well then, do you know who Alphonso is?” Georgia asked as she leaned down closer to her niece’s apple-like cheeks.

  Clarissa didn’t answer. She pursed her lips together and returned to her mother’s side, hanging on with her head hung low and stuck the tip of her thumb in her mouth.

  Marsha said, “She gets like that sometimes. She’s all for the attention one minute, then shy as she can be the next.”

  *****

  Shortly after that, the cars in the parking lot began to line up behind the hearse. When they reached the Dalton County Cemetery, the sun blazed like a white-hot coal over their heads. It was a hot day with temperatures swelling to a high of nearly ninety, and it only took a couple of seconds after stepping out of her air-conditioned car for beads of sweat to appear on Georgia’s forehead.

  The kids followed her along with the crowd and the coffin to the back of the property in silence.

  She liked the spot her grandmother had reserved next to Grandpa Blake’s grave. It was sheltered by the burly arms of an aging ash tree where she was sure to get her fair share of visits from birds and squirrels.

  The Pastor began with Psalm 23, the Lord’s Prayer. She listened...and yet didn’t. As she fought back the tears, she wondered if she should have skipped the burial. It was just too much.

  “...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me...”

  Fear no evil. Fear no evil.

  The words burned into her like a glowing hot brand. Had Grammie felt any fear on her last night on earth? Did someone frighten her? Push her heart over the edge? She took a tissue from her purse and dabbed the moisture from her cheeks as she looked down at the rose wreath on top of the coffin. It looked too beautiful to mark the cold dark place in the ground where Grammie would spend eternity.

  When the pastor finished speaking, she stepped forward and placed a long-stemmed red rose on top of the casket.

  Her eyes blurred as the crowd broke up, making it seem as if she was standing in a cloud of fog instead of out in the open on a bright sunny day.

  As the garden club member with the straw hat and lavender hair embraced her, Georgia noticed a heavyset woman dressed in a dark eggplant-colored dress breaking away from the crowd and working her way towards the parking lot as if she had a fire to get to in a hurry. Georgia could only see her round-rimmed hat and the black netting that obscured the profile of her face. She hadn’t noticed the woman at the service.

  “Who is that?” she asked, pointing a finger.

  The woman whispered into her ear. “That’s Opal Peabody, the town psychic...and nutcase if you ask me.”

  “How did she know my grandmother?”

  She shrugged. “Beats me. She’s a kook…into all that morbid afterlife stuff. Maybe she just likes to attend funerals.”

  Chapter 31

  Opal was glad that she’d taken the time to attend Virginia’s funeral and make her apologies to her face to face. If she hadn’t done it, she was sure that Virginia would have haunted her in her dreams.

  As she hurried to find her white Cadillac in the parking lot, she knew this might be the only opportunity she was going to get to go by Virginia’s house and deal with the spirit without anyone else in harm’s way. It was just a shame that she hadn’t been able to convince Karl to go with her.

  Once inside her car, she slammed the door shut and shoved the keys in the ignition in one smooth motion. The pewter cross dangling from her rearview mirror swung in a circular dance as she whipped into reverse and skidded out of the parking lot.

  A few minutes later, she found herself on County Line Road, creeping towards the house, inch by inch.

  The house looked even more different than it did on her last visit. Its appearance had grown ominous. The lawn was tall and scraggly with mounds of crabgrass waving their victorious seed heads in the breeze. Weeds dotted the gravel driveway, and there were dead flowers in the pots on the porch. The windows seemed darker with all of the draperies pulled shut, and large flakes of paint were peeling off the wood trim. It was as if the house was rapidly decaying in the absence of Virginia’s care.

  She wondered if Georgia or her sister had noticed the change in the house, even if they were unaware of its otherworldly occupant.

  Her thoughts meandered as she paused at the end of the driveway. She had learned to size people up when she did tarot readings and had watched Georgia talk to people at the funeral and cemetery. Opal sensed fragility in her. She appeared to be stone on the outside, but her insides seemed hollow as if someone had done her wrong and scooped out her inner essence piece by piece.

  If a trained psychic like herself was having trouble dealing with a supernatural aberration, she knew that Georgia wouldn’t hold up long against it.

  It took a lot of mental prodding to get her to roll her tires over the crunchy gravel and pull up next to the porch. She did it with one eye on the house at all times, expecting the spirit to appear in a window at any moment and incinerate her with a burst of flame.

  When she stopped and turned off the ignition, she wondered at the heaviness of the silence surrounding the house. Outside, there were no birds chirping and no wind gusts to make the trees dance. It was as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

  She took the bobby pins out that held the soft black hat and veil to her hair. Then, she took off her heels and traded them for a pair of sneakers before grabbing her bag and stepping out of the car.

  As she willed herself to walk towards the house, she wondered who would take care of the house now that it lay empty.

  But, was it empty? She stiffened as she doubted that the owner of the demonic glowing eyes that she had seen in the window before had given up their residence.

  The fine prickles of hair on her arms stood up on the alert. Despite the stillness...she knew that she was not alone as she stepped onto the porch. She
could feel his presence.

  There was a moment’s hesitation as she felt underneath the welcome mat for a key. But, all she found was a brown hairy spider that scampered away between her feet.

  She looked under the chicken pot with no better luck, though she saw a groove in the wood where one had apparently been for many years.

  Maybe this is a bad idea, she thought as she shielded her eyes from the blazing sun reflecting off the lawn. The house was giving her such a bad vibe that she considered hightailing it out of there.

  Then, her conscience spoke up like a brash little angel whispering in her ear. When will you have another chance to find out what happened to Virginia? If the spirit is still here, how will you get rid of him if you don’t know what you’re dealing with? What if he kills someone else? It will be all your fault!

  She pulled the pewter cross out of her bag and leaned it up against her chest, whispering a prayer before she put her hand on the doorknob and gave it a twist. To her surprise, it was unlocked.

  *****

  The house was as dark as night inside. With the heavy closed drapery, it was much too tomblike for her comfort. Her unease deepened, as she smelled a dank mustiness underlain with a low note of something sickly sweet.

  She reached for the light switch on the wall in the foyer and flicked it up and down three times before a soft golden glow appeared in the fixture above her head.

  As she clenched the cross more tightly to her, she realized that the presence of decay that she had felt outside was magnified in the house. It was unsettling, causing a sour feeling in the depths of her stomach. Someone...something...was definitely here with her, and she knew that she was entering the lair of some great phantasmal beast.

  “I know you’re in here,” she whispered.

  A whistling hiss sounded on the far side of the living room. She jumped and stumbled backwards, nearly knocking a lamp over on a small table.