The Gardener

by Michelle DePaepe

  Opal paused, waiting for Wanda’s exclamation, but she was wide-eyed and silent.

  “I came home early from church yesterday morning. Elizabeth had forgotten to bring her cake for the social after the service, so I volunteered to run home and get it. I also wanted to check on Margaret who had taken to her bed after falling ill a few days before. I knew that it was a sickness of the heart and not of the body. The girl was young...she would mourn a while then come out of it, hopefully to the appreciation of a more suitable suitor. I was barely up the drive when I saw Alphonso sneak around the carriage house to the backside of the house and into the gardens. He was dressed in formal matrimonial wear, with a tailcoat and a fine tall silk hat. My blood boiled at the sight! Seeing him in such attire, I could only assume that he was up to something devious. I was certain that he had come to carry my daughter off against my will and marry her without my consent.”

  Wanda clasped her hands together. “Wow!”

  After another dramatic pause, Opal continued. “I went inside and grabbed my gun...hoping to scare him off with it. I searched the house for Margaret, but could not find her. A few minutes later, I found both of them in the rose garden. Surrounded by all the joyous beauty of the flowers, under a bright blue sky...they were pressed against each other in an undignified embrace against the edge of the fountain. Before I could cry out, I saw his hands circle around her neck then force her back into the water.”

  Opal stopped. “There’s a smudge here like the paper got wet. I think he was crying as he wrote this.”

  Wanda nodded as a tear appeared in her own eye.

  “I fired my gun only once. He dropped to the ground as Margaret’s body slumped against fountain’s rim. I ran to her so fast that I am sure my feet did not touch the ground. But, it was too late. Her face was blue, and her eyes were as cold and lifeless as the stone itself. I held her and wept for a very long time. When I finally dried my swollen eyes, the reality of the situation hit me like a cannonball. I had lost my daughter...and I had murdered a man. A small town such as ours would be quite unforgiving in such a scandalous matter. My farm would suffer, all of my toil in rose breeding would be lost, but more importantly...my wife, Susannah and daughter, Elizabeth would be unbearably wounded for as long as they should live.”

  “Terrible. How terrible...”

  “Do you want me to continue?”

  Wanda nodded.

  “I vowed that I had lost enough in that afternoon and would not let this scoundrel take everything away from me. He had already done enough to hurt our family. It didn’t take long to bury his body. The earth was still fresh where the workers had laid the stones at the base of the new fountain. I retrieved a shovel from the shed and wore my limbs to the bone, digging until I had prepared a deep enough grave. Then at last, I rolled his limp form over the edge. I spat upon him, cursing the day he came to my home. Fertilizer for the roses...that was all he was good for now.

  “And poor Margaret?” Wanda sobbed.

  Opal continued, grimacing as she read the words. “Margaret was a more difficult task. I held her again for quite some time, before I could bring myself to let her go and do what I had to do. The sun was high in the sky, mingling my sweat with the tears and mud that covered me. I knew that I was already missed at the church due to my lengthy absence. So, with all of the strength left in my limbs and desperation in my soul, I carried her body out to the river. After one last kiss on her apple cheek, I shut my eyes and rolled her down the bank. I knew that she would be found downstream in a matter of hours.

  “Oh...how bloody awful!” Wanda bawled and dabbed at her streaked mascara with a tissue.

  “Afterwards, I tore at my hair as I stumbled back through the field, caring not that I trampled the wheat as I went. I realized that little else mattered now that she was gone. I cursed my roses, blaming them for bringing the murderer to my home. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself back in the house searching for my tinderbox. The flint and steel were clumsy in my trembling hands, and the greenery was damp and lush that day. But, eventually, my roses—every last one of my prized creations—went up in flames.

  Opal paused to catch her breath.

  Wanda nodded. “Is that all?”

  “No,” Opal said, before she continued. “The Black Diamond...was hidden in that garden. But, I cared not about its value as I watched the leaves on the bushes crackle and the smoke rise. I could only hope that the last embers of my vanity burnt up with that jewel in penance. When I arrived back at the church, I told them of the fire and said that I had been late due to my task of putting it out. Most agreed that it must have been the work of my disgruntled former employee who had mysteriously disappeared from town days earlier. When Margaret’s body was found that evening, it was assumed that she had fallen in to the river by accident. But, there were also rumors about the possibility of her having torched my roses. Others...in hushed voices behind closed doors hypothesized that she had thrown herself into the river. But, no one in polite society talks of suicide. So, I know that my reputation is safe and what’s left of my family will go on. I can rebuild the garden again next year and start over, once my grief has lessened.”

  Wanda’s face was now completely streaked in black makeup. “Stop. I can’t…”

  “You have to hear the end,” Opal said. “I murdered my daughter’s killer, but am I not guilty of a worse sin? My own pride and selfishness has made me cover up the deed instead of facing the situation and reaping the consequences. May God forgive me for all of my sins. I have done the unspeakable.”

  Opal closed the journal and dragged a fingered the inscription on its dusty cover.

  “Family skeletons, indeed! If all this is true...Georgia’s ancestor is a murderer. No wonder he kept this box hidden!”

  “Yes...and now I know who my ghost is.”

  Wanda regained her composure and raised herself up from the floor. “Just wait until I tell the ladies in my quilting group! They’ll hyperventilate.”

  “Remember...we can’t tell anyone!”

  “Well...why not? As long as it doesn’t get back to Ed.”

  Opal looked at the gun next to Wanda’s feet.

  Wanda beat her to it, picking it up again and studying it with renewed reverence. “The diary and this gun would fetch a mighty nice price in the antique market.”

  “Forget about it,” Opal said as she grabbed the ledgers and the journal and tossed them back into the box. “Dead men’s secrets should remain secret. Why disgrace Virginia’s family and ruin Margaret’s old legend?”

  “Because it’s not true. Shouldn’t the truth be known?”

  “Not when it will do more harm than good.”

  “Then, what are we going to do?”

  “We have to find Alphonso’s bones and destroy them before he causes more harm in this life.”

  Wanda’s raccoon eyes widened. “We? You want me to help you rob a grave? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “I can’t do it alone. You’ve got to help me, Wanda. Who else will believe me?”

  “I don’t know...but you can count me out,” she said as she laid the gun back in the wood box, shut it, then snatched it up under her arm. “I might have a National Enquirer mind, but when it comes to dealing with ghosts and that afterlife stuff, I’m the biggest chicken you’ll ever find.”

  “Please, Wanda...I need you.”

  “Not a chance, honey. I think I’ve done my duty here. My next step is to put this box back where I found it. Then, I’m gonna make a nice stiff Margarita...and try to forget about it.”

  After they descended the staircase down to the parking lot, Wanda turned to go back to the inn’s office.

  “Please...” Opal moaned.

  “No!” Wanda shouted over her shoulder. Then, she disappeared behind a hedge of junipers.

  The tires on Opal’s car screeched on the pavement as she backed out. She cursed as her back tire ran over the curb. “I guess I’m really on my own. Now, at least I know
who he is and where he’s buried. I can only hope that Aunt Grace’s plan will work.”

  But, one eased dilemma just gave birth to another. How was she going to get over there and do the deed without the spirit making her his next victim?

  Part III

  Chapter 57

  Though the days of October were shorter and darker, Georgia felt as giddy as if it were spring.

  Instead of it taking months for her to sell her gallery and get out of her apartment lease in New York, it had only taken a few weeks. Her head still spun with all of the crazy details that had fallen into place like the pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. Masquerade was in a hot part of Soho. She had just mentioned the idea of selling her gallery to a friend, and a day later, an interested buyer wanted to turn the spot into a nightclub. It was a quick cash deal, and she had all of her belongings in boxes before she made the last difficult call to her artists to tell them that she was closing down.

  During the frenzy, she was reluctant to call Marsha or Annie. A few days before the big move, she decided to keep it a secret and surprise everyone when she got there.

  But, she had told Daniel, and he took the news with amazing stride. In fact, he seemed almost gleeful that she was returning, especially when she insisted that it was okay if he wanted to stay there for a few weeks until he found another place. He was such a nice man...and so delicious to look at. After all...she told herself...maybe she would enjoy his company while she settled in.

  On the last night in her Soho apartment, she dreamt about her childhood in Calathia. She ran through rows of corn playing hide-and-seek with Marsha and built the world’s largest Abominable Snow Man with Grandpa Blake—a seven-foot giant with real pieces of coal for eyes and a mouth made of stolen spools of red thread from Grammie’s sewing desk. Then, she had lain next to the pile of Rustenstuff and sketched pictures from the visions of puffy clouds. When that was done...her dreaming mind strolled through the rose garden in a long flowing gown, picking petals from each bush...feeling their softness between her fingers and inhaling their intoxicating scent.

  When she woke around dawn, she could still hear the music of her dreams; it was the old house’s wood boards creaking beneath her, the wind whistling through the tall weeds in the field, and the cackle of Annie’s chickens as they gossiped and pecked at bugs.

  Her elation continued as she watched the movers load the last of their boxes into their truck. She ignored the honking horns and curses as it blocked traffic. Nothing could bring her down on this day.

  “Goodbye,” she said to the humming city as she got into the taxi. She took one last look at the rooftops towering over her then inhaled the exotic menagerie of scents floating in the air.

  When the driver merged into traffic, she sighed and told herself to relax. She knew that she was doing the right thing. It’s okay. I’m just following the yellow brick road...back home.

  *****

  Late that afternoon, as she drove west from the airport, she imagined how the house and grounds looked since it was closer to winter. The massive gnarled cottonwoods would be naked with their golden leaves in puddles around their ankles like discarded petticoats. And, the garden would have a spooky autumn charm—its colors faded as if the sky had rained down bleach. Any remaining roses probably looked wan as their heads dropped, and the lawn had become tan prickly straw.

  She knew that the Gingerbread House would loom over all these changes with the steadfastness that had kept it standing so strong for over a century. She looked forward to holing up in it like a fortress as winter bore down. Old Man Winter would have a hard time damping her spirits as she sat wrapped in a warm flannel blanket next to the fireplace and perused garden catalogs with visions of spring flowers dancing in her head like sugar plums. Let him try…

  Arrow-shaped flocks of geese above, swaying prairie grasses, rows of dried field corn, and crinkled brown sunflowers along the roadside seemed to nod and wink at her as she drove past them.

  The spontaneity of it all felt delicious. It was the first time in years that she had such hope about her future. Sneaking into town in her compact rental car was not quite a fulfillment of her fantasy of cruising into town in a convertible with her scarf blowing back in the wind...but it would do.

  Her giddiness grew as she made the turn down County Road, and her breath quickened as she approached the house with the moving van still a day behind her. It felt right, even divinely ordained. It was meant to be.

  But, there was an autumn storm brewing. Suddenly, lightning ripped open the navy blue sky, illuminating the frame of the house. The momentary bluish light created long crooked shadows, causing it to look dark and fierce instead of charming. She wrote the change in her perception off to Marsha’s harsh words about its decrepitude and reminded herself that this was still the house that had been in her family for generations and held honey-sweet memories.

  “I’m home, Grammie—I’ve come back,” she whispered. But, the only response was an icy gust of wind rustling through the ash tree. It peeled off the last yellow leaves and tossed them down like spiraling dying moths.

  She suddenly felt guilty about sneaking back and decided that she’d better stop at Annie’s first.

  She parked in front of the Birman house and saw corn stalks tied to the porch posts and carved jack-o-lanterns atop hay bales. She hadn’t realized that Halloween was only two days away.

  As she ascended the porch steps, she saw a triangle of cobwebs across the upper left corner of the doorway. But, it wasn’t a holiday ornament. She knew that Annie hated spiders and always made Fred get rid of any that she found in her house along with their webs. Come to think of it...the Birman house looked just as quiet as the one next door. She looked at her watch. It was late afternoon. She hoped everything was all right.

  She rang the doorbell and waited. No one answered...so she punched it again.

  Finally, she heard the sound of slow, shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door. A moment later, Annie peeked out.

  “Georgia!” She gasped as she covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t know you were coming back to visit!”

  “I’m not.”

  Annie clasped her hands in front of her and looked puzzled.

  “Oh...Annie. I’m back for good! I sold my business in New York.”

  Instead of squeezing her with a sugar and flour-laden hug, Annie wrung her hands together and deep lines crinkled across her forehead. She motioned for Georgia to come in then sat her down on the sofa.

  “You’ve come back to a town full of misery, Georgia. Haven’t you heard about the murders?”

  “Murders! What are you talking about?”

  “It’s just made the national news. People are dropping like flies around here. They say there’s some Ripper-like fellow on the loose. Just yesterday, another body was found out by the railroad tracks. His body was in such tatters, it looked like he was torn apart by a pack of wolves! Fred’s been sleeping with his shotgun next to the bed. He’s even talking about getting another dog, since Buster isn’t much of a watchdog anymore. And, you bet we make sure the doors and windows are locked at night. You’d better do the same! You would’ve been better off staying in that big crazy city than coming here right now. Do you know they found two people dead just last weekend in the river not too far downstream from here? It’s sickening, I tell you.”

  “That’s just unbelievable. Who would do such a thing in Calathia?”

  “The world just ain’t what it used to be. You’re not safe anywhere any more. The ladies at the church are expecting a swarm of locusts will be next. They say that if something like this can happen in our little town...then the end is surely near.”

  “The Sheriff doesn’t have any idea who is responsible?”

  “That old coot? What does he care? He’s retiring at the end of the year. He’ll probably move down to some resort in Florida and forget all about what’s going on here. If the murders continue...I’m afraid a lot of people will pack up and move o
ut of here as well. There’s not a lot of work for the young ones anyway. This town’s dying out…pardon my horrible pun.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find the murderer. How long can you hide in a place like this? Everyone knows just about everyone here.”

  Annie twisted her swollen hands back and forth. “Well...enough of this miserable talk. Come on...what’s the scoop? I’m an old lady. I don’t have time for suspense.”

  “Well, you’ve got yourself a new neighbor. A new old neighbor, I should say.”

  Annie jumped off the sofa, “Oh honey! I’m so sorry about my worrywart welcome. I’m so glad you’re back!” she said as she bent down and squeezed her. “I bet Marsha and the kids are so excited.”

  “Well...they don’t exactly know yet.”

  “You haven’t told them?”

  “No. I’ve hardly spoken to Marsha since I was out here for Grammie’s funeral. I’ll go over there...probably tomorrow...and break the news. Right now I just want to unpack and—”

  “Maybe, you should wait. I don’t want you going over to the house just yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Wait until Fred gets back from the store. He can go in with you.”

  “I don’t see why. ”

  Annie lowered her voice to a whisper. “There’s something weird about that caretaker fella you hired over there. I don’t like him. I sure wish you had run it by me and Fred before making a decision like that. We could have taken care of the place for you just fine.”

  “I know Annie...it’s just...I didn’t know how long I’d be gone...or if I’d ever be back. I thought I was doing the right thing by not burdening you and Fred with it. I can’t believe you don’t like Daniel. He’s so charming.”