The Gardener

by Michelle DePaepe

What was the spirit up to? Did he have some involvement with this party? Two hundred people? Could that be possible? Good Lord! He’d have to storm into a church to find that many people in one place.

  Suddenly, she felt nauseous. Her heart began to flutter, and sweat turned her hands clammy. She realized that if she went to that party, she might be walking into a slaughterhouse.

  Chapter 76

  When Georgia awoke on the morning of December 31st, anxious and excited, her feet seemed to float like a feather several inches over the wood floor.

  Later, as she swallowed the last dregs of her morning coffee, the grandfather clock in the parlor ticked the time away, counting its way down to the seven o’clock evening hour when the guests would start to arrive. With the house so quiet, she figured that Daniel had gone to the store to purchase the last of the food and drink.

  She heard a soft rasping sound at the back door and rose to discover Max begging to be let in. He swirled around her legs and began howling the moment she opened the door.

  “There you are...you naughty runaway. I haven’t seen you for days! Clarissa’s been worried sick about you. She’s still trying to talk her mommy into adopting you.”

  Max replied with a long earsplitting howl as he lured her towards the kitchen. His caterwauling added to her tension, so she fed him as quickly as she could. As she watched him gobble down his food as if he hadn’t eaten since their last meeting, she realized that he had been pretty scarce since the week she moved in back in October. Every couple of weeks, he popped up when she was alone...but she never seemed to see him when Daniel was around. Some cats just don’t like men.

  True to her supposition, an hour later when Daniel came in the door juggling heavy paper bags, the cat ran to the back door.

  She let him out then ran to help Daniel with the bags. “I thought you hired a caterer to take care of all this.”

  “I did. I just bought a little more wine and other libations to make sure we had enough.”

  Georgia helped set the bags down on the dining table, then retreated to the parlor and collapsed on the sofa with her head in her hands. The mere thought of so many people showing up just a few hours from now made her dizzy.

  “Marsha called earlier to inform me that she has a ‘prior engagement’ and won’t be making it.”

  “So?” Daniel said. “Do you care?”

  “No. I guess not. I just think she still can’t resist any opportunity to slam me.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t think she’ll feel comfortable around your city friends.”

  “Maybe. Fred and Annie are coming though...and I doubt they’ll have much in common with anyone.”

  As he unpacked bottle after bottle from the bags, Georgia let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m so worried...”

  “About what?” Daniel asked from the kitchen. “It’s going to go just fine.”

  A moment later he appeared with a half glass of blood red Chianti. “Here...” he said as he handed it to her. “Drink this...then go somewhere. Take your easel and go paint. It will calm you down.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You must. Go out and have fun for the day. I’ll take care of everything. Just come back around six o’clock ...in time to get ready for the party.”

  “It’s too cold to paint outside.”

  “Nonsense! It’s supposed to be around 50 degrees today. It’s not supposed to snow until this evening. Go for a drive...have lunch somewhere.”

  “I can’t. I’m too nervous,” she whined as she took a sip from her glass. “You don’t understand...the guests you’ve invited are gallery owners, art critics, professors... collectors. I can’t believe that so many of them agreed to fly all the way out here just for me.”

  “Ahh...we shall have a banquet of intellect and sparkling life tonight. I’m already drunk with excitement!”

  “But...aren’t you the least bit nervous?”

  “Why? They’ll talk. Drink. And enjoy your fantastico paintings. What more is there? Oh...yes...of course there is a surprise that I haven’t yet revealed to you.”

  “No Daniel. No more surprises.”

  “But you’ll be delighted with this one. Drink. Drink...and go.”

  She protested again...but he was relentless. After she finished her wine, he prepared a slice of buttered toast and set her towards the door with her paints and a blank canvass under her arm.

  As she stopped in the doorway, hoping he might change his mind and let her stay, a euphoric smile bloomed across his face. “Now... where should I display this charming painting of the sunset above the river? Next to the fireplace?”

  Chapter 77

  Late that afternoon, when Georgia returned, she barely recognized the house.

  The Gingerbread House was lit up like a fairy tale castle. White icicle lights dripped from the eaves and garlands of evergreens intertwined starry lights draped the porch rail.

  A rolling line of heavy clouds obscured the last remnants of the sun as she parked her grandmother’s old Lincoln in the garage. She glanced down at her watch. It was a quarter after five, still plenty of time to dress and do her makeup and hair before the guests started arriving.

  She reached down on the floorboard and picked up the newly completed painting of the geese over at the pond at K.RileyPark. Instead of her normal whimsical style, this painting had a dark theme. The flying geese had dark marble eyes, filled with a carnivorous lust as they searched the ground for prey. A small mouse with unusually large ears cowered next to a pond awaiting his doom.

  She didn’t know what possessed her to create it. Maybe, it was her fear of the party. She was deathly afraid of the reaction of her friends who were about to assume the role of critics. Perhaps, she felt like that cringing doomed mouse.

  This painting would never hang from a wall for critique. She planned to hide it in a closet in the turret room as soon as she got inside.

  With it tucked under her arm, she took the stone path around to the back door. Maybe she could sneak in, check out the party décor, and escape if it all looked too intimidating?

  Through the windows, she could see that the house was ablaze as if every light in every room had been turned on...and then some.

  She tiptoed inside and gasped. The chandelier above the dining table sparkled as if every crystal had been hand polished. A festive silver garland draped from it reflecting the light and twinkling like a thousand stars.

  As she gazed around the parlor, it seemed that winter had been banished. The house was transformed into a blazing light-filled Victorian garden. There were stone urns on pedestals with bright green ferns and pots of jasmine adorning the room. The fireplace roared with glowing orange and crimson flames, and there was a pile of wood lined against the wall, enough to keep it going all night.

  Her eyes turned upward towards a massive white banner tied to the far corners of the parlor. She paused and read the quote printed across it in formal script:

  I was walking alone in my garden, there was a great stillness among the branches and flowers & more than common sweetness in the air; I heard a low & pleasant sound & I know not whence it came. At last I saw the broad leaf of a flower move & a procession of creatures the size and colour of green & gray grasshoppers, bearing a body laid out on a rose leaf...It was a fairy funeral.” — WilliamBlake

  She remembered the quote. It was from a book in Grammie’s library. It was one of her favorites—in fact—the very one that had inspired her to draw fairies when she was a child.

  She clasped her hands to her chest. How was it that Daniel—a mere stranger just a few months ago—understood her passion more deeply than the man she had once been married to?

  Was this what it meant when people talked of meeting their soul mate? Was it someone who knew you deeply like no one else...and seemed to live only to help you find happiness?

  She looked around the room and realized that she had only begun to notice the changes around the house. Her paintings lined the walls. Every one was perfec
tly hung at eye level with an arms breadth between, placed as if she had done it herself at her old gallery. There were river scenes, barns, tractors, haystacks, farms, and sunsets...all with her impish additions of supernatural creatures peering out from the most unexpected places.

  She turned her attention towards the kitchen. Grape vines with shining white Christmas lights adorned the cabinets. Decorative cast-iron tables and benches provided added seating. Their tabletops glistened with an opalescent glitter as if Tinkerbell had just flown over them.

  The counter was now a bar with ice-filled urns covered in ivy. They held bottles of champagne, white and blush wines. There were dozens of red wine bottles next to them, sitting patiently at room temperature for the guests to arrive.

  On the adjacent counter, a confetti of rose petals lay amongst silver trays of hors d’oeuvres with sliced cheeses and meats, cucumber & cress sandwiches, sweet biscuits, and strawberries embellished by delicate sugar frosted violet petals.

  The Victorian garden décor and magical lighting set the stage exquisitely for highlighting her art. She couldn’t string together a coherent thought as she returned to the parlor.

  She sat down on the sofa. After resting her head in her palm for a moment, she looked up and noticed the changes to the foyer. Where there had once been the table with the Tiffany lamp, she saw a tall stone fountain with a cherub pouring a delicate pink punch from a pitcher into its basin. Crystal cups hung from pegs around its circumference, ready to hand off to the first arrivals. Beyond it, in front of the door...there was a seven-foot wrought iron arbor adorned with scrollwork and ivy. A real vine of blood red roses twined up it. She smelled a hint of their perfume wafting in the air. Roses...real roses...in December!

  Just then, she spied Daniel at the coat closet just around the corner and rushed over to him. At first, her mouth gaped open, wordless. Then, she gushed, “How? Where...did you get all of these things?”

  He paused and grinned. “Georgia...mi amore. You are back.” He held his arms far and wide. “Do you like it? Your party will be a smashing success and talked about for years to come, don’t you think?”

  “How on earth—”

  “There’s more upstairs. Why don’t you go up and get yourself ready. I’ve laid a dress out on your bed.”

  “A dress? I already had an outfit planned.”

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Just go look—”

  She obeyed.

  When she got to her room, she saw the dress. It was a slim-fitting black lace and satin concoction with the bodice dipping into a heart-shaped ‘V’ just below the cleavage line. There was a slit up the left leg just past the knee, and the backside had a crevice dipping down to her lower back. It looked like a modern twist on a vintage design.

  Daring...but beautiful.

  She shrugged after looking at it in the mirror. A little over the top compared to the simple chemise that she had chosen earlier...but then...so was this party if the guest list and décor were any indication.

  She tried it on and found that it was a perfect fit.

  After a few moments of admiring herself in the mirror, she went to the bathroom, freshened her makeup, and swooped her hair up into an updo with rhinestone clips. But, as she began to apply a cherry red lipstick, she found her hands shaking.

  She scurried to the bedroom and found the Yellow Brick pills in her purse. Just one...to calm my nerves. Hmmm...better not drink too much then.

  “Zip me?” she asked as she descended the bottom step into the parlor.

  Daniel’s cheeks flushed.

  “Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

  “Mi fa venire l’acquolina in bocca. You look so beautiful! You will be the most striking bellaza at the party.”

  “I’ll be a potted plant compared to all this,” she said as she gestured at the décor.

  “No. Your beauty and your art will be all they will see.”

  He refused to let her assist as he fussed with the last minute details, propping her on the sofa with a glass of wine. Some of her stress seemed to evaporate by the time she took the third sip.

  To her surprise, the first guest to arrive wasn’t Annie or one of the locals from town. It was MadisonDenford, an art critic who lived in Manhattan. She walked in the door and shrieked as she took off her coat.

  “Oh...isn’t this wonderful?” she exclaimed as she covered her apple cheeks with her hands and handed her coat to Daniel. “To think...I had to come all the way to Kansas for a little spring glory in winter. Georgia...you’ve outdone yourself!”

  “Well...” Georgia started. But before she had a chance to give Daniel the credit, the woman ran off to inspect the parlor and the kitchen.

  She started to follow, but was interrupted by the doorbell.

  This time, it was WoodyGordon and his fiancée, Lisa. He owned a string of restaurants in Soho, and was a ravenous collector. She winced at the thought of him agreeing to spend his New Year’s Eve in Calathia perusing her work. But, he seemed thrilled to be here as he kissed her hand and thanked her for the invitation.

  From that moment on, a nonstop slew of guests poured in. Daniel took their coats and played the charming host, making sure that each person knew where to find the food and drinks.

  When Georgia’s wine glass was empty, someone handed her a glass of punch from the fountain before she could refuse. A few minutes later, she felt herself feeling a little lightheaded, but she was too busy to think much of it.

  She spotted Eddie Stiles, the man who bought her gallery, standing under the rose arbor. He swooped into the room with his arms up in the air as he looked around then he sashayed over to her and planted a fat kiss on each cheek. “You look fabulous! And...I’m amazed!” he said as he gestured at her paintings. “Is it the country air that’s turned you into such a creative machine? You could have had your own show at your own gallery if you’d churned these out back there.”

  “Thanks. I can’t believe you came all this way...”

  The eccentric entrepreneur turned to Daniel and laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “This man isn’t one to be trifled with. “I believe he said that he’d kill me slowly in a dungeon underneath a grain silo if I didn’t make it...or something to that effect.”

  Georgia winced. “I hope he wasn’t quite that brutal.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. Judging by the turnout so far and the buzz I’ve heard about this party, I think you’ve done well to have such a strong arm on your side.”

  She smiled weakly into her crystal cup as she took another sip. “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 78

  Opal parked behind a dozen other cars lined up on the side of the road. The number of guests gave her comfort. But, she feared for their safety. The need for expediency prompted her to overcome inertia.

  She got out, ignoring her tears as they mingled with snowflakes that were just starting to fall from the fungal grayness of the sky. Her breaths came out in white clouds as she went to the trunk and pulled out the long canvas duffel bag filled with her tools. It was cold—much too cold for the kind of work ahead of her.

  Foreboding and fear filled her thoughts as she made her way towards the house. The ground is probably frozen now and impossible to dig. What the hell am I doing? What if Georgia sees me and kicks me out? I’ll probably die here tonight, but it’s fitting if I do. This is all my fault! I just hope I’m the only one he takes his wrath out on if I fail.

  The party seemed to be going at full throttle. A throng of people lingered on the porch, and a jumble of voices and music poured out from inside. Luckily, no one seemed to pay any attention to her as she waddled up the driveway lugging the heavy bag beside her.

  She didn’t want to go in the front door and risk being seen by Georgia, so she followed the drive to a picket fence gate next to the garage and traipsed through the dusting of snow until she spotted the back door.

  After shoving her bag into a shadowy corner of the patio, she took a deep breath and
said a short prayer before slipping into the house.

  She couldn’t believe how many people were inside. Standing room only was an understatement—every square foot of the main floor seemed to contain a body. The heat from all of those beating hearts and the roaring fire was stifling, but a welcome change from the frigid air outside.

  She wiped her wet boots the best she could on the mat and paused for a moment to take in the atmosphere. The air was abuzz with voices and kinetic energy as the guests conversed, ate and drank, and gestured towards the paintings lining the walls.

  At first, no one seemed to notice her. Then, a woman in a fur lined blazer with a silk scarf tied impossibly tight around her neck looked her way and scowled at her dirty boots. Opal removed them and made her way through the crowd in her stockings, doing her best to avoid the pain of a spiked heel on her toes.

  Her eyes searched through the throng for familiar faces as she shoved her way among them. There were a few of Calathia’s residents here along with a lot of artsy folks from out of town.

  She made her way past the table where her nightmare first began, then saw Georgia in the kitchen surrounded by a hoard. Despite the occasional flush of redness on her cheeks, Opal saw her smile and thought she could make out her lighthearted laugh from across the room. She seemed to be having the time of her life. She hoped that this evening wouldn’t be the last Georgia would ever enjoy.

  She bore no ill will towards the woman. Who could blame her for tossing an intruder out of her home? And who could blame her for not having the intuition that the man she welcomed into her home was an evil spirit from a hundred years back? She could only blame herself for anything that happened to all of these people tonight.

  As Georgia tossed her head back in laughter again, her eyes swung around the room towards Opal’s location. She ducked behind the tall fronds of a potted banana tree. Hunched over, she remained there...peering through the immense tropical leaves until Georgia returned her attention to her guests.