The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden

by Karina Yan Glaser

  “Forty-three dollars!” Oliver exclaimed. “How?”

  “I put them in my piggy bank,” she said.

  Hyacinth had only three dollars; she always spent her allowance at the arts and crafts store as soon as she got it. Jessie had seventeen dollars. The sisters looked at Oliver.

  “I’ve plunged toilets to earn money for that bike,” he informed them. “And I still need to earn another eighty dollars.” Oliver did extra chores for Mr. Smiley, a building superintendent two doors down and Angie’s father, to make money, like mopping, cleaning the windows, and the most abhorred task: plunging toilets, which got stopped up frequently in the prewar building.

  “Oliver,” Jessie said. “Laney just offered up her entire savings.”

  Oliver pressed his lips closed. “I’ll pitch in fifteen dollars,” he mumbled.

  “Awesome.” Jessie paused for a millisecond. “That will be seventy-eight dollars. Plenty of money.”

  The Vanderbeekers looked out at the land. Sure, there was the toilet and the bathtub and enough trash to fill an entire dumpster, but if they squinted really, really hard, they could see what this place could be: the garden of Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet’s dreams.

  Seven

  Laney’s mind was bursting with ideas for the garden. She couldn’t wait to start!

  “It’s our secret project,” Jessie and Oliver coached Laney as they walked back home to gather their money so they could head to the garden store.

  “I know, I know,” Laney said. She was super good at keeping secrets.

  “Do you think it’s okay if we go in there even though Mr. Huxley said not to?” Hyacinth asked.

  “Of course,” Jessie and Oliver said at once.

  “Mr. Huxley never specifically said we couldn’t use it,” Jessie clarified. “He just said that thing about liability and not wanting the church to get sued.”

  Hyacinth did not look convinced.

  “Look,” Jessie said, “if it makes you feel better, I’ll write up a liability release form when we get home.”

  They filed into the brownstone, and Franz was so elated to see Hyacinth that he knocked her down and slobbered all over her face. Mama was on the phone, pacing back and forth in the living room and saying things into the phone like “deductibles” and “ambulance costs” and “preexisting conditions.” Laney followed her siblings upstairs to Jessie’s bedroom, where Jessie kept her word. She wrote up the release, and everyone signed it.

  We hereby release Triple J and his church and Mr. Huxley from all liability for any injuries sustained by said participants while gardening on Harlem Gospel Baptist Church land.

  Date: June 27

  Signed:

  “Okay, that’s done,” Jessie said, carefully filing the piece of paper in her desk drawer. “Now there’s no ‘official’ reason why we can’t go in there.”

  “Shouldn’t we check with Triple J one more time?” Hyacinth asked, rubbing Franz’s ears.

  Jessie sighed. She took out her phone and called the church. “Hello,” she said. “I’m trying to find Triple J.”

  There was a pause; then Jessie said, “Oh no! I hope everything is okay! . . . No, it’s not urgent. We’ll see him when he gets back.” She put down her phone. “Triple J’s brother in South Carolina fell down the stairs, and Triple J is heading down there to take care of him. He could be gone for a month. And Ms. Sandra said she’s off to Puerto Rico tomorrow with her family, so the office will be closed for two weeks.” Ms. Sandra was the church’s meticulous administrator.

  “What is going on with all these injuries?” Oliver asked.

  “What do you think, Hyacinth? Should I try his cell?” Jessie asked.

  Hyacinth bit her lip, then said, “No, we shouldn’t disturb him.”

  “Great!” Jessie said. “Now let’s get the money we’re pitching in and create a budget.”

  A few minutes later, a pile of crumpled bills and spare change littered Jessie’s desk. She wrote the total amount on the front of the envelope. On the other side, she wrote down their ideas for what they needed in the garden.

  When they were done, Laney skipped down the stairs, kissed Paganini on the nose, kissed Mama on the nose (Mama was still on the phone, now talking about “out-of-network providers”), and avoided kissing George Washington, because he got grumpy when he was woken up from naps.

  Mama gave Jessie money to get lunch at Castleman’s, since she hadn’t had time to go grocery shopping. Laney could not believe the luck of the day! A garden discovery, a shopping trip to the garden store, and now Castleman’s!

  * * *

  From May until September, Hiba’s Hardware Store was a magical place. The sidewalk in front was filled with plants stacked on rolling carts, flower baskets hanging from the awnings, bushy trees sitting in pots, and trays of baby flowers on shelves. The store owners on either side of Hiba’s didn’t mind if the outdoor garden center encroached a bit on their sidewalk space, because it brightened up the whole block. Even though it wasn’t technically a garden store, everyone knew what you were talking about if you referred to it that way.

  Hyacinth was the first to reach Hiba’s, which was just past Harlem Coffee, close to St. Nicholas Park. She went immediately to her favorite tree and wrapped her arms around it. The tree felt solid and comforting. Hiba called it by the scientific name, Tilia tomentosa, which Hyacinth thought was a beautiful name. Hyacinth also gave the tree a nickname: Tilia of the Eternal Spring.

  Today Tilia of the Eternal Spring looked happy and healthy. Hyacinth checked her leaves and examined her trunk. Then she closed her eyes and made a wish before turning the price tag over. It was still forty-five dollars, too expensive to buy for Mr. Jeet and Miss Josie’s garden.

  “One day,” Hyacinth whispered into Tilia’s leaves.

  “Are you talking to the tree again?” Oliver asked before opening the door and stepping inside the store. The little bell hanging from the doorknob tinkled merrily.

  Hyacinth gave her tree one more gentle squeeze before following her siblings inside.

  Hiba’s Hardware Store was narrow and very cramped. Items were stacked on top of one another or nestled into bins or containers. Customers weren’t allowed past the counter at the front. Instead, you had to tell Hiba or whoever was working there what you needed and they would disappear into the depths of the store and retrieve it. Hyacinth thought this arrangement quite efficient.

  “Hello, friends. What may I do for you today?” This was Hiba’s customary greeting, and she said it from behind a tower of paint cans she was stacking on the display by the counter.

  “We need some things,” Jessie told her, handing her their list.

  “So many people asking for gardening tools! I put everything there.” She gestured to the wall behind the Vanderbeekers, the one area of the store that was easily accessible to customers, where hooks from floor to ceiling showcased a dizzying array of gardening items.

  “I want this!” Laney said, reaching out to grab a red trowel. “And this!” She took a matching spade down.

  “How are Miss Josie and Mr. Jeet?” Hiba asked. “Usually by this time of year, they’ve come in to see me to buy soil or pots.”

  The Vanderbeekers exchanged glances.

  “Mr. Jeet had another stroke yesterday,” Jessie told her. “He’s in the hospital.”

  Tears filled Hiba’s eyes. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I will be holding them in my heart.” She bowed her head and touched her heart with both hands.

  “We want to make a beautiful garden for them—” Laney began.

  “—in our backyard, of course,” Oliver finished.

  Hiba nodded. “You browse around, and let me know if I can help you with anything.”

  The Vanderbeekers’ stomachs were grumbling for lunch by the time they had made their choices. They took four trowels and four little rakes for churning up the dirt. They ogled the gardening gloves—some of the fancier ones had sturdy black rubber grips—but they went with the
cheaper cloth versions instead. Then there were a couple of watering cans for six dollars each, which they decided they needed even though they weren’t on the list. The shovels and rakes were expensive—the cheapest ones started at twenty-five dollars—so the Vanderbeekers decided to quietly “borrow” Papa’s when he wasn’t using them.

  Everything was a lot more expensive than they’d thought it would be.

  “I guess we can’t get the tree,” Hyacinth said, staring longingly out the window at Tilia of the Eternal Spring.

  When their purchases were packed up and paid for, the Vanderbeekers stepped out of the store and onto the sidewalk. Hiba came out behind them.

  “Please,” she said before they headed off to get lunch. Hyacinth watched her pick up Tilia of the Eternal Spring and put it in front of her. “Please, for this garden you are making. I know you will take good care of her.”

  Hyacinth was speechless. An image of Tilia growing into a big and beautiful tree sprang into her mind. She could already imagine Mr. Jeet sitting on a bench underneath a grown-up Tilia, looking out at the garden with Franz by his side.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, touching Tilia’s bright green leaves. “We can put her next to the Silver Queen.”

  “What’s the Silver Queen?” Oliver asked.

  “That big silver maple tree in the garden,” Hyacinth said. “They can be friends.”

  Oliver shrugged and leaned down to wrap his arms around the tree pot to pick it up, grunting as he did so. “If I’m carrying this thing,” he told Hyacinth, “you need to buy me at least three cheese croissants for lunch.”

  * * *

  Oliver’s arms ached from carrying Hyacinth’s tree, which she insisted he refer to as Tilia of the Eternal Spring, a block away to Castleman’s Bakery. This did not bode well for bringing Tilia to the garden, which was eight blocks away, nor was it a good sign for his atrophying arm muscles. He needed to do more pushups to stay in shape or his friends would be worlds ahead of him when they returned from basketball camp.

  When they got to Castleman’s, Oliver set Tilia down with a groan on the sidewalk by the door. The Vanderbeekers stepped inside the blessedly air-conditioned bakery and breathed in the smell of cheese croissants and spicy apple turnovers.

  “Hey, Vanderbeekers,” Benjamin called out. Mrs. Castleman, Benjamin’s mom, waved.

  “Hey, Benjamin,” they chorused. “Hi, Mrs. Castleman.”

  “Nice jersey,” Oliver said. Benjamin always wore a football jersey under his apron.

  “How is Isa doing?” Benjamin asked at the same time Jessie said, “Isa’s fine; don’t worry.” Then they laughed, because even though Benjamin was friends with all the Vanderbeekers, he definitely preferred Isa to anyone else in the world, and had even taken her to his eighth-grade dance in January. Oliver couldn’t understand what the point of the dance was—they just listened to music and danced? Why? But his whole family had made a big fuss about it as if it was really special.

  Laney and Hyacinth made a beeline for the air-conditioner unit and stood in front of the vents to cool off. Jessie went to the display case to give their order to Mrs. Castleman, and Oliver collapsed into a chair by the front door and tried to shake some feeling into his arms.

  Benjamin left the register and joined Oliver at the café table. “What’s with the tree?” Benjamin asked.

  “Not ‘tree,’” Oliver said. “That, for your information, is Tilia of the Enduring Spring. Or is it Endearing Spring? I don’t remember.”

  “Hyacinth is still obsessed with Anne of Green Gables, huh?” Benjamin observed.

  “Yup.” Auntie Harrigan had given Hyacinth the audiobook for her birthday back in February, and since then, Hyacinth had listened to it from beginning to end at least thirteen times and could recite full passages from it.

  Outside, a thin woman wearing exercise gear stopped to examine the tree. Oliver, not wanting her to tamper with it, tapped the window. She looked up and made a gesture that translated into “Can I take this?” Oliver and Benjamin shook their heads, and they watched her walk off in disappointment.

  “People are going to keep thinking it’s free,” Benjamin observed. And it was true, because usually anything left on the curb in the city was fair game for anyone who was willing to carry it home. That was how the Vanderbeekers had found the beautiful rugs that now covered the concrete floors of the brownstone basement. “Keep an eye on the tree. I’ll be right back.”

  Benjamin jogged to the back room and returned a minute later with a bike lock.

  Oliver gaped. “Are you going to lock up the tree?” When Benjamin grinned and went outside, Oliver followed. Benjamin wrapped the bike-lock cord around the tree and attached it to the metal rails of the bakery window boxes.

  When Benjamin was done, they stepped back to admire the new tree security. Oliver was about to comment on Benjamin’s great idea when he heard someone shout, “Watch out!” The screech of bike wheels filled his ears. Before he could register what was going on, Oliver found himself tumbling to the sidewalk. A second later, he heard someone say, “Are you okay?”

  Oliver knew who it was without even looking up.

  Eight

  Jessie had been waiting for Mrs. Castleman to ring up their lunch items when she glanced out the window—just in time to see a bike knock her brother over. She flew out the door and kneeled down next to Oliver, who had a nasty skinned knee and a scraped elbow. Herman Huxley had abandoned his bike on the sidewalk and was hovering over Oliver.

  “Are you okay?” he kept asking, again.

  “You should watch where you’re going,” Benjamin told him.

  “It was an accident!” Herman said.

  “Ha,” mumbled Oliver, blowing on his knee and trying to brush off the gravel around the broken skin. Laney, Hyacinth, and Mrs. Castleman had now joined them and were clucking over his injuries.

  “Do you need an ambulance?” Laney asked.

  “It was an accident,” Herman repeated. When no one acknowledged him, he picked up his bike. Jessie froze when she saw what Herman was riding.

  The bike was the exact same one Oliver had been saving up for since January, and every Vanderbeeker knew that because it was all Oliver had talked about for months. A picture of the bike printed from the Internet was taped to his bedroom door, complete with a graph that showed how close he was to saving up for it.

  * * *

  Oliver fumed. Herman didn’t have just any old mountain bike. It was the Eastern Racer 500, black with a blue racing stripe, and Oliver had been plunging toilets, mopping floors, and cleaning windows to earn enough money for one. Not only was he working his fingers to the bone, but he was also penny-pinching as if he lived during the Great Depression. No churros from Manny the churro guy, no books from the library sale, and no new basketball sneakers, even though the treads on his pair were worn and slick. Despite all of this, Oliver was merely halfway to getting his Eastern Racer 500.

  The fates were cruel indeed.

  Oliver swallowed the jealousy creeping into his throat, but he couldn’t force himself to accept Herman’s apology. Seeing him made Oliver recall every single bad Herman memory from the past year: How Herman walked into school with the newest shiny smartphone or the latest special-edition sneaker. The lift tickets hooked to his coat zipper after winter break, from his trip to the Swiss Alps. The box of fancy chocolates he brought to school and shared with no one. Who did stuff like that?

  Mrs. Castleman was digging through her first-aid kit for bandages big enough to cover Oliver’s knee and elbow when Herman finally left. No one else really paid attention—they were too busy hovering over Oliver—but Oliver watched Herman turn a corner and disappear.

  “There, all done,” Mrs. Castleman said, packing up her first-aid kit. “Now let’s get you some food.”

  Oliver’s knee stung when he got up and limped back to the bakery, but a skinned knee couldn’t keep him from cheese croissants. His sisters made him sit down while they helped Mrs.
Castleman and Benjamin grab their pastries, lemonade, and fresh fruit. Benjamin pulled the top of his apron over his head and let it hang around his waist, the signal that he was off duty, and joined them for lunch around the café table by the front window. Hyacinth kept an eagle eye out for Tilia of the Eternal Spring, in case anyone dared to pick the bike lock and take off with her.

  “What’s the tree for?” Benjamin asked.

  The Vanderbeekers filled him in on Mr. Jeet’s health issues and how they wanted to create a garden for him to enjoy while he recovered.

  “Are you going to visit him?” Benjamin asked. “Do you want to bring some pastries to the hospital?”

  The Vanderbeekers didn’t have to think twice about that offer.

  * * *

  The Vanderbeekers were quite a sight as they trooped from Castleman’s Bakery to Harlem Hospital. They had loaded the tree onto an old hand truck Mrs. Castleman found in the bakery supply room, and Jessie was put in charge of wheeling Tilia of the Eternal Spring, while Oliver limped along next to her to make sure the tree didn’t roll off. Laney carried the garden supplies, and Hyacinth transported the enormous box of pastries that Mrs. Castleman had put together and tied up with baker’s twine.

  Harlem Hospital was on Malcolm X Boulevard on the two blocks between 135th and 137th Streets, a ten-minute walk from Castleman’s. When they arrived, they stepped into the big lobby and headed straight to the information desk.

  “We’re here to see Mr. Jeet,” Jessie informed the woman at the desk from behind the tree.

  The woman, who had a name tag that said Shanna, tapped on her computer with long, manicured nails. Hyacinth and Laney leaned around the counter to get a better look at them; Shanna’s nails were painted a blue-black color and individually decorated with silver and gold stars.