The Garden House

by Linda Mahkovec

  William sat down and lifted his glass to them, and took a sip. “Thank you.”

  “I haven’t seen you much to ask how you’re doing,” said Miranda.” Are you comfortable? Is there anything you need?”

  “I’m very comfortable. It’s the perfect place to relax and get some work done.”

  “How’s the reading and writing going?” Miranda asked, pushing the dishes of food in front of him.

  “I’m getting a lot done, thanks to the park and the peacefulness of the garden. Every place seems conducive to writing.” William looked around at the deck, taking in the comfortable mismatched furniture, more clay sculptures like the ones in the garden, the climbing vines and potted flowers. “What a nice arrangement you have out here.”

  Ben put a hand on Miranda’s shoulder. “That’s Miranda’s doing. I built the deck, but she made it into this. She can transform any space into a little paradise.”

  Miranda frowned at Ben’s praise. “Oh, it’s just stuff I pull together. And flowers make anyplace pretty.”

  “No,” insisted Ben. “Miranda has a knack for making a space beautiful and comfortable. She’s a real artist.”

  William took a sip of wine and sank back into the cushioned chair. “I have to agree with Ben. Something about this space is very peaceful. Relaxing. Like the garden house, and the garden.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” said Miranda. “We spend a lot of time out here in the summer. We grilled out here almost every weekend when the kids were here, didn’t we Ben?”

  “Even in the rain,” laughed Ben.

  Miranda scooted one of the dips closer to William. “Try this one. Artichoke and parmesan.”

  He took a cracker and tried the dip. Then indicated that it was indeed good, and took another.

  “And she’s quite a cook,” added Ben.

  Miranda shot Ben a look to stop with the compliments. It sounded too much like she was in need of praise.

  “How long since your children moved away?” asked William.

  “Just about a month,” said Ben. “We’re still getting used to it. For the most part they lived at home while they were in school. Then Michael found a job in Portland, and a week or so after that, our daughter, Clara, moved to San Francisco. At least they’re not too far away.”

  “Though I wish they were closer,” said Miranda.

  Ben rubbed Miranda’s shoulder. “It’s been quite an adjustment for her.”

  “Oh, Ben,” she said, shaking off his hand. “You miss them just as much as I do.” There he was again, making her sound needy.

  William nodded sympathetically. “That’ll take some getting used to. But it must be gratifying to know that they’re off to a good start in life.”

  Miranda smiled. “We’re so proud of them. I thought Clara might study art and literature, she’s always loved them so much. But she’s decided to study Law. A solid, practical choice.”

  Ben jerked his head back in surprise and looked over at Miranda.

  But she had run to the railing on hearing Paula call out to her. “Oh, look! Here’s Paula and Derek.” She turned to William. “Our neighbors. I’ve been wanting you to meet them.”

  Miranda welcomed them as they came up the deck stairs. “Hello! Come meet William! Can you join us?” She noticed that Paula was carrying a book.

  “No,” said Paula, “just a quick hello before we start out on our walk.”

  Miranda turned to Ben, knowing that Paula and Derek never turned down her cooking. But he had anticipated her. “More plates,” he said, ducking inside.

  William stood and smiled at the newcomers.

  “This is William Priestly. He’s a teacher from New York. These are our neighbors, Paula and Derek Morgan. They live just across from us.”

  “Welcome to the neighborhood!” said Paula. “Glad to finally meet you.”

  Derek shook William’s hand. “I hear you’ll be staying the summer. You’ll love it here. Great neighborhood. Great neighbors,” he added, grinning. “Have you been to the park yet, on the lake?”

  “I have,” said William. “Several times already.”

  “Have a seat,” said Miranda. “You have to try these dips. Roasted pepper, and artichoke. Tell me what you think. And try this puff pastry – mushroom, onion, and gruyere.”

  Paula bit into the puff pastry, and closed her eyes with a sigh of enjoyment. She then tried the dips.

  Ben slid open the screen door, and Miranda took the plates from him and set them on the table.

  “Hey, buddy,” said Ben, as Derek slapped him on the back. “How about a glass of wine? Or a cold beer?”

  “Don’t tempt us,” answered Paula. She dipped another cracker into the roasted pepper dip. “This is week two of our walking program. We’re determined this time. Mmm. This is just delicious, Miranda.”

  “Actually, a beer sounds great,” said Derek.

  “Derek!” cried Paula. Then she called out after Ben, “Make that two!” She fixed another cracker and gave it to Derek, and then turned to William. “So, Miranda says you’re a teacher?”

  “Yes. I’m using my summer vacation to get some research done.”

  “And writing articles,” added Miranda.

  “That too,” said William.

  “What brings you to Seattle?” asked Derek, taking the beer from Ben, and leaning against the deck railing.

  “He knows someone at Ben’s office,” Miranda answered.

  “I don’t really know him,” William said. “But someone I work with knows someone Ben works with.”

  “You mean you don’t know anyone here?” asked Paula.

  He shook his head. “But I’ve always heard that Seattle is nice. And every summer I try to see someplace new. Stay a month or so. I find it’s the best way to get a feel for a place.”

  Miranda turned to Ben. “We should do that, Ben. Doesn’t that sound like fun? I’ve always wanted to see Santa Fe, New Orleans – ”

  “Are you married? Any children?” asked Paula, going back to the artichoke dip.

  William laughed a little. “No. Neither.”

  “Divorced?”

  “Paula! Let him enjoy his food.” Miranda felt protective of their new tenant and his quiet ways.

  But William just smiled and didn’t seem to mind. “No, that’s okay. I guess you could say I’m married to my job.”

  Derek nodded. “I know how that is.”

  “Or the right person just hasn’t come along,” Paula said.

  Miranda had been trying to kick Paula under the table, but kept getting Ben. He frowned at her, annoyed that he didn’t know what she meant.

  As they talked about their jobs, Paula leaned over to Miranda and handed her the book. “For you.” She pointed to the subtitle, reading it out loud: “Attracting the Life You Want.” Then she pulled a brochure from inside the book and handed it to Miranda. “And this.”

  Miranda read the heading of the seminar: Starting a Small Business and Working from Home.

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m suggesting this?”

  Miranda shrugged. “As a kick in the pants? To get me to stop talking about it, and start making things again?”

  Paula slid out a white envelope from the book and handed it to her. “I sold two of your small flower paintings and the mosaic planter.”

  “You’re kidding!” Miranda lit up at the news and tugged on Ben’s sleeve. “Ben! Paula sold some of those things I gave her. Can you believe it?” She didn’t wait for a response, but opened the envelope. “I can’t take this, Paula! I was going to throw those things out.”

  Paula rolled her eyes and shoved the book to Miranda. “That’s why you need to read this, and go to that,” she said, pointing to the brochure.

  Miranda shook her head in disbelief, then she counted out half the money. “Fifty percent for you?”

  “Twenty – and I already took the shop’s cut.”

  “You mean, this is after?” Miranda
stared at Paula with her mouth open. “I did those so long ago. I can’t believe anyone was interested.”

  “I told you they would sell. I had doubts about the planter – but I think mosaics are becoming popular again. You need to keep making things and figure out costs. I’ll bring your pieces to the shops, and we’ll see what happens. But I want to see some new stuff, too.”

  Miranda nodded in thought.

  “And take a look at these,” Paula said, tapping the book and brochure.

  “I will. Though I’m not sure about the business part of it,” she said, skeptically eyeing the brochure.

  Paula tapped the envelope with the money in it. “This is the business part of it. Anyway, give it some thought.” She took one last puff pastry, and then headed over to the stairs. “C’mon, Derek. We better go while it’s still light. Nice meeting you, William.”

  Miranda leaned over the railing and called after them. “How about dinner soon? I want to try out a new recipe on you. Moussaka!”

  “Just say when,” answered Paula.

  “The sooner, the better,” added Derek. He threw his hands up at Paula who was already swinging her elbows in a brisk stride, and hurried to catch up with her.

  Miranda smiled and waved, and then sat back at the table. “They’re my guinea pigs. I try out new recipes on them.”

  “We’ve been neighbors for years,” Ben added. “Our kids grew up together.”

  William listened as Ben and Miranda related different stories about them and the other neighbors, who was new, who had lived there before them, who had kids. William nodded and asked a few questions about the area.

  After a while, he gazed up at the darkening sky and put his hands on his knees. “I guess I should be going. Organize my notes while they’re still fresh in my mind.” He stood and smiled at them both. “Thanks for the wine, and the appetizers were delicious.”

  Miranda beamed at the compliment, knowing they had turned out well.

  “Any time, buddy,” said Ben, rising to his feet.

  “I’m so glad you came,” said Miranda, “and that you got to meet Paula and Derek. Feel free to stop by any time you see us sitting out here. And just let me know if you need anything,” she added, as he walked down the steps.

  “I will, thank you. Goodnight.”

  Miranda watched him disappear into the dusk and make his way to the garden house.

  Then she sat back at the table and threw her legs over Ben’s lap. “That was nice, wasn’t it? Having everyone here.”

  Ben gathered her legs closer to him. “Very nice.”

  “William seemed to enjoy himself.” Miranda reached for her glass. “You don’t think he was offended by Paula’s questions, do you?”

  “Nah. He seems like an easy going kind of guy.”

  Miranda handed the envelope to Ben. “Can you believe this?”

  “Yes, I can. I’ve always told you that your work would sell.”

  “Well, it took me by surprise. And that they sold so quickly!” She leaned her head back in the chair and looked around at the deck. “William’s right. It is nice here.”

  “I tell you that all the time, too,” said Ben, “but it always matters more to you when you hear it from someone else.”

  “That’s not true. But it’s nice when someone else notices.”

  Chapter 5

  Miranda sat on the floor in Clara’s bedroom sorting through a pile of clothes that Clara claimed she no longer wanted. But Miranda was afraid that Clara had decided too impulsively and might change her mind about some of them. So she emptied the bags in the middle of the rug and was now going through them.

  She soon realized that Clara had been right; most of the clothes were too small or too worn. But a few pieces were still in perfect condition, and one jacket still had the tags on it. Miranda briefly considered the girl at the shelter – she would be the right size. Then she shook her head. She didn’t want to go back there.

  She remembered the shifting expressions on the girl’s face: vulnerability, anger, sarcasm. She must be about five years younger than Clara, Miranda thought. She wondered what kind of a life the girl had lived, who had hurt her, what she was going to do.

  Miranda set aside the best clothes and decided that she would, after all, take them to the shelter, along with a couple of shirts and pants that Michael no longer wanted. Perhaps the teens there might be able to use them.

  She started to refold the clothes. As she leaned forward to pick up a sweater near the skirt of the bed, fragments of a dream from the night before came to her. She remembered that some sound had woken her from sleep. Johnny! someone had cried. Or had she dreamed it? She sat back, trying to remember the details. It was another disturbing dream.

  A little boy. Quickly hiding beneath a bed as he heard the front door close. Slow, deliberate footsteps coming up the stairs. Terrified, the boy scooted back, pressed against the wall. He saw the man’s shoes enter the room, stand in the doorway, and then leave.

  Miranda stared at the bed skirt for a few seconds, then she leaned forward, lifted it, and peered beneath. Of course, there was nothing there. But why did she have such a dream? She wanted to get away from the unsettling images in her mind; she wanted to be outside, in her garden. She quickly finished folding and bagging the clothes, and took them downstairs.

  She set the bags on the bench outside the front door, and turned on the hose. She watered the potted plants by the bench, and then watered the roses and blue star creeper that grew alongside the entrance to the house.

  Being outside always dispelled any dark thoughts and gave her a sense of well-being. But as she stared at the beads of water on the pink petals and dark serrated leaves, a shadow filled her on remembering other images from recent dreams: a look of fear on the boy’s face as a man’s hand stroked his hair; a cigarette being put out on a small hand; someone wrapping protective arms around the boy. It seemed to be the same little boy in all the dreams. What was going on inside her that was causing such unwanted visions?

  She shuddered at the images, and brushed at the water that had sprayed onto her legs. It was unlike her to have such troubling dreams. Surely it couldn’t be from one visit to a shelter.

  Miranda moved the hose to another bush, and remembered the times when she had such dreams before, usually about the kids. The time when Michael went to camp for the first time. The time in high school when Clara was in a relationship with an older, possessive boy. There had even been dreams about their friends, involving problems at school or at home. Though there wasn’t much she could do, she had offered what support and advice she could.

  Even though Ben discounted the dreams, she had known that the children were in need. And now she was getting the same kind of feeling, though it was hard to decipher – she couldn’t separate her feelings at missing the kids from the dream feelings. And to add to it, she had to admit that what Paula said about the daycare had stuck in her mind. Danny was an imaginative child, but still, what if there was some truth to the story? Children sometimes picked up on things that adults didn’t. What if there was a predator lurking around the neighborhood?

  Ben’s car pulled up and Miranda realized that she had completely drenched the rose bush. She moved the hose down to the next bush, and smiled over at Ben as he got out of the car.

  He walked up to her, gave her a quick kiss, and set his jacket and briefcase on the bench next to the bags of clothing. “These going to the Salvation Army?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.

  “I’m going to take them to the shelter. I meant to put them in the car.”

  “Sure you want to go back there?” Ben reached for the hose and took over the watering, something he always enjoyed. “I thought you said the place was giving you nightmares.”

  “I didn’t say that. I just said that I’ve been having weird dreams.”

  “Ever since you went there.”

  “I don’t think the dreams have anything to do with the shelter.” She uncuffed her pants and sat
on the bench.

  “Then why else are you having them?”

  “Paula said she had such dreams each time one of her kids left home. Besides, I’m not going to be cowed by a few teenagers. They just don’t know how to express things like anger and frustration. I’ve been through that with the kids.” She looked through the bag closest to her. “Some of these clothes are like new.”

  Ben glanced at Miranda and then moved to water the plants on the other side of the sidewalk. Miranda jumped up to unloosen a kink in the hose, and then wiped her hands on her pants.

  “There was one girl there, trying to make a little garden. She seemed so angry. It reminded me of that stage with Clara when everything I did made her so mad. Do you remember?”

  “Just one of those phases,” he said. “Kids can be moody. Growing pains, I guess.”

  Miranda considered this, remembering her own teenage years. For the most part, they had been good. She didn’t remember being moody or unhappy. Though there were other girls who had seemed troubled. She vaguely remembered one girl from –

  “I saw William as I drove past the park. Down by the playground. Looked like he had his laptop with him. He’s not around much, is he?”

  Miranda shook her head and bent over the rose bushes. “He comes and goes.” She pulled off several brown petals and let them drop to the ground, next to the bright pink ones that had fallen off while being watered.

  “Anything else need watering?” Ben turned to Miranda for an answer but she was staring down at the petals. “Honey? Miranda?”

  She looked up. “Hmm? The ones by the trellis.”

  “What is it?”

  Her forehead creased. “I was just remembering something. There was a girl in my class. In grade school, back when we lived in Oregon. Leanne. No, Liana. At first she went by Lee. But later she said that her true name was Liana, and asked us to call her that. Her family was new to town. She was an only child. For a while we were friends, four or five of us. There was something different about her. A distance she kept.”

  Miranda squinted into the past, trying to remember the shadowy girl. “She used to show us bruises and marks and told us that her father beat her. Once, she said that he did other things. None of us knew what she meant by that – or if any of it was true. She used to make up things. Said she had a beautiful twin sister who lived with a rich family, and that her real father was a famous scientist.”