Garlic Girls

by Adrien Leduc

  "I see. I’ll have to be careful then."

  He nods and throws me a smile. “Just a bit.”

  We arrive at the greenhouses without me falling or slipping into any sinkholes and I duck under the plastic tarp Tom holds up for me.

  "Wow! It's hot in here!" I exclaim once we’re inside.

  He grins. "Yeah. It's nice, hey? We try and keep it at seventy five degrees. It's tricky in the winter, but dad rigged up some solar-powered generators last year and those have made it a lot easier."

  I spy a cluster of large, red, roaring machines on the opposite wall.

  "Is that them there?"

  Tom nods. "Yep. They power the heaters and the fans." He gestures toward the lines of fans anchored to the ceiling poles. "Those keeps it nice and warm in here and give the place good air flow."

  We get closer to the rows of tree saplings, miniature evergreens and pine trees, each about six inches tall.

  "How long has your family had this place?" I ask, taking in the rest of my surroundings.

  The greenhouse was about half the length and half the width of a football field and the rows of trees ran from end to end. I guessed the height, from the dirt base to the sloped, plastic roof, to be about twenty feet.

  "Since before I was born. Dad inherited it from my grandfather. And my great-grandfather owned it before him."

  "Hmm. Interesting."

  "Yeah," said Tom as he ran a hand through his hair. "And I'll probably get it when my dad...you know."

  I smile meekly. "Yeah."

  We walk around a bit, being mindful not to step on any saplings. After several minutes Tom stops and rests his hands on his hips.

  "Ready to go inside and eat?"

  I nod, having forgotten just how hungry I was. "Yes!"

  Tom grins. "Alright."

  We head outside. It’s raining harder now and I barely managed to hold the umbrella over my head, the force of the rain being enough to drive it towards the ground. Worse still, it had grown darker since we'd been inside.

  "STAY CLOSE!" Tom yells as he reaches for my hand and pulls me toward the house.

  I can just barely make out the building's shape in the distance.

  "OKAY!"

  Tom shields me with his body as we push against the wind and rain. I struggle blindly, one hand gripping Tom's and the other wound around the umbrella handle. Our feet make sloshing sounds in the mud and I can feel my clothes getting soaked through.

  "ALMOST THERE!"

  The way Tom shouts, I can tell he’s smiling. Confident. Always. I like that about him. I feel safe with him.

  His hand is warm on mine and I stick close to him as we near the house.

  There’s a truck parked in the driveway that wasn't been there before. A white pick-up. Tom's dad's.

  We reach the porch after a minute and bound up the steps, eager to get out of the rain.

  "HOLY CRAP!" Tom exclaims, brushing puddles of water from his pant legs.

  "I'M SOAKED!" I yell, though I wasn't at all mad.

  Tom's playful grin is just too contagious.

  We admire the distance we'd walked. It was impossible to see the greenhouses now the rain was so thick and it being nearly pitch black.

  "LET'S GET INSIDE!"

  I nod. "GOOD IDEA!"

  "Oh my goodness! You kids!" Nancy Holloway remarks as we enter through the front door. "Into the shower! Both of you! Before you catch a cold! Tom will take the downstairs bathroom. Tina, you can have the one upstairs. It's the nicer of the two," she adds with a wink.

  I shake my head. "Oh, no, really, Mrs. Holloway, I'm fine - "

  I stop myself as I try to remove my sweater. It’s sopping wet - as though it’s just come out of the wash. My shirt is much the same. And my pants. And my shoes. And my socks.

  "Alright..." I concede, somewhat annoyed that I have to shower at the house of a family I barely know. "I'll have a quick shower."

  Tom's mom gives me an approving nod. "Good girl. I'll get you some fresh clothes - we're about the same size, you and I," she says, eyeing me up, "and then you'll have something to wear while your clothes are in the dryer."

  "Sure...thanks."

  I’m used to such hospitality and I can't help but feel that I’m imposing.

  "Alright. Upstairs with you, then," she says, pushing me toward the stairwell. "Supper's ready so we'll eat as soon as you're done. I hope you're hungry - I've made enough food to feed an army."

  I smile. "I'm definitely hungry."

  "Good. We'll eat as soon as you're out of the shower."

  "Alright."

  I make my way up the stairs as Mrs. Holloway turns and heads back to the kitchen. Once in the bathroom, I strip out of my wet clothes and jump into the shower. There’s a trick with the spray thingy and it takes me a minute to figure it out.

  There comes a knock at the door just as the hot water begins its welcome assault on my cold, goosebump-riddled skin.

  "Yeah?"

  "It's me, honey."

  Mrs. Holloway.

  "I've got some clothes for you here. I'll just leave them on the counter."

  "Alright, thanks," I say, feeling even more awkward now that Tom's mom is in the bathroom with me naked in her shower.

  Thank God for the double curtain.

  I feel relieved when I hear the door close. I’m almost warm now. My teeth have stopped chattering, and my skin has taken on a reddish hue.

  Phew.

  Finished, I step out of the shower and study the clothes she's left for me.

  Not bad.

  A white blouse. White cardigan. Yoga pants. Socks.

  I begin to change and stop when I realize I’m missing something.

  My garlic necklace. I distinctly remember having hung it on the little hook beside the mirror.

  I gaze at my reflection. Pure. White. Innocent. I look heavenly. Unusually so.

  I finish changing and make my way downstairs where the Holloway's have already seated themselves.

  Tom’s hair is all messy and sexy looking.

  "Tina! Ready to eat, honey?"

  I nod. "Yeah, um, just a quick question. My garlic necklace - "

  Mrs. Holloway nods. "Your necklace. Yes. I put it on top of the dryer so you wouldn't forget it. Your clothes are already in. They'll be dry in an hour."

  "Um...alright."

  You could have left it in the bathroom.

  "Have a seat," says Tom, gesturing me into the open chair across from him.

  "Thanks."

  "This is my dad," he continues, indicating the man seated at the head of the table, two days' grey stubble on his face and piercing blue eyes that remind me of my mother's.

  He gives me a small smile.

  "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Holloway."

  "Call me Paul," he says, extending a hand.

  I shake it and take my chair, pulling myself in close to the table. Sitting down, I see now just how much food Mrs. Holloway has prepared.

  There’s a cheese and cracker platter. There’s smoked salmon. There are potatoes. Sweet potatoes. There’s meat pie. There’s a fruit platter. Two kinds of juice.

  "Oh my God, Mrs. Holloway. Look at all this! You didn’t go to all this trouble just for me...did you? I hope not!”

  She laughs sharply and I notice Tom and Mr. Holloway shoot her small, tight smiles.

  "It is! You're our guest! What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't give you the best?"

  I shrugged. "A normal one."

  She laughs and I blush, suddenly shy at the three pairs of eyes on me.

  "A normal one! Did you hear that, Paul? I'm better than average!"

  "Yes, dear."

  Mrs. Holloway looks at me, her eyes shining, her cheeks red, her beige skin glowing.

  "Tom's told me a lot about you, but I didn't expect such a charming, down-to-earth young woman!"

  I turn a deeper shade of red and melt under the admiring stares of all three Holloway's.

  "Uh...thanks?"
/>   "Yes, it's a compliment," says Mrs. Holloway. "Take it."

  "I will."

  She isn't smiling anymore and the atmosphere at the table had suddenly grown tense.

  "Mmm, this all looks so good," I say enthusiastically, trying to revive the good cheer. "Thank you so much."

  "Dig in, honey," she says, tapping the wooden spoon that’s stuck in the potatoes.

  "Alright."

  I look at Tom.

  "Are you eating?"

  He smiles. Though unlike his usual playful smile, this time it’s a sympathetic sort of smile.

  "Right after you."

  "After me?" I ask, surprised.

  His face is serious now, his brown eyes probing and intense.

  "Humans taste better after they've eaten."

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Originally from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Adrien Leduc makes his home in Victoria, British Columbia. He is a graduate of Carleton University (BA ’10) and is passionate about Canadian history. An avid reader and writer, Adrien hopes to write and publish many more books in his lifetime.