by R Corona
“What is it? You look like you could use an ear or two.” She adjusted her dress and sat on the white-metal bench. After taking a spot next to her I thanked her for inviting me to the dinner party and apologized for leaving so early. She insisted there was nothing to apologize for. “Do you realize, June—” she held my hands—“How important you are to us? The wait’s been long. This House has stood empty and forgotten for such a long time, and your interest has revived our hopes.” After such statement, a reply would have sounded silly because I didn’t have a clue as to what she meant. So I handed the picture over as a response. “Netania’s photo, oh she’ll be so glad.” Ms. Baynes observed the picture carefully, “Hmm.”
“Is it not the right one?”
“No…well yes. It’s the right one. See—this is Netania,” she pointed out. “I see why I gave it to you in the first place. This other girl looks very much like you. But she’s Netania sister, so there’s no way.”
Maybe I should not have, but I explained how the picture could be related to my family. Afterward a dim smile appeared on her face, receiving my words as a confirmation. “Would it be possible to talk to her, see if my suspicions are true?”
Ms. Baynes’ demeanor darkened. Almost as if it pained her to deny me the right, but she did anyways. Netania was very busy with the upcoming flower show. Too many arrangements to prepare and still she had to plant and take care of several trees around the House. It was a simple question which wouldn’t take much of her time. But it wasn’t time that concerned Ms. Baynes. Apparently, Netania was emotionally connected to her plants, and discovering this new relationship could take a toll on her and her flowers. I couldn’t imagine how important the flower show was to the members or to Netania. Certainly it wasn’t my intention to sabotage her moment. “When she’s stressed, sad or angry, her plants show…the plants die. All of them.”
“What about after the show, then?”
“Not sure, June. All these trees around the House have been planted by her, they are hers. Surely we wouldn’t want a plant-less house.”
Am I then never to speak to her about my doubts, the possibility that she is my aunt? A feeling of panic visited me, having given Ms. Baynes the drawing left no evidence supporting the truthfulness of my words. It had been a mistake to return the drawing to her without confirming my relationship to Netania. Now there was no proof.
“In my opinion, clearly, you must talk to her. However, I ask you to get to know her first, bond, form a base for this future relationship, if nothing else.”
“How?” Not telling her right away paved the way for deceit. Ms. Baynes knew Netania, though; she knew what would be best, and I trusted her. There was no reason not to do so, not at the moment. From her pocket, the Housekeeper pulled out a box, about six inches all around. It was adorned with deep-blue, crystal stones. A thin, gold metal held the stones in place.
“Here,” she placed the box in my hands. “This precious thing has been waiting in my pocket for a long time. Inside there is a seed and a liquid. You must plant the seed in line, next to the trees over by the west side of the House.”
“Why?” The request was odd and slightly insensitive. How could she send me out to plant a seed when my family was crumbling down? “How will that help? Are you sure Netania will appreciate planting on her garden?”
“Immensely! That is the last Member Seed, and must be planted. She’s been waiting to do it for a long time, but the flower show has taken so much of her time. I told her I would keep it until the time was right. Netania will be so thankful.”
“The last seed?”
“These seeds are important to the members and are part of the history of the House. They were left by Dez and must be planted because they complete his House.”
“Then, of course. I want to be useful to the House.” How hard could it be?
Taking a sigh of relief, Ms. Baynes closed her eyes and smiled. “The seed must be planted at night, with the full moon’s light. If the seed is exposed to any other light source, such as the sun, it will be destroyed. Everything needed is in the box—oh and you must come alone.”
While listening to Ms. Baynes’ instructions, it became clear that I had taken on a full task, now there was no going back. “When must it be planted?”
“As soon as possible but not until there’s a full moon…hmm, tonight might be the perfect night. Make sure and do it.” Ms. Baynes was convinced that helping Netania garden would ease the shock. I exited the House through the kitchen. Gilcome was still there, so was Chef Zorga; he had finally decided to show up and was jotting down ingredients for the messenger to buy. He kindly greeted me, before saying that I was always welcomed in his kitchen, with one condition; no touching…of anything.
***
Ms. Baynes had been right. Confirmed by the town’s meteorology website, the night was going to be clear and lit by a bright, full moon. The suddenness of the act left little time for questioning. Yes, planting at night might have seemed a bit bizarre, but the seed was special and I liked to think that special things should not be normal. Everything needed was in the box, nothing more; no water, no tools.
The night fell silently, my aunt and Leev left to their bedrooms and I retreated to the House for my first ever gardening lesson. Crystals on the box reflected the moonlight, creating a visible path across the House’s gardens. The straight line of trees assured me I had reached the West Garden. At first it was difficult to read the paper inside of the box, but soon, the words almost appeared to glow in the dark. Somehow the significance of the directions dazed me. The letters danced around in my head and transformed into a sort of hieroglyph. I was able to murmur them under my breath, having never seen them before. As the words were uttered I felt like my voice had transcended me. It grew powerful, while my body fell small, but before I could feel weak, it soaked me with its strength, filling an unknown void that had been widening for years. Fear, then, manifested itself. Someone was watching from inside the House, spying. The glow of the candlelight was visible from behind the sixth tree in line, where I stood, meters away from the House. My hands wobbled causing the box to fall and break open. The crashing sound pierced my ears. Impossible to see where it had landed, I tried to feel for it with my hands. Soon, I encountered the pointy rock where the box had landed and shattered on impact. The effort was lost. Finally, my good sense stroke. It was the middle of the night and darkness hugged me intensely. How could she have asked me to do this? Why had I agreed?
***
“June! Have you gotten any calls yet?” Aunt Marcelle yelled from the top of the stairs.
“No,” I replied, feeling the pounding effects of a sleepless night. “You never gave him my number, remember? He was only to contact you.”
“—yes, mom, just have your phone handy. He’ll call soon enough.” Leev smirked while rolling her eyes. “Think this guy is going to give us good news?” She asked me.
“Not a chance, so don't encourage her.” All efforts in communicating with Fexorrous and reaching my parents had failed. Aunt Marcelle had hired an investigator said to be able to find anyone in need of finding. I had doused all hopes of finding my parents, after all, they had been gone for years. If they couldn't have been found then, who would be able to find them now? Aunt Marcelle was set on the idea of trying, partly because she was coated in guilt from the past. She was desperate, but not desperate enough to give up. She could have contacted other family members but decided against it as a precaution, and she wouldn’t get Granny involved, not this time, not yet.
“Girls,” Aunt Marcelle came down, “we better get out, breathe pure air and relax. Whatever happens now, the worst, I think, is behind us.”
“Perfect, couldn’t agree more.” Leev approved. “You’ll see, all this matter will get resolved. If it doesn't we still have each other. We'll always have each other.”
“Great, how ‘bout we go to the Flower Show?” Aunt Marcelle proposed.
“Flower Show?” Soon, it seem
ed too soon. After the planting incident, it had been hard to visit the House, how could I face them? The day after, I had developed a strange rash on my left hand. At first I thought it might have been a reaction to a poisonous plant or maybe a scratch. With the hours, the rash began to eat through my skin, leaving it raw and open. Afraid, I bandaged my own hand and did my best to keep it under a towel, or cloth at all times, so that Leev or Aunt Marcelle wouldn’t have to worry about it. Every night, I undid the bandage, wishing for the wound to heal on its own, but the rotten tissue continued to spread. I had no idea what to do. The box had been the destroyed, the seed had been lost and no one was to blame but me. For Netania’s sake I had agreed to keep quiet about the photo, at least until the Flower Show ended. But the secret and the not knowing ate at me. Was she or wasn’t she? If she was, why had she hidden so vigorously from us?
“June, won’t Mr. Kostas need you there?” Aunt Marcelle asked.
“Yes. I have a morning shift.”
“Not sure why it’ll be celebrated there this year, instead of the central square, but anyways, the Park is a great location. This is my favorite town event! I promise it’ll be fun, girls.”
“We’ve already agreed mom, you don’t have to convince us.”
The show was early in the afternoon. I arrived before my aunt and cousin to help Kostas arrange the stands. Before my shift, I removed the bandage to let the wound breathe and also to draw less attention, since I didn’t have anything to hide my hand under. The Park had flourished with the flowers and the embellishments, but the people made it glow. In the middle of the summer this refreshing ambiance tasted like springtime. Multiple exhibits adorned the paths, each labeled with the artist’s name. Netania’s was magical. I knew little of flowers, but her arrangements and intricate weaving of bright leaves and loose petals astonished me. Her place wasn’t crowded like the others and spectators didn’t turn their heads towards it, but I couldn’t stop looking. Her exhibit was a calling to eyes. Of course, it was a disappointment not to see her stand by her work, then again, it wasn’t a surprise; the members never left the House.
“June,” Kostas reached me just before the coronation and buying started. “Someone left this for you earlier.” He handed me a small envelope.
“Did you see who left it?” Whoever wanted to reach me could have done so at my house. Why would anyone leave an envelope for me at the Park?
“Never seen him before. Honestly, with all the flowers and distractions I couldn't catch his face. There was a pesky attitude about him. He wouldn’t leave until I promised to hand this to you, so whatever is in there must be important. Better deal with it right away.”
Kostas left me alone to read the message. It was from Ms. Baynes, I couldn’t remember telling her where to reach me, but how else would she have known? The paper read that something had happened at the House which required my presence. “What’s that?” Leev had caught up with me and was now looking over my shoulder.
“Something’s come up at the House.”
“No, the gash on your hand.” She moved forward to take a closer peek. “Looks like a decent sized cut, how did you get it?”
“Not sure, probably in the morning.” I moved the hand out of sight so that she couldn’t see the extent of it. “With all those gardening tools around, who knows?—would you tell Aunt Marcelle not to wait for me. The House needs me.” Leev shouldn’t have to worry about me anymore, she had enough to concern herself with; we all did. Having gone to the House at night, by myself, without anyone’s knowledge and losing the seed, felt like the beginning of doomsday. In hindsight, accepting Ms. Baynes’ invitation to plant the seed felt illicit and regretful.
Leev took the paper from me but handed it back quickly, “Of course” Leev sneered. “And you know because they sent you a telegram, how cute– On a serious note now, it would make my mother the happiest person if this ordeal came to an end already. Those investigators she’s been hiring are only taking her money. There’s no hope of finding your mother.” She paused. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.”
“Don’t worry.” I placed a hand on her shoulder trying to comfort her, feeling pleased that the letter took her mind off my hand. “If it weren’t for Netania I would feel hopeless too. Maybe she could answer some of our questions connecting her to my mother. She has to know something.” Netania was our last hope. But it was foolish to indulge our thoughts. We couldn’t be sure Netania had ever been in my mother’s life. Maybe she didn’t even know she had a sister, or what had become of her. The odds of her knowing anything about my mother’s disappearance were small but not small enough to ignore.
Walking back to the House, I remembered what my life was before it. If only time could be reversed, I would have never taken interest in that House. Not knowing can be the best gift given and it was now that I appreciated all Aunt Marcelle had done for us. But thinking of impossible things wouldn’t help and even if time could be turned, my interest in the House would be inevitable, as I would soon learn.
***
Mr. Zorga opened the side door and signaled for Gilcome to come out. “Look who it is! Our newest member. –June, we greatly appreciate what you are doing. Thank you, kiddo.” Zorga patted my back. Gilcome warmly smiled, staying behind the Chef.
“Well, catch you later. Jacknell promised to carve out more shelves for the pantry.” After Mr. Zorga had gone, Gilcome looked my way, slightly pulling his lips upwards.
“What?” I silently asked. Something wasn’t right.
Gilcome’s eyes narrowed and his gaze engaged me. “What do you mean ‘what’?” Don’t act so humble.” He opened the oven door and took out a tray of cherry tarts. “—Here.” Quickly, Gilcome placed one of the golden, cherry tarts on a dish and slid it over the counter separating us. “Tell me if you like it. This is my second batch. I’m trying to convince Zorga to sell them on his bakery shop.”
“I’m impressed. Zorga asked for a second batch?” The tart felt warm against my unwounded hand.
“Eh, I burnt the first one, doubt he would let me sell those. I’m not a baker, June, nor do I plan on being one, but everyone has to start somewhere. Zorga might be harsh and conceited but he is a food 'genius', as he calls himself, and he is giving me my start.”
“Uff, now you’ve got me nervous, sure this is safe to eat?” I held back a giggle.
Gilcome raised an eyebrow, his face hardened. “Are you implying something?” He walked around the counter. “Am I that bad?” A smile finally broke through.
“Just a joke. See,” The bite dissolved in my mouth.
“I would hate for you to be my first casualty.” Gilcome leaned forward, closer to me. The cherry scent in his hair drowned my senses in sweetness. He reached for the oven tray and grabbed another pastry. Once he had swallowed his first bite he asked, “What happened to your hand, experimenting in the kitchen?” Before I could reply, Gilcome had taken my hand into his. “June, this looks infected,” He was right, it didn’t look so well and the strength of his hand surrounding the wound created a piercing burn, spreading deeper and deeper to the bone. I winced with pain, not wanting to pull my hand away from his, out of curtsey.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to—don’t move. I’ll fix this.” Gilcome came back from the pantry with a flask. “This won’t hurt one bit, maybe a quick sting but—”
“No.” This time, without shame, my hand slid away from him in a frenzy. I would not subject my body to any more pain. If a single drop of water created a disturbance of electrifying pain receptors all through my body, what would this drop feel like? To him, it could be just a sting, but to my hand it would feel like the stab of a dull dagger through the middle of my hand, breaking through bones and tissue. It would feel like a drop of acid, slowly corroding and eating through me. “No, please.” I shielded myself from him, not wanting to look forward.
Gilcome bent his head sideways taking in my reaction. He pulled a stool next to me, with the intention of not giving up
. “June.”
“No. It’ll hurt.” I finally admitted. It had been almost a week since the wound first appeared. I don’t know why I had denied its existence, perhaps maybe I had been embarrassed. The wound had decided not to go away unacknowledged. The more I ignored it, the angrier it became. Now, it oozed out of control, spilling its pain, out and beneath; creating the fear of losing my hand.
“June. Please, let me heal you.” Gilcome understood the gravity of the wound, he had been the only one to take a close look at it. He grasped my hand once again and said. “Trust me.” Gilcome continued to blend the liquid with a water solution while his request bounced around in my head. Trust him, based on what? We didn’t know each other, not really. He shouldn’t have asked to begin with. He had no right to do so. However, I did; I trusted him and everyone in this House, or at least, I felt like I had to, although I didn’t want to. Sitting there, all my will had been snatched by the House. Finally, Gilcome placed a few drops on the wound. A refreshing sting spread along the broken tissue, forming a cool layer over it. He looked into my eyes to make sure I was alright. “See,” he whispered. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt. I would never want that.” With care, Gilcome placed my hand back on my lap and he stood to put the flask away.
“Thank you.” Once again I found myself speechless in front of him, taking in the meaning of his actions and what they said about his character. While worried about not looking stupid in the eyes of a boy I had met a few weeks ago, Gilcome had tenderly cared for a wounded hand, though I refused at first. The stubborn words made no difference to him, because he knew I couldn’t resist wishes from anyone in the House because it held control over me, somehow.
“It was my pleasure to help. What's that look for?”
“What look?” Had I been staring again? No, I hadn't. After my last visit I had made sure not to.
