Community Gardens (Community Garden Series Book 1) (7 page)

“Well,
let's give him the chance to do better and you can concentrate on
batting practice until we find you something else, like marine
biology.”

Zack
grinned and then chatted on about the marine biologists while she
misted the hanging baskets of flowers. He hoped to see stingrays and
turtles and if he got lucky, maybe he'd spot a dolphin. Of course
with mullets jumping, he'd stay at the back of the group. Just one of
those floppy, slimy fish was enough to flip the kayak. As he talked
about the animals he hoped to see, the color in his cheeks returned
to normal. He continued to prattle until Willie strolled up to his
legs and purred.

“How
did he get in?” Joan threw a squinted look at Willie. He
ignored her.

“He
must have accidentally come in when I got home.” Zack too,
ignored her peeved look and said, “it's getting late, I better
feed him.”

Without
a word, she watched as they headed toward the kitchen. Willie
twitched his tail as if he'd won a battle while Zack cooed and
stroked his back. Willie had become more of a house cat than she
wanted. On the other hand, she hadn't seen a mouse since he moved
indoors which was a major accomplishment for one cat. After they
disappeared into the kitchen, she sighed, turned back to the rows of
flowers, and continued to mist the trays. They needed Willie whether
she liked it or not.

Later
that evening, Joan rested her feet on white pillows and rubbed them
with almond oil. She remembered her mother telling her,
keep your
feet strong, and your garden will grow long
. It was a simple
rhyme, silly really, but one she gratefully remembered and used. A
small cut or step on the wrong animal could be disaster for any
gardener. Ever since her mother told her the rhyme, she'd been
careful to wear good shoes and watch her step. The advice had worked
for the last thirty-five years. When she finished, she laid her head
back and fell asleep before the rain began to pour.

* * *

In
the morning, Joan arranged the framed pictures of Holden's new entry.
Three square ten-by-tens hung on the wall behind the register so
customers could clearly see her work. It was a subtle, but effective
marketing tool she hoped would encourage new landscape and
maintenance contracts. To view the pictures from a different angle,
she stepped into the foyer. From there, the pictures looked even more
intriguing. The black frames captured the eye and made the pictures
vivid and rich with life.

She
heard someone clomp up the porch. It was Roz. She opened the door and
held it until Roz swept across the foyer. As hoped, Roz stopped and
gazed at the pictures then whistled. “They're gorgeous. You
must have worked all morning to hang these. They'll bring in some
business.”

“Let's
hope so. Blaine loved the design so much he said he wanted 'my
architect' to redesign the interior of his store.”

“Your
architect? That would be me I suppose. Let's tell him we could jazz
it up a bit, but let's not change the feel of the place. Some people
consider the place almost sacred like a historical landmark.”

Joan
shut the door against a hummingbird zipping around a feeder while Roz
dropped her gear behind the register.

“Those
urns are so old. I think they came from a French pirate ship.”

“Exactly,
some things just aren't replaceable, nor should they be.”

“I
think he just wants us to visit him more often so he can hear good
stories, of course. And I told him a good tale yesterday. You know,
he's not concerned about our project getting started. He said that in
due time something good will come out of all our work.”

Roz
grimaced. “I hope so, but this morning I drove by the library.
You should have seen it. It's a nasty weed garden after last night's
rain. That is nature's revenge, you know.” Roz chuckled. “It
could have looked fabulous if they'd let us in there. Oh well, guess
I should be grateful those thorny rosebushes are in bloom. They smell
grand.”

Joan
smiled while she straightened the rack of Lindsey's garden calendars.
“I say we let the idea rest for a while. Anyway, aren't you
scheduled to redo the French Bakery?”

“I
start next week. Been there several times and have the plans in
place.”

“Will
you use a soft coastal or heavy ornate design?”

“I'm
going to leave it soft. Their cakes and pastries are ornate enough
for the entire place.”

At
the sound of chimes, Joan dipped into her apron pocket, pulled out
her cell phone and answered the call. She listened quietly for
several minutes, said thank you, and hung up.

“That
was George Peterman,” she said in a steady voice.

“Well
goody for him, he can use a phone,” Roz smirked.

“He
said the planning committee is holding a special meeting next week.”

“Big
deal.”

“And
even though Sara can't make it, he assures me the planners can make
decisions in her absence.”

“So
what's that got to do with us?”

“He
asked if we would be willing to meet again and give them our full
presentation.”

Roz
dragged her fingers through her hair, but a few strands remained out
of place.“God, not again.”

“He
sincerely apologized.”

“Well,
we did leave the stuff in the trunk of my car.”

“And
he said a few members are aware of our plans and want to push this
forward. I think we should consider it even though I would almost
rather start the box gardens here like Zack suggested. I guess I
don't care what they do. We can move ahead no matter what.”

“I'm
thinking the same too. It just doesn't matter. This will work. Funny,
now that it's not so important to us, we'll probably get them
approved”

“I
believe so and I'm glad we waited before calling people. So we're
game?”

“Deal.”
Roz lifted her mug, clinked it against Joan's then gazed at the
sky.“Just look at that blue sky with only a few white clouds.”

Sunday rose
to skies clear and blue. The Mississippi Sound was as smooth as a
reflection mirror. Joan had promised Zack a trip to the Air Force
base where his father had been stationed. Fortunately, the morning
was quiet with little traffic. Along the way they saw a fisherman
casting nets, a lone grey crane standing in a clump of tall grass and
a group of pelicans gathered on a pier. The morning was calm and a
perfect day for some reminiscing.

Near the base, they stopped and lingered at the beach. It stretched
for miles and curved gently, like the edge of a fine crystal vase.
Ripples lapped against the shore. Zack waded at the water's edge
hunting for shells. Across the sound, the barrier islands were in
clear view. The view was so broad and deep it was as if they could
see the earth's curve. It was easy to imagine his father flying
across the sound through unlimited space and sky. This was the place
where his father had earned his wings.

On the way back, they stopped at Bridge Park where his father had
proposed. Zack hopped out of the car and skipped the length of the
pier. Midway down the pier, he squatted and looked through a crack to
search for fish in the murky waters.

“
Look
Mom, crab.”

Joan bowed to look, but recoiled at a whiff of dead fish. “Whew,
did you smell that?”

“
Yeah,”
he continued to stare through the crack, undisturbed.

“
It
didn't bother you?”

“
Sure,
but it goes away fast.”

Joan felt the slight breeze. The stench had passed quickly, like a
speck of dust caught in the wind. Had she held her breath for a
second, she wouldn't have noticed.

“
I'd
like to give you something.” She pulled a small clutch from her
purse and handed it to him.

“
It
looks worn out.”

“
It
is. I've been hanging on to it for awhile. I meant to give it to you
sooner.”

He opened the clutch and looked at the aviator wings.

“
Wow,
Dad's wings.”

“
I
think we should frame them instead of carrying 'em in my purse. We
can hang them near your collection of model airplanes.”

“
Awesome,
thanks mom,” he said as he set the wings back in the clutch.

“
You
ready for some kayaking now?”

“
Yeah!”
Zack carried his excitement all the way to the launch site.

At the shore, red, yellow and blue kayaks lined the beach in neat
rows, like soldiers preparing for drill. Along the beach, paddles and
personal flotation devices (PFDs) laid across the sand. A few
students adjusted their PFD straps making them fit snug. Others swung
and dipped their paddles through the air to practice stroke
technique. The smell of sunscreen, layered on thick and heavy,
competed with the ocean air. Compared to the morning's serene outing,
this group was as lively as a fourth of July picnic.

It'd been a long time since she had enjoyed the beach, the sand, the
views. Instead, she had devoted all her time to launching the store.
Since Chris had passed away, she worked on little else except
restoring the gardens, house and trails. Then came the legal grind
just to establish a business. Now, with the launch complete and the
business working, she felt entitled to a relaxtion day. The break
from goals, planning and mindless busy work was a subtle reminder
that even though a part of her life was gone, she could move forward
and still feel alive. Perhaps there could be life after death.

The thought of Cal suggesting this kayak trip made her smile. He had
been so confident that Zack would like the group. And getting Zack
interested in a new hobby before leaving baseball was smart, in her
opinion. “Always leave on a good note,” she thought. With
that in mind, she slipped on her wading shoes and headed to the
launch site. She watched Zack run toward Stephanie, Principal Stone's
daughter, as soon as he recognized her. She was the only person in
the group that either one of them knew, except for Cal. Then she
heard Cal. Her heart fluttered when she saw him standing with his arm
draped over Sara's shoulder.
Why
is she here
? Joan willed herself to stay calm. She would
not let Sara's presence ruin a good day. It didn't matter, she told
herself, whether Sara was Cal Reardon's girlfriend or partner. She,
Joan Louen, didn't need a partner. She could manage on her own.

As she approached, Cal dropped his arm from Sara's shoulder. Sara
squinted at Joan as if blinded by sun glare. Joan hid her irritation
behind the dark sunglasses she was wearing.
How could Sara not
show up at council meeting after promising to do so?
At the
moment, confronting Sara was not an option in front of Zack and his
friends. Instead, she would wait to demand an explanation and not
risk a scene.

“
You
made it and I see you already know Stephanie,” Cal said.

“
She's
been teaching me how to paddle,” Zack replied.

“
This
is good news. Stephanie's a great teacher.”

Stephanie smiled, glanced at Cal then looked at the group of students
putting on their PFDs. “Everyone is geared up and we should get
Zack geared up too.”

“
Indeed,
we'd better get moving.”

After they walked away, Joan pulled off her sunglasses and stared
into Sara's green eyes. “You missed the council meeting. How
does that happen?”

“
What's
got you so upset?”

“
Upset?
You promised both Roz and I you'd be there. You didn't even call us.”

“
Call
you? Why would I? What's wrong with you?” Sara tossed a loosely
tied braid over her shoulder.

“
You
said you loved our project. You said you loved our plans. You said
we'd get
c
ouncil's
approval. We did not. Not only that, we weren't even on the evening's
agenda nor were you there to back us up or follow through on your
words. How could you go back on your word?”

Sara stepped back. A hint of recognition crossed her face. “Don't
shout at me. Shout at Peterman. He's the one that told me your
project did not stand a chance. He removed you from the meeting and
he assured me it wasn't necessary for me to even go to the meeting.”

She debated whether to mentioned Peterman's call. It seemed as if
Sara was deliberately lying to her. Not wanting to provoke any
further lies, she stayed calm and did not mention the call. “You
may want to check your facts Sara.”

Before Sara could respond, Joan slipped her sunglasses on, turned her
back and walked away. This time, she did not look back. She headed
toward her beach gear sitting unused in the backseat of the car.
Today, she would sit on the beach, sip lemonade and read her favorite
author's new book.

After she set up her chair and umbrella in a clear section of sand,
she watched the kayak’s launch from shore. They looked like a
parade of colorful floats. After they paddled from view, she opened
her book and began to read, but dozed several pages later. The warm
breeze acted like an electric blanket. Only the occasional caw of a
crane and splash of a pelican kept her from falling into a deep
sleep. It wasn't until she heard the faint sound of laughter that her
eyes popped open to see the kayaks paddling toward shore. She glanced
at her cell phone. Just as Cal said, they'd been out for just over
two hours. She dusted the sand from her legs and switched her phone
to camera mode. Pictures were in order.

She clicked pictures while walking toward the launch site. Excited
chatter grew louder as the kayaks approached the shore. She honed in
on Zack, beaming with pride, and snapped her last picture as the
kayakers began to pull the kayaks to the sand.