“Zell, are you listening to me?” Cailey asked loudly, and Zell turned her gaze to meet those blue-gray eyes that commanded her attention. “I was asking you what you meant when you said that a garden is like a neighborhood?”
She smiled and went into teacher mode. She’d taught Sunday school for years, substituted at her kids’ schools. She had it in her. “OK so we’re all pretty much living in our own houses, right? Doing our own thing?”
Cailey nodded.
“But sometimes we need the people around us.” She almost said, “Like you needed me,” but decided it was best not to say that. “Like sometimes Mr. Lance needs me to watch Lilah and Alec so he can get some work done, and I help him out.” Cailey nodded again. “Well, plants can help one another out, and a good gardener knows which plants make the best neighbors—and which ones don’t.”
“Like neighbors who deal drugs or steal cars?” Cailey asked. Sometimes Zell had to work hard not to let the shock show on her face when the child revealed the parts of the world she’d been exposed to.
Zell tried to steer the conversation back to a more positive light. “Well, like some plants take more than their share of water or sun, or they grow too fast and hurt the roots of other plants. Some give off toxins that can kill other plants.”
“They’re the bad guys,” Cailey said.
“Yes, some plants are bad guys. But some are good guys—they add nutrients to the soil or attract insects that are good, or repel insects that are bad. So when I’m planting my garden, I look for plants that work together well—that are good for one another, that help one another out.”
Cailey pointed at the garden. “So that’s why you put beans near corn.”
“Right. The beans add nutrients to the soil so the corn can grow better. And the corn provides a stalk for the beans to climb.”
She looked around the garden. “And the marigolds are near the beans because they keep beetles away,” she added, recalling information Zell had shared days ago.
Zell held up her hand for a high five, something she’d learned from her kids. “You got it.”
“Plus,” Cailey continued, “marigolds are just pretty, I think.”
Zell nodded. “I do, too.”
Cailey wandered away, and Zell tugged at a few more weeds she’d spotted during their impromptu gardening lesson. Satisfied for the day, she pulled off her mud-caked gloves and called over to Cailey, who was over on the deck studying a piece of paper they’d printed off the computer. The paper detailed the steps needed to have your yard declared a wildlife habitat. “OK, where’s that hummingbird feeder we bought? We could hang it right over here.”
“I think we need to build a pond!” Cailey hollered back, looking up from her paper. “Says here that ponds are good for frogs and also provide water for animals and insects. D’ya think Mr. John would dig us a hole?”
Zell frowned at the girl, feeling another trickle of sweat snake its way down her chest and into her bra, which was already soaking wet. She didn’t say what she was thinking, which was that standing water also attracts mosquitoes.
“I think we need to complete step one before we move to step four,” Zell responded. “You’re getting ahead of yourself again. What’s our motto?” She huffed her way across the yard to get closer to Cailey.
Cailey rolled her eyes, already approximating a teenager just a little too closely. “One step at a time,” she moaned.
Zell smiled. “Well, now, taskmaster, do I have your permission to go inside and fix us some lemonade?”
Cailey grinned and nodded. “That sounds good.”
“OK, you wanna come in, too? Get out of this heat?” The July sun was particularly brutal, a blinding white orb relentlessly shining above their heads. Truth was, summer wasn’t the best time to undertake such a project—spring or fall would’ve been much better. Zell had tried to convince Cailey that they didn’t have to make the wildlife habitat in a rush, but she could tell the girl knew she didn’t have long before she went home and didn’t want her efforts to be lost again.
In her frequent check-in calls and stop-in visits, Cailey’s mother had offered for her to come back home, but Zell had always replied, “Well, she’s no trouble at all. You just let her stay, and it’ll be one less thing for you to worry about.”
John thought the whole habitat idea was plumb crazy, and he’d told her so in private, but she just told him to mind his own business. “I don’t tell you that chasing a little white ball all over God’s creation is crazy,” she’d scolded. He’d given her that look that told her there was more he wanted to say, but thirty-five years of marriage had taught him it was best not to. He’d kissed her instead and strolled out of the house, his golf shoes clacking across the hardwoods. She’d told him a hundred times not to put those damn things on in the house.
Zell mixed the sugar and water to heat on the stove, then got out the juicer to juice some lemons. Cailey had never seen lemonade made this way—she’d had only the powdered kind—and now she begged her to make it. The girl had put on some weight since she’d gotten to her house. Zell supposed that was a good thing even if that simple syrup was wreaking havoc on her own waistline. But she couldn’t resist at least a small glass if she went to the effort of making the stuff. She’d been cooking up a storm for Cailey in the weeks she’d been there, reveling in the girl’s delight at what she prepared. It was nice to cook for someone who appreciated it.
She fished her cell phone out of her purse just to check and make sure none of the kids had called or John hadn’t had a heart attack on the golf course (a real fear she’d had ever since that very thing happened to Lars Petersen several years back). She saw that she had indeed missed a call, but it was from Lisa. She peeked outside to make sure Cailey wasn’t coming inside, Zell’s heart thrumming in her chest as it did any time Lisa called. Zell always feared bad news about Cutter. How in the world would she break that kind of news to this child she’d grown so fond of?
Cailey had ventured into the front yard and, from the looks of things, was trying to find a good spot for the pond that John would probably never consent to (though Cailey had charmed him no matter how much he said otherwise). Her heart in her throat, Zell clicked on the number and listened as it began ringing. Lisa answered on the third ring, her voice husky and gravelly, typical of smokers, though Cailey said her mother had quit. She guessed that she’d probably gone back to it due to the stress.
“Lisa?” she asked. “It’s Zell Boyette.” She almost explained who she was but stopped herself.
“Oh, Zell! I tried calling you earlier!” Lisa chirruped, her voice rising higher than Zell had heard it before. She got the feeling there was good news.
“I saw that. Cailey and I were outside working on that wildlife habitat she was telling you about. Boy, when that girl gets a bee in her bonnet—”
“Cutter’s awake!” Lisa interrupted. “He’s awake! He’s got a long road ahead of him, but they expect him to make a full recovery.”
“Well, that’s just . . . just wonderful,” Zell replied.
“Can you bring Cailey up here? Today?” Lisa asked. Zell didn’t know her heart could lift and fall at the same time. This was the best possible news, and yet, Cailey would be leaving. Even as she was gushing to Lisa about how happy she was that Cutter was going to be OK, she was thinking about finishing that habitat. She’d just make sure she could have Cailey over to visit as much as it took until school started back. She would make sure the girl got to see the sign declaring it an official habitat planted proudly in the yard.
“I can definitely do that. She’ll be thrilled.”
“Cutter’s been asking for her. He doesn’t remember anything from that day, so please just warn her we’d like to avoid talking about it. Don’t want him getting upset.”
“She just wants to see him. She’s been so worried.” Zell took a deep breath. “I think she feels guilty, at fault somehow.”