The Country Life 5

In the deepest part of the dark, well past midnight but nowhere near dawn, Lianna worked in her night garden. The moon, wan but bright, hung just above the black treetops. Even the crickets and treefrogs had stopped their singing for the night, and the world was still.

The “night garden” was full of night-blooming beauties from around the world, tropical wonders in deep red, purple and black hues, and brilliant white blossoms that caught the moon’s light. At its center was a great glass-and-ironwork greenhouse dripping with tropical blooms. On either side of the door, moonflowers climbed wooden and iron trellises. Along the front walk, low and strong iron lattices held morning glories bordered with poppies - both would begin to bloom as the sun touched the treetops and the night garden faded.

Tonight, with the sides of the glass greenhouse thrown wide to let in the lush evening air, she worked a low raised bed resting against the north wall. The soil was prepared, rich and deep and layered, a lover waiting to receive her beloved. The seeds Lianna had so gently sprouted, cajoling with plant food and mineral-steeped water from seedling to youngling, she now planted deep into the bed prepared for them.

She sank her fingers deep into the dirt, enjoying the feel of the earth against her skin. The tropical “black bats” she was planting were some of her favorites, huge deep purple and black blossoms against brilliant green foliage. She imagined the adult plants rising, vibrant and petulant, from the bed and placed the young sprouts accordingly. They’re divas, she thought with some amusement, but they’re worth the care they need.

Standing back to admire her work, she looked around the little glass greenhouse with a deep sense of satisfaction. Hellebore and Sapphire Tower bromeliad already bloomed against the back wall, the heads of great flowers nodding in the night breeze.

She tipped her head thoughtfully, then reaching down she threw her weight behind each of the big Sapphire Tower pots. Rearranging them before the big wall of Hellebore, she stood back to take in the effect. There, she thought, much safer for Micah – and any other neighbors that find their way here. Hellebore could be toxic, and the cactus-like spikes on the Sapphire Tower succulent were a great deterrent. Visually stunning and big enough that it was unlikely anyone would touch them... also big enough to pull out easily if someone got too bold, with no poisonous aftermath. A lesson learned, and no lasting harm done.

She hummed as she worked, an old tune with roots in the Blue Ridge Mountains centuries before, and a small smile made her lips beautiful.

Micah watched from behind a broad old oak as she worked in the moonlight, brightened by the candle she kept lit on the glass table at the center of the greenhouse. As he settled into a crouch she finished rearranging and sat, resting in an iron armchair beside the glass-topped table. The brickwork beneath her feet was a deep blood-red and stark white, a little bit ominous to his small self in the depth of the night. She was bright and dark, and so was the world around her. It was beautiful and strange, and he shivered a little.

“Micah,” she called to him, “come in and sit.” She poured water from a pitcher on the table for both of them, slapping the dirt from her hands against her leather apron.

Sheepish, he stepped from his hiding place and walked the path to the greenhouse. White blossoms and the fragrance of gardenia surrounded him as he took the final few steps to the door and peeked in.

“It’s ok,” she said kindly, “come and join me.” She gestured to a chair across the small table from her. He came and sat, obedient.

“I’m glad you’re here. I was ready for some company. My work is done for the night. But you’re usually sleeping hard right about now, my dear. What’s on your mind?”

He knew she could see the bruises on his face and the bandages around his head. He knew she’d probably found the letter that Miss Anna sent home, and he’d left on the table after he’d had his snack. Still, he was grateful that she let him start the conversation. And she didn’t ask him what he was thinking or tell him what he’d done wrong. She simply waited for him to say what he needed to. It all came out in a jumbled rush, but he did get it out.

“I got in so much trouble today at school and I really got hurt and it was so scary. I’m really sorry, Miss Lianna. They were saying bad things about you and I just got so mad I got stupid. I got hurt pretty bad and I had to go to the hospital and Miss Kathy stayed with me the whole time. I’m so worried that I’ve messed things up and I don’t want you to get in trouble to and… and… I’m just sorry!” He was in tears by the time he finished, and he wiped his face impatiently with his shirt – then winced at the pain in his nose. “I messed up, and I’m scared, and I can’t sleep because I hurt and…” the tears came harder and he stopped, hiding his face behind his hands. The gauze felt humid against his cheeks, sticky with tears.

“Thank you for telling me, Micah.” She said it gently, and reached over to pull his fingers from his face, one by one, making him smile weakly. She reached into an apron pocket and pulled out tissues, handing them to him. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me, and I’m so glad that Miss Anna was good to you. I’m going to send her a thank you note tomorrow, ok?” He smiled thinly.

“In the meantime, the thing I want you to remember the most is that you and I will figure things out together, whatever comes. I care about you, and you are never going to truly be alone while we have this funny life we’ve built together. I know there will be times that you won’t see me, but I will always take care of you. Ok?”

Micah nodded, and his smile was a little stronger now.

“Now, I do want to know that you understand this: You cannot be fighting in school. That is never ok, no matter what they say to you. I know that’s not fair. I know that means you can never be the one to throw the first punch, and that you may have to listen to some mean, unhappy kids say some mean, unhappy things. When they do, I need you to remember what we have here.

“Look around.”

He did, gulping down his water at the same time. A restful breeze caught against leaves and stems, and tropical plants waved delicately under the moon. The greenhouse was verdant, rich deep hues underlying the pop of white moonflowers that caught the moon’s light just as they were meant to. She made her world – their world – so beautiful. It was precious.

“Micah, I can’t keep you safe here if other people decide you’re better off somewhere else. If you’re having trouble at school, it’s easier for someone to decide you need a different person to look after you. I know that’s a lot of pressure, and I want you to know you’re not alone in it. And I know you can do it. You’re strong, and you’re smart, and you have a good heart.

“I want you to do this for me, ok? When you’re lonely or angry or scared or just plain sad, remember how things are right now.”

The wind picked up, sighing through the open greenhouse walls. Responding to some invisible sign of the encroaching dawn, crickets began to sing, first a few and then many. A bullfrog croaked on the pond. The world slowly came to life around them, songs against the deepest dark. In the flickering candlelight, he could see some of the night flowers beginning to close, and a few morning glories opening along the path to the taste of morning dew. He sat silently with her for a long time.

“I understand,” he said finally, letting go of his water glass and reaching for her hand. They sat together until the light touched the treetops. When the rooster crowed, she shooed him inside to get breakfast while she put her tools away.