Gully comes loudly trampling through the opening in the wall then, followed closely by Sophie, and Adam and I both turn toward them. Gully is panting in a way that makes him look like he’s grinning, and Sophie trulyissmiling, really smiling, her cheeks flushed. She heads right to me and hands me Gully’s leash. Despite her smile, there is still something fragile about her, and I have that feeling again that she is familiar in a way I cannot place.
“Seems like you had fun,” Adam says happily.
Sophie nods, her smile lingering. I give Gully a grateful scratch on his side.
As we all walk back through the opening together, stepping around the old gate that lies flat on the path, I notice a stocky man in his fifties making his way down the steps from the home toward us.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Vince,” he calls cheerfully, introducing himself as the home’s maintenance man.
I tell him that I’m glad to finally meet him. “You’re the hero who has been hauling all of the garden waste to the compost pile every evening.”
He gives a little laugh, reddening. “Hero? Nah. I’m happy to doit. Gives me an excuse to spend some time out here in the fresh air.” He looks down at the gate and emits a long whistle, then rubs the back of his neck and grins up at Adam. “Glad this job is off my plate and onto yours, I’m sorry to admit. Need a hand carrying it to your truck? If I can’t help you fix it, least I can I do is help you move it.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” Adam turns to me. “I’ll be back next week to pick up the next one. Sooner if I can find the time.”
“That’s great. Thanks.” When I manage to catch Sophie’s eye, I smile at her. “I hope you’ll come back with your dad. Gully could clearly use the exercise.”
We all look down at Gully. He’s stretched out on his side at the edge of the path now and can’t even be bothered to lift his head as he looks up at us through one big, dark, white-rimmed eye and thumps his giant tail against the ground. And then, to my surprise, Sophie laughs. It’s the sweetest, most joyful sound, and I suck in my breath, moved. I’m not sure I’ve ever loved Gully more.
Adam puts his arm around his daughter and hugs her tight to his side. “After we get this gate in the truck, we’ll go say hi to your great-grandmother,” he tells her.
We all say goodbye, and I pull on my gloves and climb back up the ladder into the lemon tree. A few minutes later, I catch sight of Vince and Adam walking slowly up the ramp to the terrace, the gate between them. Sophie trails a few steps behind. At the top of the ramp, I see her turn and scan the garden. When she spots me, she waves, and I reach out and shake a branch of the lemon tree so that it looks like the tree is waving back.
Chapter Ten
Tuberose: A flowering plant in the asparagus family with a tall stem of white blossoms whose heady, sensual scent evokes dangerous love
At night, even on good days, days like the one I’ve just had, my mind returns me to that afternoon with Jack, when we were eighteen and so in love.
I remember that as he walked toward me through my garden, it seemed to me that his face was that of a lost boy, but his eyes held the melancholy depth of someone much older.
Was there, I wondered, a scent among my flowers that might ease his mind?
Every memory that I had returned to had strengthened my sense of self, inspiring me to make decisions that changed my life for the better. Was there a flower that might do the same for Jack, steadying him?
In that moment, my mother’s voice swelled in my mind, warning me to be careful.Every action, I heard her say,has a consequence.I thought of how sparingly, how cautiously, she used her own gift.
But what harm could a memory possibly do?
The scent of tuberose flowers grew thick in the air, traveling toward me in a warm, silky wave. The scent encircled Jack, too, and I felt a thrill in my core as I understood that it was meant for him.
I pushed my mother’s warning from my thoughts.
“Jack,” I said, touching his arm. “These flowers are for you.”
Jack looked down at the small tuberose blossoms, white as pearls, and then back at me. The tenderness in his eyes made my heart ache. “Thank you,” he said softly, and wrapped his arms around me. “They’re beautiful.”
The scent of tuberose encircling us was sensual and intoxicating, a wash of gold in the air. When Jack kissed me, I forgot entirely where I was for a long moment, losing myself to the feeling of his lips on mine. But the scent crept back in, heady and insistent, whispering to me. My chest swelled with the belief, the certainty, that I had grown something with my own hands that would help Jack. I pulled away from him, smiling.
“You have to smell them,” I said. I bent down and breathed in the scent of the fragrant blossoms. “Like this.”
He tilted his head, laughing a little, but his brow furrowed when he realized I was serious. “Okay,” he said, reaching out to take hold of my hand. “Sure.” And then he leaned over and breathed in.
I watched as his face grew still, his gaze unseeing. For a moment, he was completely motionless, as though he was stuck somewhere far away. Then his hand dropped from mine, and I felt a sudden chill of foreboding.
As his expression regained focus, there were tears in his eyes. He blinked and the tears fell, one and then another.
I reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Jack—”
