“You’re right. I didn’t forget. Isn’t that something?” Adele shakes her head in amazement. “Thank you for bringing these beautiful flowers back to life, Lucy. And for the memory.”
I smile. “I’m so glad you came out for a visit.” Really, I can barely contain how happy I am. Stunned, too.
“I came to the garden, but I traveled a lot farther than that, didn’t I?” Adele says, giving me a wink. She turns to Mario. “If I’m going mad, please just let me go—it turns out to be quite fun.”
“Okay,” he says, laughing.
“I think I’ll walk a little more,” Adele says. “I’d like to take it all in.”
“You’d like to… walk?” Mario asks, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Adele tilts her chin, letting the sun wash over her small, lined face. “I would.”
Mario catches my eye and grins. “Well, let’s get going.”
“Will we see you tomorrow, Lucy?” Adele asks as they turn to leave.
I’m caught off guard by the hope, and the friendship, in her voice. “Yes,” I assure her after a moment. “I’ll be here.”
“What was allthatnonsense?”
I startle at the low, barbed voice and turn to see that Mr. Fitz is seated on a bench that is tucked against the wall. Gully ambles right up to him before I can stop him.
“Mr. Fitz,” I stammer. “How long have you been there? I didn’t notice you come down.”
Fitz eyes Gully, who is now seated patiently in front of him. Their eyes are nearly in line. “Adele was too busy yammering,” Fitz says, still looking at Gully. “Looked like you found her wind-up key and gave it a good crank.”
I glance after Adele and Mario, but they’re nearing the northern wall and don’t seem to have noticed Fitz’s presence. Should he really have come out here alone? I wonder. I feel vaguely, uncharitably annoyed by his sudden presence—I’d have liked to have lingered a bit longer within the surprise and warmth of the moment I just experienced with Adele. After all these years, I connected someone with the scent of my flowers and it didn’t end in disaster. I still can’t quite believe it.
Nonetheless, Fitz shows no signs of leaving me in peace. As I sigh and walk toward him, his scent, the acrid one that twists as darkly as a guilty conscience, prickles my nostrils.
“Does anyone know you’re out here?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He puts his hand on Gully’s head and closes his eyes. Despite the mean line of his lips and the hardened quality of his face, his body seems slight, fragile. After a few moments of silence, his eyes flick open and he asks me accusingly, “Who is this?”
I sigh. “This is my dog, Gully.”
Fitz purses his lips into a sneer. “That’s his name? Really?Gully?”
I cross my arms. “He was the biggest dog by far at the shelter. He looked like Gulliver on the island of Lilliput.”
Fitz considers this for a moment. “Good dog, bad name. It’s not your fault,” he tells Gully, scratching behind his ears. Gully half closes his eyes against the sun and leans into Fitz’s knee.
My irritation melts slightly. I hadn’t pegged Fitz as a dog person. First Jill, now Fitz. People are full of surprises.
“You’re good with him,” I say, somewhat reluctantly.
Fitz ignores me, looking around instead. He waves his hand in front of him. “Honestly, what’s the point of all of this?” he asks, scowling.
I hesitate, confused. “The point… of the garden?”
“Theeffort,” he says, not bothering to hide his impatience. “All of this effort for a bunch of plants. It’s extravagant. It’s silly.”
I frown. It takes me a moment to come up with my reply. “I’m sorry you don’t appreciate flowers,” I say eventually. “I’d be lost without them.”
I walk away then and resume my work in the flower bed.
Every so often, I steal a glance at Fitz, who carries on innocently petting Gully and looking for all the world like a sweet old man who would never wander outside just to start a fight with agardener. Jill’s words about how difficult it is to get old echo through my mind. I wonder if Fitz has any family, or if anyone ever visits him. He seems so resolutely solitary.
