No Strings

CHAPTER 11--BOY AND GIRL IN SUMMER

William fenced a section of the garden in the back and planted some other herbs. Pennyroyal, juniper and rue. He told me to stay away from these herbs. I stared at them wondering what so bad about touching them.

More roses and chocolate vines were planted. I thought he planted some bulbs too, but I wasn't sure what kind. There was a section made out for a small vegetable garden. He spent a lot of time digging in it, and putting down massive amounts of manure and peat moss. I watched him from the back window with a little amusement. He was sweating like a pig. He knew I had a black thumb. I saw sand go down in one area, and he put up another white trellis.

The soft lines of the English garden with a path formed. The drab grass lawn had more interest than before. There were now large brown patches that promised to be something when spring rolled around again.

The way he made the garden was in a very William way. It was planned, and deliberate, yet seems so organic in an odd way, as if it had always and always would be there. I knew his talent for restorations was high, but I never thought it could be applied to a garden before.

The garden was the perfect place to read. I chose Pride and Prejudice. I almost could see Mr. Darcy proposing to Elisabeth under the cherry tree. I spent the weekend reading on the bench trying to escape from my mounting paperwork.

***

I woke up to see his face staring down. He was smiling at me. He was in a business suit. He was raising his eyebrow. "I don't have the key to the house."

I sat up groggy. "Did you lose it?"

"Yes, I don't remember where I put it," he said.

I thought carefully and then handed him the key to the house. "You can't lose the key like that--there are valuable things inside."

"I didn't do it on purpose," he said, a little annoyed.

I rubbed my eyes. "Sorry, that may have come out wrong, but I still don't appreciate being snapped at. I'll help you find your key, but I think we should discuss a better system so we don't get locked out of the house."

I couldn't read the expression on his face. His expressions usually were transparent. He sat next to me. "Fine. What do you propose?"

"Maybe a lock box or something with a code tucked at a corner of the house?"

"Good idea," he said.

I thought carefully and said, "Hey, when you enter the house, maybe it's next to the phone? Didn't you answer the house phone this morning?"

"I'll check," he said.

He took my key and then returned it to me. "I found it. Sorry about that. And sorry for snapping at you."

I yawned. I still wanted the delusions of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice to take over every last brain cell. Even if I was determined to not fall in love, I couldn't help fantasizing a little. Books were safer than real life.

"Where was it?" I asked.

"In the kitchen next to the coffee pot," he said. "I swear I locked the front door, though."

He gave me back the key, smiling at me.

"I locked it after you left. I thought you left it open for me."

"Ah, I'm not used to living with someone like this. Thanks, Besty, for your patience."

"I think ten years as a receptionist helps me qualify for something."

He smiled at me a little longer than usual.

"I'm going to finish my book in the wonderful garden you built, if you don't mind. Carry on."

I fell asleep again. I woke up to find myself at the part where Elizabeth discovers that Mr. Darcy had been a good person all along and saved her younger sister's reputation. It was dark outside now. Reality was knocking on the door of William's Fairy Garden. But I already knew he was no Mr. Darcy.