The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 14

Julia

The florilegium became almost an obsession over the next week. The book was so thick and richly detailed, I had gotten through only a fraction of it. I pored over each page as though it contained an entire universe in those detailed pencil strokes. It wasn’t just a blueprint to the gardens, though. The book read almost like a diary from the time she was a girl until adulthood. I could feel Irene’s moods and personality in each drawing. She was precise and serious, but at times whimsical and irreverent. The gardens at Havenworth needed to reflect that.

That was the entire reason Margaret wanted the gardens restored. She wanted to reconnect with the sister she lost all those years ago.

The same sister who had gone on to do some terrible things. I understood why Andrew was so reticent to reach into the past. He was scared the memories would dredge up the old trauma and hurt the Clarke family had tried to bury all those years ago. But he was wrong. You couldn’t erase the people you love. Love didn’t stop because of hurt or pain or betrayal. It thickened like scar tissue around the heart, until the muscle was too stiff, too inflexible, to work properly again. Margaret had been forced to bury the memories of her sister for decades, but they were always there inside her. Just like Rebecca would always be with Sam and me, no matter how much I wished I could forget.

Sam hadn’t asked about her for a few days now, though. The newness of Havenworth had been a distraction, but that would last for only so long.

We had settled into a good routine this week. In the mornings, while I worked on the designs, Sam would play with his toy dinosaurs or color. In the afternoons, we explored outside. Each section of the gardens needed to be surveyed for slopes and angles, making sure the drainage was appropriate and the soil properly amended. Sam’s presence made the work slower, but infinitely less lonely. I was used to working with teams of people in this phase. I couldn’t bounce ideas off Sam the way I did with my coworkers at Hartwell & Sons, but he still nodded along and took interest when I talked aloud to myself.

The evenings were the hardest. Sam liked to visit Margaret when she was feeling up for a visit, and they had gotten into the habit of playing a mean game of jacks. But on the days when she needed rest, I had to settle him down with the tablet so that I could catch up on all the other things I needed to do—like paying my overdue credit card bills. I’d been putting that unpleasant task off for too long. I couldn’t risk another interest charge. Andrew was paying me in installments to cover the work, including the part that would go to my salary. I had put the entire initial payment into a separate business account. Paying off my debts was tempting, but I needed to ensure there was enough to cover the work itself. I settled on extracting just enough to cover the monthly amount due, knowing I was only dragging out my problems for another day.

Sam tugged on my sleeve as I sent the payment through. “Just a sec, buddy.”

He tugged again.

“Just wait,” I snapped, immediately regretting it when his bottom lip trembled. I winced in frustration. It wasn’t Sam’s fault I was in a financial mess. “I’m sorry. What did you want to show me?”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a set of jacks held tightly in his hand.

“Did you manage to pick them all up?”

Still only silence.

I glanced at my phone. “It’s almost time for bed. Why don’t we get your teeth brushed?”

The fact he didn’t protest made me feel even worse.

After brushing his teeth, I helped him change into his pajamas and settled him into bed. He didn’t want a book, so I made up a story about an adventurous boy named Sam who climbed the tallest tree in the world. His eyes fluttered closed just as I finished the part where Sam saves a stranded kitten on the tallest bough.

Rebecca had loved animals just like Sam did. Growing up, she had begged our parents for a kitten, but they never allowed it. They said she wasn’t ready for the responsibilities of owning a pet. They were probably right, but it devastated my sister nonetheless. I would’ve loved to give Sam a furry companion, but I couldn’t do that without some stability in our lives.

My emotions were too jumbled from memories of my sister to focus on bills now that he was asleep. I settled on the bed next to him and opened the florilegium to a random page. The image wasn’t what I was expecting. It was a drawing of a wilder, forested area. Giant yews, with their distinctive thick, gnarled trunks, rose up majestic as mountains, with lush ferns carpeting the ground around them. But tucked in the bottom right corner was something that made me blink. On first glance, it looked like Havenworth Manor, but that made no sense. The architecture was similar, but the building in this drawing was smaller and sunken into the earth.

It was a garden folly. They were common ornamental features in gardens like these throughout the eighteenth century. Wealthy estate owners built them as tributes to ideals of beauty from around the globe. They served as focal points in the gardens and often were meant as places to reflect or relax. It would only make sense for there to be one at Havenworth, but I hadn’t seen it anywhere on the grounds.

I paged through the rest of the florilegium but found no other references to it. But something else did make me pause. The last entry to the book was dated October 14, 1940. It was a bouquet of tall asphodel spires, elegant columbines, thick purple hyacinths, and a single white daisy. It took a moment for the logical side of my brain to catch up to what my instincts had already latched on to. Every flower Irene had drawn until this point was accurate to the season. They were a reflection of her surroundings. But none of these flowers would have been in bloom during the early autumn.

I flipped back through the last few pages. All the entries from September 8, 1940, onward seemed to be done out of memory with flowers that would have been out of season. Based on the locations she included in her sketches, she had been in London since August of that year. The drawings during that late-summer period were mainly of the gardens around Hyde Park and Buckingham Palace.

My curiosity was too strong for any chance of falling asleep. I searched through the book until I found her detailed entries for each of the flowers to decipher their meanings.

Asphodel: regret.

Columbine: foolishness.

Hyacinth: please forgive me.

A heaviness settled over my heart. She had chosen these flowers for a reason. Margaret had said she’d been spying for the Germans. Was this drawing a sign of her doubt and regret? Or was the drawing a way for her to cast those emotions aside?

It took me a while to find her entry for daisies near the beginning of the book. Irene had still been developing her artistic skills when she drew the narrow white petals and bulbous yellow center. The rendering lacked the sophistication of her later sketches, but it still embodied all the cheerfulness I associated with the flower.

Compared with the other flowers, the meaning Irene had assigned to the daisy was jarring.

Childhood innocence.

The combination made no sense, and for a moment I wondered whether I had gotten it wrong. Maybe it was just a random sketch. I set the florilegium on my nightstand and glanced at Sam before turning off the lamp. His hands twitched slightly against his chest, like he was having a nightmare.

I curled up next to him, brushing his soft curls. He was so sweet. So innocent.

A thought drifted into my mind just before sleep overtook me. Margaret couldn’t have been much older than Sam when Irene disappeared. Her name meant “daisy” in French.

That last sketch wasn’t just a drawing.

It was a message.

I woke with a start from the sound of an owl hooting outside the window. At first I thought it was part of my dream. Owls had been Rebecca’s favorite animal, and I’d dreamed about her nearly every night since her death. She was always angry in my dreams. Always questioning how I could’ve betrayed her the way I had.

I blinked my eyes open, trying to adjust to the dark. I slipped my feet out from the blanket and walked to the window to see if I could spot the bird, but the quarter moon offered too little light. The owl’s presence was a good sign, despite the commonly held belief they represented death. This was the first true sign of life in the gardens since I arrived at Havenworth.

An eerie feeling crept over me as I padded back to the bed. Something was wrong. I stilled for a moment before I realized it was the sound of Sam’s gentle breathing that was missing. He wasn’t in the bed.

“Sam?” My voice echoed in the empty room as I fumbled for the light switch.

The bedroom door was open.

A thousand fears erupted in my brain. He could have wandered anywhere. What if he’d gone outside? What if he was hurt?

I raced through the hall, searching for signs of him with my phone’s flashlight. I descended the stairs three at a time and wrenched on the front door. It was still locked, thank god. Sam had to be somewhere inside. But where? Havenworth was so big there were millions of places a five-year-old boy could hide.

A faint but familiar sound floated down the hall, overwhelming me with relief. Sam was down here somewhere. Giggling.

I chased the sound to the kitchen. Sam was at his usual spot at the table, with a rose-patterned china cup in front of him. Andrew sat across from him, wearing expensive-looking navy pajamas that made me suddenly very aware of my ratty, oversize I’d rather be gardening T-shirt and bare legs.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest and watched as Andrew leaned closer to Sam and said, “Do you know how to make a skeleton laugh?”

Sam shook his head.

“You tickle its funny bone.”

I watched in awe as Sam threw his head back as he let out another fit of giggles. He hadn’t laughed like that in so long, I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Andrew’s eyes met mine for the briefest moment, silently reassuring me everything was okay. “All right now. Best finish up and get back to bed before your aunt Julia realizes what’s in that cup.”

My legs still trembled with adrenaline as I walked into the room and sat next to Sam, unsure whether I ought to be more angry or relieved to find him here. He looked at me with so much guilt in his eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to scold him. Instead, I said to Andrew, “Anatomy jokes? Isn’t that a little too on the nose for a doctor?”

“I find them rather humerus,” he replied with a grin. “Sam likes them too.”

“What’s the fastest part of your body?” Sam asked me.

I narrowed my eyes. “Hmm. I don’t know. My feet?”

He shook his head, delighted to have stumped me. “Your nose, ’cause it’s always running.”

I laughed in spite of myself. “Very clever. Especially for a boy who should be in bed right now.”

“Sam was having trouble sleeping. I was, too, so we decided a drink might help,” Andrew said.

My eyes stung with tears that I refused to shed in front of Sam. How had I not noticed him disappear in the middle of the night? It was my job to keep him safe.

Sam tipped the cup to his mouth and tilted it all the way up, finishing his drink. When he set it back down, there was a light-brown mustache above his lip. “I’m tired now,” he said with a sleepy yawn.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” I picked him up so he could rest his head on my shoulder. He curled into me, still so small and sweet. Andrew followed us, shining his phone so I wouldn’t trip in the dark. Sam didn’t even make it up the stairs before I heard the gentle sigh of sleep from his lips. I settled him into bed and tucked him tightly under the covers.

He was okay, I told myself. He was safe.

When I was certain he wouldn’t wake again, I went back to the hallway to face the scolding Andrew no doubt had in store for me. His flashlight app was still on, but he kept it pointed toward the ground so that his face was shadowed.

“Thank you for taking care of him. He’s never wandered off like that at night before and—”

“Julia, take a breath.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?”

“Why not join me in the kitchen so I can finish my drink and we can talk. You look like you could use a drink, too.”

“But Sam—”

“Sam isn’t likely to wake for the rest of the night, but you won’t get a wink if you don’t let out some of that stress.” When I hesitated, he added, “Doctor’s orders.”

I exhaled deeply. “Okay.”

I checked on Sam one more time before following Andrew back to the kitchen. He didn’t ask me what I wanted to drink. He turned on the kettle and pulled an orange jar from the cupboard. It was strange to see a man moving so comfortably in the kitchen. My dad had refused to so much as pour himself a glass of water, insisting my mother cater to his every whim once he walked through the front door after work.

The lean muscles in Andrew’s forearms flexed as he poured the hot water into the cup and stirred the drink. My cheeks heated with embarrassment when I realized I’d been staring. Seeing him being so silly and sweet with Sam made it impossible to ignore how incredibly attractive he was.

He set the cup in front of me. “I promise you’ll like this.”

I sniffed the milky brown liquid, unable to place the scent. “What is it?”

“Ovaltine. Chock-full of magnesium. Great for sleep.”

I knew of the drink but had never actually tasted it before. It was less sweet than I anticipated, with a faint chocolaty flavor that somehow tasted the way it felt to put on a cozy sweater.

“I’d have offered something a little stronger, but we don’t keep the whiskey in the kitchen,” he said.

“This is perfect, thank you. And I’m sorry about Sam.”

“I was already awake when I heard him coming down the stairs.” His brow furrowed like there was something else he needed to say but he didn’t have the right words for it.

My stomach clenched, waiting for him to tell me that I had been irresponsible letting Sam run off in the middle of the night.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, where days-old stubble had covered the skin. “Sam’s clearly been through a lot, but he’s a good kid. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about him when you first arrived.”

My hands stilled with the cup poised at my lips as my brain struggled to believe I’d heard him right. “I thought you would be angry.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Believe it or not, I’m not usually an angry person. Having Sam around has been a nice change.”

“You’re good with him.”

“I always wanted kids of my own,” he said. “But it’s never quite worked out. Medical school and residency didn’t leave much time for a personal life. I was dating a woman last year who had a child. A boy named Henry. He was a great kid. They had come up from Australia because Amy accepted a position at the hospital where I work. But a few months ago, she decided to return to Australia. Amy didn’t think a long-distance relationship would work and thought it would be best to end with a clean break for Henry’s sake.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been incredibly hard for you.”

“I suppose that’s why I was reticent about Sam at first. He reminds me of Henry.” The muscle in his jaw flexed with barely restrained emotion. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

His eyes met mine. A subtle heat spread through me. I cleared my throat, knowing it was silly to read anything into it. “It’s been good for Sam. And me. Havenworth is a special place.”

“It’s been good for Margaret, too. Despite her age, she’s always had a little bit of childlike mischievousness about her, and I think she’s found a kindred spirit in him.”

“Sam’s never really had any grandparents. It’s nice for him to spend time with her.”

“Are your parents not around?”

An uncomfortable lump lodged in my throat. “They don’t have much to do with Sam. My sister struggled with addiction her whole life. My parents didn’t know how to handle it other than to cut her off. She ran away when she was eighteen, and none of us saw her again until she banged on my front door ten years later with Sam in tow, asking for a place to stay. Sam was already four years old at that point.”

Andrew let out a breath. “That must have been a shock.”

I cupped my hands around my drink and nodded. “Every few years, I would get a text from her asking for money, but she never gave me any details about her life. She was in a bad place when she showed up again. I couldn’t turn her away because of Sam, so I let her in. She swore she was clean and just needed some help getting back on her feet. I tried to help her. I hired her to help with one of my contracts, and it seemed like it was working out at first. She worked hard and seemed happy for the first time in a long time. It felt like I finally had my sister back. But after a few months, I found out she was using again. She had stolen money from the company I worked for, too. She didn’t want to go to rehab, but I didn’t give her the choice. It was that, or I turn her over to the police. I paid for the best facility I could find. I thought it would help, but she still managed to get her hands on something while she was there and ended up overdosing. She passed away and Sam was left in my care.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling now. I rubbed them away with the back of my hand, knowing I must look like an utter mess. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

Andrew reached over and squeezed my hand. “Maybe because you needed to.”

The physical contact was so unexpected, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I had been on my own for so long—just me and Sam against the world—that I’d forgotten what it was like to be comforted by another person. It would have been so easy to confess everything that came after. To relieve myself of the heavy secrets I had carried with me for the last six months. The way I had tried so hard to help my sister, only to make everything worse. And because of that, Sam would never have his mom back.

But Andrew’s unexpected kindness didn’t change the fact I worked for him. I couldn’t risk him finding out anything more about my past. Not if I wanted any hope for a better future.

I slipped my hand free and cleared my throat. “You never told me what you were doing awake at this hour.”

He shrugged. “Just your typical midlife existential dread.”

“Are you worried about Margaret?”

The pain that flashed in his eyes was so visceral, I felt it all the way to my bones. “Always. She’s been the guiding light in Helen’s and my lives for so long. I’m terrified of how we’ll get on once she’s gone.”

“She’s an incredible woman.”

“That she is. Though she would hate it if she knew we were talking about her this way,” he said with a wry smile.

“There was something I found in the book I wanted to ask you about,” I said, trying to ease us back into professional territory despite the fact we were dressed like children racing downstairs on Christmas morning. “There was a sketch in the florilegium of a garden folly. I think it must be somewhere on the grounds, but I haven’t seen it.”

His shoulders stiffened the way I knew they would when I mentioned the florilegium. “I don’t ever recall seeing a folly.”

“In the sketch, it’s surrounded by yew trees. It could be on the other side of the stone wall at the back of the property. Does Margaret still own that land?”

“I believe she does.”

“I’d like to go exploring and see what’s there.”

“I have some time in the morning, which is coming sooner than either of us would like.”

As if on cue, a yawn rose up through my chest. Andrew escorted me back to my room, where Sam was still sleeping peacefully. Neither of us spoke as we parted ways for the evening, but something had changed between us. Something I wasn’t quite ready to admit to myself.