The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 32

Julia

I had already packed my and Sam’s things by the time Andrew returned from the hospital nearly twenty-four hours later. Margaret’s weakened heart had had a minor attack, but she was in stable condition thanks to Andrew’s quick action. For now, she was okay. But Sam and I weren’t.

It was time for us to leave.

Sam was too young to really understand what had happened, thankfully, but I could sense a flicker of doubt when I told him she would be fine. Maybe because I hadn’t been sure at the time either.

I’d already texted Ryan that I was accepting his offer. The final designs for Havenworth were complete. I’d done the most important part of the job. Any decent gardener could take over from this point—if Andrew decided to finish.

When Sam awoke the next morning and saw our suitcases packed by the bedroom door, he had a meltdown. I was barely able to drag him out of the room for breakfast amid the tears and refusals. He was too young to understand I was doing this for him. That leaving was inevitable.

I had finally coaxed him to the kitchen with the promise of Ovaltine for breakfast when Andrew returned. His eyes were bloodshot and skin dulled from the lack of sleep. He had already texted me to let me know Margaret was stable, but he still looked destroyed.

“Are you all right?” I asked, unsure of the ground we were standing on. He had every right to be furious with me for what had happened last night. He’d warned me countless times that talking about Irene would hurt Margaret, but I’d refused to listen.

His head tilted with only the suggestion of a nod. “Somehow, having a medical degree doesn’t make this any easier.”

“How long will she be at the hospital?”

“A few days. Possibly a week. We were lucky she didn’t need any surgical intervention, but she’s still going to be weak when she returns. Helen’s with her right now.”

“I’m glad she’s recovering,” I said, wishing I knew the right words to say. The last twenty-four hours hung like invisible chains around my shoulders, holding me from reaching out to comfort him.

He let out a long exhalation, gathering himself. “I saw your suitcases by the front door.”

An ache bloomed in my stomach. “It’s for the best.”

“It’s not!” Sam whined.

“We should talk somewhere else,” I said to Andrew.

I reassured Sam I would be back in a few minutes, leaving him to finish his drink while Andrew and I talked in the hall.

“You don’t need to leave,” he said. “The contract runs through for two more months.”

The contract. That was what truly mattered to him. That was why I had to leave. “My old firm has offered me my job back with a pay increase I can’t ignore. I have to take it. For Sam’s sake. He needs the stability of a permanent home. I’ve made arrangements with the crews to complete the work. The design plans are finalized. Any decent landscape architect can finish the work from here.”

His shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to hire just anyone.”

“I’m not the right person for the job anymore. I got too invested in Margaret and Irene. In . . .” In you. “You were right when you said digging into the past would only cause more problems. I should have listened to you.” I turned and started walking back to the kitchen, refusing to let Andrew see the anguish in my eyes.

“Julia, wait. It’s not your fault.” He caught my wrist, turning me to face him once more. “I was an ass. I’ve been so absorbed with trying to protect everyone that I forgot to listen to them.”

His thumb grazed slowly over my wrist with an aching gentleness that set fire to my skin. I sucked in a breath, my pulse quickening beneath his touch. His eyes darkened with an intensity I hadn’t seen in him before.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t go.”

He cupped my cheek and brushed his lips against mine in a whisper of a kiss. I pressed my hand to his chest to push him away but found myself pulling him closer instead. It would have been so easy to lose myself in him. To allow the faint outline of the fantasy to become bright and real and full of color. Instead, I poured every ounce of regret and disappointment into the kiss, telling him everything I didn’t have the words to say. And then I pulled away.

“I have to,” I said between heavy breaths, dropping my forehead to his chest. “We both know it.”

I went back to the kitchen to check on Sam. His plate was on the table, toast only half eaten, but there was no other sign of him. I called his name, only to be greeted by silence. I stepped deeper into the room, knowing there were a million spots a boy of his size could be hiding. But he wasn’t inside the cabinets or hiding under the table.

Andrew stepped into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Sam.”

“Outside,” he said, pointing to the back door off the kitchen, open just enough for a sliver of sunlight to slip through.

I cursed under my breath. “Sam was upset when I told him we were leaving. He must have run off.”

It was one thing to lose Sam inside the house, but the gardens were an endless source of hiding spots. And danger. I knew these grounds like the back of my hand, but I had no idea where to begin.

“I’ll start in the front. You look here and then we’ll work our way toward the back,” Andrew said.

Whatever awkwardness festered between us was put aside for Sam’s sake. I searched the parterre, the greenhouse, even the old gardener’s cottage. But Sam wasn’t anywhere. Not in the back gardens, either, where the trees and shrubs were denser. I called for him relentlessly. If he was here, he didn’t want to be found.

Because he didn’t want to leave.

My heart split like glass on the verge of shattering. Everything I had done these last six months had been for him, and yet I’d still failed him. He was happy here. He didn’t want to leave. I was the one who had made it impossible for us to stay.

Desperation grew into panic when an hour passed with no sign of him. I’d already sent away the taxi meant to take us to the airport. At this point, we likely wouldn’t even make the flight. But that was the least of my worries now.

“Where is he?” I shouted in frustration.

Andrew, who’d managed to keep a more level head, set his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

“We’ve searched everywhere. What if he’s run off or been kidnapped or—”

“Breathe. We just need to think.”

I didn’t want to breathe. I wanted to scream.

He scrubbed his chin, looking around the gardens that we’d inspected three times over. “I just wish Margaret were here. She told me she used to get into all sorts of trouble hiding around here when she was Sam’s age.”

His words crashed through the fog in my brain like a streak of lightning. “I know where he is! The folly!”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. He raced ahead toward the front entrance, easily outpacing me with his long legs.

“He’s inside,” he said after I breached the slight clearing in the thick forest where the folly was hidden. “I can hear him crying.”

“Sam?” I called into the dark entrance. “Can you hear me?”

The crying stopped.

“He must have gone inside and not known how to escape,” Andrew said.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m coming to help.” I dropped to my knees at the entrance and peered inside. A dank smell of mildew and something else I couldn’t name hit my nose, making it hard to breathe.

“Be careful,” Andrew said. “I don’t know how secure the structure is.”

I tried not to think about that as I stepped over the patch of cowslips. The entrance was so dark and tight, my only option was to army crawl on my stomach. My bare arms and shoulders scraped against the rough bricks with each inch forward. I held my breath, terrified I would bring the entire thing crashing down on me or Sam.

Using my phone as a light, I quickly caught sight of his shoe. “I’m almost there, Sam. You’ll be okay.”

His sobbing had turned into a whimper. There wasn’t a single source of light other than the beam from my phone. He must have been petrified all alone in here.

It felt like hours before I reached him on the inside of the folly. I managed to get myself upright and pulled Sam to me. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’ll get you out now.”

He clung to me with his tiny, viselike fingers, tears spilling out anew. With the light from my phone, I checked him over for any sign of injury. He was covered in mud and shivering, but not hurt, thank goodness.

“Come on, time to climb out. I’ll shine my light, and all you have to do is be brave.”

Andrew shone his phone from the other side of the entrance, reaching his long arm out to take Sam’s hand. He hauled Sam free and clear of the folly.

I exhaled in relief.

Even though my instincts screamed at me to get out of here as fast as possible, I couldn’t help but look around inside the place Margaret had spent so much of her childhood. The folly might have once been grand—at least ten feet in width, but it had been sinking into the soft ground for decades before the bomb further decimated half the structure.

Margaret’s initials were carved into one of the bricks. There were small rocks collected in one corner and the decaying plastic of what was once a child’s doll deeply embedded in the mud. As I angled my body to explore the rest of it, my foot struck something heavy. Something that moved.

“Are you coming out?” Andrew asked.

“I think I found something.” I cast the beam of light onto the object.

My heart stuttered.

A metal briefcase.

Every inch of my skin tingled with excitement at the realization of what I had just found. I lugged it toward me, shocked at its heft. What if this was the briefcase Margaret had spoken about? The one Irene stole? It would mean she hadn’t sold it to the Germans or betrayed her family, and everything she wrote in that secret message would be true.

Millions of questions raced through my mind. How did she get it here? And if she wasn’t a traitor, why did she disappear? Why did she never come back and explain?

My light caught on something small and white near the crumbled bricks where I’d found the briefcase. Another doll?

I crawled closer to it. The air drained from my lungs. It wasn’t a doll at all.

“Julia,” Andrew called again. “You need to come out. It’s not safe.”

“I know what happened to Irene,” I called back in a choked voice, staring at what could only be the bones of a woman’s hand.