Steady (17 page)

She wanted to make sure Will’s assignments were tough enough for her to get a good measure of the man. How else would she determine what he was made of? Of course they would be difficult, as difficult as she could find. And she could find difficult.

They had agreed to assign him the mulch detail first, followed by a little wood chopping after lunch.

The city, like all others in the state, collected Christmas trees and delivered them to the neighborhood gardens. Most of Shining Creek’s neighbors dropped theirs off themselves, and volunteers helped to shred them for use as mulch and for the compost bin. Most of the trees had been shredded already and were in a pile in the back of the gardens for residents who wanted to pick them up for use in their homes. Elderly neighbors who required assistance to maintain their yards could have their mulch delivered to their home by a volunteer, and lucky Will would be that volunteer this morning. That meant taking a shovel and loading up the truck with mulch.

They had equipment that would reduce the time and labor, but he wasn’t going to use it. Will was in shape with all that cycling; he shouldn’t mind the old-fashioned way, she thought, grinning. And she’d picked out a special wheelbarrow for him to use; so what if the front wheel was a little wonky?

Will would then deliver the mulch to three of their elderly neighbors and would place it as instructed. That should keep him occupied until noon.

After lunch, she would bring him back over to Thomas to help chop wood and shred brush. The trees and brush wood came from areas where land was being cleared and included trees that were cleared from power lines. These were all delivered to their garden.

The garden owned both large and small chainsaws for that purpose, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
Let’s see how Mr. Leader of the Competition figures that out.

And then, if Will was still around, Thomas would send him over to help her in the compost area. The compost pile always needed turning, and her worms needed feeding. And if there was any daylight left, she planned to have him deliver compost, by wheelbarrow, to the different beds in the vegetable sections.

The garden owned two bobcats, both large and small, and if his assigned tasks proved too much work for Will, she planned to bring them out. Until then, the old-fashioned way was going to be it. It was getting close to six and time for her to head to the front gate to meet him. She smiled. This was going to be so much fun.

***

There he was, just as he said he would be, leaning against the main gate, his back to her. He was clad in jeans, his flannel shirt open, some thin-looking shirt on underneath, baseball cap turned backward, work gloves in his pocket, work boots on his feet. So he’d worn the appropriate gear, at least. She walked up and tapped him on his shoulder. He turned, all smooth. Did nothing rattle him, she wondered? He gave her a smile, those brackets in place next to his mouth, eyes twinkling.

“You’re here,” she said.

“As I said I would be.”

“Ready to get started?”

“Yep.”

“Follow me, then,” she said, turning and walking away. “I’ve assigned you to work with Thomas. He’s been working in the gardens almost as long as I have and he is charge of the volunteers.”

Watching her, he had to bite back his desire to laugh out loud. He didn’t know what she’d assigned to him, but he knew it would be hard, probably cutting individual blades of grass with scissors. She was so transparent; but if it would get her to work with him, he’d do it. For some reason, he
wanted
her to work with him.

They walked over to an area surrounding big piles of what looked liked mulch and she introduced him to Thomas. Thomas was African-American; think Coffey, but not the drink, more like the big guy from the movie
The Green Mile
. Intimidating didn’t begin to describe him. He walked over to Katrina, his expression blank. So Katrina had enlisted help, Will thought, glancing at her standing next to him. Seeing her small frame next to Thomas’s tall, muscular one, reaching to the top of his waist, one could easily mistake her for his child.

“Thomas, this is Will. He is the leader for the flower portion competition of our neighborhood this year. He lives a couple of doors down from me. He is new to the neighborhood and to the garden, so you may need to explain how things work around here.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Hey, Will,” Thomas said, stretching out his ham-sized hand, which Will took.

“Hey, Thomas,” he replied.

“I’ll come back for you at lunch, okay?” Katrina said.

“I’ll be here,” Will said, grinning at her, conveying a message with his eyes:
I know what you’re up to.

She grinned back. “Don’t work too hard,” she said.

Just as he thought, her plan was to be difficult. Thomas assigned him the task of loading, delivering, and laying mulch at three homes. He was to use the truck that belonged to the garden; a donation, he was told. He was also given a beat up-old wheelbarrow, the front tire a little flat. Katrina’s doing, he imagined.

The detail took him all morning. The first home went relatively fast, as it just needed mulch around the trees and the front flower beds. The second home had belonged to Ms. Stone, who was beyond persnickety about her yard. She’d been in his ear the whole time. He laughed about it now, at how she was standing by the curb waiting for him when he pulled up, decked out in what must have been the latest in horticulture wear in the 1950s: pants tucked into rubber boots, a pink twin sweater set, a safari hat on her head, and gloves on her hands. To what purpose he had yet to figure out, because all she did was talk.

“It’s about time you got here,” she said upon his arrival, giving him the once-over. “You’re that new kid with the odd home that snuck into the garden competition, stealing it from under Katrina’s nose this year, I hear.”

Yep, that would be me
, he thought. He hadn’t anything to say to that, so he just asked her where she’d like her mulch. She spent the entire time giving him her thoughts on the competition and on Katrina. If he was so smart, she said, he would have gotten Katrina to help him. He had to agree with her there.

The last home delivery hadn’t been easier, but at least it had been quiet. After Ms. Stone, his ears had needed the rest. He pulled the truck into the back entrance to the garden and parked.

He spotted Katrina walking over to him, an insulated container in her hand. Lunch, he hoped, but who knew with Katrina? It could easily be a thin gruel and a crust of bread. He got out of the truck and walked toward her. He’d removed his outerwear, leaving him in that thin form-fitting shirt, which fit like a second skin. She walked halfway and stood waiting until he reached her. He lifted his baseball cap, and his hair was now plastered to his head. It was so unfair that he should look this good after a hard morning’s work. He looked her over, taking in her outfit in the light. Those overalls again. He smiled and winked at her.

He was going to be the death of her; after all she’d given him, he still was smiling, his eyes roaming downward, stopping at the lunchbox he saw in her hands. His smile widened.

“I hope that’s lunch, ‘cause I’m starving,” he said, reaching for the bag and pulling it from her hand. “Let’s see what you’ve packed for me,” he said, unzipping it and looking inside. She had packed herself a lunch and added enough for him, too.

“It’s just a couple of sandwiches, some chips, and fruit I brought with me from home. I packed enough for two,” she said, reaching for the bag, which he smoothly moved out of her reach.

“So where do you want to sit? I assume you’ve been waiting for me, to eat with me,” he said, smiling.

“I hadn’t planned on eating with you.”

“Sure, you didn’t,” he said smoothly, walking away from her.

“Wait, where are you going?” she said, jogging to catch up to him.

“I’m going to find the family section, near the playscape area, the one you designed last year. I like it,” he said when she caught up to him. “And maybe if you’re nice to me I’ll even let you lie down with me in that big hammock in the front. You’ve been wanting to do that for a while. It’ll be my treat for making my job today so easy.” He smiled at her.

She was quiet. They walked to the front where the flower section was located. Katrina waved to a lot of her neighbors and spoke to more than a few children along the way.

“You know a lot of your neighbors,” he said.

“You would, too, if you wanted to. If you stayed put long enough to meet them,” she said, stopping next to a small, kid-size picnic table.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

They both sat down on the tabletop. Katrina took the bag from his hands, pulling out and handing over a sandwich, chips, apple, and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “So tell me, why all this gardening?” he asked in between bites.

“I’m sure you know by now that I was adopted by two of the original founders of the gardens here. I came to live with them when I was ten. They introduced me to dirt, and we’ve been pals ever since,” she said. He smiled at that. “How about you? You don’t seem the gardening type.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I see you a lot, and you seem to be busy doing all kinds of adventurous stuff. You seem too busy to settle down long enough to garden.”

“I don’t know, I lost my dad when I was really young, too. I don’t really have any memories of him. My grandfather came to live with us, helping my mother in our family store, which was started by my mother and father before he died. Anyway, my grandfather built a small garden out back and I found myself there a lot, restless from having to work in the store.

“He put me to work growing small vegetables and weeding, and he began to introduce me to the history of Japanese gardening. The notion that it was a sanctuary, a respite from the world, held an appeal, even as a kid. More so as I grew older and needed a break from being successful and smart. It’s a lot of work,” he said, smiling again.

“You’re so full of it,” she said, watching him smile. “I don’t even try.” He looked at her in question. “Try to fit in. I used to, but it’s too much trouble. So how much do you know about composting?” she asked, changing the subject.

“A little. Why?” he asked.

“That’s where you’re going to be after lunch—after you finish your wood-chopping detail, that is,” she said. He laughed outright, loudly, and it took him a while to stop.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You are,” he said, getting up from the table. “I’m ready,” he said. Apparently, that was to be the extent of his explanation.

She picked up the remains of their lunch before delivering him to Thomas, who stood next to another guy, also African-American, but shorter and thinner.

“Hey, Will. Back, are you?” he said, grinning now.

“So far. I’m still here.”

“I am going to put you with Rufus. You guys are clearing out that pile of trees and brush behind you.” Taking in the size of that pile, Will inwardly groaned, thinking,
Not just the two of
us
.

Thomas must have seen some of that reflected on his face because he smiled and said, “Just do what you can; it’s enough for more than a few people. The brush you can shred, using the shredder, and the wood you can saw and then chop into splits. There is a small chainsaw and some goggles in the shed over there,” he said, pointing. “You can use it instead of the ax Katrina left for you,” he added, getting a laugh from Will. Thomas laughed, too, and walked away.

Will and Rufus started working, Rufus immediately going for the brush job and leaving the tree cutting to Will, who worked alone for a while before Thomas joined him. They worked together through most of the afternoon. During one of their breaks, Will walked over to grab some water and Rufus joined him.

“What were you in for?” Rufus asked.

“In for?” Will responded, not sure of the question.

“You know, you are here working, getting your community service hours in, right? You know, part of your sentencing. What were you arrested for?”

“Umm, interesting question. I was arrested for failure to show proper respect for the leader,” he said, causing Rufus to look at him strangely.

“I’ve never heard of that, but, you know, they’re always changing the laws up on a brother,” he said, causing Will to laugh.

They worked steadily for another two hours. It was close to 5 when Thomas called it quits.

“Thanks for your help today,” he said, extending his hand to shake theirs. “Will, Katrina is waiting for you over in the compost section. You know where that is, right?” he said, teasing Will now.

“Yes,” Will said, going in search of Katrina. He found her standing next to the neighborhood compost pile, pitchfork in hand.

“You survived, I see,” she said, taking in the undershirt again plastered to his skin, watching as he pulled on his flannel shirt and began buttoning it. His head was bent over his task and she took this time to once again look her fill.

“I am surviving in spite of your best efforts,” he said, looking up.