The Night Garden (28 page)

As far as he could tell, there was only one opportunity for him to contribute positively in someone’s life. He might not be able to perform grand heroics, but he would do what he could to help Olivia. It was the middle of the day when he went to find Arthur Pennywort down in Solomon’s Ravine. Sam’s information about Arthur over the years had come primarily from conversations with his parents, who had given him regular Green Valley updates whether he’d wanted the news or not. As far as anyone knew, Arthur had never come out of the ravine once he’d moved down into it. Sam had been reluctant to pay Arthur a visit, but now he needed to.

He walked into the ravine the roundabout way, entering it by its less hilly eastern end, then walking down the long spine as the hills began to rise around him. When he reached Arthur’s semi-cleared camp, he was surprised. Olivia and her boarders had done an enormous amount of work on it in an effort to help Arthur stay in his beloved hovel. The space actually seemed quite cozy … almost
too
cozy. It wasn’t until Arthur moved that Sam understood the man had been standing not ten feet from him the entire time.

“Jeez, Art!”

Arthur Pennywort looked as if he himself were a part of the mountains, worn down smooth by the centuries but still stony and obdurate—still
there.
Though Arthur’s clothes were clearly new—a tag hung from his short-sleeve shirt—everything else about him seemed worn down. His face was obscured by a long white beard and by frizzy white hair. And his shoulders curved forward in a way that made him seem much smaller than he was.
“Look what they did to the place,” he said, shaking his head at his gingerbreadized shack. “This was supposed to make me look
less
crazy.”

Sam was surprised by his own laugh. Olivia’s father was not Sam’s favorite person on earth. Though Olivia loved him with perfect filial deference, Sam had no such warm and fuzzy feelings toward the man. If Arthur had simply been remote because his beloved wife had died, Sam could have accepted that. But he’d outright left Olivia when she was sixteen, still a girl, and made her responsible for the Pennywort farm. Even as a young man, Sam had known this was wrong. He thought Arthur was taking advantage of Olivia. Arthur had put his entire welfare into her care and by moving into the ravine, he’d bound her to him more fully than if he’d stayed in the farmhouse and helped her grow up and then did the thing all fathers inevitably had to do: let their daughters go. As long as Arthur needed her, as long as he lived in the ravine, Olivia would never move on with her life. Her first obligation would always be to him; whether Arthur knew it or not, he’d made it that way.

“So.” Arthur Pennywort crossed his arms. “I understand my daughter is in love with you.”

Sam couldn’t hide his surprise. “Who told you that?”

“Nobody told me.”

“I don’t understand.”

Arthur shook his head as if to say
Why are you so stupid?
“Nobody had to tell me. It’s plain as the beard on my face.”

A funny sort of feeling bloomed in Sam’s belly.

“And are you in love with her?” Arthur asked.

“I … I …”

“I am not asking you to perform long division in your head, young man. I’m just asking if you love her. It’s a yes or no.”

Sam drew himself up straighter as they reached the front door. For all the things he and Olivia had talked about, they had
not said the word
love.
And yet, Sam heard himself say, “Yes, I love her.” And a great rolling relief came over him, like he’d been waiting to hear himself admit it aloud.

“Would you do anything for her? What I mean is, would you change your whole life for her? Forever? Irreversibly?”

“What’s on your mind?”

Arthur pushed open the door and Sam ducked to follow him into the shack. Though it looked small from the outside, the inside showed one good-sized room and a doorway to another.

“Wait here,” Arthur said. He disappeared into the second room. Sam looked over the small kitchenette with its propane camp stove and two cabinets, the black woodstove, the cot that was pushed up against the far wall and decorated with throw pillows, the living room area that looked fit for human habitation—but only
just.

There was a sound of clattering from the other room, and then Arthur returned. “I don’t have any. I could have sworn I did. I could have sworn …”

“What don’t you have?”

“Honey.”

“Why do you need honey?”

“
I
don’t.” Arthur’s eyes went to the corner of the ceiling. “Oh. Yes. I remember now.”

Sam let out a breath. And for the first time, he began to wonder if perhaps Olivia was wrong about her father’s grip on reality. She’d assured Sam that the man was fine; now Sam wasn’t so sure. “Listen. I wanted to ask you about Olivia’s situation. I want you to tell me more about it.”

“I would think you’re more familiar with it than most.”

“I want to know how it happened. Exactly how.”

Arthur leaned on the wall as if weakened. “What has she told you?”

“That she spent too much time in the garden. But there must have been something more.”

Arthur sat down tiredly on a chair, but did not invite Sam to do the same. “Do you know, Samuel, that human beings share some of our DNA with the plant world? You and a potato can both trace your lineage back to a common single-celled ancestor animated in the primordial goo.”

“I guess I never thought of it.”

“Olivia was special from the moment she was born. She’s more tuned in to the commonalities between humans and plants than most of us. You know that. You know how she was. The plants always loved her so.”

Sam nodded. “She’s still that way.”

“If one of Olivia’s cells changed, it might have set off a chain reaction. Cell after cell gaining the ability to harbor the various allergens of poisonous plants. And why not? We humans are already made up of a fair amount of plant.”

“But why Olivia?”

Arthur shrugged. “Exposure. Magic. Whatever you want. Anyway, it’s my only theory.” He looked up at Sam with narrowed eyes. “But you’re not here to ask why or how she had been affected.”

“Then what am I here for?”

“You’re here because you want to find a way to touch her.”

Sam was quiet. Arthur was right, of course. His reason for asking questions wasn’t curiosity. It was that he was searching for a loophole, an exit, a way to make things change.

“There is no cure for her. No going back. The process can’t be undone. There is another matter to consider, though,” Arthur said slyly.

“And what’s that?”

“You.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“That’s why you need the honey,” Arthur said. “You know our bees are special. Olivia must have told you that she relies on their honey in the winter to keep her strong.”

“What are you suggesting? That if I drink the honey, it will make me immune to her?”

“If you
drink
the honey, you’ll die. But if you experience a careful and measured exposure to it, you might help your body quell the histamine response to her over time.”

“I could touch her,” Sam said.

“Allergy sufferers have reported that regular doses of their local honey can temper their body’s allergic response. I imagine it might, possibly, be the same for you with Olivia.”

“But the honey is poisonous,” Sam said. “That’s what Olivia told me. She said she didn’t sell it anymore because it would make people sick.”

“Well … yes.”

“Won’t it make me sick?”

“Probably,” Arthur said.

“Is that why you haven’t tried it?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I’m old. Not the man I used to be. It would be a dangerous gamble.” He stood up slowly, holding the back of the chair for support.

Sam barely heard him. He couldn’t think of how he might get his hands on Pennywort honey. Olivia had told him that she’d hidden it so that some curious wanderer from the public could not discover it and decide to take a taste. Wherever it was, she also said she kept it locked up tight. There was no way Olivia would want Sam to try Arthur’s honey solution. She would say that it was too dangerous. The only way to get away with it would be to ask for forgiveness instead of permission—preferably while he had Olivia naked in his arms.

“Where am I supposed to get this honey?” Sam asked.

“It’s … available.”

“You have some.”

Arthur nodded. “I’ll show you what I suspect is the right dosing and delivery system. We’ll find a way to make it work together.”

“Then let’s get started. Tonight.”

“Well, there is an additional risk I should mention.”

“What?”

“A very small risk. Very slight. So small it only merits the fine print.”

“What’s the risk, Arthur?”

Arthur looked up at him with sad eyes. “The risk is that you could become like her.”

“That
I
could become poisonous.”

“You won’t, of course,” Arthur said. “It’s completely improbable.”

“Completely improbable?”

“Bah. You’re afraid. I knew you would be.”

“I’m not afraid of a completely improbable risk.”

“Samuel,” Arthur said, the word like a sigh. His eyes were weary, and it seemed he could barely keep his eyelids up. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about the things I did wrong.”

Sam was uncertain, so he kept quiet.

“Come here.”

Sam crossed into the kitchen. Arthur picked up a small wooden box that had been sitting on the table and passed it to Sam with a shaking hand. When Sam opened it, he saw a beautiful gold ring. It was old and elaborate, set with green and yellow stones in buttery gold.

“What’s this?”

“It was Alice’s. For when you propose.”

Sam’s chest grew tight.

“These are my terms,” Arthur said slowly. “If you want me to help you, you’ve got to show me that you’re serious.”

“You want me to marry her.”

“I want to know you’ll stay with Olivia forever, and take care of her, even if the honey cure doesn’t work.”

Sam pulled the ring out of the box to look at it more closely. One evening, while he and Olivia had been watching the sun set over Sourdough Ridge and trying to identify the last birds in the sky by their silhouettes, the thought of marriage came to him with surprising easiness, seeming to rise up from his subconscious like an air bubble rising swiftly to the surface of a lake. For so many couples, touch was promise; sex, a conversation and covenant without words. But as the sun disappeared, he could not even put his arm around Olivia, let alone make love to her. And the desire to marry her came on so fast that if it had been a gust of wind it would have knocked him down. He’d said nothing to Olivia, though, at the time.

“I accept your conditions,” Sam said. He put the ring back in the box and snapped it closed. He felt a slight euphoria and disorientation, as if he’d been transported to the future and was sent back to the present again. “And for the record, I would have married her even without your ultimatum.”

“You’re a good boy. And damn lucky,” Arthur said.

“I know it.”

“Now go on. Come back to me with a marriage license and a blood test.”

“They don’t do blood tests anymore.”

Arthur shook his head as if to bemoan the state of the world outside the ravine. He walked toward Sam with a hand extended, and Sam felt the tremble of age in Arthur’s fingers.

“Just make my daughter happy,” Arthur said. “For as long as you can.”

Shrinking Violet

Olivia had cooked a big dinner for the Penny Loafers. She’d set the long wooden banquet table with various sautéed and seasoned veggies, as well as some lightly cooked meats—and they made an impromptu little party under the high wooden beams of the old barn. Olivia could not think of many moments of her life when her heart had felt more full and satisfied: She had the company of her boarders and good food; her father had avoided Gloria’s trap and would be able to stay on the farm; and Sam—Sam’s affection was more than she’d ever dreamed of for herself. This was everything: food, family, good company, and love. As the boarders chatted around her, helping themselves to heaped spoonfuls of sweet corn with crushed red pepper and cilantro, she sat daydreaming, hardly eating, feeling as if she’d stepped into a dream.

She almost didn’t notice when the conversation at the table changed topics. One of the boarders had apparently spent the night at Gloria’s shelter, and as the others ate and chewed she was talking about what she’d found there.
Big televisions. Soft beds. Food you don’t have to pick for yourself.
She made the shelter sound like a five-star hotel. Some of the women couldn’t have cared less: The shelter could never have what the old barn had—the magic of Green Valley, the maze.

But others, like Mei, seemed interested.

“What are the rooms like?” she asked. “Do people share or do they have their own?”

The shelter allegedly had plenty of space for anyone who wanted to stay there to have her own room. Olivia helped herself to more salsa and ignored her worry. No one would leave the farm. Here her boarders had freedom. There they would no doubt have to follow strict schedules and rules. She kept silent as the conversation went on.
So why did you come back if it’s so great?
one of the boarders asked the woman who had been away. And the woman said:
I’m not back. I’m just visiting you guys to tell you what you’re missing if you stay here.
Olivia sat listening, unwilling to prejudice anyone’s opinion by speaking up, believing that each woman would reach the right conclusion on her own, just as each woman came to find answers in the maze on her own. Mei was persistent.

“I might go over there,” she said. “To check it out.”

“How you going to get there?” a woman asked.

“I’ll hitch a ride.”

“No hitching,” Olivia said. “It’s not safe.”

“How do you think I got
here
?” Mei said.

After dinner the women took up the work of cleaning, at one point teasing Olivia for the amount of time she had been spending with Sam. Olivia didn’t deny their insinuations that she and Sam were sleeping together. She just enjoyed their jokes and played along. And why not? She and Sam weren’t physically intimate, but they were as emotionally intimate as any two people could be. They were together, and she relished the delicious thrill that the boarders, that everyone, would know.