The First Gardener (28 page)

Gray’s arms moved in rhythmic motion with his feet. “Can’t say I do.”

“It mean ‘womanhood.’ Some say another meanin’ is ‘fragile.’” He paused. “Miz Mackenzie seem real fragile to me right now.”

“Well, she’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, I know it been real tough. We’re all feelin’ the hurt ’round here. That’s what gots me thinkin’ ’bout them azaleas, how they so different from roses. Gots to have lots a shade, gots to be watered all the time, soil gots to be just acid ’nough. Sometimes they ain’t even feel worth all the trouble.”

Gray wiped sweat from his forehead. His feet were feeling heavy, and alcohol seemed to ooze out his pores. He watched Jeremiah through the mirror in front of him, wishing for five thirty to come.

Jeremiah stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket. “Y’know, after the flood come through here, I done lost a bunch a them blasted azaleas. They roots so shallow, they just come right up outta the ground—left big ol’ holes in the plantin’s out by the front gates. I just wanted to throw my hands up and give up on ’em. I mean, after I gone and worked so hard with ’em and all.

“But I ain’t done that, Gov’nor. I didn’t give up on them azaleas. And y’know why?”

Gray shook his head. “No. Why?”

“’Cause ever’ spring, they just bust out with this gaudy display a color—kinda like Miz Berlyn’s dresses.”

Gray smiled slightly at that.

“And people come drivin’ by just to look at ’em. And y’know what else?”

Gray wasn’t sure if Jeremiah was looking for a response or not, so he just shook his head and kept running.

“Not one person notice the holes from what’s gone ’cause what still there so dang beautiful.”

Jeremiah dropped the pruners down to his side. “All life’s gots holes, Gov’nor. Some holes be bigger than others. But that don’t mean you don’t keep takin’ care a what you gots. And you know what’s crazy? Spring always come. Never found me a year yet that ain’t had a spring. It always come. And when it do, when it show up, I be so grateful I ain’t give up on them temperamental, ornery shrubs.”

Gray blinked sweat from his eyes. He heard the old man. He just didn’t feel like admitting it.

“Yep, y’know, Gov’nor, them azaleas be so beautiful, they worth the trouble. They worth tendin’ to. Fightin’ for. And a really wise gardener, a gardener that know he don’t know it all—he get real good at listenin’ to what heaven tell him ’bout
how
to tend ’em.”

Gray still didn’t answer. Finally Jeremiah nodded and turned toward the door. “Well, I headed out now. See you tomorrow.”

Gray nodded as the old man walked away. “Good night.”

Jeremiah stopped at the door and turned. “Oh, them azaleas have one more meanin’ I ’bout near forgot.”

“What is that?”

“They also mean ‘take care of yourself’—” he paused—“‘for me.’”

With that, he left the room. When he was gone, Gray hit a button on the treadmill and brought his feet to a stop. He walked to a bench and sat down. Sophie came up beside him and swung her rope wildly at his feet. He bent down, wrestled it from her mouth, and threw it across the room. Her little feet floundered underneath her until she got enough traction to propel herself across the room, grab the rope between her jaws, and carry it back to him, nearly tripping over the end that dangled beneath her. Gray pulled the loose end of the rope while she growled and jerked madly at the other end.

He and Mack
had
been through a flood. And for some unknown reason, they had survived, despite their desires to the contrary. He had never felt so ravaged, so broken. And there were more holes in Mack than in anyone he knew. She was like an open pasture full of holes left by detonated land mines.

He let go of the rope and stretched his body across the top of the padded bench. Sophie dropped her end too and began licking his arm. He lay there a long time.

He knew Mack needed him. But in that moment, it all felt too hard. He didn’t have it in him to fight for her. Not anymore.

So he made the conscious decision simply to take on a fight he thought he could win.

Becoming governor again.

Chapter 34

Mackenzie watched Gray come into the room. He said nothing when he entered, nor did he even look in her direction. She watched him walk into the bathroom and then heard water as it fell in the shower.

Darkness had settled an hour ago, but moonlight on the snow outside made it easy to see in the unlit bedroom. Mackenzie lifted herself from the chair and walked into the bathroom. When light hit her, she saw caked blood on the side of her arm. She got a washcloth from the linen closet and walked to the sink, letting water soak the brown fabric. She placed her hand on the travertine countertop and wiped at the blood.

In the mirror she saw Gray’s outline through the steam on the glass shower door. He looked foreign to her. She had once known him so well and been curious to know more. There had always seemed to be something new to uncover, something about the way his mind worked that she had never realized, something about his heart that she had yet to explore. Now she was curious about nothing. Except what it would take to make all of this pain go away.

She secured a Band-Aid across the scratch on her arm. Gray opened the shower door. Steam poured into the bathroom and immediately attacked the mirror in front of her. He reached for a towel and dried himself off. When he looked up, he saw her.

“Mack! I didn’t even know you were there.”

She had obviously startled him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Where were you?”

“I was in my chair when you came in. But I have a cut on my arm, so I was just getting a Band-Aid for it. A rosebush caught me,” she said before he asked.

He rubbed his head wildly with the towel, then wrapped it around his waist and walked into the closet. She could hear drawers opening. The distance between them felt more like a canyon than the length of the bathroom. He came out dressed in his warm-ups and started past her.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He stopped. “It’s seven o’clock at night, Mack. I’m going to eat some dinner and watch some television and do some work. I’m going to do what living, breathing humans do.”

She stared at him. His eyes looked bloodshot and tired. She didn’t remark about that, just reached down to throw away the Band-Aid wrapper.

“Mack,” he said, and she looked up. He leaned against the doorway. “You need to know a few things. I’ve decided to run for reelection. I think we’ve accomplished a great deal with the budget, and I really think that the people believe in what we’re doing.”

His words fell against her, and as they did, she realized she hadn’t thought about his campaign once in the past month. The mere thought of it now made her want to throw up. “As long as you don’t plan on me campaigning with you.”

She noticed his countenance change immediately. He stepped toward her. “You know what I expect, Mack? I expect you to get dressed in the morning—in real clothes. Then I expect you to meet with Jessica and set up appointments on your calendar. I also expect you to know that as of this coming Monday, this mansion is going to be open once again to public tours. And I expect you—” he stepped even closer—“to realize that life is moving on, and you and I are going to move on with it. Whether either of us wants to or not.”

She stood there frozen as his words collided against her. In sixteen years of marriage, he had never used that tone. He didn’t say another word, simply stepped around her and strode out of the bedroom.

The faint smell of alcohol lingered long after he passed.

Chapter 35

Soft, warm hair brushed against his face. He opened his eyes, feeling a spark of something inside, only to have it quickly extinguished when he realized it was Sophie. He nudged the puppy. “Get down, girl.”

She obeyed, jumping off the end of the sofa. Gray pushed his blanket to one side and put his feet on the thick carpet. He raised his hands above his head and stretched . . . long . . . hard, then rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t slept on a sofa in years and had never slept in his office at the capitol. But after his conversation with Mack he just hadn’t wanted to be at home. He was tired of it all—tired of the tears, the heaviness, and the lack of intimacy.

He had never spoken to Mack the way he had last night. They’d had fights, of course, because they were two passionate people, but he had never given her orders, never spoken harshly.

But maybe he should have. Because it really was time for her to snap out of it.

He folded the blanket and draped it over the end of the sofa. He fluffed the pillow and switched off the fan he’d brought from home to help him sleep. He and Sophie both had business to take care of. He put on his tennis shoes and took care of his before they headed out to take care of hers. He pulled on his warm-up jacket and walked into the main offices.

Sarah was already at her desk. She looked up, her face showing her shock. “You’re here early.” Her eyes scanned his outfit.

He looked down at his black Under Armour workout pants. In all the years Sarah had worked with him, he had never been to the office without a tie, much less looking like this. His hand reached up to rub his face and felt day-old stubble.

He obviously hadn’t thought his entire plan through. He always kept an extra suit and toiletries in his bathroom at the office, but he’d never realized just how early Sarah got to work.

“Um, yeah. Up pretty early.” He pointed awkwardly to the door. “I’m just going to take Sophie out to the bathroom.”

Sarah eyed him, then walked over and scooped Sophie into her arms. “How about you let me do that for you? Me and Sophie are good buddies, aren’t we, girl?” Sophie’s tail wagged profusely, and her tongue licked Sarah’s fingertips. “Top right-hand drawer,” Sarah added. “Blueberry muffins. I made extra. Fresh coffee is in the coffeepot over there.”

She took such good care of him. Better care than he was taking of himself these days. He patted Sophie on the head, grateful that Sarah was the only one in the front office. “Thank you.”

She winked at him and left with Sophie. He walked to her desk and pulled out a plastic container, still warm underneath. He carried it into his office and closed the door. As soon as he sat down on his sofa, he pulled the top off the container. The aroma of freshly baked sweets warmed him and took him immediately to Maddie’s blueberry pancakes. The choke hold on his throat came without warning.

And that was the story of grief. It could give you a moment of reprieve, and then from nowhere, it would blindside you and take your breath away. He picked up a muffin, refusing to let the past take hold of the day.

A knock sounded on the door as he took his first bite. “Come in,” he garbled, expecting Sophie to pounce at the smell of food.

“Hey, you’re here early.” It wasn’t Sarah with Sophie. It was Kurt, carrying a newspaper under his arm and folders in his other hand.

“Yep. Want a muffin?” Gray extended the container.

Kurt never reached for a muffin. Instead, he just stood there staring, obviously caught off guard by Gray’s appearance.

“Yes, I slept on the sofa last night.” Gray stood and crammed the rest of the muffin in his mouth.

“You and Mackenzie have a fight?”

Still chewing, Gray set the container and lid down on his desk and walked to the window. He could see Sophie picking through the snow, trying to find the perfect spot to do her business, while Sarah sat on a bench, giving her time to do what she needed to do. “You can’t fight with a corpse.”

He felt Kurt come closer. “Is the counselor helping?”

The rising anger was beginning to feel familiar. “The counselor would help if she’d actually talk to him.”

Kurt placed a hand on his shoulder. “What about you, Gray? Why don’t you talk to him? Debbie and I saw a guy for years when we were having problems in our marriage—you remember that, right? Anyway, it really helped us. You’ve been through a lot more than I could even imagine. You need someone to help you come to terms with everything that’s happened.”

Gray pulled away from Kurt’s hand. “Won’t that look great for a reelection campaign? Headline reads, ‘Governor Seeking Professional Help While Governing State Affairs.’”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “First, there isn’t a person in this state who wouldn’t understand your getting counseling after what you’ve been through. Second, are you saying you’ve decided to run?”

“Yes, and I’m going to win.”

“Listen, buddy, I’ve thought all night about what you said yesterday. Maybe you were right then. Maybe you should think about whether this race is the best thing or not.”

Gray’s head turned sharply in his direction. “Okay, let me get this straight. Just yesterday all you could think about was the election. The last words you left me with when you walked out of my office were about the election. And now today you don’t think I should run. What are you
not
saying?”

Kurt held his hands up instinctively. “Calm down. I’m just being your friend, and your friend sees that you’re in pain. And I need to apologize. I’m sorry I’ve been pushy. Right now, all I care about is seeing you and Mackenzie heal.”

Gray pushed Kurt’s raised hands aside and moved past him. “You’re full of it, Kurt! There’s no way you would be desperate for me to run one day and not care the next. Did you find a more formidable candidate to work for?” Gray turned back, jerked the newspaper from beneath Kurt’s arm, and opened it. The killing of the convenience store worker and the fact that the suspect had been a released prisoner was splashed across the front page.

Gray slammed the paper down on the desk. “The backlash from this murder too much for you? Well, you know what? I do death. It follows me like the plague. So get used to it or get out!”

Kurt stepped back. “Listen to yourself. This is ridiculous. We’ve been friends for twenty-five years. I have always and will always have your back.”

“Easier to turn the knife from there, isn’t it?” Gray saw the look on Kurt’s face as soon as the words came out, but he didn’t care.