Maggie's Garden

Carl stood in front of the kitchen window and noticed his reflection through the steam from his coffee. The landscape, he thought, seemed to reflect his soul – bleak, frozen, and lifeless. He could see his neighbors flashing Christmas lights mirrored on the snow and grunted in disgust. He glanced out to the garden and saw the snow heaped on the unpruned rose bushes and Maggie’s chair. He swallowed the last of his coffee and added the mug to the pile of dishes in the sink.

Everywhere he looked, everything he saw, every moment of every day, his thoughts went to Maggie. It was driving him mad, but he couldn’t make it stop. Maggie loved the snow, she couldn’t stand blinking lights, she never allowed dirty dishes to pile up, she loved her garden………... Maggie, Maggie, Maggie!!! Oh God, please make it end.

And then her chair. Why hadn’t he thrown away that bloody chair? Every year she would drag that stupid chair to the edge of the garden, and, at the end of a long day of planting and weeding, she would sit down in that ragged old recliner, have a glass of wine, and appreciate the results of her labor. She had loved that garden and that ridiculous old chair. It had to be propped up on one side with a heavy iron table, but she couldn’t bring herself to replace it. Carl had bought her a new chair one spring, but she deemed it too nice for the garden and put it on the covered porch, where it still sat, barely used.

Maggie had loved life, as they say. She was always off on some endeavor or creative adventure. She often bit off more than she could chew, but somehow, she usually pulled it off, even if by the skin of her teeth. She never left dishes in the sink, but her craft room was in total disorder. “You know what they say about people who have a really messy desk,” she would say, “they’re the creative ones.”

If Carl were honest, there were times when he longed for a little more peace and a little less chaos. He loved her creativity, but sometimes the pandemonium was tiresome. And Maggie could also be opinionated and bull-headed. Lord, that woman could be persistent, he thought. Honestly, she could drive him crazy, but right now…... right now he would give anything to have her back. He would give anything to have himself back too. He didn’t want to be disgruntled and bitter and miserable, but he was so angry. How could they have gone through 34 years of marriage, working hard, and building a good life, only to have it ripped away it seconds. Literally seconds. That’s how long it takes for an aneurism to still a beating heart. Not just Maggie’s, but for all intents and purposes, his own heart. Sometimes he thought he could physically feel his soul shrinking inside of him. He was angry at God, he was angry at the doctors, he was angry at Maggie, and he was angry at himself for being so angry!

Carl put bread in the toaster and fished his mug out of the sink, deciding he needed another cup of coffee. His toast had just popped up when he heard a knock on the door. “Who the hell could that be,” he grumbled out loud. When he swung open the door, letting in a blast of cold air, a young woman and a little girl stood on the porch.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Watson,” said the girl!

Carl could feel the frown on his face but didn’t try to hide it. Who were these people? How on earth did she know his name?

She held up a paper plate covered in red cellophane. “We made you some cookies,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Carl stared at the plate, then finally took the cookies, and mumbled thank you.

He started to shut the door when the woman spoke up. “Mr. Watson, we’re your neighbors. I’m Sarah and this is my daughter, Maya.”

Carl nodded. He remembered now that the little girl used to come over and help Maggie in the garden.

“We would love it if you could join us for Christmas dinner tomorrow,” Sarah said. “It’s just Maya and I and I’m cooking a big ham. Would six o’clock be ok?”

Carl was dumbfounded. The last thing he wanted was a house full of blinking lights and holiday cheer. He didn’t want some chatty kid asking him a bunch of questions either. Although he couldn’t admit it to himself, what he wanted to sit alone in the dark and be miserable, justifying his bitterness. He had every intention of ignoring Christmas altogether. He had nothing to celebrate. However, he hadn’t forsaken all his manners and finally said, “sure,” and closed the door.

……….

By the next afternoon, Carl was sure he was not going to dinner at Sarah’s house. He would just say he was sick. Then he realized he didn’t even have a phone number. He couldn’t exactly knock on the door, looking perfectly fine, and say he didn’t feel well. He sighed heavily. Why on earth hadn’t he declined in the first place? He racked his brains but couldn’t think of a way to get out of it. He would just have to show up, eat, and leave as quickly as possible. Hopefully she knew how to cook because he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal since Maggie died.

At 5:30 he put on a clean shirt, then grabbed a bottle of wine. He guessed that was the thing to do. Maggie was the social one. He was happiest staying home, or better yet, in a cabin by a river, away from it all. He pulled on his jacket and gloves and trudged next door. As he neared the walkway, his senses were assaulted by not only flashing lights, but blow-up snowmen and reindeer and an animated Santa on the porch who waved and said, “Ho, ho, ho!” This evening couldn’t get worse. As he reached the top step, he heard shouting and what sounded like a kid having a tantrum inside the house. That was it – he was going home. Just as he turned to leave, the door flew open, and an exhausted looking woman shoved a dog out the door. “Go pee,” she said.

When she looked at Carl, he thought she looked as disgruntled as he felt. “Can I help you,” she said flatly?

Carl felt trapped and horrified at the thought of stepping into that house, where some kid was still screaming in the background. He watched the dog scurry back in from the cold. “Um, Sarah invited me to dinner,” he sputtered.

“Sarah?” “There’s no Sarah here,” she said and turned and shut the door.

Carl was so taken aback by her gruffness that it gave him pause. How can someone be that unhappy, he thought? Then he tried to censor the voice in his head that reminded him what a miserable human being he had been in recent months.

Carl started to walk back to his house when he glanced down the street to the little white house that was his other neighbor. That must be where Sarah lives, he thought. The house looked peaceful in the snow. Soft white lights outlined the porch and an evergreen wreath hung on the door. Carl took a deep breath, walked up, and knocked. Maya opened the door and grinned at him. “Come in, Mr. Watson,” she said, opening the door wide. Carl stepped in and looked around. There was a fire in the fireplace and a simply decorated tree in one corner. The furniture was not fancy, but it looked comfortable. A candle, nestled in fresh greens, burned on the coffee table. The juxtaposition between the two homes was remarkable. This home was so warm and inviting.

Just then Sarah came around the corner. “Mr. Watson, we’re so glad you came!” He handed her the bottle of wine and said, “Call me Carl.”

She smiled and said, “Carl, thank you for the wine.”

“Maya, hang up Mr. Watson’s jacket, please.”

“Come in and have a seat,” said Sarah. I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

Carl felt awkward and nervous somehow, but he went and sat in a chair by the fire. Sarah came back from the kitchen with two glasses of wine and handed one to him. She sat down on the couch and Maya quietly sat on the floor by her mother’s feet. He watched Maya pick up a doll, probably a Christmas gift, and start to comb its hair. He felt like he should say something but didn’t know what. He had barely talked to anyone since Maggie’s death. He thought he would probably have to relearn how to have a simple conversation. Finally, he blurted out, “I went to the wrong house.”

“Oh,” said Sarah, “I’m so sorry!” “Maggie walked Maya home many times and I just presumed you knew. Which house did you go to?”

“The big tan one on the other side of my house.”

Sarah covered her mouth but couldn’t stifle a laugh. “Let me guess – kids were screaming, dogs barking, toys everywhere?”

“I never made it past the top porch step. A very unwelcoming woman opened the door to let the dog out and told me I had the wrong house.”

Now Sarah laughed out loud. “That’s Mitzi Burwell. They have five kids, and her husband is working two jobs right now, most likely to pay for that huge house, and they just bought a new van.” “I try to help with the kids when schools out, but they’re pretty out of control. She’s not a bad person, just in over her head, I think.”

Carl wasn’t so sure of that, but who was he to judge? He wondered what people would think if they came to his house now. There would be none of the chaos of Mitzi’s, but none of the warm welcome of Sarah’s either. Was your home a reflection of who you were as a person? The thought made him frown. He knew there was truth in that, and he knew, deep inside, that his home reflected someone he really didn’t want to be, someone who’d stopped caring, who’d neglected kindness and embraced resentment and cynicism.

Sarah stood then and said, “Let’s eat, everything is ready.” “Maya, show Mr. Watson to the table, please.”

He followed Maya into the dining room. “Here you go,” Maya said, indicating one of the chairs. Then she went to help her mother carry out the food. What an endearing child, thought Carl. No wonder Maggie liked having her around.

Dinner, to his delight, was delicious! He hadn’t realized how sick he was of microwavable food. There wasn’t much conversation during the meal and that suited him too. Afterall, he really didn’t know these people. After dinner and an apple crisp desert, Sarah made coffee and they went back into the living room. The evening had been much more enjoyable than he had anticipated, but he felt ready to leave. Carl drank his coffee quickly, thanked Sarah for a wonderful meal, and said he really needed to get home.

“Thank you for coming, Carl. We really loved Maggie. If there’s ever anything we can do, please let us know,” said Sarah. “I know people say that all the time, but we really mean it.”

Carl swallowed hard and simply nodded.

Maya, who had been pretty quiet most of the evening, handed Carl his coat and said, “I think Maggie and my dad are friends in heaven. She told me once that if she got to heaven before me, she would find my daddy and tell him I love and miss him.”

Carl was stunned by what she said. He turned to Sarah with a questioning look.

“My husband was killed in a car accident a little over a year ago,” she said softly.

“I’m so sorry,” Carl replied.

Then he turned back to Maya and said, “Yes, I think Maggie and your dad are friends.”

……….

Carl lay in bed that night staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts were all over the place. Why hadn’t he at least wondered where Maya’s father was? In the back of his mind, he knew he had been so mired in his own grief that he didn’t even imagine someone else might be suffering. When she had talked about letting them know if they could help in any way, he had dismissed it immediately, but she did understand. Poor little Maya was so sweet and yet she had known deep loss. And Sarah too, but it couldn’t be the same as his, could it? She was too young to have been married that long – not like him. Did that matter, he thought? Then he thought of Mitzi. Five, presumably healthy, kids, a husband that worked hard, a beautiful home…. and she seemed miserable. And what about him? Maggie always said he was the ‘glass half empty’ guy. Was he? Was his outlook on life keeping him from moving forward, from letting go of the anger? As he drifted off to sleep, Carl felt a subtle shift taking place in him.

The next morning Carl’s mind was still crowded with thoughts of yesterday’s events. He didn’t know how to get to a better place, but he knew, at least, that he had to try. He wanted his home to be a reflection of who he wanted to be, who he used to be. Or was it that he wanted to be a reflection of his home, of the warmth and love that used to be here. Carl didn’t know, but he knew he had to start somewhere. He decided that he had to make small changes, baby steps he guessed. Today he would clean the kitchen. Part of him thought that sounded ridiculous. How could washing dishes help heal a shattered heart. Nevertheless, that’s what he did. He also took out the trash, which was filled with frozen food boxes and paper plates. Maybe tomorrow he would actually cook something. Maggie was a wonderful cook, but he could manage a few simple meals.

……….

The next morning, there was a knock on the door, and he opened it to find Maya smiling up at him and holding out his gloves.

“You forgot these,” she said, and then added, “My mom needs a stick of butter, if you have one.” “She said in exchange for the butter she will bring over a big piece of peach pie.” At this she tilted her head to one side and batted her lashes up and down.

“Uh, let me see.”

Carl returned with the butter and thanked Maya for bringing the gloves. He felt a warmth in his heart as he watched her run back to her house and wondered again how he hadn’t even paid attention to the fact that she had been here quite often. Maggie had been pouring her heart into this little girl and he hadn’t even recognized her. Carl and Maggie had, for a number of reasons, decided not to have children. Now he found himself questioning that decision but just as quickly acknowledging it was pointless to dwell on it.

Carl tried to keep up on his mission of accomplishing something each day, no matter how small. So far, he had kept the kitchen pretty clean, dusted, threw out all the old newspapers that cluttered the living room, and done several loads of laundry. It felt good to tidy up, but he still struggled each day to not think about Maggie every waking moment. After all, everything in the house reminded him of her. Also, the frustration of not knowing where things were or how things worked. The laundry room alone was ripe with annoyance. Why couldn’t there just be a simple ‘wash’ setting? Or ‘dry’ on the dryer. Oh no, there were a hundred different combinations! In the end he just pushed buttons until the thing started to fill with water. Maybe Sarah could show him what to do. She had offered, hadn’t she?

New Year’s came and went, and Carl found himself slipping back into a dark place. He just wanted to sit on the porch with Maggie and make plans for the days and weeks ahead. The snow had melted away and he decided that what he really needed was to get out of this house and its endless chores. He bundled up and headed out the door only to find Maya skipping towards him.

“Mr. Watson,” she cried, “can you come over for pizza?” “My mom brought home a lot of pizza!”

“Well, I guess I could have a piece of pizza.”

He followed Maya into the house and caught the smell of pepperoni, onions, mushrooms, and tomato sauce.

“Carl,” Sarah exclaimed, “I hope you’re hungry!” “One of my coworkers retired today and they ordered too much pizza.” “What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, any variety is fine.”

After they had stuffed themselves with pizza, Sarah poured them each a glass of wine and lit the fire. “It’s been a long week,” she said.

“Where do you work,” Carl asked?

“I’m a dental hygienist. The pay is decent, and I can usually work my hours around Maya’s school schedule.”

“That’s good.”

“It is. I’m not sure what I will do for the next couple months, as they want me to fill the hours of my colleague who just retired. It will be fine except for Wednesdays, when Maya gets out early, but we’ll figure it out. The extra income will be good. I might have to pay someone to watch her for a couple hours each week. I’d ask Mitzi, but I don’t think she can take another kid,” Sarah said with a smile.

“I’m not sure Maya could take it either.”

There was a moment of silence and then Carl said, much to his surprise, “She could hang out at my house.”

“Really?” “That would be great! It would only be an hour and a half – two hours max.”

“Sure, that would be fine.”

……….

For the next few weeks Maya sat at Carl’s kitchen table and did homework or drew, or sometimes watched tv, every Wednesday after school. Carl asked Sarah what kind of snacks to buy and made sure he was well stocked. One day, when Maya assured him that she didn’t have any homework, Carl brought out the checkerboard. He taught Maya how to play and it wasn’t long before she beat him on a regular basis. Next, he thought, I’ll teach her how to play chess. He started to realize how much he looked forward to Wednesdays. Somehow this little girl had wormed her way into his frozen heart. Then one day as she plopped down at the table, she let out a yelp of joy. “It’s here!”

Carl jumped and spun around from the counter where he was slicing apples and cheese. “What’s here?”

“The Baker’s Seed Catalogue!” “Get a pen and paper and let’s put together the order.”

“The order for what?”

“Seeds, of course,” exclaimed Maya. “This is Maggie’s favorite seed catalogue and it’s time to get planting!”

Carl had no idea about what seeds should be ordered or planted, but he dug around for a pen and paper and sat down next to Maya, who was flipping through the pages like a master gardener. By the time Sarah arrived to pick up Maya, Carl was astonished to realize he had just ordered nearly $200 worth of seeds. Had he gone mad? He was mad, but at the same time he felt another piece of his heart come to life.

As Maya walked out the door, she said, in a very grown-up voice, “Now Carl, next week we will need to clean the greenhouse and get some soil.”

Sarah started to speak, and he knew she wanted to correct her daughter for using ‘Carl’ instead of Mr. Watson, but Carl cut her off with an “Ok boss” and a smile. A genuine smile. At that moment his eyes filled with tears and his heart opened up a little further.

……….

Two weeks later, Carl and Maya were in full production. He had bought them each new gardening tools and gloves, cleaned the greenhouse, and bought bags and bags of potting soil. When Sarah got off work, she dug out an old pair of gloves and pitched in. They planted until they couldn’t see and again on Thursday and Friday. Once they tucked the last few seeds into the soil, watered all the containers, and made sure the heat lamp was working properly, they all staggered in and collapsed around Carl’s fireplace. Carl order delivery from the local taco place and they ate in exhausted silence.

Every day after school, not just Wednesdays, Maya ran over to check the seeds. On day 27 the first green sprout poked its way through the dirt.

“Whooohoo,” shouted Maya! From then on there were new shoots almost every day. Carl was fascinated by the whole process. No wonder Maggie loved to garden so much. Watching new life sprout from a tiny seed was miraculous. It was miraculous, he thought again, and another crack broke through the barrier of his heart. Deep in his soul he knew Maggie had asked God to send this little girl into his life. “Thank you, Maggie,” he whispered into the sky, “thank you.”

When the weather began to warm in mid-March, it was time to clean up the garden to prepare for planting. The seedlings were robust and healthy and needed a place to grow and thrive. The garden was in bad shape. Carl felt a pang of guilt at how he had neglected Maggie’s favorite place, but regret would not help – it was going to take hard work. It took a full week to clean and weed and prepare the soil. All of them had worked every spare moment and finally the garden was ready for planting.

They put down their tools and stood surveying the fruits of their labor. Maya, standing next to Carl, looked up at him with a serious look on her face. “Carl, can you be my papa?”

Carl felt the breath leave his lungs.

“I don’t have a dad, so I would sure like a papa, if you want.”

There was no stopping the tears as the last hardened part of Carl’s heart fell away. He scooped Maya up in his arms and through an onslaught of emotion said, “I would like that very much.”

“Good,” Maya said as Carl set her down. And with a big smile on her face, she plopped herself down in Maggie’s chair and said, “Good…. Let’s have wine!”