The Garden

Mrs. Hendricks said she would die on September 18th. On the date of her departure, she woke up at her usual time of 6:30 in the morning. She was nothing if not a creature of habit. At 7:00, Mrs. Hendricks opened the side gate into the garden. Not just any garden. A rose garden. And not just any rose garden. An enchanted rose garden. Not by chance but by design. Quite similar to her life, in that regard.

Mrs. Hendricks has lived in this duplex for nearly half of a century. There’s never been a reason to leave. Over time, what started as a thought that flowers were nice turned into an obsession for roses of all colors and sizes enclosed within a beautiful, symmetrical stone walkway. Completing the garden was a stone fence on the perimeter and not one, but two water features.

Even though over half a century has passed, Mrs. Hendricks has never shared her duplex with another soul. Her husband passed very young. She never remarried. Throughout the years, neighbors would come and go, and most helped Mrs. Hendricks maintain the garden. At the very least, they enjoyed her company in the garden with a cup of tea or coffee in the cool mornings or dusky twilights.

As she sits at the wrought iron table, she glances towards the horizon. The days are beginning to get shorter and the light is changing. It won’t be long before October knocks.

Speaking of knocks, there’s one at her front door. She gracefully glides back through the gate and into her duplex like a ballerina floating above the ground. Glancing through the window, she sees it’s her landlord, Mr. Billingsley. Mrs. Hendricks unlocks the door.

Of course, it’s not known when Mrs. Hendricks knew she would die on September 18th. Or if she knew how. Or if she even remembered.

Regardless, she certainly would have been surprised when she opened the door to find a gun staring back at her. The surprise wouldn’t have lasted long as the gunshot echoed through the duplex.

***

Allison sat up in bed, unsure of what she just heard. She squinted her eyes as if that would help her hear. It wasn’t so much of the source of the noise, but if it was even real. Allison has an issue where upon falling asleep or waking up, she hears a loud noise. And does sound quite like what she just heard. Yet, what she heard did seem slightly louder. She sits. Waits. Nothing. Allison begins her day.

In the middle of breakfast, an impatient knock bangs through Allison’s half of the duplex. Not in the mood for company, she tiptoes silently to the front door. Unhappy to find her landlord, Allison quietly retreats to her breakfast. No sooner does she sit down does the knocking resume. This time, she doesn’t react. After several tense seconds, Allison confidently determines that her landlord left and begins getting ready for the day.

Allison has nothing against her landlord, Paul Billingsley. In fact, they have a very good rapport. She just can’t imagine what he is doing knocking on her door at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Glancing through the window with the view of the garden, expecting to see Mrs. Hendricks, Allison is surprised to find the garden empty. Then again, Allison realizes that she is probably a few minutes behind schedule after her rude interruption.

As Allison sips her coffee, Paul appears out of the mists. Startled, Allison composes herself enough for basic pleasantries. A bit more jittery than usual, Paul stammers through replies and casually mentions not seeing Mrs. Hendricks this morning. A bit odd, but perhaps she’s decided to sleep in. The old bird deserves it.

As he walks away, Allison ponders his statements. Calling Mrs. Hendricks an old bird seems more than a bit rude. Not only is she not elderly but she’s entirely self-sufficient. Mrs. Hendricks solely maintains this beautiful rose garden. The sheer amount of work that has been put into this garden to appear effortless is astounding. The perfectly curated roses, the

By the next morning, when Mrs. Hendricks still hadn’t appeared in the garden, Allison grew concerned. Calling out across the garden to Mr. Billingsley, she asked if he had seen her. He paused, answered that he hadn’t, and continued on before Allison stopped him again. Suggesting the police be called, Mr. Billingsley seemed to noticeably bristle. Just for a welfare check. Supposing that it wouldn’t hurt, he agreed.

That afternoon, a brisk knock stirred Allison from her Sunday afternoon reading. Startled to find the police, they politely inquired if she would be willing to discuss her neighbor, Lily. In this moment, she realizes that she never knew Mrs. Hendricks’ first name. Referring to her as Lily was as unnatural as speaking a foreign language.

After an hour, and too many questions to count, Allison escorts the police out of her duplex. She walks back in, absolutely stunned by what she has learned. Not that Mrs. Hendricks’ first name is Lily. But that Lily Hendricks has been murdered. Gaining her composure, Allison pours herself the last of the coffee that she had made for the police and ponders the future in the garden.

Not just her future. The future of the garden, too. Without Mrs. Hendricks, who would take on such a monumental task? On the face of it, the garden doesn’t appear to be a lot of work. Look closer and you’ll discover that within each project lies twenty more. Mrs. Hendricks had the benefit of retirement to allow for the time required of the garden. Glancing at the stone path, even that, requires maintenance. The table that she sat didn’t just appear there. Mrs. Hendricks painstakingly chose every detail of this garden. Allison had never taken the time to notice how every little detail created this beautiful masterpiece.

Mr. Billingsley sat down with Allison. Suggesting that they tear the garden down created a visceral reaction from Allison. No, that’s not acceptable. This was her masterpiece.

Allison stared at Mr. Billingsley. Finally, she suggested that she would take over the garden. He acquiesced. Although he disagreed, it was her decision. She would have full decision making but with that came the financial responsibility as well. Allison unflinchingly agreed. Her heart ached for Mrs. Hendricks. Her beautiful creation had been on the edge of destruction.

As Allison watched Mr. Billingsley shake his head and walk away, Allison had the distinct feeling that she was watching a man with a secret.