Chapter 24: The Back Row

The first Saturday in August, I was in the potting shed at seven, counting trowels.

I had put out four pairs of gloves on the bench, and then I had taken a fifth pair down from the hook.

At five minutes to eight a small white car turned in at the gate.

It stopped well short of the house, and the driver's door opened.

Shelby got out in jeans and old boots, with her hair braided down her back.

Her mother sat in the passenger seat and did not get out.

Shelby walked up the gravel with her hands at her sides, and she stopped at the shed door.

"Eight o'clock," she said.

"You're early."

"I didn't want to be late."

I handed her the gloves and a trowel.

She took them without a word.

"The back row," I said. "Lift the leaves with a stick before you put your hand under. Teddy will show you."

"Teddy's here?"

"He wants to."

She looked toward the garden and swallowed.

"Okay," she said.

Out in the back row the dirt was still dark from the night's watering.

Luke was already on his knees by the fence, setting lavender plants in a line, and Bernice sat on an upturned bucket with a thermos, supervising.

My sister had not forgiven Shelby, and she would have told you so, but she had brought a second cup.

Teddy was cross-legged on the grass at the end of the row with his big reptile book open.

"Luke," he said. "Come look at this one."

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