Chapter 9: The Garden Rule

Eleanor's POV

We went back to the roof that night to check the orchids.

Rowan had spent the day on his knees fixing the heating circuit, and the bay was warm again.

The tarps lay folded on the bench.

The city glittered through the glass, and the rain had left everything clean.

I stood among the orchids with my hands in my pockets.

"You can ask me something," I said.

He looked up from the thermostat.

"Anything about the garden. How old the orchids are, what I like about it, why I come. I'll answer."

"And the rest?"

"The rest is closed."

He set down his screwdriver.

"That's a strange deal."

"It's the only one I've got."

He thought about it, and he nodded slowly.

"Okay. Then I'll ask about the garden."

He walked over until he stood in front of me.

"Why do you sit out here every day?"

"Because the sun comes in at an angle I like."

"That's not the answer."

"It's part of it."

"What's the rest?"

I looked past his shoulder, at the row of white orchids by the glass.

"Because everything out here grows slowly," I said. "I don't have to hurry it, and it doesn't leave."

He was quiet.

"They die," he said gently. "Orchids. Sooner or later."

"I know."

"You keep them anyway."

"Yes."

"That's not nothing," he said.

I should have changed the subject.