Zera and the Green Man Page 8

  “What?” Zera couldn’t believe what Nonny was saying.

  “I couldn’t face it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It was too much. I’d just lost a limb, then a daughter and a son-in-law. I felt like I had nothing left. Coming home was not going to bring them back.” She hugged Zera. “I can’t imagine what you think of me.”

  I needed you, thought Zera. I needed you so much! You still had us. Me and your son! She said, instead, “It was hard for me.”

  “I know, dear, I know. I am so sorry. It’s no wonder Tiffany steamrolled the custody thing, influencing Ted not to even consider me as a guardian because of my artificial leg.” Her brow furrowed.

  “Tiffany wants to marry Uncle Theodore, but I don’t think he feels the same,” mumbled Zera. Her mind was reeling from the disclosure; everything seemed wrong. How could she stay away?

  “It doesn’t hurt?” She gestured to her grandmother’s leg.

  “Not usually. Sometimes I still get ‘ghost’ pains, but not often. It’s strange because it still feels like it’s there, sometimes it still itches. Those odd amputee things you hear are true, I can attest to them. But there are benefits too.” She winked. “Now I can go as a peg-legged pirate on Halloween, something I’ve always had a secret longing to do.”

  Zera didn’t feel like laughing, but she gave her grandmother a smile.

  A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and within seconds a flash of lightning ripped through the sky at the base of the mountains. Cato, lying a few feet from the porch swing seemed oblivious (the poor guy was mostly deaf), but Alice started to whine. Drops began pelting the metal porch roof.

  “Let’s go in,” said Nonny.

  After a dinner of pasta salad, Zera confessed to Nonny something was bothering her. “It’s about Theodore. I feel kind of bad about it now. He is your son and my uncle . . .” Zera stalled, carrying their dishes to the sink. Her heart beat a little faster as she hoped Nonny wouldn’t think she was awful. “When he got fat, I nicknamed him.” She blurted it out, “I nicknamed him ‘The Toad.’”

  “Hmmm.” Nonny hobbled over to Zera and patted her hand. “A sometimes inappropriate sense of humor runs in this family. He’s kept us apart for three years, and that’s hard to forgive. Most people spend their lives fighting their inner dragons; it’s sometimes not easy to tell what lies in their hearts. And we’ve all been grieving, and grieving is different for every person and can be a long process. I’m just thankful you found ways to keep that sense of humor through all this! Even if it is a little mean.” She looked away for a moment. “You know, I always told him all he had to do to get rid of those warts for good was rub a raw potato on them and bury it under a tree during a full moon. But he never believed that. I noticed he still has them.”

  Zera didn’t say anything. She’d heard Tiffany mention “Nonny’s Weird Wart Cure” once, when her uncle was thinking of following those very instructions. It had caused an argument, ending with Tiffany vowing to never take him seriously as a scientist if he considered it. To Zera, the wart cure sounded strange, but she’d read a lot in books lately about things that seemed impossible; it pushed her to keep an open mind.

  “Maybe I called him that because Tiffany hated my name. She said Zera sounded like a gypsy or something. When Uncle Theodore told her it meant ‘seed’ in Hebrew she thought that was even weirder.” Zera shut the utensil drawer a little too hard.

  Nonny shook her head and frowned. “I remember you v-mailing me about that. That she even suggested you change it, a little while after you moved in?”

  “She kept hinting, telling me I could ‘reinvent’ myself if I wanted to, have a ‘new start,’ a name I picked out if I wanted. I was thirteen years old! Uncle Theodore got so mad. Then she dropped it.”

  Finished with the dishes, the two walked over to the window to watch the rain, which had slowed to a soft shower. “Tiffany’s also mentioned how ‘bizarre’ it was that Dad took Mom’s last name when they married. She said she couldn’t understand why any man would take his wife’s surname. She always acts like the Green family is made up of the world’s biggest weirdos.”

  “It’s a pity Tiffany doesn’t have a better imagination. Maybe we are kooky. So what? I once heard a story about a woman who lived alone most of her life on a small island off the coast of Scotland. She spent her life studying plants and made several important discoveries. One day a journalist, interviewing her, said he’d heard her called a crack-pot by one of the townspeople. Well, this lady looked the journalist right in the eye and said, ‘Perhaps you’ve got to be a little cracked to let the light come through.’”

  Nonny laughed. “We should put that on a family crest. I just wish you could have known Ted when he was younger. Before his father died. You know Ted’s father was much older than I, don’t you?”

  Zera nodded.

  “He was twenty years older, Zera. It was so hard on Ted, losing his father when he was only eight years old. Sally was seventeen, and she had a hard time too, but Ted was devastated.” Nonny’s eyes softened and a darkness swept over her features for a moment. “Well, did you think up one for Tiffany? A nickname?”

  “No,” Zera said, still a bit embarrassed. None I can say out loud, anyway.

  * * *

  After the rain stopped, Zera went back outside alone. No more than five steps away from the porch, Nonny’s Siamese cat, Merlin, surprised her by leaping out of a lilac bush. He circled around her ankles, purring.

  “Merlin, how you’ve grown! Where have you been?” She picked up the cat and nuzzled him. Mmm. Hay. Definitely the barn. Merlin closed his blue eyes and purred louder.

  Zera put him back on the ground and began to walk down the long gravel driveway, checking out the gardens on both sides. Dusk was her favorite time of day, when all the colors looked intense, and tonight the air smelled fresh and sweet from the rain. Zera breathed in deeply, savoring that sweetness. Looking around, she noticed a tingling sensation going through her, the unmistakable feeling of déjà vu. For a moment everything looked as it had before, years before. How can it be possible that everything looks the same; the vegetable garden, even the window boxes on the cottages? It’s like I’ve been in this exact moment; even the air smells the same.

  As she neared the chicken house the odd feeling grew, and she also had the distinct sensation that someone was watching her. Her eyes went immediately to the vine-covered side of the cottage. That was weird, the light seemed to shift. It looked like a . . . that’s silly, for a moment I thought I saw a face. She checked above her, expecting to find dark clouds that had changed the light. No, everything was the same. She shook off the impression. As she got nearer, it was obvious; nothing could be there but the vines. All the excitement, and I’m getting tired, I guess.

  Zera entered the coop and recognized two hens, Flora, the golden Silkie, whose barbless feathers were fluffy, almost like fur, and Athena, the auburn Rhode Island Red. “Hi, ladies,” Zera said. The hens sat calmly on their nests, following Zera’s every move with tiny, bright eyes. Nonny had said they still had about a dozen bantam, or miniature, hens in all, but most were still out in the garden, scratching for bugs or taking a few more dainty pecks off weeds and vegetable leaves before bedtime.

  With a jolt, Zera recognized a plant in its hanger near the window. A fuchsia, with dark green leaves and hot pink and white drooping flowers, bloomed as one had years ago in the very same spot. Where did Nonny find one just the same? She remembered something about the plant from one of her books. Over a hundred years ago, back in the Victorian Era, the plant was nicknamed “lady’s eardrops.” It fits. They look like old-fashioned dangling earrings. But I’m sure it’s not the same plant that Mom bought. It would have grown too large. She touched one of the velvety flowers and it swayed.

  Thinking of her mom and how they’d taken care of the chickens together brought an emptiness that Nonny could never fill, no matter how great it was to see her again. Zera di
rected her attention back toward the chickens. It’s funny that they didn’t cackle when I came in. Normally, their feathers would be ruffled when someone unfamiliar entered their territory. But they’re acting as if they remember me too, just like Merlin did, as if I’d never left.

  Zera turned to leave. Behind her the blossoms on the fuchsia vibrated and swayed, all on their own, excited by an unknown energy.

  Shutting the door to the chicken house, Zera headed to the barn. Out of sight, on the vine-covered side of the chicken house, something stirred. A green countenance, a male face made of leaves, an entity both human and vegetable, watched Zera. The face of leaves wore an expression of kindness and gentleness, ancient wisdom and ancient songs, songs older to the world than the human race. The Green Man smiled.

  Zera stopped, turned around. Was that . . . a face? No, silly. You’re just jumpy, imagining things, because it feels so unreal to be home! But she definitely heard something, felt something. A faint murmur in the leaves and grass, a tender rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the distinct feeling of being watched. She looked all around her, strained to listen. A voice, voices even. I can almost hear them. Almost. That particular sensation of being watched by a loving gaze was one she knew. She’d experienced the sensation many times as a child, often while playing outside. And each time she would look up to find her dad, or mom, or both, watching from a window, or elsewhere.

  She turned around expectantly, and searched the windows of the house. Blind eyes reflected light, but there was no one there. She turned to the vine-covered coop, blinked. It’s just leaves, you weirdo. Wow, it’s not like me to be spooked by chickens, a fuchsia. She took a deep breath, rubbed her goose bump-covered arms. It’s getting late, the temperature’s dropping. I’m freaking out from being back home; I’m imagining all these things. It’s because I’m wishing Mom and Dad were here, too.

  Shaking it off, Zera made her way to the barn, walked around, peeked in the windows, and then headed back.

  Relaxing again on the porch swing before bedtime, watching a nearly full moon rise above the mountains, Zera asked her grandmother how everything managed to stay the same.

  “Honey, your mother and father had a lot of friends in this small town, people who truly loved them, and who love us. While we were away, those friends saw to it that everything was taken care of. They continue to help me out a lot. And Hattie Goodacre has been a godsend.”

  “Mom always loved Hattie,” said Zera, imagining the tall, exuberant woman. “She was her best friend.”

  “Hattie keeps this property up, now, as far as the plants. She comes for half a day on Saturday, usually with Ben, if he doesn’t have school work.”

  Zera nodded.

  “And of course you remember Cosmic Dan?” said Nonny. “Well, anytime I need house repairs, he’s there. You would not believe the love that surrounded me when I returned home and the support I’ve had these three years. Incredible.”

  It was nearly midnight when Zera and Nonny went to bed.

  Zera kissed her grandmother goodnight and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. It, too, was exactly as she left it. One side of the room had a reading and study area with a computer. On the floor in front of the bookshelves her father built was a multi-colored braided rug, and upon it sat an antique desk and chair. A table and two chairs upholstered in a chenille fabric of colorful peacocks on a white background stood near the windows.

  In the other half of the room was a brass bed covered with a floral quilt, an oak dresser with an oval mirror, and shelves filled with musical instruments, dolls, and toys. The walls were papered in a pattern of large cabbage roses in pinks, reds, yellows and whites, their twining leaves and stems in three shades of green.

  It’s been so long, thought Zera. She looked at the cloth and china dolls lining one shelf. I was still a kid. But just who am I now?

  She put on a white cotton nightgown and climbed into bed. As she lay there under the covers, she looked up at a ceiling that twinkled with glow-in-the-dark painted constellations — yet another memory of her mother.

  She started thinking about what Nonny had said, about going off to South America in a few weeks. She didn’t know I was coming until yesterday, Zera reminded herself. Then she thought of Nonny saying that she actually could have come to the funeral but didn’t. “Everyone’s different, has different needs,” her grandmother had said. Still, the hurt of it all seeped in. She heard Tiffany’s voice, in the car, “Guinevere was nowhere to be found, off on yet another one of her ‘spiritual quests.’ It’s lucky you were there for Zera.”

  Nonny had always been a big part of her life, but now Zera remembered that Nonny had been gone a lot. Most of the time, Zera admitted. Zera also remembered her mother saying that when she and Ted were kids, their mother had been gone a lot, though she hadn’t given any details. Did I finally make it back just to be left again? Couldn’t Nonny change her plans this once? She was home, but felt lonelier than ever.

  As she began to drift to sleep, soft words echoed in Zera’s ears.

  “Welcome back . . . you’re home now.”

  The voice was soft, sweet and feminine, both familiar and comforting. Zera was so close to sleep that she only half heard it, like a whisper in a dream. It came from the corner, from the top of her suitcase — where Zera had placed her box of plants.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I thought they’d have a chauffeur waiting for us when we got off the plane,” Tiffany complained, “with a sign saying, ‘Void Corporation for Mr. Theodore Green.’” Her eyes searched the crowd. “I don’t get this. I suppose we should go get our luggage.”

  Theodore’s gut clenched. She was anxious, and so was he, but here she was, as usual, Tiffany worrying about Tiffany. She’d even changed clothes in the plane while making several passengers wait to use the bathroom. You’d think she was the one getting a new career.

  Theodore shrugged. “We just got off the plane a minute ago. There are hundreds of people here, let’s just . . .”

  “Mr. Green and Ms. Taylor, I presume?”

  A tall man with dark hair and green eyes moved toward them and all the females in the vicinity turned his way. Thanks to Tiffany’s ongoing fashion lessons (lessons Theodore didn’t have an interest in but nevertheless learned from), Theodore noticed that the man wore a very expensive Italian designer suit. He stopped in front of them. Tiffany’s eyes were glued to this man. She looked flustered and one hand flew up to her chin for a moment. Although Theodore didn’t usually notice what other men looked like, he knew one thing from the female five-alarm reaction around him — this one was very handsome.

  Before Theodore could answer, Tiffany threw back her shoulders and beamed, “Yes! We are Mr. Green and Ms. Taylor, I mean.”

  The man extended a muscular hand. “I’m Langston Void.”

  “Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Theodore, shaking it. “This is my girlfriend, Tiffany Taylor.”

  Void took Tiffany’s hand and brought it to his lips, bestowing a kiss. “Ms. Taylor.”

  Theodore adjusted his glasses. That’s a little weird. He could tell Tiffany didn’t mind. Her makeup did little to hide the genuine flush now staining her cheeks.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you!” she gushed. “Theodore told me all about you. Please call me Tiffany.”

  “What a lovely name. Just like the jewelry store.”

  “That’s where it came from.” A girly giggle burbled out of her.

  Void appeared not to notice. “Please, both of you, call me Langston,” he said warmly. “Let’s pick up your luggage. Our limousine is waiting. I’ll be escorting you to your room at The Grand, where you two can freshen up before dinner at The Posh.”

  As they followed him outside, Tiffany grabbed Theodore’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you think he looks like a famous movie star, Theodore?” she whispered. “Can you believe it — a limo, The Grand, The Posh? This is like a dream.”

  Sure isn’t Biotech International, thought Th
eodore. He was quite pleased that the CEO of Void Chemical Corporation had come out personally to meet him.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later they arrived at their suite on the top floor of The Grand. Gilded and silk-upholstered furniture, crystal chandeliers, and marble fireplaces decorated the suite, and on the balcony was a fountain — with not one, not two, but three peeing cherubs. A satin-bow wrapped box of chocolates sat on the coffee table, compliments of Void Chemical Corporation.

  Tiffany ran through the rooms, exclaiming over the toiletries, “They’re full size!” the fake flowers, “Gorgeous! And they smell like those samples you get in magazines!” the fully-stocked wet bar, “They even have Skinny 2000 — can you believe it?” and the box of chocolates in their white satin box, “Modiva! The most expensive chocolates in the world!”

  Minutes later, as they stood on the balcony looking at the city skyline, Tiffany sighed deeply, her lips pulled down in a kittenish sulk. “Teddy, I’m worried. I don’t know if my clothes are going to be, well, good enough for dinner at The Posh.”

  Theodore fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small gold-colored envelope. “Langston gave me this in the limo when I handed him the signed contract. There’s a boutique downstairs, maybe you’d like to check it out.”

  The sparkle returned to Tiffany’s eyes as she opened the small envelope. It held a Titanium American Excess card, printed with the company name and the name of Theodore Francis Green.

  “Just put whatever you need on my bill. Heck, buy a new dress. But watch it when you go out,” Theodore cautioned, “the limit is only one hundred. One hundred thousand.”

  Tiffany threw her arms around Theodore’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “Who would have ever imagined. Tiffany Taylor, the poor kid from Rosemont High, in the best hotel in L.A., about to go to the best restaurant in L.A! This is the happiest day of my life!”

  * * *