style="font-size:15px;"> The guilt was still there; he would work hard to make up for the damage he’d caused. He still didn’t understand why he had done it, knew now that he had nothing against the woman or her garden. He liked flowers. They were pretty to look at. It was attention he wanted. His parents were always so busy with grownup friends, and his father was usually amused by his son’s pranks. Not this time.
You are lonely?
Yes, I’m lonely, thought Jerry.
When the work was finished, Mildred called him into the house for milk and a plate heaped with cookies, which he ate greedily.
“It’s nice to have someone here to eat my cookies,” she said. “My grandchildren are so far away. I hardly ever see them.”
“Why do you live alone?”
“I prefer it that way since my husband died, and I’m getting used to it. I have my house and books, and the garden. The plants are my company, and they give me something to care for. It’s not a bad way to live, but sometimes I think the plants are talking to me. Isn’t that silly?” She laughed.
Jerry didn’t say anything. He didn’t think it was silly.
“I talk talking to people,” she said, “whenever I have visitors. Like you, now. But it isn’t often, so I talk to my flowers, and it makes me feel good, like I have small children again.”
“I hurt them,” said Jerry, and he couldn’t look at her.
“That’s over and done with, now. You were a big help today, Jerry.”
“I like doing it.”
“Could you help me some more?”
“Sure.”
“I could pay you a little something.”
“Whatever,” he said, and jumped a little when she put a hand on his shoulder.
“I start early in the morning,” she said.
“I’ll be here.”
At breakfast the next morning, Mildred saw him waiting for her in the garden.
They worked together, digging and planting under a hot sun. For Jerry, the insanity in his mind came only when Mildred had gone in the house for rest from the heat.
Monster, why are you really here?
I told you to be quiet.
I’m hot and dry all over.
Jerry watered a bed of petunias.
First I’m thirsty, and now I’m drowning.
Quit complaining. He’s learning.
Jerry walked past the largest Trifulus by the shed and jumped to one side when the big plant suddenly shuddered. He remembered the bud-fists opening up, descending on him, the horrible stench from the tooth-lined maw, and the pain.
No fear. She likes you, and we begin to understand. Come rub me, and I’ll sing you an old song.
The thoughts continued throughout the day, becoming more pleasant towards dusk. Mildred sensed the changing tone. Perhaps she really had been angry with Jerry, and her mind was now purged of bad feelings. At dusk she asked if he would help her the rest of the summer, and he happily agreed to do that. He turned to leave, and she went into the house, then remembered a cake pan she had left in the shed, and went to retrieve it. Midway along the dirt path she suddenly stopped. Jerry was standing near the shed, rubbing his hand gently up and down the velvety trunk of a Trifulus, and smiling.
There was a loud humming sound in the garden.
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