tearing at a flowerbed by the house.
“Granddad, please come inside. I promise we’ll fix everything,” Luke said, crouching next to him.
“Leave me alone. It’s my fault. I should never have let this happen. She would be so unhappy. I can’t bear for her to be unhappy.” He continued to rip at the long grass, his hands white and shaky in the humidity.
“Please, Granddad, I’ll take care of it.” Luke took his grandfather’s arm, only to be shaken away by an angry exclamation. Luke looked at Nicki, his eyes dark and filled with pain, stripped of arrogance. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.
Without thinking Nicki knelt and laid her hand on the old man’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Professor McCade. We’ll take care of the garden.”
Her quiet voice seemed more effective than Luke’s frantic tone. The elderly man turned and brushed shaky fingers across his brow. “She would be so…so disappointed.”
“Then we’ll fix it, so she wouldn’t be.”
“It was so beautiful,” he breathed, looking around with tears falling like memories down his face. “She painted this garden for me. A living canvas. Art, young lady, is not confined to a museum.” The last thing sounded so much like an old Professor McCade lecture that she smiled.
“Art is the accomplice of love,” she said obediently, though she didn’t finish the quotation she’d heard him say so often in his lectures…. Take love away, and there is no longer art.
She didn’t think he needed a reminder that his love had been taken away.
“You were always an excellent student, Miss Johansson.”
The fact that he remembered her name startled Nicki, and her gaze met Luke’s equally surprised eyes.
“Thank you, Professor. I teach now, out at the college.”
“Yes, I recommended you for the position when I retired.”
That, too, was a shock. She’d been shy in all his classes, particularly when she was tutoring Luke and her emotions seesawed between terminal infatuation and utter loathing. Though kind to his students, she had never expected Professor McCade to take special notice of a mousy, underage kid who always sat in the rear. He certainly hadn’t seemed to recognize her at his recent yard sale.
“Th-thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence.”
“It was well deserved.”
His eyes began to lose their focus as he looked again around the garden. It was beautiful, though overgrown and neglected. Nicki could feel the love that lingered there and knew there was beauty in the memory of love, as well. His love had changed shape, and wasn’t nearly as immediate, but it wasn’t wholly lost, either.
“You promise to fix it for the Little Sergeant,” Professor McCade whispered. It was a statement, more than a question.
The Little Sergeant? Nicki mouthed at Luke.
My grandmother, he mouthed back.
Nicki wondered if it was a promise she could keep. She’d never gardened in her life, and Luke surely didn’t want her hanging around any longer than necessary. Yet there was an appeal to working with the earth and painting a picture with growing things. And if it would help Professor McCade…how could she say no?
She gulped. “Um, yes, I promise. Maybe we can get a good yard service. They could put everything in order in a few days.”
“No.” His thin arms made an agitated gesture. “Not in her garden. I won’t allow it.”
“All right,” Nicki soothed gently. “But it’s too warm to work out here right now. Come inside where it’s cooler. I’ll start early tomorrow.”
They drew him back into the house, where he sat on the same chair as before. But instead of staring blankly, he gazed outside with an unwavering intensity, as if the answers to all the questions ever asked waited there to be discovered. “You promise,” he said without blinking.
“Yes. I promise.”
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