Poisoned Petals

“What about your parents?”

“I’m almost ready for them. And I have a little more time. Besides, I feel this is something I need to do. For Darmus, I suppose.”

“Let’s do it then,” he agreed. “For Darmus.”

AFTER A LONG, RESTLESS NIGHT thinking about Darmus and Rosie and their days at the university together, Peggy was up at dawn, checking on her plants.

Everything was growing fine in her basement botanical lab, including a monarch chrysalis that had managed to winter there. It was almost ready to split open. She had to look up what monarch larvae ate. She knew they could be picky about it, preferring to starve to death rather than eat food that was unpalatable to them.

She was in the library, started by John’s great grandfather, when Paul found her. “Mom? Is this your idea of taking it easy? Steve said you hardly slept last night.”

“I feel fine.” She didn’t look up from her weighty tome on entymology. “I’m trying to find out what monarch caterpillars eat. Where is Steve?”

“He went home to get some sleep.” Paul, who’d just gotten off duty, yawned. “What?”

“Monarch.” She explained about the one in the basement “I believe they eat milkweed. Yes! Here it is. They eat milkweed. I’ll have to get some seeds.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet. Have you?”

“No. But I think you should eat before you try to feed caterpillars. I’ll make us some pancakes.”

Knowing pancakes and toast were about the only things in his cooking vocabulary, Peggy agreed. They went to the kitchen with her reassuring him that she felt fine. She sat at the scrubbed wood table and listened to him talk about his night on patrol, remembering back when John was still in uniform and they’d do the same thing.

It was odd having Paul make her breakfast. She was so used to it being the other way around. But she supposed it was good for him to be able to return the favor. It was good for children to know they could take care of the people who took care of them.

“With all of this going on, I almost forgot that your grandparents will be here tomorrow. I still have a few things to do to get ready for them.”

“Steve said the doctor said you’re supposed to take it easy. Nothing strenuous.” Paul put a plate of pancakes in front of her and plunked down a bottle of syrup. “You tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.”

She smiled at the idea. He had no idea what she was talking about. “I love you, Paul. And I love that you want to take care of me, you and Steve both. But I’m fine. I didn’t get hit in the head by the door when it blew off Darmus’s house yesterday. I was scratched and upset, but I’m fine. I’m going to the Potting Shed this morning, and I have a few errands to run. You can go back to your place to sleep, or you can sleep here if you like. I just dusted your old room. Cousin Melvin will probably sleep there.”

“Mom!” He made a face that reminded her so much of when he was five. “Cousin Melvin’s feet stink. It won’t ever come out.”

At least he was resigned to her being up and around. She poured syrup on her pancakes. “I’ll let him sleep in another room then. You might want to stay over while they’re here. It’s been a long time since you saw Grama and Grampa.”

“Since Dad died.” He took a mouthful of pancake. “It’s hard to believe he’s only been gone two years. It seems like it’s been forever.”

She knew what he meant. Sometimes it was like another lifetime.

They ate in companionable silence for a while as the sun peeked in the big kitchen window that overlooked the old oaks in the backyard. The twenty-five-room, turn-of-the-century house built by John Lee’s great-grandfather had a huge yard for the area on Queens Road in Charlotte, North Carolina. It was one of the first houses to be built on the block and had retained its original land despite the city being built up around it.

The house was in trust for the oldest son in the Lee family. It had passed to John but wouldn’t pass to Paul, since John’s brother, Dalton, had a son older than Paul who was waiting for it. The trust was a good idea, though Peggy wished Paul were going to be the one to inherit. It was probably the only thing that had kept the property from being sold or broken up into smaller tracts.

For Peggy, the house was a dream. She had used the yard to grow experimental plants in the long, warm summers and had even brought some of her botany students from Queens University to visit it. John had enjoyed gardening, too. He’d planted pecan trees and an apple tree in the backyard. Between them, Dalton’s son would have a wonderful garden to give his children. Maybe someday one of Paul’s children would live there and enjoy it. Her grandchild.

A little misty-eyed, Peggy got up and started to clear the table. “The pancakes were very good, Paul. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. At least you sound better today. More like you and less like a cement mixer.” He grinned and scooped up the last mouthful of his breakfast. “But I feel like I’m not doing my job. Steve stayed up all night watching out for you. Now I’m going to let you go to the Potting Shed.”

She kissed his head and saw the bright red hair he kept buzzed down was the exact color of hers when she was his age. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“You mean after he’s been around you longer and realizes he can’t possibly win?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She grabbed his plate and fork. “He already knows that!”

Paul laughed. “Fine. I think I’m going to sleep here, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine. I have my cell phone if you want to check in to see if I’m still alive.”