5
Cattail
WHEN SHE GOT HOME and saw her family, Steve, Sam, and Paul waiting for her, Peggy started crying all over again. It distressed everyone so much that she forced herself to stop. She had to explain to her parents who Luther was and why he was important to her. She had to explain why she’d never brought Darmus home to meet them.
But there really was no good explanation. It just never happened. Either they were away or Darmus was busy. Paul had a baseball game or John had to work. It was always something.
“Are you hungry?” Steve asked quietly at her side.
“Not really.” She sniffed. “But some tea would be nice.”
“Chamomile, right?”
“Yes. Thanks. With a touch of borage. It’s in the blue canister on the cabinet.”
“Sit down,” her mother advised. “You’ll feel better.”
Peggy didn’t remark, as she once would have, that sitting or standing, she’d feel the same. Some of that rebellious spirit she had as a child left her when she got married, had Paul, and grew more mature. Maybe her parents didn’t have all the answers, as her literal redheaded version of herself had once accused them. But she didn’t, either. It took a long time to see the truth.
“How did it happen?” Sam asked. “I saw Luther at the garden yesterday. He looked okay to me.”
“Holles thinks it might have been a heart attack. He said Luther had been hiding a heart condition so he could continue Darmus’s work. They probably don’t know yet what happened. I assume they’ll do an autopsy on him.”
“Thank God he wasn’t a victim of violence.” Cousin Melvin snorted into sudden wakefulness. He had sleep apnea that caused him to fall asleep anytime, anywhere, when he was still for more than a few minutes. “That would be a terrible way to die.”
“I don’t think he was,” Peggy reassured him. “I don’t know anyone who would hurt him anyway.”
“There’s a lot of gang activity in that area,” Paul told them. “It was one of our concerns about putting the garden on Seventh Street in the first place.”
“I’m sure the officers would have told Holles if Luther was injured or murdered.” Peggy took the fragrant cup of tea from Steve with a watery smile. She felt it all start to bubble up in her again. If she didn’t find something else to think about, she wasn’t going to stop crying that night.
“It’s a terrible thing anyway.” Her father put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you lost your friend, Margaret.”
Her lower lip trembled, and Peggy pushed herself to her feet. “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but it’s over. We have to move on. Has Paul showed you my plants in the basement yet?”
They all looked at her as though she’d turned green and grown an extra head.
“Margaret,” her mother reminded her, “grieving is a natural part of the process.”
“It might be,” her daughter acknowledged, “but I’m not going to walk around blubbering because Luther and Darmus are gone. They wouldn’t like it any better than I would.”
Her father nodded. “Okay, sweet pea. You can show us your garden if you want to.”
It sounded conciliatory to her, but she wasn’t going to press it. She felt like a piece of sponge cake that had been left out in the rain. Inside, she was slowly crumbling but fighting not to let everyone else see it. Her hands trembled and her legs were unsteady as she led the way downstairs. Sam turned on the lights as they went down the old wood staircase that swept into the basement.
Peggy was always better here. This huge room was the heart of who she was. In one corner was her large pond where the new cattails she planted were growing. They were a new breed and were heartier and able to grow broader spikes and thicker roots to divide. The cattail was almost completely edible. It was possible to make a flour substance from the tops and boil the roots like potatoes. In an increasing effort to help feed the poor of the world, Peggy had joined a group of botanists who were encouraging and expanding the number of native plants that could be grown as food.
“Over here are my hardy soybean plants. I’m working to try to get them to grow in less than an inch of topsoil in extreme conditions, hot or cold.” She bit her lip when she realized she was about to mimic Darmus’s words to her. “There can never be too much research into the idea that no one on this planet should ever go hungry.”
“Are these blue gourds?” Her father was looking through another section of the basement. “I don’t know how well they feed the hungry, but I sure like ’em.”
Peggy smiled. “I’m just playing with those. Like the Carolina Flamingo parrot tulips in the front yard. I can’t be serious all the time, and neither can my plants!”
When there was nothing else to see in the basement, she moved them all upstairs. Cousin Melvin was visibly drooping after going through the downstairs tour of the house. She stopped at the thirty-two-foot blue spruce in the
