“Good boy.” Marjorie rolled her eyes at Betsy. “Those phones, I tell you. Now, I know you didn’t come out here just so those girls could play on that old tire swing. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I let my garden go, which is probably obvious since I haven’t been here in ages. I know it’s not a great time to plant, but I’m ready to get back in there. I was hoping you could help me.”
“Honey, it’s always a good time to plant. God gave us enough variety that we can always find something to stick in the ground and grow. It may take extra work in this heat, but you’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I didn’t think so. Come on, let’s see what we can find.”
Marjorie took Betsy’s elbow and led her through the shop toward the back door. On the way she gave Betsy’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Last time you were in here, you mentioned going to see a doctor.”
Betsy smiled. Marjorie wasn’t one to beat around the bush. She thought back to the last day she’d visited Sweet Peas. She’d come in for some marigolds to keep rabbits from eating her flowers, but instead she sat in Marjorie’s back office and cried. After a year of trying to get pregnant on their own, she’d just called to book an appointment for her and Ty with Dr. Fields.
Marjorie had tried to get her to look at it as a step in the right direction. “He’ll get you fixed up in no time. Healthy girl like you, you shouldn’t have any trouble at all.”
But even then, weeks before they started any kind of real treatment, Betsy had sensed it would be an uphill battle. She just didn’t realize her garden would be an accidental casualty.
“Did you end up going to see him?” Marjorie prodded.
“I did. We spent a lot of time in his office over the last two years. Can’t say it did any good though. I don’t think we’ll be going back.”
“Mm-hmm,” Marjorie murmured. “In my experience, no time spent on a worthwhile goal is ever wasted, even if you don’t get what you want right then.” She patted Betsy’s hand before pushing open the screened door to the greenhouse. “You never know what may happen down the road, my dear.”
The walls of the greenhouse were lined with shelves of terracotta pots, some empty, some bursting with blooms and herbs. Marjorie had a green thumb like nothing Betsy had ever seen. In even the driest, hottest summers or the coldest winters—cold for south Alabama, anyway—Marjorie coaxed blooms from the ground, pots, even old feeding troughs. She never used commercial fertilizer, just natural, organic fertilizers she mixed herself. She said she used the same recipes handed down from her grandmother and great-grandmother, all plant whisperers just like her.
She led Betsy to a table in the courtyard outside the back door of the greenhouse. “Now, remind me, how sunny is your garden? All day sun, a few hours, dappled shade . . . ?” Marjorie poked around in various pots and containers, checking tags and markers as she spoke.
“It’s full sun until about midafternoon. Then it’s partly shaded by our big oak tree.”
“And you’re wanting flowering plants or edibles?”
“Both? I was thinking flowers, but Ty asked for peas. Maybe I could plant some flowers in with some vegetables?”
“Yes, this’ll work well.” She pulled a few pots out and set them on the ground. Then she crossed the courtyard to a rack of seeds inside the greenhouse. She spun the rack until she found what she was looking for and pulled a handful of packets down. A few minutes later, the ground by Betsy’s feet was covered in pallets and pots of various sizes.
“Let me tell you what we’ve got.” Marjorie handed her the seed packets. “Pinkeye purple hulls for your husband. An inch deep, two inches apart. Winter butternut squash, some Champion collards. These General Lee cucumbers are good for salads. And carrots—it’s a little early, but you could try them. I grabbed the Thumbelina variety. Figured your little nieces might have fun with those, and they’ll be great for roasting and stews in the fall.
“Now for flowers, these mix just fine with veggies and take the heat pretty well.” She nudged each pot with the toe of her Nikes. “Lantana, salvia. Your sweet potato vine might get a little leggy in the heat, but you can just pinch it back. Make sure they get enough water. I have hibiscus and mandevilla. You could use either one, but make sure they have something to climb up on—a trellis or porch rail. Even some fishing line strung up tall would work.”
Betsy reached down and touched the bright-orange hibiscus petals. “They’re beautiful.”
Just then, Addie and Walsh came running around the side of the shop. “Aunt Betsy?”
“I’m out here, girls,” Betsy called.
“Wow.” Walsh peered down to sniff the flowers.
“None of these have much of a scent,” Marjorie said. “But go try those big white blooms over there.” She pointed to a large gardenia bush planted at the side of the shop. The girls ran over and stuck their faces up to the blooms.
“That bush came from a single cutting of my grandmother’s gardenia,” she said to Betsy. “I planted it there when Moses and I first married and we started this nursery. I gave it a little plant food here and there, but I mostly left it alone and let it do its own thing. Never could have imagined it’d still be here sixty years later. Just goes to show good things can happen even when you’re not looking for them.”
Malik helped Betsy load up the plants in the back of her car. When Betsy called the girls to come back to the car, he ran inside and brought out a bowl of lollipops. The girls each chose one—red for Addie, blue for Walsh—and gave him shy thank-yous.
Betsy hugged Marjorie
