While he brings in boxes, she smiles and tries to decipher the contents. Most are random boxes being re-utilized, but there are a few original boxes too. They seem to be for hydroponics systems. Trays, reservoirs, tubes.
The car is packed tight, even the passenger seat crammed entirely full of boxes and bags. As he brings in the final stack of boxes, she follows him inside and weaves around the untidy array on their kitchen floor.
“What’s all this?” she asks, touching a box without a label.
“My genius idea!” he exclaims, brushing his hands and sleeves free of whatever grit and dirt might be there. “It’s for growing plants inside, but since they get artificial sunlight, I thought it might work for you too. I added a few things to make that possible.”
“Artificial sunlight? You mean like a tanning bed?”
He barks a quick laugh. “Oh, I should have thought of that one. Hmm, I wonder.”
Waving away the suggestion, she says, “Oh, never mind that. How would you get one home? I’m asking if this is the same sort of thing.”
“Well, I suppose it is. In a way. Turns out that plants in sophisticated setups get special lights that give them the part of the spectrum they really need instead of the whole spectrum we get from the sun. I had no clue such a thing even existed. Did you?”
Miranda shakes her head.
“It’s true. I had a hard time convincing the man I didn’t want only those lights, which he claims are far better. I started talking like I was one of those blokes that gets strange ideas about food. Eventually, he gave me a good eyeroll and the full spectrum lights.”
Turning in a circle amidst all the boxes, Miranda asks, “So you got an entire setup just for the lights?”
With a shrug, Tom grins a little. “It wouldn’t have been convincing otherwise. If the government ever asks about people buying such things, then he’d remember me if I didn’t buy what I need to set up a true garden. And anyway, it might be fun to try. Something nice to do inside.”
His eyes say he really wants her to be enthusiastic about this. He probably wants her to do anything besides continue creeping around the house like a mouse. Perhaps this weakness she’s feeling disgusts him as much as it does her. She doesn’t want to disgust him. If he gets tired of who she’s becoming, what will she do?
Pushing down the blossoming panic and plastering a believable smile on her face, Miranda says, “Oh, that does sound fun. Let’s do that.”
*****
It turns into an obsession very quickly. The first green poking through the dirt seals the deal. Within weeks, there are small plants that will become lettuces and greens of all sorts. There are abundant beets already forming bulbs, carrots sprouting ferns. There are so many plants that Miranda wonders if they can eat it all.
Tom bought two different kinds of systems. One is true hydroponics and uses no dirt at all. The other is different, and simply grows the plants in the standard way using indoor lights. It’s a great deal of work to get set up, but once that part is done, it’s remarkably easy to nurture. That’s especially true since Miranda has almost nothing else to occupy her.
The lights frighten her at first. They sting her skin and she fears even a fake sun might inspire the death. Nothing happened save that she began to look better, so more often than not, Tom has to bring her away from the plants and their light.
Also, Tom seems very proud of her. As always, he protects and shields her from the world outside, but her working independently on something useful seems to please him. She no longer feels that blooming panic at the idea that Tom will be disgusted with her helplessness.
Over the long winter, Tom gives her all the news that he hears in the village nearby. He says it’s slowly emptying out, the men moving to cities where they can get services. Everything is concentrating in those places, the outlying areas falling into disuse.
The house needs work, but it’s difficult to get such help now. Even obtaining fuel oil for the furnace is a tiresome process. The truck has to come from some distant town. Plumbers, carpenters, and other professionals of all sorts are needed, but no longer local.
When one is scheduled, Miranda hides in the complex of rooms in the basement with her plants. It’s not uncomfortable at all. It’s actually warmer there with the earth to shed some of its warmth into the spaces. Once the fuel oil furnace is filled, it grows almost comfortable. They need it warmer there for the plants, so she enjoys it too.
There are rooms upon rooms in the basement. Some were once storage, some were rooms for staff, others were passages from one part of the house to another. The only areas she avoids are the rooms with stairs leading up to ground level. There’s one to the rear courtyard, another to the side entrance where tradesman once made their deliveries, and one more at the end of a very long passage under the courtyard that opens near the one-time stables and garden house beyond.
On one such occasion, there are several workers who come to do a rather significant job. Tom already had most of the electrical updated, but not all of it and not all the fixtures. Some rooms have such hazardous lighting they can’t be used. At last, they’re getting the final bits of it completed.
The job continues well into the evening. Once it’s dark, Miranda takes a chance and peeks out of the windows set high in the wall near the trade entrance. The trucks are parked there and
