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The Secret of the Garden

By Ronna Bacon

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Chapter 1

She stood in the overgrown, worn-out garden, her eyes searching through the debris. It was here somewhere, she knew, that secret her mother had told her about as a child. She just had to find it, but where? That was the million dollar question, she thought. She wiped her brow, then stared at the muddy mark on her wrist, the sweat on her brow turning the dirt to mud. Great, she thought, just what I needed. I only have a limited amount of time today and this was not part of it. I had not planned on digging through dirt or debris.
She spun slowly in a circle, before trudging back to the edge of the garden along the narrow path she had managed to chop out, turning to get her bearings. What was it Mom had said, she questioned herself? Something about the centre of the garden and a stone or statue or something. There’s nothing here now. And who knows where it would be. This garden is so overgrown, it looks as if I’m going to have to clean it up before I can even make a proper search.
Sighing with fatigue, Faith Webster moved towards the faded, tired, worn-out house that belonged to her now. Not that she wanted it. Not a chance, she thought. I want to live in the city, not in some hick town, away out in the boonies. She paused as she stared at the steps, worn and tired, just as she felt, as a fleeting memory tugged at the edge of her mind, something that made her feel happy for a few seconds before it disappeared.
Mom, you need to be here, but I know you can’t. That hip surgery of yours is taking too long to heal. I need you with me, but I don’t know why. I’m scared, and I know I shouldn’t be. Why, Lord? She silently screamed at Him as she raised her face to the setting sun. Why am I here? You know I don’t like this place and haven’t since the incident all those years ago, the one they tell me I can’t remember, I was too young. Is that why You brought me here, to deal with that? I could have done without that, you know.
She trudged up the steps, fatigue pulling her down. She stopped once more to turn and stare back over the property. I really don’t need this land, Lord, so why am I here? She headed across the wooden porch, intent on cleaning up and finding something to eat. Only, I’m too tired to eat. It’s early but it’s been a long emotional day, a long emotional week. No, make that a long emotional month with too much going on for me to handle, she thought. Tears sparkled on her cheeks before she raised her open hands to swipe at them.
A noise behind stilled her forward walk, and she paused, listening intently, before she shrugged and reached for the door knob. A sudden rush of noise and she was slammed bodily against the door, her head twisted sideways as an arm thrust against her neck, the door shaking under the force of her hitting it.
She screamed before she was pulled away from the door, an arm wrapped around her, trapping her arms against her body and a hand slapped viciously across her mouth. She fought her attacker, fear rising within her.
A guttural voice sounded loud in her ears, asking her where it was. She shook her head, not knowing what he meant.
“What was in the garden? Where is it? It’s mine and I want it.”
She shook in her terror and then anger. She fought against her captor, her heels kicking at his legs, struggling to escape. His hand loosened enough she was able to clamp her teeth into the fatty fingers.
With a shout of rage, the man shook her, her teeth rattling against one another before he slammed her into the clapboard walls. Her head thudded dully against the wood and she slumped to the porch floor, her movements stirring up dust and old dried leaves. Spiders scurried away to hide, and a mouse peeked through a hole in the floor before it too disappeared to safety.
He stood, her assailant, eyes filled with rage and hatred, and then his foot came back as he kicked at her. He shoved open the back door that led to the large, old-fashioned kitchen, his eyes searching through the destruction he had caused there while she had been in the garden, not finding what he wanted. He paused as he heard a truck engine and stomped to the front window.
Just great, he thought. Now I have another one to get rid of. He watched as a young man slid from behind the wheel, pulling off his baseball cap before he settled it once more on his head and stood, staring around the overgrown yard as the rays of the setting sun cast a reddish glow over him. The man started for the stairs at the front, moving in a tired manner and as if he had no real desire to be at that very place.
The man in the house watched, finally yanking open the front door and charging towards the man, surprise on his side. He launched himself forward, catching the younger man in the chest and sending him backwards from the next to last stair, to land harshly on the flagstone path. The older man rose, fists ready but not needed, as the younger man sprawled, unconscious, in front of him, his cap rolling away from him in the light breeze. He stared around, finally heading down the short lane and to his car he had hidden in a grove of trees not far from the lane entrance. Anger and hatred warred with one another inside him. Which would win?

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