Garden Spells Read Online Free PDF Page B

putting the box on the ground. “They fell over the fence. There are at least a dozen here. I didn’t know if you used them for your catering, so I thought I’d bring them over. I tried your door, but no one answered.”
    Claire scooted the box away from him as subtly as possible. “I don’t use them. But thank you. You don’t like apples?”
    He shook his head. “Just occasionally. I can’t figure out for the life of me how they got in my yard. The tree is too far away.”
    He didn’t mention a vision, which relieved her. He must not have eaten one. “Must have been the wind,” she said.
    “You know, the trees on campus don’t have mature apples on them at this time of year.”
    “This tree blooms in the winter and produces apples all spring and summer.”
    Tyler stood and stared at the tree. “Impressive.”
    Claire looked over her shoulder at it. The tree was situated toward the back of the lot. It wasn’t very tall, but it grew long and sideways. Its limbs stretched out like a dancer’s arms and the apples grew at the very ends, as if holding the fruit in its palms. It was a beautiful old tree, the gray bark wrinkled and molting in places. The only grass in the garden was around the tree, stretching about ten feet beyond the reach of its branches, giving the old tree its room.
    Claire didn’t know why, but every once in a while the tree would actually throw apples, as if bored. When she was young, her bedroom window looked out over the garden. She would sleep with her window open in the summers, and sometimes she would wake in the morning to find one or two apples on the floor.
    Claire gave the tree a stern look. Occasionally that worked, making it behave. “It’s just a tree,” she said, and turned back to the lilac bush. She resumed pulling at the roots of the ivy.
    Tyler put his hands in his pockets and watched her work. She’d been working alone in the garden for so many years that she realized she missed having someone there. It reminded her of gardening with her grandmother. It was never meant to be a solitary job. “So, have you lived in Bascom long?” Tyler finally asked.
    “Almost all my life.”
    “Almost?”
    “My family is from here. My mother was born here. She left but moved back when I was six. I’ve been here ever since.”
    “So you are from here.”
    Claire froze. How could he do that? How could he do that with just five little words? He just said to her the very thing she’d always wanted to hear. He was getting in without even knowing how he did it. He was the ivy, wasn’t he? She very slowly turned her head and looked up at him, his lanky body, his awkward features, his beautiful brown eyes. “Yes,” she said breathlessly.
    “So, who are your guests?” he asked.
    It took a moment for the words to penetrate. “I don’t have any guests.”
    “As I was coming around the front of the house, someone pulled up to the curb with a car full of boxes and bags. I thought they were moving in.”
    “That’s strange.” Claire stood and took off her gloves. She turned and walked out of the garden, making sure Tyler was following her. She didn’t trust the tree alone with him, even if he didn’t eat apples.
    She walked along the driveway curving beside the house, but then she came to a sudden stop beside the tulip tree in the front yard. Tyler came up behind her, close, and put his hands on her arms, as if aware that her legs had turned boneless.
    More ivy .
    There was a little girl, about five years old, running around the yard with her arms stretched wide like an airplane. A woman was leaning against an old Subaru wagon parked on the street, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching the little girl. She looked small, frail, with unwashed light-brown hair and deep circles under her eyes. She seemed to be holding herself to keep from trembling.
    Claire wondered absently if this was how her grandmother felt when her daughter came home after years away, when pregnant