The First Gardener Read Online Free PDF

at five thirty so I can get the boys started. And I always gon’ be leavin’ right at five thirty too. Been that way these twenty-five years, and I ain’t thinkin’ it gon’ change much ’til I up and retire. Besides, these is the best hours for a gardener.” He extended the bundle of papers toward Gray with another chuckle. “I ain’t knowed we was racin’ anyways.”
    “I’m joking. I wanted to say hello. When you leave the papers in the kitchen, I get caught up and forget to come say hey. How’s your morning so far?”
    “Got me a real green valley today.” Gray saw the white flash of Jeremiah’s teeth in the darkness. “And we can congregate out here if you want.”
    “I just like talking to you, is all.”
    “Well, now, I appreciate that. I like talkin’ to you too. Be a honor.”
    Gray had enjoyed Jeremiah’s company from the time his family moved into the governor’s mansion. Gray could almost always find his head gardener nearby, pruning something or weeding something or working in his greenhouse. And after his first several reality checks as governor, when he learned the job was even harder than he expected, Gray had found a welcoming ear in this kind old man.
    Not that Jeremiah couldn’t be ornery. In fact, he could be downright stubborn. Gray knew Jeremiah’s story. He also knew he held the authority to give Jeremiah a better life. But Jeremiah wouldn’t let him. Said what he had was what he had. Gray had honored an old man’s wishes. But that didn’t stop him from seeking Jeremiah’s company.
    “Actually,” Gray said, “I wanted to ask you a question. You know we’ve had prisoners out here keeping up the grounds of the Tennessee governor’s mansion for years. And with you overseeing them all this time, I wanted your thoughts on something.”
    “Don’t know much, Gov’nor. But I always been good at listenin’.”
    Gray curled the papers under his arm. “You’ve been listening to me for the last three years, haven’t you?”
    “Appreciated ever’ day of it.”
    “How do you feel about this prisoner release that we’ve done?”
    Jeremiah shook his head with a slow sway. “Way I see it, if somebody gone and give you rotten lemons, you ain’t gon’ get no lemonade worth drinkin’. And there ain’t nothin’ ’bout life the way it s’posed to be anyways. Wish I could be tendin’ me the Garden of Eden, but it ain’t here no more. So we do the best with what we got.”
    “I did the best I knew, Jeremiah. My other options were worse.”
    Jeremiah reached over and touched his shoulder. Gray felt the boniness of the old man’s hand through his starched white dress shirt. “Ain’t got no doubt, Gov’nor. Ain’t got no doubt.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “Y’know, one time when I be real down ’bout the way my life turned out, my Shirley say to me, ‘Jeremiah Williams, you got two choices. Either you stick with what you know to be true, or you gon’ do sump’n you regret. And ain’t nothin’ worse than a life full a regrets.’”
    “I agree with Mrs. Shirley.” Gray tapped the newspapers. “Well, I’d better start reading these, huh?”
    Jeremiah expelled a puff of air. “Better you than me. Now, I’m gon’ go talk to some flowers. Bet my garden smell lot better’n yours.”
    Gray laughed. “Yeah, but what I got in my garden is the only thing that will make yours grow.”
    “Hee-hee. Ain’t gon’ tell no politicians the gov’nor just gone and called ’em manure.” Jeremiah chuckled and disappeared around the corner.
    Gray closed the door to the north entrance, pulled out the Memphis paper, and turned it over to read the headline. “‘Victims’ Rights Group Sues over Prisoner Release’?” He shook his head and stuffed the paper underneath his arm again.
    The press wanted a governor relegated to sound bites. Tennesseans wanted a governor who knew their names and responded to their needs. And Gray aspired passionately to be the latter.