Page 28 of One Last Breath

Thursday arrives again, day twenty-three of my employment at Greenwood Plantation. It is also the first day of August, not that the milestone means anything other than to alert me that the weather will remain hot and humid for several more weeks. I am told that August is the wettest month and that the rain will bring the opposite of relief from the humidity.

The weather is the least of my concerns, though. I don’t want to linger too long without an answer. I am patient, but not that patient.

I decide I’ll have to risk a visit to the secret garden after all. If I am questioned about it, I can simply deny I was there. I’ll disturb my footprints and clean my boots in the fountain before I return to the house. No doubt Moses will be quite displeased with me, but I’ve already accepted that I’ll never reach the promised land, so Sir Moses will simply have to deal with it.

I take my journey an hour after breakfast when the rest of the servants will be busy working and the family will be off the estate. I suppose Violet could see me from her window if she chose, but the hedges will hide my destination, and it’s not a crime for me to walk through the grounds on my day off.

I reach the garden, determined to accomplish my mission. Today, I will find out what that garden hides.

When I reach the honeysuckle hedges that separate the inner gardens from the outer ones, I feel an odd trepidation. An image flits across my mind of a towering hedge maze, an otherworldly glow and a pale woman under a harsh moon.

I reach for the image, but it disappears before I can identify it. I sigh and press forward.

I make it halfway to the wrought iron gate that separates the garden when I hear footsteps. I freeze, but before I can determine the direction of the sound and hide, Christopher walks into view. He stops and stares at me a moment, then reddens. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone could hear me.”

I blink, confused. “Hear you?”

“Yes. I was… Well, I thought I was being loud. That’s why I came out here. You couldn’t hear me yelling?”

“No. The first I heard of you was your footprints.”

He sighs. “That’s a relief. Well, I won’t disturb you any further. Good day, Mary.”

“Wait. What were you yelling about?”

I’m not sure why I ask him this. Perhaps it’s only a hunch.

Well, it’s a hunch that fails me because the reason he gives has nothing to do with my investigation. “Oh, I…” He chuckles bitterly. “Between you and me, Mary, I wish to Christ I’d never gone to Harvard.”

That is sufficiently surprising that I forget about the garden for the moment. “Really? You regret an education at the finest school in America?”

He sneers. “Harvard is only the finest school in America if you want to be a lawyer or a professor.”

“That can’t be true,” I reply. “Harvard Medical is renowned worldwide, and Harvard Business School has produced some of the finest leaders American industry has ever seen.”

"And many thousands more dipshits who only find work because the Alumni Association takes pity on them. You realize that's why the school is so renowned, right? Harvard graduates have a network of former graduates whose sole purpose is to get them jobs so the school can keep acting like it's the greatest thing since the creation of shoelaces."

“Surely it can’t have been that bad. There’s nothing wrong with taking advantage of a network, and if that network is as effective as you say, then there must be a reason for it.”

He sighs. “You’re probably right. It’s true that Harvard was once the premier school of the Western Hemisphere. I’m sure it’s still a fine school, it’s just…” he purses his lips. “I don’t know shit, Mary. Pardon my Tagalog, but I really don’t know shit. I’m a Regional Director of Operations for a major grocery chain, and I have to ask Assistant Managers how to tell if a store’s profit margin is acceptable. I make five hundred fifty-three thousand dollars a year, and I have to ask people making seventy-five a year how to do the most basic aspects of my job.”

“Everyone needs to start somewhere,” I reassure him. “You’ll learn.”

“I will, but I’ll learn in this role. I’ll learn making it clear to everyone that I’m unqualified. I’ll limp along. I’ll do well enough to keep my job, but it’s going to take me twenty years to earn enough of a reputation to find the same job at another company where I can spend another ten years proving I’m good enough to be an executive. Then I can crawl my way up that ladder for another ten years so I can retire as an Executive Vice President of the Department of Placeholders for People who Aren’t Quite Good Enough.”

I understand his frustration, but really, is this worth complaining about? I keep my tone gentle, but he needs a bit of a scolding. “There are plenty of people who work far harder and never get as far.”

It turns out that I’ve mistaken the reason for his complaint. “That’s my point. I don’t deserve this. I’ll make money, but I won’t earn money.” He shakes his head. “I could have gone to a state college. I could have taken correspondence courses while gaining actual work experience. I’d probably only just be completing my bachelor's degree, and I’d probably be only a store manager or a senior assistant, but I’d be a good one. I’d be worth my paycheck. It might take another ten years to get to regional director, but by then, I’ll be damned good. Twenty years from that, I’ll be a COO, and I’ll be damned good at that. Because I’ll have learned the actual job and not some bullshit, stuffy academic bullshit that mattered back when Dad was a teenager.”

He catches himself and reddens. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make that your problem. I just…” His brow furrows. “Why are you out here? It’s hotter than Hell, and I didn’t think you cared much for the summer weather out here.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” I lie. “I was just heading to the geranium garden.”

“The what?”

He feigns surprise, but the way he stiffens and pales tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about. I risk pressing a little.

“Your mother’s geranium garden. She told me I was welcome there anytime.”

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