Page 77 of The Manor of Dreams

She could do nothing but hold out the flowers she had cut at the height of their bloom. Their petals were still fresh. She tried to rush an excuse. “I didn’t mean to take your flowers, A Yí. I just saw that some of them needed pruning. Since Bà is away.” She didn’t dare look up.

“Are these the flowers I see pressed in my books?”

Vivian saw them? Sophie’s mind raced. “No, they—”

“I see your notes in those books,” Vivian said. “Are those for my daughter?”

The petals dropped to the ground. Sophie was trapped. They weren’t careful enough, and now Vivian knew. And she’d tell Bà and Ma and then they’d drag her to church and force her to pray for forgiveness.

Vivian could have her thrown out.

But when she looked up, the actress’s eyes were kind. “You can tell me.”

She couldn’t.

“There’s something between you and Ada, isn’t there?”

Sophie needed to calm down. She had to talk herself out of this.

“You can trust me,” Vivian said. “I think it’s sweet.”

Sophie stopped still. “You do?”

Vivian nodded. “My daughter is lovely. I’m not surprised you think so too.”

“Please don’t tell my parents,” Sophie whispered. “They can’t know.”

Vivian lowered her voice. “Then your secret is safe with me. And don’t leave these on my account.” She gestured at the petals on the ground between them.

Warmth flooded Sophie’s chest. Suddenly she was glad that of all the people, she’d told Vivian. All this time, whenever Sophie wasn’t with Ada, she felt wrong and monstrous for the way Ada made her feel. She knew her parents would never understand, but she could see now that Vivian, too, had made a path of her own. She knew what it was like to be different. It made sense that she would be accepting. Now the actress smiled at her and there were no more secrets between them.

For a fleeting second, Sophie allowed herself to imagine being with Ada for real. Telling the truth to her parents. Maybe—maybe, Vivian could even help.

Sophie tucked her cut flowers into her pockets and surveyed Vivian’s work. She cupped the flowers, which had clustered around the stalk, each bud delicately shaped like a butterfly wing. They were a brilliant, deep shade of purple. “I haven’t seen these in the garden before. What are they?”

“I don’t know. I just found them at the store. I liked the color and I thought gardening might be good for me.” Vivian shrugged. “But to be honest, I could use your help. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Vivian offered Sophie her leather driving gloves, which made Sophie laugh. “We’ll have to get you some real gardening gloves,” she said as she retrieved Bà’s pair from the terrace steps and came back to kneel down next to Vivian. No one had requested new flowers to be put in the garden for years. Bà had always been in charge of it. “Let’s move these over there. The soil is better.” She and Bà had taken care of the claylike soil so it could drain well, padding it with layers of compost in the spring.

Sophie and Vivian hauled the plants over, past the roses that ringed the fountain, past the section of poppies, to the hydrangeas, and gently loosened the soil around their roots. Sophie showed Vivian how to slowly tip the plants into the ground and take care to set them upright and then pack in the dirt around the roots again. When they were done, she leaned back and examined their handiwork. The flowers blended in well against the pale hydrangeas. “There. We’ll water these every few days and check on them. Make sure it’s properly draining.”

Vivian appraised the flowers, too. “You’re right. They’re beautiful here.” Her knees were stained from the dirt, but she looked calmer than Sophie had seen her in weeks. She turned to Sophie. “You’re good at this. You have your bà’s gift.”

Vivian stared at her for a second more, as if she wanted to say something, but then she simply headed for the house. Vivian’s robe billowed out behind her as she climbed the stairs to the terrace. Sophie followed. Her pockets bulged with flowers. Her head buzzed with Vivian’s praise.

Before they entered the house Vivian stopped. “One last thing. We’ll keep this a secret between us. Just between you and me.”

Sophie nodded. “Of course, A Yí.”

“All of this. Not even with Ada. I want her to tell me about you two herself. Promise me you’ll let her do that?”

“I promise,” Sophie said. Vivian seemed serious, and she was too. Ada deserved to tell her own mother in her own time. A secret for a secret. “I won’t say a thing.”

Sophie helped tend to the new flowers throughout the week. She watered them close to their roots at night, after she came home from the library, and then checked on them in the early morning. They seemed happiest in the partial shade, so Sophie made sure to arrange the hydrangeas so that they shielded the new flowers from most of the sun. In the early mornings the flowers were still sparkling with dew, as if candied. Toward midday, the cone-like stems stretched proudly toward the sky, complementing perfectly the hydrangeas that opened in the honey-like sunlight, almost drooping under the weight of their buds, the geraniums, the Spanish lavender. The beginning of the summer had been dry, but with constant watering and mulching, the plants were finally wilting a bit less. The particular jasmine was even back into steady bloom.

Vivian trusted Sophie with this task, and she wanted to prove herself. Bà would be proud of her when he came back. He just had a few more things to work out with Sophie’s grandfather’s will. Soon, everyone would be back. It would once again be a full house.

Everything was the same and different. Her sister called home. Already Elaine was making a life for herself in Berkeley. She chose to stay in the Bay for the summer. She would phone home every once in a while, talking excitedly about handing out flyers, organizing a protest on Telegraph Avenue, attending events for tenant rights, helping phone bank for a local progressive city council candidate. She talked about being a city council member one day, maybe state representative. Her sister was bursting full of newfound aspirations. She’d always hung out with an odd, nerdy crowd at school, but now she’d finally found her place. “Oh, by the way, I got my first tattoo last weekend. Don’t tell Ma yet.” She paused, then said, in hushed, exhilarated tones, “Just wait until you go to college.” Car horns sounded in the distance.

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