Page 19 of Brax

“He’s not being a jerk,” said the woman seated behind her. Ines carefully swiveled her chair to look her directly in the eye. Of course, the other woman didn’t give her the same courtesy. “If it were any of us, we’d be gone. You’re given special treatment.”

“I’m not given special treatment,” she scoffed.

“Yes. You are,” said the other woman, turning. “Look, I’m sure that you have your challenges like everyone else. I mean, I’m a single mom with three kids. It’s not exactly easy getting in here every day on time. But I do it. He’s only asking for you to do what the rest of us do.”

“You know what, Sybil? Mind your own damn business. You never know what could happen on your way home from work. Those kids need you.”

“Are you threatening me?” she scowled. Ines smiled at the other woman.

“Me? What could I possibly do to hurt you?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“What happened today, honey?” asked Irene.

“I don’t know, Mama Irene. One minute, I was doing just fine, then the next, there was this sharp pain in my head. It wasn’t like a headache, just a pain. Lena said it was nothing. That I shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Well, then. Don’t worry about it,” said Irene, linking her arm with Stephanie’s.

“Why does everything here smell so amazing? I can literally distinguish between each of the scents.”

“Tell me what you smell,” smiled Irene.

“It’s strange. Some of it I know doesn’t have a distinct smell, but I know what it is. The smell of the wood or leaves, maybe the moss.”

“Mmhmm,” nodded Irene. “Go on.”

“Wisteria is always strong here. Dogwoods. The azaleas are insanely intense. Camellia’s, crepe myrtles, dahlias, and hibiscus.” Irene smiled, nodding at the young woman. “The hydrangeas are so gorgeous. All those different colors. And the gardenias! Oh, they smell so wonderful!

“Over there, the rows and rows of irises, lilies, jasmine, and roses. How in the world did you get so many colors of roses? Magnolia always comes through so clearly for me. But it’s the blend of it all. It’s as if I can feel your ancestors through all these smells and sights.”

“You can,” smiled Irene. “You see Martha, Franklin, Archie, Genevieve, and all the others, right?”

“Yes. I can. I love talking to them about the history of this place and this area. It’s like having a live Google search engine at your fingertips only it’s far more accurate.” Irene laughed.

“Yes. Well, they were here. I used to walk these gardens by myself when Matthew and I were first married.”

“Was he working?” she asked. Irene nodded.

“In his own way. He’d just returned from the war and things were different, new to him. He had to figure some things out. We eventually did that together. But walking these gardens made me feel at peace.

“With each of my babies, I would come out here and discover that one plant or tree was calling me. No surprise, with Gaspar, my oldest baby, it was the live oak trees. With Pierre, it was the cypress, strong, tall, and able to grow anywhere.”

“And what about the girls?”

“Oh, they were each different as well. Every child had their own scent, their own plant or tree that seemed to call me to it, bringing me peace. I found that to be true when they were off serving as well.

“One time, I came out here to discover that the hibiscus was looking awful. That was Baptiste’s plant. I called and called until I got Gaspar to answer me. He was still serving as well. I told him something was wrong, and of course, he thought I was crazy.”

“Was there something wrong?” asked Stephanie.

“As it turned out, yes. He and Raphael were both behind enemy lines and looking for a way out. It was one of many times that Nine and his team went in to help my boys. That’s why they’re all my boys,” she smiled.

“I love that,” whispered Stephanie. “I wish I’d had a mother that worried about me like that when I was younger. All I had were laboratory handlers, doctors, and scientists trying to see what I was doing right or wrong.”

“I’m sorry for you, child. But you have that now. In spades. You got me, Claudette, Ruby, Erin, Mary, both of ‘em,” she laughed.

“I get your point,” said Stephanie, smiling at her. “But I won’t ever have core memories of the kind of love that your children grew up with.”

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