Page 4 of The Gift of Seeds
Dale wouldn’tliketo attend.But I must do my final duty for my neighbor.
“Our wives won’t be there,” Reverend Joshua assured him with a knowing look in his eye. He was familiar with Dale’s discomfort around people—especially women. “They have a previously scheduled meeting with several others to start a Ladies’ Aid Society.”
Dale let out a breath, knowing a male gathering would be far more comfortable. He nodded his acquiescence.
“Probably a small gathering,” Reverend Joshua said with a sad sigh. “I think, even if we waited a few days, the loggers couldn’t come. The camp is too far away, and they are busy at this time of year. Mr. Smith seemed to have little interaction with the townsfolk.”
Dale remembered Smith’s talk of a sister—his only relative—who loved to garden. From time to time, he’d mention her, dropping a comment into their silence, usually prefaced by, “My sister intends,” or “My sister will,” giving Dale the impression of a domineering woman much like the females in his family.
Still Miss Smith needed to be informed of her brother’s death. “His sister,” Dale said the words almost in a question. “They seemed quite close.”
“Before coming to inform you, I sent Miss Smith a letter and invited her to move here to live—” Reverend Joshua gestured toward the window where the Smith cabin could be seen “—rather than waiting for spring, when, from what Mr. Smith mentioned, she planned to join him. After all, she has inherited Mr. Smith’s home and worldly goods.”
“And to add some incentive to the pot,” Mr. Bellaire tugged on his lapels. “I purchased a train ticket for Miss Smith. She will arrive on the twenty-third.”
“Or so we hope.” With a small smile, Reverend Joshua shook his head at his father-in-law. “We wanted to give you advance notice to prepare…. I’m sure you will make your new neighbor welcome.”
Oh, no.Dale shrank back in his chair, the idea of talking to a lady he didn’t know overwhelming. He pictured a cruel, overbearing woman like his mother, and not just his mother, but his maternal grandmother, his aunts, his sisters, and his cousins. His new neighbor was sure to cut up his peace.No, no, no!He’d moved all the way from Illinois to the wilds of Montana to escape those women.
Dale strove to keep his expression deadpan. “It’s good that the house won’t be sitting empty,” was the best he could say in response.
While he’d be polite, of course, as a gentleman should be, he certainly wouldn’t go out of his way to make Miss Smith welcome. Then, lest the men notice his lack of future neighborliness, he stood, looking from one to the other. “I’ve just made some flower arrangements. I’d be honored if you took one to use at the burial.”
Without waiting for a response, Dale hurried from the parlor and into the kitchen. Grabbing the arrangement in the crystal vase, he poured out some of the water into the sink and rejoined his company, although not without a pang at relinquishing his cherished vase.
Seeing the flowers made Mr. Bellaire’s eyes light up. “What a clever and beautiful arrangement.” He waved toward the window overlooking the front yard. “Upon seeing your flowers, I must admit my garden is lacking anything but dirt.” He let out an audible sigh. “I keep reminding myself that designing and planting the gardens around a new home takes time. Next year, hopefully….” He gently touched one purple bloom.
“I’ll give you some seeds,” Dale interrupted, eager to see his visitors gone.
“I would enjoy that, indeed, especially these marvelous purple mums.”
Reverend Joshua reached for the vase. “My wife will be delighted with these. You’re saving her from having to scrounge up some sort of bouquet.”
“From our non-existent garden,” Mr. Bellaire added.
The minister tucked the arrangement into the crook of his arm. “We’ll return the vase in a week or so.”
While Dale was relieved to know he’d get his vase back, he hoped the “we” would be Reverend Joshua and Mr. Bellaire, and not Reverend Joshua and his wife, Delia. Not that the younger minister’s wife had been anything but kind to him. Yet, her beauty and expensive elegance, so like the women in his family, always rendered him wary and monosyllabic.
James Smith’sburial was as sparsely attended as Reverend Joshua had predicted. Aside from Dale, only the two ministers and Andre Bellaire were present. All the men wore black suits, but unlike the others’, Dale’s was at least ten years old. He’d figured Smith, too, appreciated comfort over stylishness and would have forgiven him for not showing up more fashionably dressed.
They stood in the graveyard behind the church and parsonage, where the plain wooden casket already resided in the dirt hole. Dale’s vase with his flower arrangement sat on a small mound where a headstone might eventually be placed.
Before walking to town, Dale gathered a few more flowers to toss into the grave, including the marigolds he’d picked from Smith’s yard. Even now, the spicy scent wafted on the air.
A few years ago, he’d scattered some seed heads on the other side of the rock wall between his and Smith’s properties, knowing that while his neighbor enjoyed flowers, he never took the chance to cultivate his own. This past summer, Dale did the same with columbine seeds, thinking Smith would appreciate the surprise when the flowers appeared. With a clench of his heart, he thought of how the man would never see them.The columbines will be a gift to his sister, I suppose.
But just as the elder Reverend Norton was about to start the service, Dr. Fergus Cameron, his red curls disheveled, pockets of his black frock coat sagging, hurried up to join them. “Sorry,” he muttered in a Scottish brogue. “Had to stitch up a wee laddie’s cut.”
Reverend Norton’s understanding smile lent warmth to his white-bearded, ascetic face. “The needs of the living take precedence over the needs of the dead.”
Standing next to the vase of flowers, the minister opened the prayer book. Across from him, the three men shifted to space themselves around the grave, clasped their hands in front of them, and bowed their heads.
Without looking down at his prayerbook, Reverend Norton began the service. “‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord.’”
From John, Chapter Eleven, Dale knew, mentally following along with the Biblical words.
“‘He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’”
