Page 91 of Plight
“Because if it weren’t for me, none of this would be necessary.”
“ENOUGH!” she said, her angered tone slicing through me. “You’re here, right now, in this garden because a man put his life on the line to save you. Stop disrespecting that heroic act by constantly living in a shadow that you cast over yourself. Mr Hillier wouldn’t want that. He’d want you to be happy. We all do.” She stood up and waved to Jeanette and Danielle, as they made their way down the path. “Now, although I don’t think it necessary, forgive yourself, Elliot Parker. Forgive but never forget. And when you’re done forgiving, go and get the girl.”
Not before long, the gardenwas bustling with local families, media personnel, the mayor, and Mr Hillier’s widow and two adult children. The atmosphere was abuzz with excitement and anticipation, and as I stood up to the makeshift podium, a microphone mere centimetres from my chin, I paused to take in what we’d achieved. Before me was the original gum tree — the centrepiece of the entire site — a fairy themed garden and memorial plaque at the base of its trunk, paying tribute to a local hero. A garden shed and glasshouse stood in one corner of the yard, a playground in another, and all of it surrounded by garden beds full of herbs, flowers and vegetables traversed with a golden, yellow brick path.
I smiled, proud, took a breath, and began my speech, tapping on the microphone to garner everyone’s attention. “Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, and children. I’d first and foremost like to thank each and every one of you for being here today. It means so much to all involved in making this garden what it has become. For those of you who don’t know, Hillier Community Garden was originally erected as a tribute to a man whose selfless actions saved both my and Danielle’s lives.”
I nodded to where Danielle was standing by the gum tree, and she gave everyone a polite, sheepish wave.
“When Mr Douglas Hiller passed away almost nineteen years ago, our mothers wanted to honour his memory by creating a safe place where children could play and respect the gift that is life, and that’s essentially how Hillier Community Garden was born. Sadly, and ironically, we almost lost this place to that very thing — life. Because it can often get away from us or lead us down a path we least expect. But the beauty about life is that it can always change, convert … be reborn, and that’s exactly what we’d like to celebrate today. New beginnings.”
I glanced at Danielle, tears filling her eyes. She quickly wiped them and smiled, nodding and encouraging me to continue, so I did, keeping my eyes fixed to hers.
“This garden represents a second chance at life, at friendship, and at love; all the things we should never take for granted. So please join me in welcoming Danielle; our mothers, Helen and Jeanette; and Mr Hillier’s wife, son and daughter to officially open Hiller Community Garden for the second time.”
The crowd applauded while Danielle, Mum, Jeanette and the others made their way to the podium to cut the giant rainbow ribbon strung from the tree to the shed.
“Who wants to do the honours?” I asked, offering the scissors.
Danielle reached out but turned them back to me. “You should do it.”
“No.” I shook my head, took her hand, and placed the scissors in it, covering her fingers with mine. “We should do it.”
She stared at our clasped hands and nodded then looked back up at me. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Gripping the scissors, we snipped the ribbon, instigating a wave of cheers, camera flashes, and applause.
“Please,” I added. “If you haven’t already, go and explore. There’s plenty to see. And if you’re lucky, you may even find some butterflies in the glasshouse.”
“What?” Danielle spun to face me, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Are you kidding?”
I shook my head and cringed. “No.”
“You turned the glasshouse into a butterfly house?”
“Pretty much. By filling it with indigenous flora and fauna, it’s the perfect environment to attract native butterfly species. So far so good.”
“Wow!” she drawled, focussing on her twiddling fingers. “Look, Lots, I just want to say I’m really sorry about what happened between us.” She looked up, desperation, sadness and regret marring the lines of her beautiful face. “I don’t want our friendship to end. It means so much to me.”
“It means so much to me, too,” I said, pulling her hard against my chest and hugging her tightly.
She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “I made you a promise, Elliot Parker, one I intend to keep. I promised I wouldn’t let our friendship die ever again, and I won’t. I won’t abandon you. Cross my heart.”
Pulling back, she placed a soft kiss on my cheek then walked toward the glasshouse, and I swear it was a kiss I would feel every time a spring breeze blew.
I won’t abandon you. Her promise kept replaying in my head over and over for the remainder of the afternoon, as if it were a cryptic message I needed to decipher. It had plagued me so much that I must have said, “Sorry, can you please repeat that?” countless times to friends and the media from lack of concentration.
My mind was with Danielle, but my body was posing for a local newspaper photographer, my mouth sarcastically singing the word “cheese”. The over exaggerated smile on my face as he continuously pressed his camera shutter button waned when I noticed Chris’ arrival followed by Danielle’s excited greeting. They embraced, laughed, and walked arm-in-arm up the path, causing my stomach to flip like a deck of cards. I couldn’t begrudge the fact he was here; it made sense that he’d want to show his support. But I could begrudge the fact that he was here, because I was bitter like that.
Just as I was about to return my focus back on the animated wow-look-at-my-garden pose that I was currently being coerced into performing, Chris’ eyes met mine and he nodded. I nodded back, but he whispered something into Danielle’s ear and then let her go and made his way toward me. Shit! The last thing I wanted was to get into an argument with him in the garden. Hopefully, he was smart enough to know that. After our last encounter, when he’d diffused my rage with a simple, “You’re upsetting her. Go home, Elliot, and calm down”, I figured he was smart enough. Well, at the very least, he was smarter than I’d first given him credit for.
“You got a minute to talk in private?” he asked, stopping just shy of where I was standing.
“Sure. We can talk in the garden shed.” I turned to the photographer. “Do you have what you need?”
He nodded, so I excused myself and led Chris to the corner of the garden.
“The place looks awesome. You and Dani make a good team.”
