Let Them Eat Tea

  Chapter 21 - Greenhouse

  Dawn breaks over St. Lucy quickly and brightly, as if a celestial light switch had been flipped on. Over the following moments it brightens even more. Sea birds with widespread wings let out intermittent haunting cries as they wheel in the blue sky over the beach in great arcs, now and then dropping like dive bombers to intercept fish at the surface of the water. Odd long-legged birds dart back and forth across the packed wet sand, ankle deep in the shallow waves that rush gently up and fall back again in a lacy blanket of foam, unveiling bits of breakfast for the birds with each cycle. The soft warm breeze that caresses the top of the water washes the clean salty smell of the ocean gently in over the awakening island.

  Inside a big greenhouse next to the beach, Annetka is helping Baldwin with the plants. Since just before dawn they have been unloading small plants from the back of a truck and setting them up inside the newly acquired greenhouse.

  "I'm just afraid the American drug enforcement loonies will think we're growing marijuana or something," Baldwin is saying, fiddling with the irrigation supply pipes just overhead. The thin pipes cross the air like electrical wires, delivering water to rough heavy tables that fill the big room like cafeteria tables. "I feel exposed here."

  "You've been hanging around with Snake too much," she laughs lightly, arranging a little plant just right to face its leaves toward the east, maximizing the surface area exposed to the light. "Caution is good, but he's got you looking for things that aren't there. The American drug enforcement loonies have suffered from the same cutbacks as everyone else in America. They're seriously underfunded and understaffed. Much to the joy of all their international neighbors, I might add. My own personal fear is that the light here will be too bright for these small plants."

  "It'll be fine. I think," Baldwin answers. He wonders about the point she's bringing up about the light intensity. "You're right, we'd better check on them again in a few hours, to be sure," he decides.

  "What do we do if they're starting to wilt?"

  "Just move them down onto the ledges under the tables, I guess," he answers, pointing under the nearest table at one of the built-in utility shelves halfway to the floor. "The tabletops will provide shade. It should be fine. I think."

  She looks over at Baldwin, who is looking at the plants, analyzing the possibilities. "I'm sure you're right," she says reassuringly. "They'll be fine here. Our babies will grow up to be fine sturdy young plants," she adds, laughing lightly again. "They will give us many grandchildren."

  "I hope so," he says. "If the epidemic is spreading north, we'll need them."

  "Well, that's when you'll need to worry about the American drug enforcement loonies," she says, coming closer to him. She strokes his arm gently. Their eyes meet, and he doesn't resist the urge to kiss her, stroking her hair and drawing her close.

  "I want to get married," he says as they pull apart, his hand still stroking her hair. "I don't like being away from you at night."

  "You're at your lab all night," she admonishes him gently.

  "I sleep eventually," he defends himself, not denying the allegation. "And even if I come in late and you're already asleep," he adds, "at least we'd wake up together in the morning."

  "All in good time," she answers. "Anyway, meanwhile you could put some kind of a bed in here someplace. It could be our little love nest."

  "That's a good idea," he allows, thinking about how to arrange it, "but I still want to get married."

  She laughs. "When the time is right," she says. "I want my father to give his permission. My family will want a regular wedding. It takes time to plan and make arrangements."

  Baldwin exhales heavily and returns to working with the plants. The little plant pots have all been set into long troughs on the table tops. He adjusts one of the long narrow pipes that deliver trickling fresh water to the bottom of each trough. "That should do it," he announces, turning on the water valve to the table where they're standing. Water begins to drip slowly into the bottom of the trough.

  "Looks good," she agrees. Neither of them has much experience with greenhouses, but it all seems to be in order as far as they can tell. She looks up at him happily. They're accomplishing something together. Annetka is struck by the realization that she feels good about their situation, really good in a profoundly fulfilling way. It feels right. Being with Baldwin feels right, the way being on the beach in St. Lucy feels right. This is where she was meant to be. This is what she was meant to do with her life. This is where happiness lies.