The Sinners' Garden

  He was going to be healed.

  Andy didn’t have to wake up Uncle Rip. He and Mom were already up by the time he had made it downstairs. Mom and Uncle Rip both looked tired. Mom’s hair was a bed-head train wreck, but again, he wasn’t used to seeing her without a ponytail. Uncle Rip hadn’t shaved that morning and had circles under his eyes.

  Uncle Rip glanced at the clock and then at Andy. “What are you doing up this early?”

  “I have to tell you guys about the dream I just had!”

  “Let me guess,” Uncle Rip said, biting into a piece of bacon. “You were either dreaming about beating me in a motorcycle race or kissing Chelsea.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Pastor Welsh said he saw you sitting up on top of Mack’s with her yesterday.”

  “Hanging out with Chelsea is fine,” Mom said, handing Uncle Rip a cup of coffee, “but I better never catch you two racing.”

  “What’s the worst thing that could happen to me?” Uncle Rip said, winking at Andy. “I could die?”

  “That’s not funny,” Mom said.

  Andy agreed that it wasn’t funny and told them his dream. When he was through, Mom and Uncle Rip just stared at each other and then Uncle Rip leaned closer to Andy.

  “So I jumped The Frank and Poet on my motorcycle and my cancer went away?”

  “Yeah,” Andy said. “But I think going in the garden is what made your cancer go away.”

  “I’m all for getting better,” Uncle Rip said, winking and giving him a thumbs-up. “I’m ready to go in the flowers. Maybe I’ll swim over there today.”

  “No, you won’t,” Mom said. “For all we know, all the chemicals from McLouth seeped into the ground and water and that’s why you’re sick. Why Mom and Dad got sick too. The last thing you need is to swim over there.”

  “But you can’t go in the flowers yet,” Andy said. “In the dream, Pastor Welsh was the one who will tell you when you’re ready.”

  “There you go again with that not-ready stuff,” Uncle Rip said, frowning. He stood and went to the door and opened it. “Milo!”

  They waited for Milo to come flying through the door, but he didn’t.

  “Hope he’s not gone for a week this time,” Mom said.

  “Must be off romancing the ladies again,” Uncle Rip said.

  “Why would Milo have all four legs in my dream?” Andy asked.

  “Don’t know,” Uncle Rip said.

  “I think something happened to him, Uncle Rip.”

  “I doubt it,” Uncle Rip said. “I think he was hip to the conversation about getting fixed and took off for his swan song. Why don’t you tell me more about how the garden was lit?”

  “Remember when I told you about how I fell asleep out near the canal that one day? And how I had a dream about a man out there, whose face I couldn’t see, and how he told me to bring Heather to see the flower garden?”

  “I do,” Uncle Rip said. “But you never talked about taking her to the wildflowers until after she’d already gone.”

  Andy thought about it for a second. Uncle Rip was right, but that didn’t change the fact that the man had told him to bring Heather to the wildflowers.

  “I think it was Him,” Andy said. “In fact, in the dream, you told me the light was all coming from ‘Him.’ ”

  Uncle Rip walked over to the sink and looked out the window. Then he turned around, started to say something, and stopped.

  “What is it?” Mom asked.

  “It’s weird,” Uncle Rip said, tapping at his own chest. “Something in here just told me that when I’m in those flowers, I won’t be sick anymore. Like it’s a certainty.”

  “Are you being serious?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “It’s that little voice inside of me. I think I just heard what Andy’s been hearing. I’m supposed to go to the flowers, but not yet. I’m not ready. Pretty weird, huh?”

  “How can you not be ready?” Mom asked, getting all excited. “Let’s call Heather and have her open up the gate. If you really believe you are gonna get better, why wait?”

  “Because I also just had the craziest feeling . . . I mean really crazy, and if I told you how I was thinking about getting to the garden, you’d have a stroke.”

  “Heather will let us in,” Mom said. “She did it before.”

  “Nah, that’s not the way it’s supposed to go . . .” Uncle Rip looked to the window with a faraway expression and then laughed and shook his head. “Forget it. My imagination ran away from me there for a second. But it seemed so real.”

  “What?” Andy asked. “Tell us.”

  “Yeah,” Mom said. “I really don’t want you swimming in that water again, Rip.”

  Uncle Rip leaned back against the sink. He looked at Andy and the smile that came across Uncle Rip’s face didn’t look like it belonged to a guy who had only six months to live.

  “You heard the motorcycle, right?” he asked Andy. “In your dream?”

  “Right.”

  Uncle Rip’s smile grew wider and he nodded. “When the time comes . . . I’m gonna take the bike,” Rip said, his tone growing more confident. He shook his head. “It’s not my imagination. I’m going to get the old bike ready and then jump The Frank and Poet. And when I land in that flower garden, I will be healed.”

  “I will stay on until you find someone to replace me,” Heather said, sitting at Chief Reynolds’s kitchen table. “Sorry to spring this on you on a Saturday, but I didn’t want to be too formal about it with a guy I’ve known my whole life.”

  “It won’t be easy to replace you, Heather,” Chief Reynolds said. “You are one of the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Yeah,” Heather said and laughed. “The best at driving into things with my squad car.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Those things happen. Sometimes they happen more to some than others, but there’s a lot more to being a good cop than never putting a dent in a vehicle. I wish I had more like you.”

  The conversation wasn’t going anywhere near how Heather thought it would. She expected the chief to give her a pat on the back followed by a quick seeyalaterbye.

  “You’re just saying that, Chief, right?”

  “Not at all,” he answered. “You’re committed, dependable, and care about people and the community. What else could I ask for? Your dad would be proud of you.”

  “My dad would be proud of me?” Heather whispered. She felt surprised and then saddened, a little lump climbing up the base of her throat. “Now, look. You’re gonna make me cry, Chief. Maybe I should stay on.”

  Reynolds picked up his coffee cup and took a little sip. “I don’t want you to stay. You’ve got one month.”

  “Didn’t you just say I was a good cop?”

  “The best,” he said, grinning. “And I mean that.”

  “But you said—”

  He reached over and put his hand on top of hers. “But you’d make a better teacher.”

  “Thanks,” she said and smiled. She believed him. “Who knows? Maybe I can nab the Summer Santa before I go. Or should I say Kevin Hart?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” the chief said.

  Heather laughed. “I doubt if anyone will press charges once we catch him, but it’s just a matter of time before we do. Sure would be nice if we could set up twenty-four-hour surveillance on Hart and just get it over with.”

  “I don’t even think it’s Kevin,” Reynolds said, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table before crossing his arms. “But regardless of who it is, Heather, I understand that this guy is going about his acts of generosity in the wrong way. But maybe . . .” He paused and looked to the window, then back. “Maybe we should look the other way. At least for the summer. Concentrate on other things.”

  She stared at him in mute surprise for a moment. “Look the other way? Chief, he’s breaking into houses.”

  “And changing people’s lives,” the chief said. “Do we really want to get in the way of that? Besides, all of Benning seems to love him.
If we collar him, we’ll be seen as the bad guys.”

  She continued to stare at her boss. “He’s breaking the law.”

  Chief Reynolds sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes, Heather, we have to concentrate on the peacekeeping part of our jobs, over the letter of the law. Has he hurt anyone?”

  “Not yet, but—”

  “Something tells me he won’t. He’ll finish this string of gifting and be done.”

  “Chief,” she said slowly. She just had to ask. “Do you know who the Summer Santa is?”

  He gave her a funny smile. “That, Heather, is a secret I intend to take to my grave.”

  “Are you coming?” Rip yelled as he walked toward the garage.

  “Yeah!” Andy shouted back, coming out of the barn.

  “Let’s sit down for a second,” Rip said, pointing at a pair of lawn chairs at the side of the garage.

  They sat down together, and Rip could see the iPod in Andy’s hand.

  “So,” Andy said, “what’s up?”

  “We haven’t had much guy time lately. And a lot of our talk has been about me and my diagnosis. I just wanted to get your thoughts on what’s going on with you and your mom since you found out how you got burned. It seems like it let you start over with her, in a way.”

  Andy shrugged and rolled one of the earbuds between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s just been a weird couple days, Uncle Rip. A lot’s happened.”

  Rip reached into his pocket for a couple sticks of gum. He handed one to Andy and said, “Now that we have set the record straight, don’t you think life is gonna get better?”

  Andy pulled his hair off his neck and slid his thumb across his scar, deep in thought. “At least Mom can hide her scar with long skirts. But some scars can’t be hidden.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Andy let his hair fall back over the side of his face and then ran the back of his hand up and down his chest. “I think we can get hurt inside too. Mom’s different now,” he said, glancing toward the house, “because of the healing she’s found inside. Not because her scar on the outside is any different.”

  Rip nodded, his heart swelling with pride over his nephew’s wisdom. “Sometimes scars are good. To remind us of where we’ve been. And what we’ve passed through.”

  “The way I’ve treated my mom,” Andy said quietly, almost ashamed. “And the way I thought she was treating me. We were hurting each other for so long. Creating scars on the inside too.”

  “Yes, you were,” Rip said.

  “But those wounds have already started to heal.”

  Rip smiled with him. “Andy . . . that is one of the greatest things I have ever heard anybody say.”

  “It’s true,” Andy said. “Mom and I are talking more. It’s gonna take some time to feel . . . like it’s supposed to, I think. You know, between a mom and son. But I know we’re gonna get there.”

  “It will come,” Rip said, hoping he would be around to see some of it.

  Andy dug the toe of his Converse shoe in the dirt. “Yesterday was the only time I could ever remember telling my mom that I love her. Ever.”

  Rip tried not to react. No wonder his sister had been so unhappy . . . “What did she do when you told her that?”

  “She cried.”

  Rip laughed, unable to remember the last time he felt such joy. Still, there was a more important item on the agenda.

  “But don’t forget there is someone who loves you more,” Rip said.

  “I know you love me, Uncle Rip,” Andy said.

  “I wasn’t talking about me, knucklehead,” Rip said. He pointed above his head. “I’m talking about God.”

  Andy ran his hand across the side of his face, and his fingers dove under his hair to the scar again. He stood.

  “I’ll take your word for it, Uncle Rip,” he said distantly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Andy held up the iPod. “When I was sitting on top of Mack’s, I was thinking that if it weren’t for the iPod and the garden, I wouldn’t believe in God.”

  “You don’t need either of those to believe in God.”

  “Chelsea kind of told me the same thing.”

  “Smart girl.”

  The kid stared at him, as if trying to puzzle something out. “You even told me in that dream to get rid of the iPod. To throw it in the water.”

  “Go for it,” Rip said. “You said it hasn’t worked since you found out I was sick.”

  “I don’t know about throwing it out yet,” Andy said. “But what I do know is once you jump The Frank and Poet and land in the flowers, God is going to make you better.”

  “And where do you suppose that feeling is coming from?”

  “God, I guess.”

  “Smart boy,” Rip said. “And I’ve never heard anything through your iPod, but there’s no denying the way I feel when I look at that garden. And what’s even crazier than me being healed and me jumping that canal on a motorcycle is what that little voice is telling me about this leap of faith.”

  “What?” Andy asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.

  “I’m not jumping it for me.”

  “Okay,” Andy said slowly, probably thinking the cancer was overtaking Rip’s brain now. “But do you think the bike can do it? Actually jump that far?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “It just doesn’t make any sense. As fun as it would be to see you hit the water trying to jump the canal . . . why do you have to get to the garden that way?”

  “I don’t know,” Rip said. “But does much of this summer make sense? At least the way we’re used to things making sense?”

  Andy shook his head slowly.

  “I think we just gotta go with it,” Rip said. “God has His reasons.”

  Rip’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  “Hello, Miss Heather,” he said.

  There was a pause. “I’m right down the road. Down near the east end of Ripley’s Field, right near the bend. Come on out here. We’ve got a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just get out here. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Okay,” Rip said. “See you in a minute.”

  They took Andy’s bike, but Rip was driving and Andy was on the back. The east end of Ripley’s Field was less than a half mile away and it didn’t take long before Rip could see Heather, who was standing in front of her truck on the side of the road. She had her arms crossed and her head was bowed.

  When they pulled up alongside her, she looked up and Rip could tell that she’d been crying.

  “What happened?” Rip asked. “You okay?”

  “I didn’t know Andy was with you,” she said quietly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her right hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Rip and Andy both got off the bike. Rip walked toward her, and when Heather used the back of her other hand to wipe her eyes again, Rip could see what she was holding. Even though it had been darkened from the mud and rain that covered the gravel road, he could tell what it was by the dirty blue handkerchief that was attached to it.

  It was Milo’s collar.

  Their eyes met and Rip hugged her.

  “Please tell me that’s all you found,” Rip whispered. “I think we’ve had enough hard news this week.”

  “He’s seen him,” Heather whispered back.

  Rip turned around and Andy was standing at the side of the road. His shoulders were slumped and his arms were at his sides. He had a vacant look on his face and was just staring down into the ditch.

  Rip took the collar from Heather and then walked over and stood next to Andy. He squeezed the collar in his hand, thinking about how ridiculously big it was for Milo and wondering how in the world the dog had made it this long without it ever falling off. But it was off now, and it was no mystery how it happened. The collar had been knocked off of him.

  Actually, he’d been knocked out of it.

  Mi
lo’s body was on the far side of the ditch, his upper half out of the water and his lower half in. He was lying on his side and was completely covered in mud. It looked like he was sleeping, but the nasty gash that ran from his shoulder blade down into his lower torso was something even Milo couldn’t have survived. It looked like he had been clipped by a bumper.

  There was an indentation in the mud on the far bank that was about the size of Milo’s body. Around it, there were little claw marks. He’d clearly been hit and thrown into the far bank. He must have struggled, trying to claw his way out of the ditch, and died shortly thereafter, sliding down into the water.

  “Say something, bro,” Rip said to Andy, still looking at Milo.

  “Like what?” Andy said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you say something?”

  “I don’t know what to say either,” Rip said. He glanced over at Heather and then back into the ditch. “Let’s just get him out of there and get him home.”

  Heather put her arm around Judi and they both cried as they watched Rip place Milo in the hole behind the barn. Rip was still covered in mud from fishing Milo out of the ditch, but he’d cleaned Milo with the hose, towel dried him, and then wrapped him in the yellow blanket that Milo liked to lie on. Inside the blanket with Milo was his red collar and blue handkerchief, the new rubber chew toy that Judi had gotten him, and an unopened box of Cheez-Its.

  Heather could see the tear that slowly cascaded down the side of Andy’s face as Rip shoveled the earth back over Milo. Rip had to pause about halfway through the job and leaned over to catch his breath, trying to hide the pain. Andy took the shovel from Rip and filled in the rest of the dirt before patting the soil with the back of the shovel. When he was done, he and Rip kneeled and started placing the rocks they had collected from the shore of Lake Erie around the edge of Milo’s grave. Then they both stood and stared at it.

  “I knew this was going to happen,” Andy said.

  “I think everybody did,” Rip said. “You can’t weigh thirty pounds and go around threatening trucks for too long.” He looked back to the grave. “Milo, you were a trip. I figured when you lost your leg it would’ve slowed you down, but you just went harder. You were only six, but lived more in that time than any dog I’ve ever heard of. You were a great dog, brought a lot of happiness to our lives, and I’m glad you were ours. We’re gonna miss you.”