Henry was across from Rose on the couch. His big blue eyes looked up at her lovingly. She pushed a plate of chocolate cookies towards him. A glass of milk sat in front of him. He picked it up and took several long gulps.

"Tell me about school, son."

"Nothing." He said.

It was almost time to start dinner and and Rose sat for a few moments with Henry. She wanted to see how he was feeling. Things seemed better with him. With them both. He had played outside all day after school, digging in the mud. Playing with rocks and sticks. He talked to himself as he made up stories.

"Miss Park said we should try harder to find something for the Scrap Metal Drives. The boy scouts are all doing it at our school."

"Doing what?"

"Gathering up the metal."

"We can find some more things. We've already given so much."

"Lewis said I should give them my plane."

"Your dad gave that to you. You don't have to give it to them."

"Yes I do." He looked up at her. A big pout was on his face. "I already gave them my plane."

A spark of panic ran through her. She couldn't imagine losing the letters that Nick had left. She couldn't image the things he touched being taken away.

"Why did you give it to them?"

"Miss Park said we had to and the boy scout, the big one took it."

Rose smoothed his hair back with her hand. Her diamond ring picked up the light from the kitchen light. She kissed him on top of the head."After dinner we'll listen to our radio program. I'll go to school with you tomorrow and get your plane."

He nuzzled into her and put his arms around her. She looked at his little fingers as they gripped her sweater. His nails were still dirty from being outside.

"Ok," he said and closed his eyes for a moment.

He looked up at her again. He looked so much like Nick. "But I want to be a boy scout."

"You can be a boy scout."

"Not if I'm not brave. And, they said that giving my plane to the scrap metal drive would make me brave."

Rose kissed his head again. "You are brave. You don't have to worry about that. Don't you know that? You're my brave little boy." 

***

Lilly and Daniel made a ham for Easter. Rose sat at the table and the house was warm and sunny. The dining room was encased in windows and light streamed in through the panes. The dining room overlooked a large yard with a willow just outside. Rose looked out of the window at the crocuses coming up around the tree. It was gone now but at one time there had been a tree house secured on one of the fat branches. It was a large wooden house and inside Nick had played in it as a child. When they were teenagers, Nick and Rose would spend the afternoons up there. Rose stared out at the large tree as if it were still there. As if she could go out and climb up there and return to an afternoon with him. Nick had wanted to be a writer and sometimes he would read the beginnings of stories he had written. He never finished the stories because he would become so interested in another idea for a plot, but he would read five or ten pages and ask Rose what she thought. She'd loved his stories. They were always about adventurous young men. Nick would also read books to Rose and she would lay her head on his lap. She remembered the great Gatsby and Nick's eyes as he read the words. "I think this is my favorite" he had told her. Rose remembered he had been so serious about it. Rose would close her eyes and listen to his voice. Sometimes she would doze off and she'd wake to him lying right beside her, leaning on his elbow, his hand behind his head, staring at her. When she was finally, fully awake, he would lean down and kiss her. His kisses were long and they both would keep their eyes closed. Rose remembered that feeling, falling in love.

Rose looked over at Lilly. She had Henry in the seat next to her and she was showing him how to place his napkin on his lap rather than under his chin the way Rose had taught him.

Lilly looked up and her eyes met Rose's.  "I'm sorry Rose." She said. "I am not trying to..."

"No. Its fine Lilly," Rose said, "I was just remembering the tree house."

"We should build another, for Henry," Daniel chimed in.

"Nick used to read me stories up there," she said.

"He loved you Rosie," Lilly said and looked down at her plate. She looked up at Rose again and offered a kind smile. "He really did. We love you too."

***

There were no seeds to plant, only weeding and pruning, cutting everything back. There was a large Rhodedendron that Rose wanted to move to another spot. She thought she would place it in the side lot by the hedge. She had several large Rhododendrons in one corner, and when they bloomed in the late spring it would become a splash of vibrant magentas. She had on her gardening clothes, trousers and one of Nick's old sweaters. She had gloves on and her hair was tied back. She walked to the front of the house and carried a spade with her. She started digging. The earth was so moist and lush from all of the winter rain. As she plunged the spade into the ground, it was satisfying. She dug in a circle around the bush, leaving large enough room to protect the roots. The bush had been there since she was a child. Long before he mother had died. Her mother may have been the one who planted it, Rose thought. She took the spade and dug in deeper making a pile of muddy dirt around the tree. The roots went deep. She tried cutting through the roots, but they were too large. She got down on to her knees and dug with her hands. She could feel a large root, several inches thick. She kept digging around the tree and moving the bush from side to side trying to loosen it, but where the roots were thick she couldn't release the plant. She went into the potting shed and looked for the right tool. She rummaged around and finally found a large pair of clippers. She walked back to the front yard and went to work again on the bush. Once she had all the roots cut, she tried to rock it back and forth, but it wouldn't budge. She was sweaty and frustrated. She felt like screaming and pulling the bush from the ground. Why was it so stubborn?

"Rose?" she heard a voice from behind her. She stood up and turned around. It was Ed O'Neil. "Hello," he said and waved.

"Oh hello," she said. She felt a surge of awkwardness because she'd never responded to his notes about seeing her garden. She had just kept forgetting.

"I'm on my way to the store," he said.

"Oh," Rose said. She removed her gloves and walked over to him. She thought about what Carmen had said. That he was handsome. Rose was starting to see it. He had olive skin and it looked soft. He looked pampered in some way. And, he must been. How does one become an artist? How can he possibly earn a living doing illustrations and paintings?

"I don't suppose," he said. "Tell me if I'm imposing. I don't suppose you could give me a tour now?"

Rose looked back at the rhododendron, now half dug up, stubbornly hanging on to its place in the front. "Maybe you could help me with my rhododendron, then I could show you the gardens?"

Ed looked down at his pants. "Sure" he said, "I can get dirty."

They walked over to the plant and Rose put her work gloves back on. 

"What's the problem?" Ed looked down at the plant. He inspected it as if it were an automobile he was about to purchase.

"I'm trying to move it," Rose said.

"By yourself?" He seemed both suspect and impressed.

"Why not?" she asked. "Anyway, it won't budge, I have tried cutting all of the roots and there must be a tap root underneath. If you could help me push it to one side, I can get the shovel under there."

"Like this?" he asked. He made quite a big show of taking the bush into his arms and pulling it back towards him, as if he were wrestling a giant.

Rose laughed and said "that'll do." She could maneuver the shovel under the bush and she could see an enormous root below. "Can you hold it for a moment?" she shouted from near the bottom of the tree. With one hand she grabbed the clippers and cut the large root. "Ok will it move?"

Ed tried pulling it back, but it was still attached.

She stood up and looked at him. "Oh this bush!" she shouted in frustration. 

He smiled at her. "What now?" he asked.

"Let's pull it the other way."

"I'm ready," he said again making a show of pulling the bush down the other way. "I've got him pinned."

"This isn't a wrestling match," she said laughing as she moved to the other side of the plant.

"That's what you think," he said to her.

She did the same on the other side. She ben down and reached beneath the rhododendron; she found large roots. One by one she cut them, as she did the bush fell limp and Ed fell on to his back side.

"Victory!" he shouted. He stood up and wiped himself off.

"Oh I'm sorry," she said still smiling, "Your clothes are all dirty."

"Its fine." He looked at her, "How about a tour?

Rose walked him through the gardens. In the rose garden he asked her about the colors of the roses and why she pruned them so low. he asked her how often they bloomed? Why were they spaced so far apart with nothing else planted nearby?

She showed him the bulb garden and how the different parts take turns blooming and dying each choreographed to replace each other.

"That's beautiful, the way you described it," He said. Ed sat down on an iron bench and looked up at Rose..

"I love how you described it—I don't know much about gardening."

"You said your mother had a garden."

He looked at her for a long time. "She did. I never appreciated it. And even though she had acres. It wasn't like this."

"No? " Rose asked. "How was it different?"

"You are different. You are more passionate than she was." He looked down for a moment. "I've wanted to come here for a long time," he said. "I'm being serious. I know that it is not—I don't want you to think I am insincere."

"I don't think you are insincere. I think you are a very nice person. I didn't know that until today. You are an interesting man. I appreciate that you have taken the time to listen to my ideas and to take an interest in the garden."

"Its nice of you to say that."

It was getting cooler now that they weren't walking around the garden. It was chilly under the arbor.

"Can I make you some tea?" she asked. He didn't answer for a long time. He just stared into her eyes. She knew that it was somehow the wrong thing to do, but she let him speak to her with his eyes. Finally, he smiled an awkward smile. She smiled too.

"I would love some tea." He said, "and thank you." As she started to get up, he said, "wait, Rose. Can I ask you something? You won't feel offended or—"

Rose stopped and smiled, "I don't know, ask me."

"Would you let your hair down and just sit for a moment?" She felt herself turn flush. She was frozen. The sky above was turning cloudy and it was getting colder.

"Mr. O'Neil--Ed. I'm—" she started to protest, but then she said "why?"

"I wanted to study you, for a sketch. I've been wanting to. I know its not--" He said to her.

"Oh. For a picture?"

"Yes. I'd like to paint a picture of you in your garden."

She felt flattered. She wanted to ask why, but she didn't. Instead, she sat down at the other end of the bench. "Just take my hair down?" she asked. "Should I get a comb? Or..."

"No just as you are," he said. "This is perfect."

"All right," she said. She didn't know why she was doing it, but she was. Gently, she pulled the combs from her hair and it slowly loosened and unraveled from the twist and fell around her shoulders.

"Sit for a moment," he said. He had such a serious, intent look in his eyes that it almost scared her. Rose sat and let him study her for a moment. She could feel her heart pumping and her body grow warm. It was as if she had slipped into another place and now she understood him.

He lifted his hand and leaned towards her, "May I?"

She nodded, not sure what he was about to do. He took her hair into his hands. He held it for a moment, feeling its softness then the arranged it around her face, against her shoulders. As he did, his hand grazed her face now and again and when it did, she felt a wave of passion burst through her.

"You're so beautiful," he finally said. But it was matter of fact. As if he had looked at an advertisement for a car or a new device. He turned and looked towards the house. "should we save tea for next time?" he asked, "Its late and I know you have planting to do."

She was so stunned and felt so naked with her hair down around her shoulders, but more she felt as if she had been pulled into a dream. It only lasted moments, and then it was over. She put her hands in her hair and pulled it to the back. She fumbled for the hair clips that were still on her lap. He watched her without expression as she hurriedly tried to put herself back together.

Afterwards. That is how Rose thought of it. That is how she always thought of it after that. Afterwards. She would tell Carmen "after that.." After that, she knew him differently. Or "After that I loved him...." But that time in the garden under the grape arbor, the vines tangled above them, criss-crossing against the blue-gray sky, the buds starting to protrude through the wood and the fragrant musty spring smell, that was the point that separated her "knowing" Ed O'Neil. He had pressed his finger gently against her heart and made an impression. She could feel the grooves of his fingerprints, the loops that met in a tight weave in the center. And, it was so subtle, a breath could erase it. So, held her breath while she watched him leave the garden. He walked without turning back. His wool trousers dirty from the garden, from dragging and pulling the unwilling rhododendron. She saw his white shirt and underneath she could see the lines of a white t-shirt. She wondered how it would feel to hold her body against his, to be close to him. She reached up and touched her hair, brushed a loose strand behind her ear. She heard the gate click and she sat all alone in the garden for a long time.