Frank Watson

The old man stood silently in the tomato patch with its brilliant red orbs of summer, next to the square patch of yellow flowers that were showing the first signs of withering from the August heat. The tiny wheels of the green oxygen tank had started to bury themselves in the rich mulch, Uncle Ray's legacy of 40 years of careful gardening in the same spot. The tiny plastic lifeline led from the tank to the little Y that fit neatly into the nostrils. A sound like miniature air brakes joined the sounds of crickets and birds in and around the garden each time Ray took a breath.

He took a step, but the little piece of equipment keeping him alive didn't want to move from the rut in which it had gotten stuck. Uncle Ray pulled. The plastic tubing stretched, looked as if it were going to break, so fourteen-year old Jeremy jumped into action from where he had been sitting on the grassy spot at the edge of the garden.

"Here, Uncle Ray, let me help you with that."

A look of vacant confusion spread across Ray's florid face. He had been on oxygen for almost a year, but still was not used to his loss of mobility. It had been a tough year since he had gotten out of the hospital. He could no longer go coon hunting with his friends, drink beer and smoke down at the Paper Doll Lounge on Saturdays, or even plow his own garden. Jake Tinsley, who ran a small dairy farm down the road, had plowed up the ground for him in the spring, and young Alice Tinsley, who was just a year or two older than Jeremy, had helped him plant. (In fact, she had done all of the planting and weeding until Jeremy had started his annual southeast Missouri visit with Nora and Ray, who were actually his great-aunt and uncle. But family is family.) When the produce started getting ripe, Nora and Jeremy - and sometimes Alice - had done almost all the picking. And Ray didn't like it one bit.

So he was now outside, trying to reclaim his garden, during one of the hottest August days of the year, when the air wrapped itself around you like a blanket on a sick bed, and he had to be rescued from such an insignificant little walk that had effectively trapped him among the eggplants, zucchini, and tomatoes.

No sooner had Jeremy spoken than he was by Ray's side, reaching down to gently lift the wheels from the dirt.

"Thank you, Jeremy," Ray growled. "But I would have been fine."

The boy had gotten used to that tone of voice. Ray had never been an easy person to get along with, though he had always been nice to his grandnephew - nicer than his feuding parents ever were. This summer, however, Ray had been worse than usual, fussing at him and especially at Nora. Jeremy figured that it had something to do with the hospital stay and the oxygen. Or he might just have been doing what old people do. But Jeremy liked the old guy, anyway, and tried to help, especially now that his uncle could barely walk from one room to another without gasping for breath.

"I know," Jeremy answered. "But I was out here waiting for Alice. It's no trouble."

Ray laughed, and coughed, followed by louder air-brake sounds. He had forgotten his hat, and the uncombed wispy gray hairs circling his almost red scalp waved wildly as he tried to regain control of his sickened body. When the coughing quieted down, Ray said, wheezing, "Alice. She's a nice one. Helped me with the garden this year. About your age, too, I think."

He motioned for Jeremy to put down the oxygen canister, but Jeremy did not let go. He took a step toward the house, through the tall tomato plants, and Ray decided to follow rather than argue.

"Not really," Jeremy answered. "She's 16. Almost 17."

To Jeremy, Alice was an older woman, mysterious and as far from him as the pictures in the adult magazines from the used bookstore that he sneaked into his home in the city. This was in spite of the fact that they had known each other for years, since the first summer Jeremy had stayed with Ray and Nora, and had played the usual games of cowboys and Indians and pick-up softball in the big side yard. But the summer before she had changed into the woman of his dreams: long blonde hair framing a narrow face; slim, long legs stretching beneath her short cut-off jeans; the tops of tanned breasts and stomach providing inviting glimpses from above and below her halter-top. To Jeremy those years between him and Alice could have been an eternity. Heck, back home, the girls in his own class - taller and more mature than him - wouldn't give him a second look, preferring to date the juniors, seniors, and in at least one case a college freshman. Alice might as well have been one of those Playboy centerfolds, for all the good it did him.

He hadn't quite figured out why she was still nice to him. Maybe helping him pick the beans for Ray had more to do with helping an old man than having a chance to talk to a boy? Or maybe she was just being nice because they had known each other so long? Was it possible that she actually liked him, at least a little? After all, she had touched his arm a time or two in the garden, and sometimes as they walked or sat and talked, she would move close enough that he could feel her warmth and smell the summer aroma of her hair.

Ray started to laugh again, then caught himself and chuckled.

Before the hospital stay, Ray had laughed often and loudly. This summer, he had barely smiled. Jeremy was glad to see Ray with a little life in him again, though he didn't understand the humor of the situation.

"What's so funny?" Jeremy asked.

"So you think Alice is too old for you?"

"We're not even in the same grade."

Ray reached into his shirt pocket for a cigarette in a move that had become familiar to Jeremy over the years. Finding the pocket empty, Ray scowled and roughly adjusted the plastic tubing leading from the oxygen canister.

"She likes you, son."

"Maybe a little. After all, we've known each other forever. But this is different."

The talk made Jeremy a little uncomfortable. In the past, Ray had talked with him mainly about fishing, coon hunting, baseball, gardening. This summer he had started to talk with him more like an adult - about girls, jobs, and what to do with his life. It was unsettling. Nobody else had talked with him that way. Not his mother, who mainly just yelled at him. And certainly not his dad, who seldom talked about much at all.

Ray chuckled. "When you get to my age, you'll learn what's important in life. You'll learn."

Jeremy didn't want to wait that long. He was already 14, and felt that life was passing him by.

"What do you think, Uncle Ray? I do really like her, you know." He made the admission somewhat sheepishly. "But I don't know what to do about it. You think maybe I should save up my money and send flowers?"

"Why send flowers if you can grow them?" Ray said. "I planted those Black-Eyed Susans for Nora a long time ago. I've never sent flowers to her. And look at us!"

Jeremy was confused. Maybe Ray didn't understand his question.

"So you think I should plant a patch of flowers for Alice?"

Uncle Ray tried to breathe normally. He said, "Life is like a garden, son. Everything grows at its own pace. And you have to take care of it. You just gotta be patient."

Jeremy wasn't sure how to respond to this bit of wisdom. In fact, it left him more confused than before. Ray was smiling, looking at the boy as if he were waiting for a response, but Jeremy was spared this by the sight of his aunt rushing from the enclosed porch, leading to the kitchen. Before either man or boy could say a word, Nora had grabbed the oxygen tank from Jeremy's hand.

"Ray! Just what do you think you're doing? Out here in the hot sun! You could get yourself killed!"

"Don't get yourself so worked up," Ray said. "I'm sick and tired of being cooped up in the house all the time. I feel like I'm going to croak if I can't get out of the house sometimes. The garden needs my attention."

"You're too sick to be out here. You know what the doctor said."

"To Hell with the doctor." Ray hobbled behind his wife, Jeremy trailing along. "Hell, look at some of these plants. Even your yellow flowers are starting to wilt! Don't you remember anything about gardening that I've tried to teach you!"

Nora walked deliberately, her blue-veined legs pumping furiously beneath her dress, narrowly missing some of the neat plants in the rows. She led Ray by the tank toward the house. He was still grumbling about the sorry state of the garden as they disappeared into the enclosed porch. Jeremy could just see a glimpse of the backs of their heads through the porch window as they went into the kitchen.

Jeremy, apparently forgotten for the moment, paused in the sunshine. Yes, it was hot. It was August in southeast Missouri, after all. How could it not be hot and muggy, considering that most of the land had been a swamp less than a hundred years before? But the sun beating down on him felt almost good, wrapping him in a throbbing heat. He closed his eyes and directed his face toward the blazing yellow in the sky.

"Don't you know you could go blind that way?"

Jeremy spun around, feeling as if he had been caught in the act of something not quite decent. He must have looked really stupid standing in the middle of the garden with his face to the sun.

Alice was standing on the patch of green at the end of the garden near the Black-Eyed Susans.

"Hi, Alice. I was waiting for you, when Uncle Ray needed a little help."

"Maybe you need a little help. Why don't you come over here and join me? Or did you decide you didn't want to walk, after all?"

"No. I mean, yes." He hurried across the dirt, tried to step over an eggplant, almost tripped. Alice smiled, turned, and started down the barely paved road. The asphalt and blackened gravel was hot, but Alice, in her bare feet, didn't seem to mind. Today she was wearing a pair of denim shorts that resembled overalls and a tie-dyed tube top. A piece of hay from where she had helped her dad with the cows earlier in the day was stuck in her hair. She seemed oblivious to the sun, and presented a ghost-like image through the heat-shimmering from the road as Jeremy raced to catch up.

"I like summers," she said, finally. "I know it's hard on old people, like Ray and Nora. But I like it hot. Don't you?"

Her face was suntanned, as were her legs and shoulders.

"Me, too," Jeremy said.

They walked awhile in silence, as they had always done since they were children. Sometimes they would run around and scream, climbing trees and jumping fences, and sometimes they would just sit around or walk, saying almost nothing, but still enjoying the time. Since he had gotten older, the silences had perplexed Jeremy, but sometimes in the southeast Missouri summer, silence just seemed to be called for. Now that the summer was drawing to a close, Jeremy realized that he was going to miss these moments. So what if he never dated Alice? They had worked together in Ray's garden, they had enjoyed walks and talks, had even visited one of the small-town fairs that always indicated the end of summer and the start of fall. They had some good times.

Today, they walked a good two miles, arriving at Miller's Pond, skipping some rocks and hunting frogs in the mud, before turning back around, as the sun started to slip toward the horizon.

As they again neared Ray and Nora's place, Jeremy wanted to ask about what would make Alice happy. What could he do to help her remember him, and the summer, when he returned to the city and she started school. This would be his last full day of the summer, and they both knew it, though neither commented on it. Instead, he blurted out, "I'm worried about Uncle Ray. He doesn't look too good."

"Yeah. That's why I've been helping him and Nora with the garden. I guessed that's why you've been, too." They paused at the end of the yard. Alice walked over, pulled a ripe tomato from the vine, and sat on the grass near the yellow flowers. Jeremy joined her as she took a taste, daintily wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Here. Have a bite."

Jeremy took the fruit, took a bite. Juice dribbled down his chin as the sharp aroma filled the air. The two ate without words, when Jeremy decided to try again.

"I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"What would you think if somebody sent you flowers?"

Alice laughed, shaking her blonde hair out behind her as she leaned backwards on the grass.

"Why do you ask that?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I don't know. Ray and I were talking. He said that women don't care for that. He said he never sent Nora flowers. And she's happy."

Alice crossed her palms behind her head.

"I don't know. You think Nora's happy?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Maybe Nora was right. Are you men are all alike?" Alice spoke without rancor, as if she were puzzling over the words. "We were picking beans the other day, and she was grumbling something fierce. Talked about how this was the first summer that Ray hadn't spent in the garden instead of being inside with her, and now he was too sick to do anything but moan. She was almost talking to herself, saying if she had to do it over again, she'd be better off just keeping to herself. Then she said to me, 'Alice, you may think now that boys are important. But watch yourself. They're all alike. Don't let no boy take advantage of you. Once you're married, it's too late.' As if she thought I was interested in getting married! Old people say some of the strangest things."

Jeremy leaned forward, watching her. He couldn't remember Nora ever talking about such things to him. Maybe it was a girl thing? When Jeremy had once asked Ray about Nora's quiet nature, he had replied, "She's a good woman. Knows her place. Keeps her opinions to herself." Jeremy didn't know much about women, but he figured that was something he had best keep to himself. Alice might not understand, and think poorly of Ray. Instead, he said, "Maybe she was just tired. I guess him being in the hospital and all would be hard on her, too."

"Maybe."

"He did plant the flowers for her."

Jeremy suddenly had an idea.

"He is a darned good gardener, isn't he?"

Jeremy stood. Alice lay back with eyes closed, the dappled shadows from the trees growing longer on her. Jeremy took the few paces to the flower bed, looked closely until he found what he was looking for, reached down and plucked what he thought was the perfect blossom, not yet fully opened and not yet withered.

Sheepishly, he walked quietly, sat down beside Alice, and said softly, "For you." She opened her eyes. He handed her the flower.

Her eyes grew large, and to Jeremy's surprise, she didn't kid him.

She sat up, stretched, her head upturned, touched his face with her free hand, and kissed him.

Jeremy, shocked, was suddenly lost in the moist lips against his, the warm breasts against his chest, the warm, dry touch of a hand on his face. He wanted to return the kiss, but his head was spinning and he wasn't sure how to do it properly, when the magic was broken by a cough.

Nora was in the garden with a bucket half-filled with tomatoes. She pretended she hadn't seen, but she obviously wasn't happy at what she had seen. She kept her eyes straight ahead, grabbed the tomatoes with rough force and almost threw them into the bucket. Then, with the container only three-quarters full, she went back inside, slamming the porch door behind her. Jeremy could see her disappear into the house through the porch window.

Alice and Jeremy looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

"I'd better be going," Alice finally muttered, holding on to the flower. "You're a nice guy. I'll miss you."

"I'll remember this summer forever," Jeremy said.

Jeremy watched Alice walk down the road, her long hair swinging behind her, until she was only a shadow and was then out of sight.

Jeremy was afraid that Ray and Nora would be angry with him and Alice, but that night they didn't say a word all during supper and before going to bed. The tension in the air was hard to take. Jeremy wished that they would just give him a talking to and be done with it.

But he figured the kiss was worth whatever was to come.

The next morning, Jeremy woke almost as the sun came up, though it was the loud voices from the kitchen that disturbed him rather than the sun streaming through the checkered curtains on the window. Jeremy got out of bed and quickly pulled on his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Nora asked.

"Going to work in the garden," Ray answered, just as loudly. "You know good and well that Jeremy is going home this afternoon. And with Alice starting school, that leaves only you. And you haven't been worth a damn all summer. Just look at the garden! Flowers are wilting. Tomatoes are already almost gone. I have to work it if it's going to do any good."

"You can't. You're too weak. You can't handle the sun."

"My garden has been the one bright spot in my life," Ray protested. "And the way you're blundering around out there is no good. My God, you even bruised the tomatoes last night! And some of them were even green! I know I don't have long to live. At least let me die happy."

"Listen to reason, Ray, I can't let you out there. I can't let you kill yourself."

"I'll die if I don't have the garden. At least this way I can die happy."

"You never did know what's best for you."

Jeremy walked into the room. Ray and Nora both glanced at him. Nora continued setting the table. Ray then said in a calmer tone of voice, ""Maybe you're right." He was again wheezing through the oxygen tube in his nose. Jeremy thought he looked even grayer and weaker than he had the day before.

During breakfast - bacon, eggs, grits - Nora and Ray seemed more like themselves again. They chatted about the music on the radio, about going into town for groceries, about the late arrival of the newspaper that morning. Jeremy was relieved that they had gotten over their apparent anger at him and Alice. He went back to his room to finish packing. His parents were supposed to pick him up that afternoon.

It was after breakfast, while Nora was cleaning up the dishes, that she looked through the gingham-curtained window over the sink and saw her husband again in the garden with his oxygen canister. He was barely moving, and looked blankly, with blinking eyes, around him.

"Jeremy!" The woman's voice was almost hysterical. "Come here, quick!"

At the sound of the voice, Jeremy rushed into the room and followed her from the kitchen onto the porch and into the yard. He wasn't sure who was more scared. His aunt grabbed at his uncle with her white arms and dish-pan wet hands as if to keep him from falling. His uncle stood, dazed and confused, trying to catch his breath.

"Leave me alone!" His voice came in puffs. "I'm happy here! It's all I have left of my life! Just let me be. I'll be fine, if you both would stop bothering me."

Even so, he did not resist as the woman and boy led him back inside.

"Don't you worry," Nora said. "I'll take care of the garden for you."

As they neared the porch, painfully slowly, Jeremy noticed that Ray's eyes were becoming a little clearer again. His voice was slightly less wheezy. "Bless you." He looked over the generally healthy, growing plants with pride. "Guess maybe I'm in worse shape than I thought. I would appreciate it very much if you would take care of the garden."

"Don't you worry," Nora said, firmly when they got to the relative cool of the enclosed porch. "Jeremy, you stay here with Ray. Make sure he stays put."

Jeremy remained standing while Ray sat heavily in the vinyl lawn chair on the porch. On the table next to the chair were some tomatoes that Nora had picked a little green, left out to ripen. After a few minutes, the older man was breathing more easily again, though Jeremy wondered if he was yet in his right mind.

"Nora saw you and Alice last night," Ray said. Jeremy looked down at his feet. "But that's OK. Somehow I always see you as a boy, but I guess you're growing up. So let me give you some advice. The first kisses are always sweet. Nora and I had our share, back in the beginning. But it's been awhile. I think maybe Nora was more jealous of you and Alice than mad."

Jeremy fidgeted with the laces of his tennis shoes. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear this, and was not sure that Ray would be talking this way if he had still been in his right mind.

"She's a good woman," Ray continued. "I know I haven't always treated her as well as I should. I've been cross with her, yelled at her too many times, maybe. And maybe I haven't loved her like I should. But I've always worked hard for her. Spent the best part of my life in the factory. Made her a good living. Wasn't able to give her a home right away, but I scrimped, worked hard, and finally bought her this house. Always put food on the table. Got her a new dress every spring. She's never complained. Don't you think that's love, son?"

He looked up at the boy, who concentrated on his shoe, trying to brush some dirt from the sole. The sunlight streaming through the window gave Ray's face an ashen look that was almost frightening. Jeremy could hear the faint chopping sounds of Nora in the garden.

Ray picked up one of the tomatoes from the table.

"I've never trusted her with my garden," he said. "Guess I've been kind of particular about it. But it made me happy during a lot of bad times. I love that old garden. It took awhile, but Nora finally learned how to handle a shovel and when to pick the tomatoes." He held up the brilliant red orb of summer. "At least most of the time." His laugh ended in another round of coughing and wheezing. "So I guess I shouldn't mind now if she wants to take care of it for me."

Ray leaned back weakly. Jeremy was afraid that his uncle might croak right there in the chair. But he said, "Don't you worry about me. Why don't you go on out and join her? I don't want the old woman to hurt herself by helping me. I'll be OK. I'll rest another minute, then I can watch you all from the window. Go on. Get."

Reluctantly, Jeremy did as he was told.

As soon as he was outside the door, he knew something was horribly wrong.

Nora had an expression on her face he had never seen before in his young life. Her eyes were bulging, her face red, muscles bulged on her skinny arms with the blue veins as she yanked first one tomato plant - filled with lush, red fruit - and threw them on a growing heap. She had already cut down the beans with a hoe, which she had tossed to one side. It was now on the ground, sharp side up, dangerous, like his uncle had taught him never to do.

Jeremy didn't know what to do. The garden had been around as long as he had known his aunt and uncle. Why was she doing this? He was frozen in place long enough for her to grab the last tomato plant, which was easily freed by the roots from the soft, moist soil.

"Why? Aunt Nora? Why?"

She moved to the eggplants, and at first the boy thought she wasn't going to answer. She kicked at the glossy purple ovals hanging from the stiff plants, and the boy winced, as if she was kicking at a man's balls, taking away his very manhood forever in a vicious moment of pain. The fruit splattered across the uprooted chaos.

She suddenly stood, placed the palms of her hands on her back, and stretched. She looked over the almost demolished garden and it seemed to the boy that it was the same kind of look his uncle used to have when he had put in the last plant and plowed in the good manure he had bought from Jake Tinsley down the road.

Jeremy asked again, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why do you think?" she asked in a thin voice.

"I don't know."

"Why, I love the old coot, of course. I'm doing this for his own good. You saw how he was this morning? If I didn't do this, he would be out here again and again. I never could do anything with him when he gets so full of himself. He would kill himself. I'm doing this for his own good."

She then reached down, grabbed a handful of the yellow flowers.

"I never liked these blasted weeds, anyway," she muttered to herself.

The boy glanced over at the porch, as the old man slumped silently at the window, tomato falling from his hand.

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