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Bethan's Garden Part 2By Sandra Tayler
The moment Beth rounded the corner into the garden her eyes began searching for Old Woman. No one was there. Beth turned around and went to the place she knew Old Woman lived, but her knocks went unanswered. Beth went back to the garden and began touching plants. Old Woman’s quiet voice filled her memory telling the name and use of each plant. Then Beth reached Oak. She touched the slender tree. Oak had a name and a use . . . and a story. Old Woman said that. Oaks have stories. Beth ran her hand over the bark and looked up at the yellow-green leaves. Beth touched some leaves in her reach. Then she heard footsteps behind her and she turned. There was Old Woman. Beth ran to her and grabbed her hand.
“Tell me the story!”
“Which story?”
“Oak has a story. Tell me the story!”
“Ah.” Old Woman walked to Oak and gently touched its trunk, then she searched the ground a moment and picked up a round object. With it in her hand she settled herself to the ground and patted the ground next to her.
Beth sat next to Old Woman expectantly. Old Woman reached out her hand, in it was the round thing she’d picked up.
“This is an acorn.” Beth shoved the hand away from her.
“Tell me the story!”
“The Acorn is the beginning of the story.” Beth looked again at Acorn. “The acorn is the seed of the oak tree. Put this acorn in the ground and water it and it will grow into a tree like this one or even bigger” Old Woman reached up and patted the tree.
Beth looked at Acorn. Then she looked at Oak. Beth picked up acorn from Old Woman’s hand. She’d seen Acorn before. They fell from the branches of Oak.
“Acorn grows from Oak.”
“That’s right.” Beth looked at Oak. So large. She saw it shriveling into Acorn and re-sprouting. Again and again. No beginning. Like a circle around and around. Beth’s breathing quickened. The sky loomed close. Old woman was close.
“No! You’ve got it wrong! Acorn grows from Oak , not Oak from Acorn!” Beth needed to move, she needed Old Woman to see.
“Beth. Please let me show you.”
At the sound of her name Beth snapped her head around and the edges of the world loomed further away.
“You know me. Beth.” Beth touched a hand to her chest. “You have a name too.” Beth reached out and touched Old Woman on the arm.
“Yes Beth, I have a name.”
“What is your name?” Beth stared intently at Old Woman.
“Hanna.”
“Hanna.” Beth tried the sound of the name. It was soft like Old Woman’s voice, like the colors of her clothes. It matched. That was good. Things that weren’t right made the world close in. Like Oak and Acorn. She had to make Hanna see.
“Hanna. Oak and Acorn cannot be a circle.”
“They aren’t. Oak and Acorn are a chain.” Hanna touched Oak. “This oak grew this acorn.” Hanna held up acorn. “If I plant this acorn here…” Hanna made a small hole in the ground and placed the acorn in it. “Then it will grow into a new oak.” Beth looked from Oak to Acorn and the world clicked into place.
“Then I would have two Oaks.”
Hanna smiled. “That’s right.”
“Acorns are seeds.” Bits of knowledge cascaded together in Beth’s mind. Beth jumped up and ran over to a nearby plant. Forget-me-not. Beth touched it where the stalks had grown long and thin. She broke open the little pods that grew after the flowers had gone, little black specks fell into her hand. Beth ran back to Hanna.
“These are seeds too!”
“Yes, that’s right”
“I can put them in the ground and make more Forget-me-not.”
“Yes, that’s called Planting.”
“Planting.”
“Would you like to plant some seeds?”
“Yes.”
Hanna carefully wiped the last of the dirt and sweat from her face and hands. It felt good to be clean and wearing fresh clothes. Now she only needed a nap to rid herself of the creeping headache which threatened to take over the rest of her day.
On her way to the bed, Hanna stopped at the window. Beth was still there, lying on her stomach, intently watching the wet earth where her seeds had been planted. Hanna had tried to make Beth understand that it would be a week or even two before any of the seeds sprouted. She wasn’t sure Beth had really understood. Beth had responded with a “Yes, I know.” And kept watching.
Hanna lay down in the welcome coolness of her bed and closed her eyes. Beth continued to haunt her wandering thoughts. Hanna was unsure how much Beth comprehended of things she was told. At each step of the planting process she’d explained to Beth what she was doing and why. The words seemed to pour over Beth and roll off of her like water over stone. Stone. Funny stone should be the imagery. The seer had used it too. “This child has a heart of stone.” Was the seer truly seeing a curse or merely pinning a magical label to symptoms he could see? Had he been truly a seer of the unseen or merely a charlatan? Like me.
Hanna felt a tear trickle down from the outside corner of her eye. I came here to hide. Why did I walk into the middle of this? An image came to her mind. All those eager faces bidding her farewell, believing that they were sending their village witch to town for extra training, not knowing that she never intended to return.
They believed in me and I abandoned them. The thought ran along its worn and familiar track through her mind. Better abandoned than lied to. This thought always trailed the other and invariably kept her from packing her bags.
Hanna didn’t know when she’d begun to doubt her calling, certainly not during her apprenticeship under Mistress Taridell. Not early, when she’d spent so much time researching texts, trying to know it all. Witches were supposed to know why cows and people got sick. Why they died. How to make them better. At first it was alright to confess ignorance, but ignorance was weakness, she could see it in the eyes of those who came seeking. A true witch, a strong witch would know. So, somewhere, sometime, when an earnest person came to her for answers she didn’t have, she began to blur the line between knowledge and fabrication.
Over the years the line had blurred to near non-existence. Then last winter when little Lari Miller had lain so ill. A tale of a goblin spell had spilled out of her mouth. She’d chanted pointless words, painted meaningless symbols on the child’s face, and brewed a concoction with only one potentially useful ingredient. Hanna had watched the night pass from Lari’s bedside, and had watched as Lari’s last rattling breaths had escaped her body. Lari’s tearful parents had thanked her profusely for coming and for trying to defeat such a powerful goblin spell. The weight of Hanna’s lie had turned the admiration of the Millers’ eyes into the bitterest gall.
Hanna had gone home knowing she could not continue to lie to good people anymore. So she’d concocted one last lie to free herself; a new apprenticeship in the city.
Hanna missed her home. She ached for the people there whom she loved. Karel was due to have her baby soon, Hanna would never see the child. Her garden would be choked over from weeds and her house would gradually take on an air of abandonment.
The pillow under Hanna’s cheek was wet from her tears. How long had she lain staring at that crack in the plaster? Abruptly Hanna got up, using movement to drive away thought. She was halfway through washing her face when an image arrested her movements. Hanna remembered Beth in the garden moving and touching, moving and touching. What thoughts was Beth trying to control? Hanna walked again to the window, but Beth was no longer in the garden.
Beth stared at the words on the page. They were so angular. Some letters had roundness, but mostly lines and angles. P looked a little bit like some of the sprouts that had finally poked out of the ground. Beth could see them in her mind’s eye, little rows of green, like these rows of letters. Hanna had made her pull out some of the little green shoots. Beth hadn’t wanted to, she liked all the little green rows. But Hanna said if she let too many grow they would crowd each other out and none would do well. All these words on the page were too crowded. Beth wanted to pluck some out so that the remaining words would grow bigger. Only words on a page couldn’t grow, not like the words Hanna spoke. Hanna’s words grew in her head and made things come together. Hanna’s words made the world bigger.
“Beth!” Beth startled at the sound of her name. It was Tutor. “You need to pay attention to your lesson.” Tutor was tall and all angles like the letters. Tutor’s words filled up her head. He gave her piece after piece, little facts to file in her brain. But the words made nothing any bigger. Beth studied his face. His eyebrows were drawn down today, and his voice had an edge to it. Beth didn’t like him this way. His mouth moved giving out bits of knowledge. Sometimes she liked all the bits. Bits were soothing, they didn’t demand. Today she wanted to be outside near her green sprouts.
“Beth! Pay Attention!” Tutor’s voice smashed the image of her plants. Mother’s voice had the same sound sometimes. She’d say “I am angry Beth” and it sounded the same. Angry, Tutor was angry. Beth looked at him again. Yes, Mother’s face looked that way when she was Angry, eyebrows down, mouth tight.
“You’re Angry.” Beth stated her revelation
“No, of course not.” Tutor leaned back, but his eyebrows stayed low and his voice still had an edge.
“Yes, you’re Angry.” Then thoughts clicked and she remembered other times that Tutor had looked this way. “You’re angry because I don’t Pay Attention.” Tutor’s face changed. His eyebrows went up, his eyes widened, his mouth loosened.
“I suppose I am. There doesn’t seem to be much point in me talking when you aren’t listening.” Beth watched as his face changed shape. Each small change gave his face a whole different look.
At dinner that night Beth watched the faces of her Mother and sisters. They changed all the time. Amalie was talking about Wedding again. Beth watched as Mari’s face changed after Amalie’s words. The words caused the change. Why did Amalie’s words cause Mari to crinkle her eyes, stretch her mouth, and show her teeth? Beth ate slowly trying to fathom the connections between words and faces.
The morning sun was just rising over the roofs of the buildings and the air was still crisp and fresh as Hanna pulled weeds from a neglected bed in the corner of the garden. She felt a reasonable pride that there weren’t many neglected beds left. Later the sun would beat down, making the air muggy and too hot to work in pleasantly. The solstice had passed and summer had definitely arrived. In the beds which Hanna had already tended, flowers flourished. It was very satisfying.
Hanna’s arms were full of weeds when she noticed the man peering through the bent corner gate. He seemed about to depart, but then he beckoned Hanna to come over. Deciding not to walk away from him to put the weeds in the compost pile at the far end of the garden, Hanna dropped the ungainly mess in the path and went to see what the man wanted.
“I must beg pardon for intruding. I am tutor to Bethan Montrose, My name is Alwin. Would you be Mistress Hanna?” As he spoke Hanna noted corroborating details of scholarship about him, pale skin, soft hands, old, but well tended clothes-probably given by an employer. His face was very angular and his body thin. Hanna judged him to be in his mid-thirties. In all, he seemed safe to approach. Hanna was unused to meeting strange people, even after so long in the city. Back home she knew everyone. Hanna stood safely out of reach, reassured by the gate, and answered
“Yes, I am Hanna.”
“I have the right place then.” Master Alwin peered through the bars of the gate into the garden. “I wanted to see the place that Bethan speaks of so often.”
“She speaks to you of the garden?”
“Well, she never speaks much, and when she does the words make no sense until I figure out the context. Her mind wanders in great leaps of thought which are hard to follow. I’m always trying to figure out where she has gone.”
Hanna’s apprehensions and doubts dissipated. This man had definitely worked with Beth. She recognized the exasperated and slightly bewildered tone behind his words. She stepped closer to the gate for a more conversational distance.
“Lately all her trains of thought end up here in the garden. I wanted to see the place that so distracts her from her studies.”
“What does she study?”
“I teach her history, Latin, Math, Geography, and Grammar.”
Hanna could not easily picture Beth as a student. “How does she do with them?”
“Excellently, when she focuses her attention. Her memory is phenomenal. I can teach things once and she can recall them perfectly months later. Other times nothing at all gets remembered. It is as if she is simply elsewhere, gone somewhere in her own mind.”
Hanna looked at the younger man. He radiated both genuine caring and immense frustration for his pupil. She did not envy him his charge to teach Beth. Hanna had the luxury of leaving Beth alone when she disappeared into her own world. Master Alwin had to try to drag Beth back.
Apparently Master Alwin’s train of thought had kept running during the short pause, for he spoke again
“And she changes. Or at least she does lately. She never used to look at faces, or even people. Then several weeks ago she began watching faces all the time. She would stare right at me and never hear a word I said. Then I found her practicing in front of a mirror. She was standing there and making faces.”
Hanna’s eyes which had drifted with Alwin’s far gaze over the garden, snapped back to his face.
“She was what?” Roused by Hanna’s new intensity, Alwin met her gaze.
“Making faces. She was scrunching her eyes, scowling. Stretching her mouth in a smile. No true emotions, just the shapes of them. It was bizarre.”
“Have you reported that to Madame Montrose?”
“No. The Master and Madame have been so busy preparing for the wedding of their oldest…“ He spoke with the hesitancy of an employee who feared to be a nuisance.
“She’d want to know. I s’pect she wants to know anything Beth does which is different from normal. Well, normal for her anyway.”
Alwin nodded slowly. “You’re likely right. I’ll have to speak with her.” He then turned his eyes to study Hanna’s face. “You are a witch.”
Hanna felt an almost physical pang of pain at the words which shattered her safe hiding place. They weren’t a question. It took her a moment before she could form a careful reply.
“What makes you say so?”
“I have been working with Bethan for years. I have labored hard to keep her attention and teach her. Yet she never once noticed me.” Tears stood in Alwin’s eyes. “Yesterday, she asked my name and whether I had a family. She saw me. It has to be magic. You have to be magic. The changes began since she came to know you.”
Hanna struggled to breathe with a chest gone tight. She knew that naked longing in his eyes. That intent to believe. It was in her power to answer his longing with certainty. She could fill his ears and heart with words that replaced uncertainty with joy. She’d done it before, given people the simple answers they craved. Lari Miller lurked in her memory and words stuck in her throat. Hanna swallowed and finally managed to push words out.
“I’m no witch.” The words were like gravel in her throat.
Alwin grasped the gate with both hands. “You must be magic. She began to change when she met you. If you’re not magic, then why are you here?” The man of science and learning gazed at Hanna with such naked need for certainty that Hanna could not endure it. She turned away.
“I’m just a tired old woman who needs to get out of the sun.”
Hanna could walk away from a conversation too painful to endure, but she could not evict Master Alwin’s words from her head. If you’re not magic, then why are you here? Magic had been her purpose, her focus. Sitting weakly on her bed staring at the wall, tears stubbornly clinging to the edges of her eyes, Hanna faced the thought she had be dodging for the whole time of her residence in the city. How do I find a new center if the old one is false? What am I going to do now? She had enough money to pay rent for another year, but what then. If I am not a witch, who am I? Hanna had no answers to the emptiness as the afternoon sun crawled slowly across the floor.
Beth climbed carefully through the broken gate. It scratched if she was not careful. She hadn’t been able to come to the garden for a week. Everyone was so busy with Wedding. Amalie was Getting Married in few more days. There had been Dress Fitting and Rehearsal and Company. New people everywhere. All those face and voices full of expressions.
Today Beth needed Quiet. She needed Plants. Beth rounded the corner of a flowerbed full of plants grown tall, and saw Hanna. Hanna was not working. She was just sitting on a bench. Mother sat. Hanna pulled weeds. Hanna watered plants. Hanna tended. Hanna did not just sit. Beth walked to Hanna.
“You are sitting.”
“Yes Beth. Today I am sitting.” This was not the answer Beth wanted. She needed a different question. A moment’s thought provided it to her.
“Why are you sitting?”
“I don’t feel much like working today, but I was tired of being inside, so I came out here to sit.” Hanna’s voice was different, slower, heavier. Beth looked at Hanna. Hanna’s whole body seemed curved forward, slouched. “Don’t slouch Beth” Mother said that. Hanna didn’t slouch. Hanna was straight.
“Something is squashing you.” Hanna looked up at Beth. “Why are you squashed?” Hanna made a half-laughing noise.
“Yes you could say something is squashing me. I have thoughts in my head which are making me sad.”
“Sad.” The word felt important. Beth needed to understand it. “Sad is when things go wrong.”
“Hmm. . . not exactly. Sometimes “things going wrong” makes us angry. Sad is more like empty. Some people call it blue, but it feels more gray to me.”
Sad, empty, blue, gray, the words circled in Beth’s head trying to come together. She still did not know Sad.
“Hanna, do not be Sad. You need to work. We need to make Plants grow.”
Hanna looked at Beth, but did not move. Why didn’t Hanna move?
“Ah child, you need me to be who I was, but I’ve changed. I can’t continue tending this garden with no plan for the future.” Hanna had water in her eyes. Beth shifted uneasily. She wanted away from this bench. She wanted her plants. She wanted Hanna to be straight and not Sad. Beth grabbed Hanna’s hand a pulled.
“Come away from Sad. Come see my plants.”
Hanna did not move. Why did Hanna not move?
“I wish it were that easy Beth. I wish I could banish sadness as easy as that.”
Wish. Beth had stories with Wishes. Wishes were Magic. Magic made things happen. Magic could make Sad go away.
“You will wish the sadness away?”
“What?”
Hanna did not understand, so Beth changed her words around. “Magic wishes will make Sad gone?”
“I do wish the sadness away, but my wishes have no magic in them. I am not magic Beth.”
Beth held tight to Hanna’s hand and pondered this information. Hanna said she was not magic. This couldn’t be true.
“You are magic. You make Plants grow. You make the world bigger.”
The water spilled from Hanna’s eyes and ran down her face. One of Hanna’s worn hands came up and touched Beth’s cheek. Beth could feel the hand both slightly rough and warm against her skin. Mother’s hands were smooth.
“Beth any magic there is in plants growing or your world getting bigger is not done by me. You and plants make your own magic.”
“I have magic?”
“Of course you do. You are learning and stretching every day. You know plants and you are learning about happiness and sadness. Whenever you do something new, that‘s a kind of magic.”
“Learning and knowing is magic.”
“Yes.”
Beth looked at Hanna’s wet eyes.
“Then you’re magic too Hanna. You know and you learn. You teach me. That is magic. You tend Plants and they grow. You make the magic together.”
Hanna’s eyes grew round and tears spilled from them again. Hanna’s voice was very quiet as she spoke.
“From the mouths of babes . . .”
Beth saw no babies in the garden, but Hanna was getting up now, so she gave the strange pronouncement no more thought.
Hanna leaned over and pulled out weeds from the flowerbed in front of her. It was the very last overgrown bed in the garden. Daily attention had done wonders for the neglected place. Gardens always had work which needed doing, but now it was maintenance rather than renovation. Beth had become an avid helper in the garden. She helped with whatever Hanna was doing, but most of all she tended her own little bed of seedlings. Most of the seeds in Beth’s bed would not bloom this year. They were perennial and would need a year to establish roots before they could flower. But Hanna had made sure that some of the plants were annuals which would bloom soon. Beth watched over these latter plants avidly waiting for the first flowers to appear.
Thoughts of Beth led to the words Beth had spoken. You make the magic together. The words had dispelled the gloom which had overwhelmed Hanna. Dispelled. It seemed magic was even entwined in language, but Hanna found the word choice very appropriate because light and hope now resided where darkness and despair once held sway. It had been days since Beth had spoken the words, but they still bounced in Hanna’s head, leaving her feeling unsettled. As if a veil had lifted, Hanna could now remember good things she had done in her village. Solid things with no lies attached. Births of people and livestock that she’d successfully tended, quarrels that she’d calmed, soothing teas she’d administered. Beth’s words seemed to bounce off these memories, brightening them until they glowed. Were those things magic? Yesterday Mistress Yasbell had walked into the garden and exclaimed over how beautiful it all was. Magical she’d said. Hanna knew that hours of work had gone into making the garden beautiful, but to someone who’d not paid attention it could seem like magic.
What of the times when her word had made a seemingly impossible task possible? The words didn’t alter the task, but they changed the person who had to do the task. Was that magic?
Hanna stood up and surveyed the garden around her. She had done good work here. I did good work at home too. I’d forgotten that. Hanna felt tears run down her face. Only a moment later a thought clicked into place, and she knew why she was crying. I need to go home. She longed for home and she feared it because she would have to confess her untruths and face the possible loss of respect from people whose respect she valued. She would have to confess and hope for forgiveness. The very thought hurt, but not as much as the thought of never returning home.
“Hanna!” Hanna turned to see Beth running joyously down the path. “Hanna! Come see! My flowers are blooming!” Joyously. Hanna looked again, Beth did not smile, but her face was alert and involved. Every movement Beth made spoke excitement and happiness. The stony-faced, reserved child of months ago was gone. A lump threatened to clog Hanna’s throat. Little Beth had come so far in such a short time and Hanna was going to have to say goodbye.
“Look Hanna! Cosmos and Marigold are both blooming!” Beth reached out and touched the flowers. Hanna watched Beth and knew that Madame Montrose would want to see Beth’s excitement.
“Would you like to cut some and take them home with you?” Beth stilled a little.
“Flowers belong in Garden.”
“Yes, but sometimes when you leave the garden it is nice to have something to take with you. It helps you remember and feel happy.”
“Flowers are Happy.”
“Flowers make you feel happy.” Beth gently stroked a petal. Hanna could tell she had wandered off along some train of thought. Hanna stood there knowing she needed to leave for home soon. If she left now, she would still have half the summer to put her cottage and garden to rights before fall and cold came. If she left now, she just might be home in time to help birth Karel’s baby. There was no benefit in delay, but if she left as soon as she needed to, today might be her last time to see Beth. The need to explain and say farewell weighed heavy.
“I will cut some flowers to take home. I want to remember Happy at home.”
Hanna quickly fetched her garden clippers and helped Beth snip some blooms. As they snipped Hanna tried to explain.
“Beth, I’ll be leaving soon.” Beth continued to select and cut flowers. “Beth, it is time for me to go home. This place, this garden isn’t my home. I was just visiting here.” The garden clippers in Beth’s hands continued to snip plants. Hanna tried a different tack, more direct.
“Beth, I need to say goodbye. I don’t think we’ll see each other again.” The clippers stopped mid-motion. “I have to go home. I left behind people who need me. Who trusted me. I’ve broken that trust and I need to try to fix it.” The clippers sunk to Beth’s side.
“You will be back.” The words were toneless, but Hanna sensed it was a question.
“I don’t know Beth. It is possible that I’ll come to visit, but I will never live here again. I won’t be here every day.” Beth suddenly went from completely motionless to complete motion. She dropped the clippers and sank to her knees. She touched everything, grasping at flowers, leaves, gravel, dirt, only to let them go again. Then Beth’s hands brushed Hanna’s skirt. One hand grasped the skirt, the other stroked it. Beth brought the skirt up to her cheek and rubbed the fabric there. Gradually Beth’s movements calmed. Beth’s head sank and came to rest on Hanna’s leg.
“Garden needs you Hanna.” The words were a little muffled, but the meaning was clear. I need you. Hanna chose her words carefully. She needed to find words that would strengthen Beth to go on alone.
“Yes gardens need tending, but it doesn’t have to be me who does it. I’ve taught you what you need to know about gardening. Now you can tend the garden by yourself.” You are strong enough to grow on your own. Hanna willed Beth to hear the answer to her unspoken need.
Beth rubbed the skirt over her cheek and across her eyes. Hanna bent for a closer look.
“Beth! You’re crying!” Beth straightened and touched the tear running down one cheek. She studied the drop on her finger, then sat up and looked at Hanna.
“Is my curse broken?”
Hanna’s jaw dropped. She’d had no idea that Beth was aware of being “cursed” or different. Fool. How could she not know? Hanna could picture adults discussing all the details over a seemingly oblivious Beth, who was actually absorbing every word they said. Hanna spent so long in these whirling thoughts that Beth gave her skirt a shake and spoke again.
“Your magic broke my curse?”
Hanna refocused her attention and quickly arranged an answer in her head. She reached out and touched the tear on Beth’s finger.
“Whatever magic there is in that tear, came from you. I have watched you day after day, reaching and stretching, trying to understand the world you live in. You broke your own curse and you’ll go on breaking it day after day until it burdens you no more.”
Beth looked at the wet spot on her finger. “I did it.” The words were quiet. Beth rubbed the wet finger against her thumb. “I did it myself.” Beth’s voice gained confidence in this second pronouncement.
“That’s right Beth. Now I need you to do something for me. I need you to take care of this garden.”
Beth stilled at these words. Her hand slowly sank to her lap. “You’ve watched and learned all this spring and summer. I think you know enough to keep this garden well tended.” Without knowing why, Hanna was sure that this was exactly the right approach. Beth needed something to do to help her focus on the future. Beth looked up from her hands to Hanna’s face. On impulse Hanna reached to touch Beth’s cheek.
“You should know that you have helped me tremendously. Watching you as you work toward overcoming your curse has caused me to realize how much I need to go home and face the things I’ve been trying to run away from. It won’t be easy to face people back home and set things straight, but if you can work day after day weakening your curse, then I can go home and speak truth.”
“I helped you?”
“Yes. You have been like light and magic in my life. I will be sad to leave this garden, but if I can leave it in your care, I will not fear for it.”
Beth reached out and took hold of Hanna’s hand.
“I will tend Garden for you.” Then Hanna and Beth climbed to their feet and spent their remaining time together walking in the garden and talking of things which needed doing. The sun’s warm radiance shone on the garden in bloom and the two figures walking hand in hand.
Copyright Sandra Tayler All Rights Reserved
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