Mrs. Rainshine’s Flower Garden

"When writing a novel, a writer should create living people; people, not characters. A character is a caricature." -Ernest Hemingway

The Queen’s Brats

Mrs. Rainshine’s Flower Garden

Virginia Raven

One Shot

Draft 1

 

(For a fully understanding of this please listen to the commentary:
https://anchor.fm/gargoylesndogwoods/episodes/Write-people--not-characters-e1p9ol4 )

 

Mrs. Rainshine did two things every morning before she started her day. She made herself a cup of black tea with a bit of cream and brown sugar and then stood in the window looking out over her flower garden. She stood in the same window her late husband Steven did all his life after they moved into this house. His love of cigars and beer caught up with him, taking him out of this world. She missed him deeply, so she didn’t touch his mug still in front of her but stood in the window. He would do it every morning of his life.

                He had poured thousands of dollars into the flower garden in their backyard. The garden had won countless rewards from the city, and people all over North Carolina would come to see it. He had some unique flowers in his garden, which people from the college would come to study, and after his death, people were sure the garden would fade, but Mary-Beth kept it alive for him.

                She took her warm cup of tea, stepping into the bright sunlight, ready to look over the perfect hues of Heaven, and found something odd there instead.

                Bending down to one of the flowers, giving the flower some water from a spray bottle, was a slim girl with raven black hair. She had the tips of her hair dyed a bright blood red, and she wore a torn-up tank top with no bra on. Her pants were tight jeans with belts and rings hanging off them, and her black boots had shoelaces matching the hue of her hair.

                She seemed lost in the caretaking of the flower. She studied it slowly, giving it water and blowing on it with a smile. It was as if the flower was something she deeply loved, and then she checked the rest of them in the pot before moving on.

                Marry-Beth drank her tea, watching the thin girl, who looked to be in her twenties and had moved into a house with a couple of other people a few months ago. She had seen the kids walking the sidewalk, playing loud music, and helping around the street. They had cut people’s grass, helped fix houses, and carried boxes for anyone.

                They all looked slightly off, but those kids were nice and helpful. They always waved at Marry-Beth as she drove by them. And one of them had baked her a pie leaving it at her doorstep. It turned out to be an amazing blueberry pie.

                She drank the last bit of her tea before sitting it down and walking outside. The girl, in truth, Marry-Beth, called her a woman and didn’t notice her standing here. She was taking care of the flowers with care and love. The same way Steven did when he was alive.

                “Miss,” Marry-Beth said, making her jump a little and spinning to face her.

                Her eyes were haunting in a way that told Mary-Beth she was a beautiful soul who had seen too much horror in her young life but, somehow, didn’t allow the evil to turn her cold. She had all kinds of bracelets with skulls and ravens on, but she seemed scared of being caught taking care of the flowers.

                “I’m like super sorry,” she said. “I was walking through the woods trying to find a place to read, and then followed a couple bees here,” she pointed at the ones near the walkway, “they looked like they needed some water. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked into your backyard.”

                She put the bottle down quickly.

                “I’ll leave again, sorry.”

                Marry-Beth hid the smile at the girl, scared of being in trouble, and asked, “What are you reading?”

                “Uh, what?”

                “What are you reading, Miss?”

                “I’m reading a collection of poems by H.W Longfellow,” she said, digging out the book from her back pocket.

                Marry-Beth moved closer to her slowly; her old bones still ached from time. It was cruel to her, but she took a bit of solace, knowing time was cruel to everyone, even itself. The girl rushed forward to help her walk and Marry-Beth smiled up at her.

                “What is your name?” She asked as they both slowly walked down the stone path.

                “Virginia,” she said, “Virginia Raven.”

                “Is the other girl your sister?” She asked; they looked a lot alike.

                “Yes, ma’am,” Virginia said. “Her name is Annabel. My dad had a thing for Poe.”

                Soon they had made it to the middle of the garden, where a bench sat, and Virginia helped her sit down. Marry-Beth tapped the seat beside her, and she dropped down.

                “Steven and I would end our days here,” she said, “not talking, just holding hands and watching the sunset while he smiled at all his flowers.”

                “He did a great job,” Virginia said.

                “Yes, he did,” Marry-Beth looked up to the sky, “I’m sure he is still watching over this garden from Heaven.”

                Virginia moved a little under the fact Steven was dead. “Sorry for your lost.”

                Marry-Beth grinned and said, “I’m sure he is up there now yelling at me for doing everything wrong.”

                “I don’t think so,” she said, “you’ve kept them alive.”

                “I have,” Marry-Beth said, dropping her eyes back to the flowers and watching some bees dance around them, “but it has been hard work and, truth being told, too hard.”

                “I bet so.”

                Marry-Beth tapped Virginia’s thigh, smiling at her. “I’ll make you a deal, young lady.”

                “Uh, okay?”

                “You can use this bench anytime you want to read,” she said, and Virginia beamed at the words, “as long as you help me take care of the flowers.” She seemed to glow at the request.

                “It is a deal, ma’am,” Virginia said, sticking out her hand, and Marry-Beth took it.

                “Deal.” Marry-Beth let go of her hand. “But one other thing.”

                “Ma’am?”

                “Wear a bra next time.”

 

(For a fully understanding of this please listen to the commentary:
https://anchor.fm/gargoylesndogwoods/episodes/Write-people--not-characters-e1p9ol4 )