“Let’s go,” Emily hissed, “before
she sees us.”
Emily grabbed
Samantha’s arm and pulled her away. Samantha stopped and freed her arm. She looked at her neighbor’s flowers,
now tangled together like spaghetti. Samantha felt a twinge of guilt as she returned to her house.
Later that
day, she thought about the flowers. Maybe it’s not as bad as it first seemed.
When she
peeked out the window, that glimmer of hope disappeared. Mrs. Martin was outside tending to the destruction.
Samantha
pulled herself from the window to call Emily. Her little brother, Bobby, followed until Samantha directed him towards the
living room.
“Maybe
we should go over there and help clean up,” Samantha suggested.
“No
way. She’s going to flip out.”
The call
was cut short when a loud CRASH came from Samantha’s room. She fled down the hall and saw her CD collection scattered
all over the floor like confetti. Bobby sat in the middle of the mess.
Relieved
that Bobby was okay, Samantha placed him in his walker while she cleaned up. Her eyes filled with tears when she realized
two of her favorite CDs were destroyed.
Was this
how Mrs. Martin felt when she saw her flowers? Samantha no longer had a doubt; she had to tell Mrs. Martin the truth.
The next
day Samantha showed up at Mrs. Martin’s door with freshly potted marigolds.
Mrs. Martin
eyed Samantha suspiciously.
“Before
you yell . . . er . . . speak, I need to tell you something.” She explained how the soccer ball ended up in the flowers.
“I’m
sorry,” Samantha said awkwardly, “and if I may, I’d like to help plant new ones.”
Mrs. Martin’s
face softened and she said, “It’s been a very long time since I had a helping hand. I’ll get a few more
plants and a new pack of seeds. Meet me back here at three o’clock.”
Samantha
smiled and returned home. Emily called just as she walked in.
“I’m
meeting some girls from school at the mall. Do you want to come?”
“I
can’t,” Samantha said. “I promised I’d . . . never mind. I just can’t.”
“But
the new Mysterious Magic book just came out. I thought you couldn’t wait to get
your hands on it.”
Emily was
right. It seemed like Samantha waited forever for the new book. What if it sold out and she had to wait even longer? Maybe
Mrs. Martin wouldn’t mind if Samantha helped another day.
No, Samantha thought, she won’t want to wait to fix the plants. If I’m going to help at all, I have to do it today. Samantha explained everything to Emily and hoped she would understand.
“You
should come, too. I don’t think she’d mind.”
“I’m
sorry, Samantha. I just can’t put myself through that. She might break my ear drum or something.”
Samantha
stifled a giggle. Sometimes Emily was so dramatic.
“Suit
yourself. I promised I’d be there.”
At three
o’clock, Samantha arrived at Mrs. Martin’s house.
As they
worked, Mrs. Martin talked about her family and how she planted marigolds for them. The largest patch was for her late husband
and the smaller patch was for her grown children, who had moved away. They would bring her a new marigold once a year when
they visited.
“When
my kids lived here, we’d plant the marigolds and then share a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies when we were
finished. Now, there’s no one to share any of those things with,” Mrs. Martin said.
Samantha
frowned. She tried to picture herself without her parents and Bobby.
When they
were finished, Mrs. Martin did something Samantha didn’t expect. She smiled and thanked her. She always seemed so mean, Samantha thought. Maybe she was just lonely.
“I
have one more thing,” Mrs. Martin said.
She crouched
down in front of the last empty flower bed.
“Hand
me the seeds, please,” she said and dug a small hole. Then she sprinkled the seeds in the dirt.
“This
little patch is for you. It’s in honor of a good deed offered by a good neighbor.”
The next
day Samantha and Emily went outside to practice soccer.
“I
think we should play up the block this time,” Samantha suggested, “so we won’t repeat yesterday’s
accident.”
“What’s
the big deal about her lawn anyway?” Emily asked.
“She’s
afraid we’ll hurt the flowers.”
“That’s
no reason for her to get so mean,” Emily grumbled.
“Maybe
not, but those flowers mean the world to her. Each one is for a member of her family. She lives alone and her kids live too
far to visit often. Those flowers are all she has left.”
Emily frowned.
“I didn’t know that.”
“She
seems cranky, but I think Mrs. Martin is lonely. I’m bringing some homemade cookies to her this weekend. I think you
should come.”
Emily nodded and the girls started up the street. Samantha looked over her shoulder and saw
Mrs. Martin standing in the front doorway. Samantha gave a tiny wave and continued up the street. There was no ear–piercing,
nail–on–the–chalkboard scream that day. Instead there was only the soft sounds of a peaceful neighborhood.
~The End~
