A. Colucci - Seeders

It clanged loudly, so the lawyer had to shout. “There used to be a battery system but it went down years ago, so George kept the generator running all the time. To save petrol, he used very little electric and the thermostat is set to about fourteen degrees Celsius at night. Not to worry; there’s a fireplace in every room to keep warm. But if anything happens, if the generator goes down, use the radio to call for help. You don’t want to be here with no heat or power.”

They were glad to leave the noisy shed and head back to the house.

Bonacelli stopped at the patio. “I have business on the other side of the Atlantic tomorrow. I’ll be in touch with you, Isabelle; more papers to sign.” He bid them farewell and headed for the woods and the boat back to Halifax.

The rest of the guests returned to the kitchen. The children explored the house as Isabelle prepared a light supper of pasta and broccoli in white wine sauce.

Ginny insisted they look for the diamond right away.

“It’s nearly dark and we’re all exhausted,” Isabelle said. “We’ll look in the morning.”

“We should at least try to figure out the riddle,” Ginny said curtly.

Isabelle sighed. “I think the best strategy is to forget the riddle and have a thorough search tomorrow.”

The house was large enough for everyone to have their own bedroom, so after supper they dragged their luggage upstairs, washed up for bed, and retired for the night.

They didn’t know it was to be their last uneventful evening.

THE MORNING SKY WAS GRAY and an ocean breeze shook the windowpanes. Isabelle awoke in a frigid room, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by memories. She had chosen her old bedroom for the sake of nostalgia. The white-painted furniture, stuffed animals, dollhouse, and flowery bookshelf seemed to have been waiting for her return. It was the cleanest room in the house and she was touched that George had kept it dusted.

The radiator had just come on, hissing madly. Right away she got out of bed and her feet hit the cold wooden floor. She rummaged through her suitcase, put on jeans and a thick red wool sweater that made her feel cozy, and then added wool socks and hiking boots. She had purposely left every dress behind along with her hats, heels, and husband. A navy blue peacoat lay across a chair, and she considered adding another layer, but threw on a scarf instead and headed downstairs.

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen getting warm. Ginny had started a fire in the wood stove and coffee was brewing, giving the kitchen a rich aroma. Jules and Luke were snacking on biscuits.

“Good morning,” Jules said.

Isabelle felt her cheeks blush under his gaze. His long black hair was combed back and wet from the shower and he looked especially handsome in a black cotton shirt that stretched across his shoulders and fit snugly around his arms and chest. For the first time she noticed he had a rather muscular physique, although his posture could have been improved.

Luke handed a biscuit to his mother. “These are good, and I found about a hundred in the freezer.”

Ginny and Monica found them tasteless and said so. Isabelle agreed.

“Well, I like them,” Luke said, “and Sean does too.”

Sean stuffed his mouth, putting three more on his plate.

“George always liked to experiment with food,” Ginny said. “He probably baked them himself.”

Isabelle poured a mug of coffee and wrapped her cold hands around its heat. “Anyone want to go for a stroll?

Sean raised his hand quickly.

“All right. Get the holly bush and find a big spoon.”

Sean put a biscuit in his coat pocket and rummaged through the utensil drawer, clanging forks and knives.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Jules asked.

Isabelle flushed. “Not a bit. We’d like your company.”

Outside the rain had stopped, but the wind was relentless. Ryegrass blew in waves, flashing shades of green and yellow. The forest stood clear in the distance, tall dark pines and bare branches, their tops bending from the gale.

Jules and Isabelle walked side by side down the path, enjoying the salty breeze on their faces. She had forgotten how unusually tall he was. The top of her head reached just below his shoulders.

Sean trailed several paces behind them, kicking up pebbles and stopping to examine blades of grass. Isabelle was reminded of all the times she followed Jules around like a puppy as he gathered plant specimens along the cliffs or in the woods. How he would travel to London for a visit and she’d pine for his return, usually with a gift for her like a magnifying glass or a wooden puzzle. Sometimes he’d indulge her in checkers or chess, but Isabelle was content to stare at his handsome face while he read books in the library or wrote out notes in the lab.

“Hard to believe it’s been so many years,” she said. “I remember you were quite serious about your work.”

Jules nodded. “I recall you were a precocious little thing who knew every plant and tree by its proper name. Always running about exploring, bringing home your latest find. Not silly and bothersome like some children. No, you showed great maturity and intelligence.”

Isabelle smirked. “That’s quite a compliment coming from you.”

He put a finger to his head, squinting. “I remember one drizzly morning I was digging up toadstools in the woods. You gave me a haughty look from under your rain cap and said, ‘Mushrooms only grow where it’s damp, and that’s why they look like umbrellas.’”

She gave a reluctant smile.

He chuckled. “Another time you told me that a flower’s pistil must be its best protection against insects.”

“I’m glad you found me amusing.”

“Oh, you were clever. I figured you’d become a scientist like your father, travel the world looking for new discoveries.”

“Not even close.”

“Too bad. You showed such promise.”

The comment was unexpectedly hurtful. Jules had no idea how badly she had wanted to make something of her life. He was unaware of the burden she had carried through childhood. What had been worse—caring for her mother, moving her from chair to bath to bed, spoon-feeding her, massaging her limbs that couldn’t bend without cries of pain, or finding out there was never anything wrong with the woman? It was all a brilliant act. A never-ending theatrical performance that sprang from an obsessive need for attention. There was never any mention of a life for Isabelle, never any talk of college or travel. Running away to marry Colin had been her first chance to escape.

Isabelle quickened her stride, feeling defensive and ashamed. She scooped up a handful of ryegrass with a ripping motion, held the blades up to the sun, and exclaimed, “ Lolium perenne .”

“Pardon?”

“ Lolium perenne. And over there, crawling along that rock is Euonymus fortunei, but it’s being overtaken by Hedera helix. ”

“Oh yes,” said Jules, catching on to the game. “Tell me—what is the genus-species of that squat evergreen over there?”

She tilted her head, thinking. “ Thuja occidentalis, commonly known as arborvitae, or ‘tree of life.’”

“Incorrect. Thujopsis dolabrata, but you were very close.”

“Ah, well. I was only ten when I left.”

“But still kept up with botany.”

“A bit.”

“I see your son has the same affinity. Does he always carry around pots of shrubbery?”

“No, Sean wants to replant the holly in my father’s memory.”

“Oh, I see.”

She slowed while Sean caught up, examining a leaf as he walked past them.

“He’s the quiet sort.”

“Yes. He had an accident years ago.”