Finding Midnight (3 page)

Summer pulled the better part of the weeds
that had taken over the garden strangling the herbs and flowers.
Given her affinity for all things herbal, she was able to discern
the weeds from the plants, and with the omission of the dense
tentacles of wayward creepers and stems, a pattern started to
emerge beneath the chaos of plants. A pathway of crushed slate in
blue-gray lay under a crushed gray-white granite path in some
places and over in others, like two ribbons forming a Celtic knot,
defining specific areas of the garden. A square within a circle
joined together by the interlacing, never-ending ribbon of pathways
to form four marquis shapes that pointed to the four points of a
compass.

The garden measured fifteen feet by fifteen
feet (roughly) and approximately twenty-one feet diagonally. Summer
drew out the pattern on a piece of paper, trying to keep it to
half-inch scale equaling one foot so it fit nicely on a regular
sheet of graph paper.

The plants she found under the weeds she
carefully examined, clipping any existing dried flowers and
depositing them into handmade transparent vellum envelopes with a
sticky note. She also tied a different colored piece of ribbon or
yarn to the plant she took the sample from and put a small piece of
it in the envelope. On a sticky note she wrote any distinguishing
characteristics of the plant or what she thought it might be. After
one week she had so many notes, envelopes, and sticky notes, she
had to buy a binder to hold it all.

This became a nightly ritual—coming home
from work, working in the garden and then sitting in an old beat-up
lounge chair she found in the potting shed, researching and making
tons of notes from botanical books she borrowed from the library,
the gardening magazines that littered Paws and Whiskers’s lobby and
bookmarking sites on the internet. Once she discovered what plants
she had, she’d note them in her binder. To Summer it was
relaxing—like putting a jigsaw puzzle together and deciphering some
kind of mystery.

However, with relaxing came the
disturbing—peering out the second-story window of the deteriorating
old mansion—old Ms. Midnight. She’d leer at Summer and watch every
move she made in the garden. Her short silver hair glowing in the
orange light of the evening made her look much like a
jack-o-lantern. A raised eyebrow over one bugged eye and her other
squinty eye made her look perpetually displeased. It didn’t help
that her arms were always crossed under a shawl or wrap and her
thin lips were incessantly two taut lines of unhappiness.

The first couple of nights it bothered
Summer to have the unhappy looking Ms. Midnight overseeing
everything she did. She tried to wave hello to her, even waved her
down inviting her outside to talk with her, but the woman’s
vexation was steadfast. She seldom even moved; only her facial
expression changed from disgruntlement to annoyance, then back
again.

Summer wondered if Ms. Midnight might be
related to the Reverend Mother at the orphanage—they had a similar
kinship for disapproving faces—Summer laughed as she thought of the
likeness of the two women.

Summer learned to ignore the “evil eye” of
Ms. Midnight and, to some extent, took comfort in the diligent
scrutiny of her progress as a type of enjoyment for the old woman.
Summer would wave hello and goodbye every night to the stoic woman
and in a strange way, she felt a little closer to Ms. Midnight even
though they’d never spoken. It was nice to know she was always
there—like a guardian angel, or maybe in her case, a guardian
gargoyle. She wasn’t sure Ms. Midnight would do anything to save
her if something went awry, but being an orphan, for Summer it was
kind of nice.

*****

Saturday morning came and Dr. Stuart,
keeping good on his word, closed down the office and had all the
employees and a couple of the nuns come to help paint. He had Tori
help him pick out the paint, ignoring some of her suggestions of
black and purple for the inside of the tiny cottage.

He took the liberty of doing a drive by to
note the exterior color of the cottage so he could get paint for
the outside too. He was glad Summer’s cottage wasn’t as bad as the
small house on the wooded lot next to door. It was hidden by brush
and trees, but what he could see wouldn’t benefit much from
paint.

Armed with paint, tape, brushes, plastic,
tarps, donuts, coffee and anyone he could con into helping, he and
his crew arrived at 10:00 a.m.

Like everything, Dr. Stuart made painting
fun. Summer was so grateful she found him and had the opportunity
to work with him. His skills as a veterinarian were impeccable, but
it was his manner, his ease with speaking to anyone, and his
natural kindness that made him the special man Summer knew he
was.

Animals sensed this gentle kindness too.
Summer had never seen an animal dislike Dr. Stuart. Summer
sometimes wondered if he had some kind of superhero power to engage
with animals’ inner thoughts. Despite what an owner might say, he’d
let the pet tell him what ailed it. He’d ask the owners questions
that didn’t seem to pertain to anything in particular all the while
mumbling things to the animal, and yet he’d hit the nail right on
the head at diagnosing the problem every time. Summer hoped she,
one day, could be this attuned to her animal patients.

But Dr. Stuart wasn’t good only with animals
and their owners; he was good with people in general. Summer knew
this was a gift she could only hope to find and utilize someday.
She wasn’t exactly considered outgoing—friendly, yes, maybe even
well-liked, but a little afraid of the big world beyond her
perimeter of friends and acquaintances. Tori, on the other hand,
was far more adventurous and she admired this fierce courage that
Tori had for life.

Summer watched as Tori and her very pale
boyfriend Nick painted alongside one another. Nick was very
handsome, as all Tori’s boyfriends were. He had a few more
piercings and tattoos than Summer personally liked, but something
in his eyes told Summer he adored Tori.

They both laughed and joked with Dr. Stuart,
Sister Margaret, Paul Barnes (the grocery mart bagger who used to
be a delivery guy for the office), Katie Petersen (the nurse aid),
Juanita Holmes (friend of Katie’s), John Thomas (the Whiskers and
Paws website guy and part-time janitor) and the present delivery
guy, Tommy Sinclair.

*****

Summer asked Sister Margaret why Sister Mary
Louise hadn’t come to the painting party.

“Well, my dear, I’m not sure. The Reverend
Mother has been tight lipped as to her whereabouts, but I haven’t
personally seen Sister Mary Louise since graduation night.”

“Really?”

“To my knowledge, no one has seen her.”

“Isn’t the Reverend Mother worried?”

“I’m not sure. She won’t speak of it. She
seems to be rather miffed about the whole subject, so the rest of
the sisters have said little or nothing.”

“Do you think the Reverend Mother knows
where Sister Mary Louise is?”

“Oh, the Reverend Mother knows all and the
rest is ‘in God’s hands,’” Sister Margaret said and Summer echoed
the last part in stereo with the sister, then they both had a
little giggle.

“Well, if you do find out what’s happened,
will you let me know? Or if you see Sister Mary Louise, will you
tell her to contact me?”

“Of course I will, dear. Of course I will,”
the sister insisted.

“Thank you, Sister. Sister Mary Louise means
an awful lot to me,” Summer said.

“I know, dear, and you mean a lot to her.
You were her special little one. The Reverend Mother, I can tell
you, gave Sister Mary Louise a lot of discord regarding her
penchant for you, but Sister Mary Louise would take her penance and
go right back to her pampering. I never really saw the big issue;
it wasn’t as if Sister Mary Louise did anything for you she
wouldn’t do for any of the other girls, she enjoyed spending time
with you. We’ve all had our favorites from time to time, despite
the Reverend Mother’s advisements.

“Don’t you worry yourself about Sister Mary
Louise. She’s a smart one. Whatever she’s up to or wherever she is,
she’ll be okay and if she will contact anyone, I would guess she
would contact you. But if I hear anything, I will let you know,”
the sister reassured her.

“Thank you, Sister, and thank you for coming
and helping. What did the Reverend Mother say when you told her you
were helping me paint?”

“She didn’t say a word…after all, I told her
I was helping the needy today—doing God’s work.”

“Sister…?”

“Well, I didn’t lie and as far as God is
concerned, I am doing his work, and He agrees with me,” she laughed
and Summer laughed with her.

By one o’clock, the inside was pretty much
done except for some touch up once the masking tape was taken down.
After a truckload of pizzas and sodas were delivered, the crew
turned their attention to the outside. Summer offered sunscreen to
everyone. Somehow Nick claimed all the shady painting areas, like
the porch and the northern side of the house. The rest painted
whatever they could get to.

*****

Around six or seven, most everyone had said
their goodbyes; only Dr. Stuart, Nick and Tori stayed to take down
the masking tape inside, touch up the paint and move the furniture
back into place. The little house looked a billion times better
both inside and out. The problem now was the mansion looked that
much more dilapidated. Nick and Tori headed out since they wanted
to get showers in before their date. Dr. Stuart spotted Summer’s
garden binder and after explaining what she had been doing, she
took him out to tour her latest undertaking.

He saw the excitement in her eyes as she
explained how she’d found the ribbon of intertwined paths and how
she hoped she could rehabilitate the neglected garden back to a
thriving beauty she was sure it had once been.

He was intrigued by her diligence and
forethought. After listening to how she was going about defining
what the plants were, he said, “You do realize what this is, don’t
you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The garden—it’s a medicinal herbal garden,”
he said.

Summer looked at him with puzzlement. Sure,
she knew it was an herb garden, and that some herbs were considered
medicinal, but ‘medicinal herbal garden’? What did that mean?

“I’ve always been into gardening. I find it
relaxing and gratifying, although I don’t have the green thumb my
mother had, I do okay. In college I did a paper on the subject of
Macbeth’s three witches and their strange brew, so I learned a lot
about the odd old names for plants.”

“How fascinating.”

Dr. Stuart began to quote Shakespeare.

Fillet of fenny snake,

In the caldron boil and bake;

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,

Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,

Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth broil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and caldron bubble.

Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;

Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf

Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark;

Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark;

Live of blaspheming Jew;

Gall of goat, and slips of yew

Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;

Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips;

Finger of birth-strangled babe

Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,

Make the gruel thick and slab:

Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,

For the ingredients of our caldron

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and caldron bubble.

“What’s all that got to do with the garden?”
Summer asked.

“Everything.” He pointed to a plant. “That
purple daisy looking flower—Hedgehog or hedge-pig in this poem or
to you and me, Echinacea.”

“Hedge-pig?”

He nodded and then pointed to a nearby
shrub. “And that would be ‘Bat Wings or Wool of Bat’ in this
poem.”

“Holly?”

“Yes, holly leaves could be described as
looking like a bat’s wings, don’t you agree?”

“Oh? Yes, I see!”

“This here,” he said as he broke off a stem,
raising it to his nose for a smell. “Blind-worm’s sting.” He was
introduced to the beer brewers of the world, wormwood was used to
flavor beer. Its primary ingredient is absinthe used as a tonic for
stomach and intestinal problems.”

He took another step and pointed. “This here
is ‘Witches’ Mummy’ in the poem otherwise known as Mugwort. It’s
used for all kinds of things from kidney stones to menstrual
cramps. And over there in the lawn, the little white daisies?”

“Yeah?” she said as she spied a few tiny
flowers.

“Eye of Newt.”

“No way.”

“Seriously. In fact, the Romans were the
first known people to use the lawn daisy. They’d have slaves pick
bags of them and carry them into battle because when crushed, the
juices are a powerful astringent. They’d soak the bandages in the
juice and apply them to wounds,” Dr. Stuart explained.

“That’s amazing, but why the crazy names?
Eye of Newt?”

“It’s said that the lawn daisy was called
the ‘eye of day,’ because, well, it looks like an eye in the
middle, but in ancient times when a person made their livelihood
from their own special recipes and concoctions, they would write
the recipes in code so if they were to get into the hands of some
passerby, they wouldn’t have a clue what the ingredients were. Of
course, another practitioner might be able to figure out the code
since they too probably used a similar name.

“Of course, I always thought if the
practitioners hadn’t used such gruesome names, maybe the witch
trials would not have been as bad. Having cookbooks with such
nefarious ingredient names certainly didn’t help their cause, I’m
sure.”