Nikola's Garden

Nikola’s Garden

(word count: 1992)

Julie mumbled in her sleep. I watched over her, concern knitting my brow.

We were in a small billet aboard a large ferry, crossing the Gulf of Venice, and headed toward the small port of Karlobag, Croatia. From there, we would find a way to travel to the city of Gospic, then northwest to the sleepy, rural area known as Smiljan.

Julie awoke suddenly and asked for water and her pain medication. She seemed to have enjoyed Venice, but now…

After gulping down her medication, she shuddered and asked: “Why can’t we just go straight to Greece? That’s all I want to see before I go, you know that.”

A month earlier, Julie’s doctors at the Arizona Cancer Treatment Facility gave up hope. All chemo-therapy had failed. At that point, she had anywhere from three to six months to live. My wife of eighteen years, the mother of our two daughters, the soccer mom, the Easter egg hunt fundraiser, the kindergarten teacher - was leaving her family…and there was no reason for it. She never smoked, rarely drank, ate right, and always exercised; it just wasn‘t fair. All I could do was grant her final wishes. She wanted to experience Italy and Greece.

But I had another idea in mind.

“Trust me, Julie. This is something you’ll want to experience.”

Julie had wanted to tour Milan, and other northern Italian cities, but I took her directly to Venice, and I had convinced her that we needed to go to Croatia before going any where else. I had an old friend there that I knew she should meet before we traveled south to ancient Greek ruins. If Nikola was still there, I knew he would love to meet Julie.

It had been several years since the Serbian conflict, and Croatia was relatively stable again.

I had pre-planned this trip so that when we docked at Karlobag, a medic van would transport us directly to Gospic, then we would be transferred to a small bus that would take us to Smiljan, to Nikola’s estate.

We docked and transferred to the medic van, and Julie sat up and gazed out at the busy fishing town of Karlobag as we rode east.

“Ferdinand dear, this is quaint, and I’m sure there is lots of history surrounding this area, but tell me why we have to stop here now?” Julie asked.

So, I had to give up more of my secret. Seemed like it was the right time.

“Julie, remember when I told you that I was born and raised in Yugoslavia? Actually, I was raised very near where we are right now, though I hardly recognize anything but the hills.

When I was about ten years old, I was sent by my parents to work for a very odd man in Smiljan. His name was Nikola. He had large, beautiful gardens in which he grew potatoes, beets, carrots, tomatoes, and all sorts of herbs and flowers. He made a great deal of money selling his produce in Gospic and other places, but he spent much of his profit on bizarre equipment, scientific apparatus. He also spent a lot of time writing and drawing. Hence, I and some others were needed to tend his farm.

One day, I had worked his fields with a shovel until my fingers bled from blisters, and he saw this. Instead of feeling sorry for me, he told me to go to another part of the field to dig up potatoes and place them in a wheelbarrow, and when the wheelbarrow was full, I would be rewarded. With only a hand trowel and my bloody fingers, I dug through the ground for the potatoes. Then it became dark and I couldn’t see the difference between a potato and a dirt clod.

Nikola appeared a couple of minutes later with tall rubber boots and gloves in his arms. He told me to put them on, which I did. He then handed me a small glass orb which seemed to be fused to some metal at the bottom. That’s right, it was an old light bulb. He told me that after he walked back to his house and yelled ‘Now!’, that I was to plant the glass bulb into the ground so that only the glass was visible above the ground.

When he yelled, 'Now!', I screwed the bulb into the ground and my eyes nearly fell out as the dang thing lit up like a strong gaslight ~ all by itself! Right there in the dirt! Then earthworms began wiggling out of the ground, but I heard Nikola yell: 'Keep filling up that wheelbarrow!'

So I did. I figured out that I could take the bulb out of the ground and plant it somewhere else nearby and it would still light up. Before long, I had the wheelbarrow full of potatoes.

There was a full moon out, so I pulled up the magic bulb and wheeled my harvest back to the house under the moonlight. I handed the bulb back to Nikola and he patted me on the head.

‘Not bad, little Ferdinand, not bad. You’ve done well. Now, for your reward. You see that hill over there?' He pointed to one lone hill about eighty yards away, which was about two hundred yards high. At the top was a lone, huge, olive tree. I nodded.

‘Well, if you want your reward, you have to take this wheelbarrow of potatoes to the top of that hill. A short man will meet you up there to take those potatoes, and he’ll give you your reward.’

‘Can’t we just do this tomorrow?' I pleaded.

‘No, only under the full moon, when innocent blood has been spilled through honest labor, can the reward be given. This wheelbarrow is magical, and you have worked hard to make that magic work. The little man at the top is a magical person, and your reward will be great. This is your last chance, Ferdinand.’

I looked at the distance to the hill, which wasn’t too far, but the hill was so high, and I was so very tired.

But I tightened my suspenders, grabbed the wooden handles of the wheelbarrow, and pushed the load of potatoes to the base of the hill. In the dim moonlight, I saw a path that zigzagged upwards. It was well used and unobstructed. I took a deep breath and trudged and pushed my way up the path. I didn’t stop, because I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to start again.

And that, my dear Julie, is about all I can tell you right now. Suffice to say that something magical and wonderful happened at the top of that hill, something that changed me forever.”

The van delivered us into Gospic where we transferred to another van that whisked us quickly toward Smiljan.

Julie asked: “So…this is all true? How long did you work for Nikola?”

“Yes, it’s true. I worked for him for a long, long time. He would often run the wheelbarrow up the hill filled with beets or carrots. He wanted to be the fastest. But, most often, he would enjoy watching his field hands make that run to get their reward. I hope you realize that it is a full moon tonight.” I winked at my beloved.

She looked back at me with mild shock and confusion as the van slowed then turned onto a small dirt road.

“Here we are ~ Nikola’s Garden.” I stated.

The driver and I helped Julie emerge from the van to stand on soiled and cracked paving stones that led to a small manor some fifty yards away. Apparently, the driver didn’t want to get closer to the residence ahead, which was in disrepair and seemed somewhat foreboding.

I tipped and thanked the driver, and he wasted no time turning around and driving off. I helped Julie to walk the rest of the way.

When we were about twenty yards from the front doors, they opened and an elderly gentleman, wearing knee britches with suspenders and no shirt, came into view. His long, white hair framed a large toothless smile.

“Ferdinand, how nice to see you again. You know, it’s a full moon tonight.”

“Still have that wheelbarrow about?” I asked.

“Indeed. And who is this? Your wife perhaps?”

“Yes”, I responded, “this is Julie. Julie, this is Nikola. Julie is very ill.”

“You know the rules, young man. Let’s go inside and have a glass of wine.” Nikola smirked and gestured toward the interior of his manor.

Past the foyer, we entered a plush, comfortable room. There were plenty of couches, rugs, blankets and such in the den that was much larger than I remembered; perhaps he had remodeled? Either way, we were treated to a fine meal and outstanding wine as Nikola and I chatted . He wanted to know how well the electrical grid was working in America, and what the military was doing with sonar and radar these days, and honestly, I couldn’t provide too much information about all those topics. I noted that there were no televisions or computers about that I could see.

Then, I guess I fell asleep, for all of a sudden Nikola wakened me roughly. I snapped out of my sleep and saw his eyes boring into my mind.

“Do it now, my friend,” he said. “Take her outside and make it happen. Remember the rules.”

It took me a minute to awaken Julie; she seemed so fragile and weak.

“Honey, we need to go for a walk. Come on, let me help you up.”

Julie was so out of it, that I didn’t know how this was going to work. I led her out back to the wheel barrow that seemed just as shiny and new as it was when I was ten years old.

I placed Julie in the wheelbarrow and wheeled her out to an untouched patch of Nikola’s garden. I had to pick my beloved up out of the wheelbarrow and set her on her knees and showed her how to dig for potatoes with her bare hands. We worked at this together, while Nikola stood nearby with a bright flashlight.

Finally the wheelbarrow was full and I helped her push it to the base of the hill. "After this", I told her, "you have to push the wheelbarrow up the hillside. I’ll push you from behind and support you, but YOU have to do this."

Poor Julie was so weak and tired that she didn’t care. She pushed, and I supported her, little by little, all the way up to the top.

Once there, next to the old olive tree, the familiar little old bearded man emerged from a small cave at the base of the tree, glanced at me, then went straight to Julie.

He laid his hands on her forehead and again spoke the words of magic that I had heard so many times:

“Blood and soil,
sweat and toil -
your gift is well met.

Five more years of life for you."

He pointed at me and nodded. I nodded back, then watched him take all of our potatoes and vanish back down that mysterious hole.

Julie was unconscious, so I found it easy to curl up next to her and sleep.

I awoke at the same time Julie did. She stretched and yawned, then leapt to her feet.

“Wow!” she cried. “I feel so alive!”

Before I could do anything, she ran off, pushing the wheelbarrow back down the hill, laughing like a teenager on a lark.

I stood there at the top of the hill, hands on hips, and shook my head. It had worked.

When I reached the bottom of the hill, Nikola was there with Julie. They were arm-in-arm and grinning widely.

“Julie”, I said, “meet Nikola Tesla. I think you may wish to put off going to Greece for awhile.”

Nikola Tesla, age 37 in 1893

This was written for the contest: "Meeple's Fun & Games Activity"  and was limited to 2,000 words.

© Copyright 2011 Jen d'Arque - Busy Bee (UN: wakko71 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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