Resurrection Lillies

Sam's filling a hole in his garden and his neighbors suspect foul play

approximately 1500 words

Resurrection Lillies
by
Max Griffin

         

         Sam Morton scooped a shovel-full of loam from the pile of loose dirt next to his yew tree and dumped it into the six-foot long trench he’d spent most of yesterday digging.  His joints ached and fatigue dragged at his muscles. He’d worked late into the night, digging up the red clay in his back yard and partially filling the hole before finally returning to his empty bedroom after midnight. Thinking about the fight he’d had with his wife, Emily, yesterday morning made him clench his jaws and, with a snarl, he twisted his shovel into the dirt heap. 

         At least she wasn’t around to nag him.

         His back-door neighbor, Wanda Sue, peered over the neatly trimmed boxwood shrub and said, in her usual breathy, soft voice, “I do declare, Sam, you’re always doing something new to your yard. What are you planting today?” 

         He could barely hear her, so he cranked up the volume on his hearing aid.  She had a tendency to mumble, and her nasal voice and heavy Okie accent didn’t help.  “Spider lilies.”

         This time her voice was loud and clear. Thunderous, in fact. “What kind of lilies?” She wrinkled her nose. “I do hope they don’t attract spiders to my yard. I hate the creepy-crawly things.”

         Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. “Their name comes from their blooms.  They’ll look like crimson spider webs come this fall.  Some folks call them resurrection lilies.”

         Her amplified voice screeched in his ear. “Well, I wish my husband had your energy.  Emily sure must appreciate all you do.”

         Sam winced at the mention of his wife. “Actually, she thinks I spend too much time and money on the yard and not enough on her.”  She’d been crystal clear about that yesterday.

         “Do tell?” Wanda Sue glanced at the house.  “Is she home?  Sue Ellen’s coming over for coffee and cookies in a bit. We’d love to have you and Emily join us.”

         Sam kept his voice level.  “She’s not home.”  He hesitated, then added, “She’s out of town, in fact.”

         Wanda Sue’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead like little mascara caterpillers. “Really?  She didn’t say anything about travelling when we chatted yesterday.”

         “Her sister called.  Something unexpected came up and she left to spend the night with her.”  The last thing he needed was this busybody snooping into his business.

         “Well, you’re still welcome to join us. We’ll be sitting on the patio, by our pool.”

         “Thank you.  I’ll try to stop by.”  When hell freezes over.

         He clenched his jaws and returned to shoveling dirt onto the layer of gravel at the bottom of the trench. Wanda Sue was nosy, but she didn’t mean anything by it.  Just a lonely old lady, kind like he was a lonely old man.

         Thirty minutes and many shovel-fulls later, Sam had nearly filled the trench.  Fluffy cumulus clouds drifted in a light, springtime breeze which carried the heady scent of his hyacinths.  It also carried snippets of conversation from Marla Sue’s patio.

         Sam knelt and started planting bulbs, in groups of three, while half-paying attention to the conversation.  He thought about turning down his hearing aid, but his hands were dirty and he didn’t feel like pausing to wash them off.

         Marla Sue’s amplified voice was clear, even at this distance. “That nice Mr. Morton is busy with his backyard again.”

         Sue Ellen said, “He’s so friendly.  I always stop and chat with him when he’s working on the front lawn.”

         Marla Sue’s voice turned unctuous.  “He’s a sweetheart, all right.  I can’t say the same about that wife of his.”

         At the mention of his wife, Sam narrowed his eyes jabbed at the soil with his trowel. 

         Sue Ellen said, “Well, it’s obvious what he must see in her, what with her being young enough to be his daughter.”

         Marla Sue snorted. “You mean young enough to be his granddaughter.”

         “Exactly. He’s nice enough, but you know what she’s up to, right?”

         Marla Sue’s stage whisper came through clearly.  “You mean with Pastor Klump?  Everyone knows.  Why, Ida Bell told me she caught them kissing, right there in the church office.”

         Sue Ellen said, “Charlene’s boy, Billy Bob, he works at the Holiday Inn, and she says he’s seen them there afternoons.  It’s been going on for months.”

         Sam stopped digging and turned to stare at the two women, sitting on Wanda Sue’s patio. 

         Wanda Sue said, “That poor Mr. Morton. Do you think he knows? Maybe we should tell him.”

         Sue Ellen said, “Maybe he already knows.”  She paused to sip coffee.  “You know, the Pastor’s not the only one.  There’s also that Ed Jones.  His wife divorced him because he was cheating on her, and I seen the two of them, Emily and Ed, eating dinner last week at Slim Chicken’s. All lovey-dovey like.”

         Wanda Sue declaimed, “Really!  I wouldn’t put it past her to be sleeping around, the little tramp.”

         Sue Ellen’s voice turned conspiratorial. “I was up last night, to use the bathroom, and I happened to look out my window.  He was in his backyard. Digging.  After midnight.”

         “You don’t say?  That must be the hole I saw this morning.  He’s filling it in right now. It’s six feet long and Lord knows how deep.”

         “Six feet long, you say?  I saw him hauling something heavy and dumping it in that hole last night.  After midnight.  That’s mighty suspicious, if you ask me.”

         Wanda Sue’s stage whisper was clear. “You think he did something to her, don’t you?”

         “Well, no one would blame him if he did.”

         “He told me she was out of town.  But I talked to her yesterday, and she didn’t say a word about traveling. In fact, she told me she had a meeting today about the food bank.”

         They turned to stare at Sam, who’d had all he could take.

         He heaved a deep breath, levered himself to his feet, and stripped off his gardening gloves. It was time to shut off of this conversation, before it got out of hand.  He strode through the boundary shrub, around Marla Sue’s pool, and onto her patio.  “Good morning, ladies.  Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

         Marla Sue gave him a round-eyed stare and her mouth gaped into a toothy smile. “It is.  So glad you could join us.”

         Sam permitted himself a grim smile.  “I could use a break.” He turned to gaze at Sue Ellen.  “I was up late last night, prepping the soil for my new flower bed.  I dug the trench, then lined the bottom with sacks of gravel, for  drainage.  I’ve filled it with soil, and now I’m almost done planting the bulbs.”

         The two women looked at each other, then back at Sam.  He continued, “I overheard what you were saying.  How could you think I’d ever do anything to my sweet wife?  We love each other.”

         Marla Sue stammered, “I’m sure you feel that way, Sam.”

         “We fight sometimes, like all couples do.  I spend too much time in my garden, and she feels neglected. But it’s my fault.  She’s a wonderful person.”

         Sue Ellen said, “Well, you can’t blame people for speculating. I mean, you’re home all day and she’s out, gallivanting around…”

         Sam interrupted, “She’s on the food bank committee at church.  You know, the one with Pastor Klump and Ed Jones.  The one that sometimes meets for lunch at the Holiday Inn.”

         Sue Ellen said, “Is that what she told you?  I heard…”

         Sam snapped, “I don’t care what rumors you heard. That’s just talk. I love my wife, and she loves me.”  He glared at them for a beat.  “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’ll leave you two to your coffee and your gossip.  Good day.”

         He stomped back to his house, went inside, and took a shower.  At noon he drove by the Holiday Inn on his way to lunch at Slim Chicken’s.  After placing his order, he made a short call on his mobile phone.

         That evening, Sam sat on his patio with a gin and tonic, enjoying his back yard and reflecting on his day. Those two gossipy women had really made him angry, and the phone call at lunch just made things worse.

         A car door slammed, and moments later Emily appeared from inside their home, beautiful as ever.  He smiled, and raised his glass to her. “Good evening, sweetheart.  How’s your sister?”

         “She’s fine. Just the usual drama with her boyfriend.”  She glanced at the yard. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

         “I have.”

         She touched his cheek, just as if she really loved him. “I’m beat from the drive.  I think I’ll fix myself a drink and join you.”

         “I’ll be here.”  He watched her go back inside, and then sighed.  He’d seen her car parked outside the Holiday Inn at noon, and when he called her sister to chat, he’d learned that Emily had not been there in weeks. 

         He lounged back, his muscles aching from digging the hole last night and filling it in today. He wasn’t looking forward to digging another hole tonight, but after what he'd learned today, what choice did he have?