Page 33 of Snowdrops and Winterberry
She slipped her arm through his, continuing to walk at his side. Howard had told her of his hopes for this job. He’d explained that if someone with the influence and standing of Lord Jonquil bragged about his new garden to his friends orrecommended that others employ Howard for similar projects, it’d be a boon to his livelihood. It was little wonder he’d been so concerned when he’d first learned a young boy with the potential to cause mischief was on the premises.
“I think even an ungenerous person must look at your work thus far and be pleased with it.”
He smiled at her, an expression that came easily and frequent of late. “The rowan arrived today. I mean to plant it tomorrow.”
“I’d love to see it,” she said.
They walked together back along the side of the wall and into the opening that would hold the gate. That placed them inside the newly enclosed garden wall. The bricks he’d been laying the day she’d helped turn over soil were now small retaining walls. The space didn’t yet have its stone walkway or benches or even any of the flowers or shrubs. But leaning a little against the long-established wall on one side of the garden was a small tree, its root ball wrapped in heavy burlap.
“Do trees always arrive this way?” she asked.
“If those doing the hauling know what they’re doing, yes. If they are moved about without any care given to the roots, the trees are more likely to die.”
“It seems even stately trees need protecting.”
Howard nodded. “Trees and shrubs and such can be very sturdy, but they need to be given some care. They need us to know what they require and what’ll help them thrive.”
Robbie slipped her hands free of his and moved to the area of the garden where she remembered the tree was meant to be planted. She stood there, her gaze moving from the yet-to-be-planted tree to the spot where it was meant to go.
“It looks a wee bit small for the space just now,” she said. “Is it a young tree, then, that still has a fair lot of growing to do?”
“Precisely. It will grow into the space it has been given, which is why I want to make certain it is planted well and haseverything it needs to become what it can be.”
“It seems to me designing and planting a garden is nae entirely unlike being a nursemaid. We look after the children in our care, make ourselves aware of what they need and what it is that helps them thrive. By the time they leave our care, our hope is that we’ve placed them on the path and in the place where they have what they need to become the people they can become.”
Howard walked slowly over to her, his eyes studying her face. He set his hands on her arms, then slid them slowly until his fingers threaded through hers. “Perhaps that is why you so quickly and easily learned to work in a garden.”
“I’ve had a very good teacher.”
A sly little smile began pulling at his lips.
She couldn’t help herself and added, “The gardener at Falstone Castle.”
Howard laughed out loud, his head tilting backward and his eyes dancing about.
She didn’t consider herself an unhappy or somber person, but it had been a long time since she’d known someone who genuinely laughed with her and did so regularly. She loved that about him. She loved a lot of things about him.
From the direction of the wall opening came a small authoritative voice. “Nurse Robbie, I need to speak with you.”
She looked in that direction, as did Howard. There was no question who had spoken, and yet it was still odd to see Adam there. He hadn’t yet ventured near the garden. Perhaps he knew stonework could be dangerous. Perhaps it was yet another indicator that he struggled with his acceptance of Howard.
“What is it you need to say?” Robbie moved closer to him.
Before Adam could answer, Pooka came bursting past him, yelping and barking excitedly and running an energetic circle around the little boy. Adam sighed, his expression one of exasperation. When they’d first come to Brier Hill, he’d beenafraid of the tiny dog. Lord Jonquil had taken time to show him how to interact with the rambunctious little thing, to help him not be afraid.
“Hush, Pooka,” he said in ringing tones of authority. The dog stopped circling and planted itself directly in front of Adam, looking up at him, wagging its little tail eagerly. To Robbie, Adam said, “He thinks I want only to play with him. He doesn’t know that I have important things to do.”
Her wee Adam sounded more grown-up with each passing day. Too grown-up at times.
“Well, he’ll sit there and watch you while you talk,” Robbie said. “Then you needn’t be prevented from telling me what you came to say.”
Adam nodded quite regally. “I wish to plan a party.”
A feather might have knocked Robbie clear over at that declaration. “A party?” She must’ve heard him wrong.
Another quick nod. “We had our Christmas celebration. After Christmas is Twelfth Night. I think we should have a Twelfth Night celebration. I think Lord and Lady Jonquil would enjoy it.” The last bit was spoken with hesitancy and a little uncertainty.
“I suspect they would fancy a Twelfth Night party,” Robbie said. “Butyouaren’t fond of gatherings or parties.”
