Chapter 28

The garden was much busier than it had been earlier today when she'd come to water. People Nora had never seen before were tending their plots. She almost felt like one of the gang with her garden tote and her pepper plants and her wide-brimmed gardening hat. Or maybe gang-adjacent. She wasn't quite there yet.

"Hello!" she called with a friendly wave to those she passed. "Hey, that'simpressive," she said, pointing at a trumpet vine that covered a small arch. "Be careful!" she warned twin girls who were chasing each other among the plots. One of them stuck her tongue out at Nora, the gesture completely missed by her mother, who was digging furiously in the earth like she had a body to bury before sundown.

As she made her way, she noticed a commotion around Catherine and Walter's plot. Walter was on his knees, frantically digging around his Venus flytraps while a man and a woman from neighboring plots watched.

"What's going on?" Nora asked the man.

"Someone drowned his flytraps. They're notoriously susceptible to death by overwatering."

Nora was stunned—his award-winning Venus flytraps? "Who would do that?" She imagined a jealous gardener who resented Walter's success with the finicky plants.

"Someone left the water running," the man said and nodded at the water spigot between her and Walter's plots. Nora's heart plummeted to her toes—she'd been here earlier to water. Surely she hadn't—

"Hey, you were here," the woman said. "Plot Nine, right? You were watering your plants this morning. Did you turn it off?"

Walter's head jerked up. He pushed himself to his feet. "Nora? Were you watering this morning?"

"Yes, but I—"

"And yesterday too," the woman said. "You're overwatering your plot, you know. I reported it to the community board president. We don't allow overwatering in here."

"Did you forget to turn off the water?" Walter asked. "Because the ground is soaked between our plots."

She didn't know, couldn't think. But she felt sick. "Walter..." Nora's voice made plain her alarm. She was horrified that she could be so careless. "I was here, and I was watering. But I'm sure I turned it off."

"Don't think so," the man beside her said. "I turned it off when I got here. The hose was on the ground and the water was just pouring out." He made a sweeping gesture with both hands to indicate the flood.

Nora swallowed down a well of nausea. She couldn't recall the act of turning off the spigot. "I... don't know," she admitted quietly. "I'm so sorry, Walter. It was an accident."

Walter looked at his Venus flytraps. One had fallen over onto its side. The other was actively wilting.

The woman snorted. "Sorry doesn't do much for his plants. He's won Best Exotic three years in a row now. You can't believe how hard it is to grow Venus flytraps."

"But easy to kill," Walter muttered.

"I'll replace them," Nora said.

The woman laughed. "You think you can just pop into Home Depot and pick up Venus flytraps? First of all, they're rare carnivorous plants. And second, only a certain type will grow outdoors."

"It's fine," Walter said tersely. "They're plants." He turned his back on Nora.

"I'll replace them," she said again. "I know a guy."

Walter didn't respond.

Nora trudged miserably to her plot.

The tomato plants that she'd watered so vigorously were falling against the cages she'd put around them, and there was no sign of the calla lilies.

She dropped her bag and put down her peppers. She sank down onto her knees in the soggy plot and pressed her hands against her thighs, dragging ragged breaths into her lungs. Her After was turning into a huge disaster. All the hope she'd put into this new life was being battered like a seawall every day. What would she do if she truly couldn't make it in the After? Where would she go from here? It was too bleak to even consider.

"Don't you dare give up."

Yeah, okay, but what was she supposed to do, merrily work away as Walter mourned his prized Venus flytraps she'd murdered? With a sigh, she turned to her footlocker. She saw a gift left for her there—a small pot of purple flowers.

She picked up the note.

I made cucumber sandwiches for all my friends and still had some left over. That was a cucumber for the ages—thank you for sharing. I am leaving a bit of Jacob's ladder for you. I thought you might like a bit of color. It grows with hardly any assistance! Enjoy. #7

Nora stared at that pot of little purple flowers. Growing something so pretty felt out of reach for her. Everything was going wrong. Everything. Who was she kidding? She was just as inept as she'd always been.

She wished Grandpa hadn't sent her back.

She put aside the little pot to pen a note.

The color from the Jacob's ladder will be a welcome addition to my sad little plot. I hope to share some peppers very soon, as my gardening adviser has graced me with two pots that are already blooming. He has advised me to treat my soil, as nothing seems to be growing. Here's some iron for your soil too. #9

She glanced across to where Walter was digging around his Venus flytraps while the woman from the neighboring plot supervised. "That won't work," Nora could hear her say. "They're done."

Nora glanced up through tears at the blue sky and the clouds drifting lazily overhead. Funny how the brain worked. Or didn't. She'd been so optimistic when she walked out of her office. Now she felt like a helpless idiot.

The Before came tumbling down on her, her shoulders and neck seizing with the weight of it, her body aching with the memory of feeling less-than. That's what depression did to you—it was a cruel master, piling on day after day until it was impossible to see past it.

Through the years, she'd tried various things to free herself when it grabbed her. Medicines that left her feeling like a zombie or deep underwater. Meditation. Creating her own endorphins by running marathons or taking Zumba classes. She'd tried to activate the part of her brain that craved something new, like surfing. Even though there had been periods in her life when she'd felt good and strong, the depression always seemed to come creeping back... until she nearly died.

But something had truly shifted that day, and she didn't want to lose it. And even though she felt like crap right now, she couldn't let a few setbacks derail her. Her new outlook was too important to her well-being, wasn't it? No less than her life. She could do it, just like Grandpa had said. She only had to believe she could.

Or am I lying to myself?

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she had some sort of brain trauma that prevented her from seeing the truth about herself—that she was, at her core, hapless and hopeless and incapable of change.

No.She refused to believe that. She'd felt the power in her—she was capable of great things. Like Dr.Cass said, she just had to dig deep. And if there was one thing she could say with confidence, she was very good at digging.

So she began to dig. The peppers and Jacob's ladder weren't going to plant themselves.