The art of growing, p.1
The Art of Growing, page 1
© 2021 Jacqueline Ramsden
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: jramsdenwriter@gmail.com
Cover design © Jacqueline Ramsden, jacquelineramsden.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real events or people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
Reference to characters from Fake It by Lily Seabrooke used with permission of the author.
The Art of Growing
Jacqueline Ramsden
For the ones who carry us when the days are
at their darkest
Contents
Content warnings
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Books By This Author
Content warnings
On-page sex scenes, emotionally abusive family dynamics, off-screen references to past abusive relationships, anxiety/anxiety attacks.
One
There was nothing like a morning of hammering rain on the window, music softly playing in the background, and a hot cup of tea while wrapped in a blanket. It really was Sloane’s favorite way to start the day.
She watched the sheeting rain run down her windows, barely able to see the limits of her, admittedly quite large, garden. This deep into October, the deciduous trees had lost their leaves and her wildflower fields had shifted and lost the bright colors of summer. Sloane didn’t mind. One of her favorite things about plants was the way they shifted through the seasons.
A puddle was forming on the cobbled stone path from her backdoor to her greenhouse as she finished her tea. The sky showed no signs of letting up soon either, still heavy with dark gray clouds.
Sloane smiled as she placed her mug in the sink and headed to the backdoor of her little cottage. Her moss would love the rain.
She pulled on her jacket and swapped her slippers for rain boots before stepping out into the deluge. As predicted, her moss looked bright and healthy and happy. She lightly brushed a fingertip over where it climbed a rock before continuing to the greenhouse.
By the time she stepped inside, she was soaked to the bone through her pants, but it didn’t bother her. She’d shower and change when she got back inside, and her babies were worth getting drenched for.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said to the plants.
When she’d put the greenhouse up, her family had had plenty to say, pointing out that it was almost bigger than the house itself, but, as Sloane had told them, she lived in the house alone. There were hundreds of plants living here.
They had just rolled their eyes at her. She didn’t care. This was her job and her passion, what could they really say?
She shook her raincoat off and beelined for the table with trays of tiny sprouts on it.
“Hello, little friends. How are we all doing today?” she asked, glancing over the flecks of green in each of the pots.
They were doing well. She had them on the trusty diet of sunlight and water and warmth they needed, and they’d taken well to the loam she currently had them in. She couldn’t be happier. Next year, she had a garden installation she really wanted to use a few of them with. And she was optimistic they would come out the exact shades she was hoping for when they were eventually big enough to flower.
Today’s task, however, was a completely different kind of arrangement and did not include any of her specially propagated sprouts. She was instead going to be working on a series of tabletop gardens for her sister’s fifth wedding anniversary and the plant favors she wanted to gift the attendees of the celebration dinner.
Sloane wouldn’t have minded so much and might have even been delighted that Greer was finally showing an interest in plants, if she hadn’t called her the night before, with just one week to go until the dinner in question, demanding Sloane create the favors and the three decorative gardens she wanted as a gift.
Still, a day with plants was her favorite kind of day. Plus, she got to visit the garden center with a very reasonable excuse. Not just because she wanted to look at the plants. Or the employees. Well, one employee… Polly.
She shook her head. She wasn’t even at Blooms yet, she couldn’t already be swooning. Besides, she needed to have her wits about her. Greer had very specific requirements for her party favors and tabletop gardens. She had also warned Sloane, without a hint of irony, that the whole weekend would be ruined if she didn’t have string of pearls succulents in terracotta pots painted a very specific shade of cream.
Sloane had rolled her eyes at her sister while they were on the phone but hadn’t said anything aloud about the request. She was fairly certain that if the weekend of her child’s third birthday party and her fifth wedding anniversary could be ruined by having the wrong type of succulent or the wrong shade of cream, the problem was not the favors… but Greer definitely would not want to hear that.
After checking that all of her plants were warm, watered, and had enough light, Sloane threw her raincoat back on and meandered home, enjoying the rain that was still coming down hard and heavy, ready for a nice warm shower.
Her mood soured quickly after her shower when she returned to the kitchen and found her phone vibrating and lighting up in alarming fashion. It could only mean one thing: Greer. And that was not good.
Sloane sighed and picked up her phone. Five missed calls, seven texts, and one voicemail.
Eight texts.
Another arrived while she was staring at the screen—Greer complaining that Sloane would be so far from her phone during this pivotal time.
She loved her sister, but she did have questions about why Greer would wait until one week before the dinner to tell Sloane about the plants if they were this important.
“Sloane,” Greer’s voice said when she clicked on the voicemail, the edge of annoyance evident even as she attempted to sound pleasant. “I don’t know where you are, but can you call me back ASAP? Lizzie was watching something on YouTube earlier and they were making fairy gardens. Can you make her one for her birthday? I figured since you were doing the favors and the mini-gardens for me and Steve, a fairy garden would be an easy addition? And you know how happy it will make her. I’m going to send you some pictures of the kind she likes and that go with our garden and stuff. Call me back.”
Sloane rubbed a hand over her face.
Of course she’d make the garden for Lizzie. What kind of aunt would she be if she didn’t? But she did wonder about how wise a decision it was to give an almost-three-year-old every single thing she saw and liked in the run-up to her birthday. Sloane alone had already been roped into buying a play tent and mat and decorative cushions shaped like clouds and bunnies and a set of lights to illuminate it…
With a whole week to go before the party, she wondered how many other gifts she would be getting her toddler niece.
She shot a quick text back to her sister, notifying her that she was heading to the car, but that she’d call when she got to Blooms and they could chat when Sloane could see what was actually available.
Greer was quick on the draw, texting back before Sloane had taken three steps, but she didn’t retrieve her phone from her jeans pocket as she pulled her coat back on and headed for the car. If Greer wanted to call while she was driving, Sloane wouldn’t have the heart to say no, but she really would rather drive with a backing track of soothing music than have to discuss plants she didn’t even know if she could get at such short notice.
Luckily, she made it all the way there with no phone call from Greer and she took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking lot of Blooms Garden Center. The drive wasn’t too long, so she hadn’t left Greer hanging for hours, but she still had six new texts. Three contained pictures of what she and Lizzie wanted for the fairy garden and the others were eager are you there yet? texts.
She hit dial while breathing out a half-snort at her sister’s impatience and got out of the car.
While it rang in her ear, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d see Polly today. The chances were good. The last time she’d come here and not seen Polly, it was because Polly had been sent home sick.
Even with as much as she enjoyed the plants, she really did like to chat with Polly while she was here.
As she was once again telling herself it was just because they were friends and she would seek out any friend whose workplace she routinely visited, Greer answered.
“Ah, Sloane. Finally,” Greer sighed. “Thank you for calling back. Don’t you think the fairy garden is such a darling idea? Lizzie’s going to love it.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Sloane replied, only mildly distracted as she walked into Blooms and immediately glanced around for Polly.
The place was enormous, it was unlikely she would run into her right at the entrance, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
&nbs p; Greer was talking a mile a minute in Sloane’s ear as she strode through the massive Halloween display that took up a large section of the store and which Sloane knew would become a winter wonderland the minute November hit. There was even a pumpkin decorating session happening for kids in the middle of it all. Sloane was a little surprised not to see Polly leading the session. She usually loved the crafty sessions the garden center put on. Sloane hoped Polly was here and that she wasn’t going to miss her because she was off or on a break.
“I think a wooden pot would be better for Lizzie, don’t you?” Greer asked and Sloane focused back on the conversation.
“Yeah, maybe,” Sloane replied. “I mean, I probably wouldn’t advise letting her carry any kind of garden around too much, but yeah, wood is probably preferable to pot.”
“Great. Think you can paint it purple? It’s her favorite color.”
Sloane could paint it purple, and she would, probably. But just last week, Lizzie’s favorite color was green, so goodness knew what her favorite color would be by the time she got the fairy garden.
Four more minutes of listening to requirements for the fairy garden and Sloane had made it to the rows of succulents she needed to make Greer’s wildest favor dreams come true.
“Okay, can you give me the final count of people coming to the dinner?” she asked Greer. “Well, the ones who need a succulent favor. I’m assuming you aren’t giving them to the kids?”
“Oh, no, of course not,” Greer laughed. “We’ve put together adorable little goody packs for the kids. There’s candy and coloring sheets and things. They’re super cute. I think they’re going to really love them.”
They were children who were being forced into a very not-family-friendly restaurant for a fancy meal, probably in formal clothes if Greer got her way. Sloane wasn’t sure they really were going to love the activity packs, or that they’d make up for the rest of it. But she definitely wasn’t going to tell her sister that.
“Sounds great. But the adults? How many succulents do I need?”
“Oh. Fifteen.”
Sloane ran through who she knew was going in her mind. She couldn’t figure out the last three or four people but it didn’t really matter. There was no reason Sloane needed to know who the guests were to be able to make them a favor.
She started loading little plastic pots with string of pearls succulents into her cart, mentally counting them as she went and adding two extras to her haul. If the first fifteen favors were fine, all would be good and she would keep the extra two. If not, she had them as backups.
“Sloane,” Greer said, dragging her name out in a way that told Sloane she wasn’t about to like where the conversation was going. “You know how the dinner is formal dress?”
“Yes,” Sloane sighed, exasperated, already knowing where this was going.
“What are you planning to wear? Do you need me to go out and get you a dress?”
“No. I really don’t. I have a suit that I’ll be wearing for dinner. The shirt has flowers,” she said, a little short, as she put the last succulent in her trolley and moved to a different section to select plants for the gardens she was making her sister.
“Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in a dress?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. I really don’t. You know dresses aren’t my thing.”
“I know, but all the women who are coming are wearing dresses. I thought it would be nice if you matched.”
“I’m assuming there will be people there in suits, so it’s not like it’s going to stand out.”
Greer sighed audibly. “I know, but they’re men and you’re not a man.”
“Just figured that out, have you?”
“Sloane. Please don’t be difficult. You can wear a lovely shimmery dress and fit in with me and Mom. We can get you something super pretty.”
“Greer, I love you, but I’m not wearing a dress to an anniversary dinner to match you and Mom. I did it for your wedding because you wanted me to, but not for a dinner, sorry. It’s really not my thing.”
“But it would look so cute. You looked great at the wedding. And you never know when you might meet someone. Don’t you want to look your best?”
Sloane shook her head. She did not look great at the wedding and she would not look great in an unnecessary dress. “The suit I have looks plenty good enough.”
“But guys don’t want girls who look that…”
Butch. The word she was looking for was ‘butch’. But she never said it. Almost as if by avoiding it, she could stop it from being true, despite the fact that Sloane’s whole vibe was butch.
“Believe me,” she said, “the only people I would ever be trying to attract would be into that look. And I’m not trying to attract anyone. Thanks though.”
She debated between several plants that fit Greer’s requirements and would work well in the chosen environment and tried not to focus on the sudden and alarming silence coming down the line.
Knowing nothing good would come of it, she tried to cut it off first. “Besides, this is a family dinner, who on earth do you think I’m meeting at this thing? I met everyone at your wedding. And at all your other events since then. They all know how I look.”
“Well, not everyone, actually…”
“Jesus, Greer, no. Tell me you did not invite some random single man to your fifth wedding anniversary in an attempt to set me up. Again.”
“Well, obviously I did. You are hardly trying yourself and I’ve been married for five years now. Your niece is turning three. You need to get on things. Settle down with someone, have a happy life, get married, have kids, that kind of thing. And you’re making no effort yourself, you clearly need help.” She barely breathed through the whole thing.
“I’m perfectly happy with my life, actually, thanks.”
“You say that, but you don’t realize how happy you could be with a husband, some kids. You know, a wife if you have to.”
Sloane stopped moving. “If I have to?”
“You know I don’t mean it like that,” Greer said immediately, and Sloane knew she’d heard the dangerous edge in Sloane’s voice. “I just mean that with a husband, it would be so much easier to have kids. With a wife, you’d have to go through the whole thing of deciding who was going to carry them and getting donor sperm and insemination and everything.”
“Or adoption. That’s a thing that exists.”
“I know, Sloane, but it’s so magical to carry your child. I just want that for you too.”
Sloane squeezed her eyes shut and fought not to start screaming in the middle of a garden center. She really did not want to have another conversation with her family about whether she wanted to carry children.
“Just tell me who you’ve invited,” she told Greer.
“It’s one of Steve’s friends from work. Great guy. They’re pretty similar. He’s tall, funny, good looking. You know, a really good guy. You’ll like him.”
That meant she absolutely would not. Her sister had a terrible read on what she liked. Especially in prospective dates.
“I’m not interested. Sorry.”
“Sloane, come on. Give him a try. I mean, you’re both going to be at the same event, you might as well. You never know. I think there’s going to be a spark.”
“Greer. I am not coming to your dinner to get with one of Steve’s friends, we don’t even live in the same state. I have no interest in wearing a dress or impressing a guy or doing anything else that you are trying to shoehorn into this weekend. Oh, god. Tell me you didn’t invite him to Lizzie’s birthday party too?” She gently banged her head against one of the building’s girders.
“Of course I did. He knows her. You need time to warm up to him. He’s coming as a skeleton. Ooh, which reminds me, we should talk about your costume too. How would you feel about being a lady skeleton to match?”
What the hell is a lady skeleton?
Sloane deflated and slid down the girder. She could not take a whole weekend of this.
Two
Polly smiled as she half-danced around the gathered children in the Halloween grotto Blooms had set up. It was so mystical—pumpkins and owls and black cats and witches hats. Magic.
