A confused look washed over her Jon’s face, a mixture of puzzlement and worry, and he peered out the window, and then back at her.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Leila,” he said, his eyes back on the tree. “You know how much your… how much Lizzie and I care about, well, stuff like this.” He looked down at the jars, and then back at Leila, as she pretended not to notice the almost slip-up. “And we know you’re really into the environment. Up all night on those message boards. I hope you’re being careful with who you’re talking to—”
Leila flashed him an exhausted look and yawned.
“Ha, okay, okay,” Jon said, conceding. “Look, we’ll remove the dead limb over there on the lawn and prune away the other bits. Half the tree could still be fine! I don’t think we’d rip it out just because it’s damaged.”
“Pronouns. Because she’s damaged,” Leila corrected, smirking.
“She’s damaged,” Jon amended. Leila looked up at him, at his warm smile. Years of late-night corporate lawyering had clearly taken its toll on him, carving deep-set wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed or squinted just a little. His new career as an environmental journalist certainly suited him better, even if he wasn’t exactly great at taking care of anything green around him.
The less-stressful gig had come too late though, as his dark-brown hair now had bits of white and gray peppered through it. There were frequent “should I dye it or shouldn’t I?” conversations over dinner, and generally they all ended the same, with Lisabeth’s exasperated sighs and sideways glances at Leila.
Leila raised an eyebrow at Jon and returned her attention to the jars.
“Look how deep that lightning hit it. There’s no way it didn’t kill the roots.” She picked up the jars and placed them up on the countertop, checking to make sure enough water was above each trimmed stem.
“Ah. I see what you’re up to,” he said. “I guess we’ll see if any of them stick.”
Leila smirked.
“Get it? Stick? Because they’re sticks and you’re putting them in the jars to—”
“Oh my God, yes, Jon, I get it,” Leila said, shaking her head. He might make things awkward with his frequent dad and mom references, but his dad-like jokes were at least amusing in their badness.
He stepped up towards the sink, looked out the window towards the tree, and let out a loud sigh.
“I totally forgot to cover the garden,” he muttered, shaking his head. “As if I didn’t put those poor plants through enough hell this year, they get decimated by this.”
“Aw, Jon,” Leila said. She tentatively offered up a consoling hand on his shoulder. It was the kind of gesture that should come naturally, but she forced it out of herself.
“Poor things,” he said. “After we finish your project, care to help me out with all of that? Maybe search for survivors before the rest of the storm comes through?”
Leila looked outside towards the garden. In addition to the vegetables Lisabeth brought home from the CSA, there was also Jon’s miniature farm to deal with. Cucumbers, tomatoes, zucchini, squash, peppers. All vegetables that didn’t really need a lot of time and care, and could mostly grow on their own with enough sun and rain. The little bit of work they did need, Leila happily provided. In her first week with the Kline family, she had quickly discovered Jon’s well-intentioned but disastrous gardening skills, when he poured piping-hot leftover coffee on a head of lettuce.
“They say coffee is good for gardens and the soil, did you know that?” he’d explained, holding the mug in his hand while Leila looked on, horrified.
“Coffee grounds, Jon. Grounds,” Leila said, watching as the lettuce wilted in front of them.
Despite everything Jon managed to throw at the garden, it had been pretty resilient. But not even those tough plants could hold up in this weather, meeting doom in their battle against the tropical storm and the adult caretaker that forgot to cover them.
“Sure,” Leila said, smiling. “I’m sure there’s some stuff worth saving.”
“Maybe,” Jon said, disappointed. “We’ll probably just have to uproot all of them and toss them out. Might be less wasteful to turn them into mulch though, or put them in Lizzie’s composter by the shed.” Something about what he said struck a rough chord with Leila, and she winced, her chest heavy. For a moment, she felt as though she heard another whisper, and shook it off, the ghost of a sound vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
“Yeah, yeah sure,” Leila said, wrestling with the feeling. Jon turned back to her, and evidently noticed.
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