A Knight in Central Park(104)

Shelly’s shoulder’s sagged. But that didn’t stop her from waving at Mrs. Peacock through the kitchen window. “What’s she doing out there at this hour?” Shelly asked him.

Joe winced. “Why did you have to go and wave? Look. Now she’s coming this way.”

Shelly ignored him and went and opened the door that led from the kitchen to the tiny yard he shared with Mrs. Peacock. It was less than fifty degrees outside, but the old lady had pink-flowered gloves on her hands. She was holding a trowel, looking ready to bop Joe in the head with it.

“Hello Mrs. Peacock,” Joe said. “A little cold to be outdoors, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Peacock glared at him, waved her trowel at him. “I’ve been looking for you. You owe me one hundred and fifteen dollars and twenty-nine cents for the flowers your girlfriend ruined.”

Joe was not in the mood to be chewed out, especially by a cantankerous old woman. He stepped past Shelly. “How could a handful of flowers possibly cost that much money?”

“They were rare blooms, Mr. McFarland. They bloom once every two years.” Mrs. Peacock tried to look past him, into his kitchen. “I have a good mind to call the police and have your friend arrested for trespassing.”

Joe stepped outside and peeked through the greenhouse window suddenly curious to see what the old lady did in there day after day. Myriad colors were in full bloom. He could see where the rich soil had been turned over and loosened. He followed the panels until he came to the small door leading into the greenhouse.

“Don’t go in there. My flowers are extremely sensitive!”

Joe was already inside. Gingerly, he sifted through the soil where Mrs. Peacock’s flowers had been plucked to their deaths. And that’s when he saw it. The stone. The very last stone. Alexandra had unknowingly left him a stone so that he could return to her. His heart pounded. He stepped out of the greenhouse, his blood racing through his veins. “Alexandra, I’m coming!” he cried out, scaring poor Mrs. Peacock half to death.

Shelly ran to his side, grinning when she saw what he had in his hand.

Joe picked the old woman up, trowel and all, twirling her about in his arms. He set her down, still grinning, couldn’t stop smiling if he wanted to. “Your flowers are the most beautiful, wonderful flowers I’ve ever seen.”

He looked to the sky, the last of the clouds drifting off before nightfall shadowed them completely. His eyes lit up. “Look at that, would you?”

Shelly and Mrs. Peacock followed his upward gaze.

“That cloud,” Joe said. “It’s a dog! A Labrador retriever. See? Its tongue is hanging out and it’s wagging its tail!”

Mrs. Peacock gave Shelly a worried look. Shelly led the old woman into the kitchen. “I’ll get the checkbook,” Shelly said, disappearing into the main part of the house. By the time she returned, Joe had finished watching the clouds gather and had returned to the kitchen. He took the checkbook and the pen from Shelly and turned to Mrs. Peacock. “How about five hundred dollars? No, let’s make it an even thousand.” Happily, he wrote the check, tore it loose, and handed it to the woman. Mrs. Peacock looked suspicious, but she took the check and shoved it in her pocket.

“I’m going to miss your sweet face,” he told Mrs. Peacock before heading for the living room.

Shelly thanked Mrs. Peacock and sent her home.

Shelly came up behind him. “I’m going to miss you, Professor. What should I tell the faculty and your students?”

Joe turned to her. “Tell them all to open their eyes. Tell them not to let the wonders of life pass them by. Clouds, for example, tell them to never ever take the clouds for granted.” He shook a finger at her. “I mean it.”

Shelly raised a skeptical brow. “Uh, yeah, great advice, Professor...clouds. I’ll tell them about the clouds.”





Chapter Twenty-Nine



Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

—Robert Browning

Traveling through time felt like waking up from a deep sleep. And yet when Joe looked at his watch he saw that exactly three minutes had passed.

This time he landed on his feet and now stood on the outskirts of the fields of wheat surrounding Alexandra’s manor. With his duffel bag on his right and a suitcase on his left, Joe started the uphill climb. Although he couldn’t yet see the burnt pile of rubble that was once Alexandra’s house, he saw the tree where Garrett had shot him down with a rock, and the tall heads of wheat swaying in the breeze. He also swore he heard music.