Dawn painted the hills in soft pastels as Elizabeth followed Leo along a narrow dirt path behind his trailer. Her boots, borrowed from a box of Vincent’s old things, were a size too big but comfortable enough for gardening.
“Vincent used to help me plant these rows every spring.” Leo kneeled beside a patch of rich soil, his seasoned hands working the earth with practiced ease. “Always wanted to know the story behind each plant. Why this one heals, why that one hurts.”
Elizabeth settled beside him, watching as he demonstrated how to space the transplants. The morning air carried the scent of damp earth and wild bergamot.
“He never told me about the garden.” Elizabeth gently pressed a cabbage plant into the soil, mimicking Leo’s technique.
“No? Well, he was different then. Before the cameras, before he started chasing his wild ideas around the world.” Leo reached for another plant. “Used to sit right here, helping me sort herbs for drying. Said the quiet helped him think.”
They worked in companionable silence, moving down the row. Elizabeth’s fingers grew dirty, her back ached, but there was something satisfying about working the land.
“Your parents,” Leo said suddenly, “they were good people. Used to bring me soup when I was sick, even though we barely knew each other.”
Elizabeth’s hands stilled in the dirt. “You knew them?”
“Small town.” Leo nodded toward a patch of purple flowers. “Your mother loved echinacea. Said it reminded her of her grandmother’s garden in Mexico. After the accident, I planted these for her.”
Elizabeth touched a purple petal, her throat tight. All these years, and she’d never known this connection existed. Her mother’s favorite flowers, blooming in Leonard Montoya’s garden.
“Vincent would sneak over here sometimes,” he continued, “He’d gather a bunch and leave flowers on their graves. Never told you that either, did he?”
Elizabeth shook her head, unable to speak. The image of young Vincent, carrying purple flowers up the cemetery hill, filled her body with an unexplainable calm. They finished planting the leeks and onions, then returned inside for the rest of the day’s tasks.
She surveyed Leo’s small trailer, noting the stack of newspapers in the corner and the thin layer of dust on the windowsills. The morning’s gardening had shown her a different side of Vincent’s uncle - not just the suspicious old man warning about corporate schemes, but someone who carried deep wisdom and unexpected connections to her past.
“This place could use a woman’s touch,” she said, running her finger along a dusty shelf.
Leo looked up from his herbs, a hint of tenderness crossing his hardened features. “Vincent used to help keep things tidy when he visited. These days, well…” He shrugged, turning back to his work.
Elizabeth watched him methodically sorting the leaves into small piles. The thought of him here alone, tracking suspicious activities at that corporation while living in this neglected space, tugged at her heart.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, moving to help him with the herbs. “After Stacy’s wedding, I don’t have any immediate assignments lined up. Maybe I could stay here for a while, help fix this place up.”
Leo’s hands stilled. “You’d want to stay here? In this old trailer?”
“Why not? It’s quiet, perfect for writing. And someone needs to document what’s happening with this concrete plant situation everybody’s riled up about.” She gestured toward his collection of notes and newspaper clippings. “Plus, I could learn more about these herbs of yours.”
A slow smile spread across Leo’s face. “Well, the spare room needs clearing out. Been using it for storage since Vincent left. But if you’re willing to help clean it up…”
“I’d like that,” Elizabeth said, realizing she meant it. “It feels right.”
Leo nodded, reaching for another bundle of herbs. “Then it’s settled. Welcome.”
Her phone buzzed against the coffee table. Vincent’s name flashed across the screen, making her heart skip.
“Hey stranger,” she answered, trying to keep her voice light.
“What’s this I hear about you getting mixed up in protests?” Vincent’s typical protective tone crackled through the line. “I thought you were staying with your friend for a wedding.”
“Actually, I’m staying here in Echo Ridge.” She didn’t know how to read him. How did he find out about the protests? “With your uncle. I found him!”
Silence filled the line. “That’s not a good idea, Elizabeth. That area’s never been safe. A lot of transients camp out there.”
“I’ve gathered some interesting leads here. Besides, your uncle could use the company—”
“Let me talk to him.”
Elizabeth handed the phone to Leo, who took it with trembling fingers. He shuffled onto the small porch, his voice a low murmur through the screen door. She busied herself organizing her notes, trying not to eavesdrop.
When Leo returned several minutes later, his eyes were red-rimmed and glistening. He pressed the phone back into her hand, turning away quickly to wipe his face.
“Vincent?” she asked softly.
“Be careful, Liz. Promise me.” His voice was tight with concern.
“I will. Look, I need to head out - Stacy’s rehearsal dinner.” She ended the call and grabbed her purse, watching Leo sink heavily into his chair. “I’ll be back tonight, Uncle Leo. We can finish sorting those herbs together. Okay?”
Leo nodded without looking up, his shoulders hunched as if carrying an invisible weight.
She paused at the door, torn between her commitment to Stacy and the urge to stay, to understand what had transpired between uncle and nephew. A heavy silence filled the air, punctuated only by the fragrance of the earth and Leo’s medicinal concoctions. As she walked to her car, her emotions overflowed with regret, like she was walking away from something precious and rare. She glanced back at the trailer, where Leo stood watching her departure with a gentle wave, and felt a familiar tug at her heart–his silhouette reminding her of the father she’d lost. And she made a silent promise to return right after Stacy’s rehearsal dinner. The drive away from the trailer park felt like leaving a piece of herself behind, but the comforting fragrance from the small bag of aromatic herbs Leo had insisted she take offered a tangible connection to this newfound peace.
* * *
Elizabeth smoothed her sapphire blue cocktail dress and stepped into the rehearsal venue. The alluring scent of gardenias filled the air, Stacy’s signature flower choice for all occasions. Her breath caught as she spotted Noah across the room, his tall frame cutting an elegant figure in a classic black suit. Damn, he’s fine. His eyes met hers. That magnetic pull hit her full force as he crossed the room.
“A little birdie told me you’d be here.” Noah’s smile lit up his face.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped. “Let me guess - Stacy?”
“She might have mentioned it.” He touched her elbow, steering her toward a quiet corner. “Listen, about canceling dinner yesterday-”
“It’s okay.” She surprised herself by meaning it. His hand on her back, warm through the delicate fabric of her dress, sent a jolt through her, scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind.
“No, it wasn’t. I got caught up in town politics.” His brown eyes held genuine regret. “But seeing you at that protest… brought back memories of that fierce girl who always fought for what she believed in.”
Heat crept up Elizabeth’s neck. “Still do.”
“Some things never change.” The scent of Noah’s cologne hit her senses as he drew nearer, a luscious aroma of citrus and warm woodsy notes. “Makes me wonder if we could pick up where we left off.” His words were drawn out in that mesmerizing, slow tone. And that smile… “Before graduation launched us into different worlds.”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. “That was a lifetime ago.”
“Maybe. But this connection?” He gestured between them. “That feels pretty current to me. How long are you staying in Sweetwater?”
Elizabeth thought of Leo’s trailer, the mysterious concrete plant, the stories waiting to be uncovered. “As long as it takes.”
Noah’s smile widened. “I like the sound of that.”
