From the Relief Society Magazine, July 1959 –

Pretending Garden

by Helen H. Trutton

Laura stood watching the young child rollicking among the flowers, occasionally picking a choice daisy, or chasing a bright-winged butterfly. The hillside had been Darlene’s playground, Laura thought with resentment. Darlene should be there now – not a stranger.

Apparently the little girl, dressed in a plaid dress that blended so harmoniously with the many colorful flowers surrounding her, was not aware of anyone’s presence, for she danced gaily among the wild flowers, her blond curly head bobbing up and down, her childish laughter a merry sound on the silent hillside.

“I could almost pretend it was Darlene again,” Laura breathed. “But I mustn’t dream.”

Vaguely conscious of the continued pantomime before her, she stooped down and picked a flower bud and whirled its stem between her fingers. How many times had she stood in about this exact spot and watched Darlene play in such a manner, or joined her with a basket of fancy cookies still warm from the oven?

With trembling hands, Laura let the flowers fall to the ground as she nervously brushed her long blond hair from her face, and wiped stubborn tears from her pale cheeks. Finally, unbearable loneliness prompted her to call out.

“Hello, there.”

The youngster stopped abruptly and looked about her.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Laura spoke, walking up to the little intruder.

With a mark of shyness, the child answered politely. “Does this hill belong to you? It’s very pretty.”

“My little daughter liked it, too,” Laura found herself saying kindly.

The girl’s face brightened. “Do you have a little daughter just my age?”

Laura tried to control her voice. “Yes,” She answered simply.

“Then maybe we could play together. I’ve been lonesome since we moved here.”

Any resentment Laura had experienced when she first saw the girl on the hillside melted away when she caught the look of happy anticipation in the youngster’s face. Laura took a few short steps and looked toward the house. She imagined she was back in Darlene’s room – the room she had kept exactly as Darlene had left it. Her favorite doll, a shabby one, was seated at a small table, set for two, while her best doll was tucked away in a box in the closet. She recalled Darlene’s explanation of her choice of the less attractive one. “I know her better, Mommy.”

“I’ll be going now,” the girl finally remarked. “I didn’t mean …”

Laura turned quickly back to the forgotten girl, who was nervously fingering the bouquet she held clasped in her hands. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear.” She placed her hand on the youngster’s head and spoke softly.

“You see, she became very ill – and she’s gone away.”

“I’m awfully sorry about your little girl. My Daddy is sick, and I come here often and pick him flowers, and I pretend he is well again.”

Laura reached out and took the child’s hand in hers. “And I’m very sorry about your father. And your mother?”

The youngster waited a moment before answering. She was wondering if she, too, like the lady, should take a long time to reply. “With your little daughter, I suppose,” she finally announced. “Mrs. Riggs is our housekeeper. She’s pretty old, though.”

“What’s your name?” Laura asked, making herself comfortable on a nearby large rock.

“It’s Cynthia Kent, but everyone calls me Cindy.”

“I’m so glad to meet you, Cindy. I’m Mrs. Carlson. You must live in that house over there?” she asked, pointing to the white house a short distance down the lane.

“Yes, we moved here so Daddy could be quiet and rest. Now I must go home.” With that remark, she reached down and plucked one more daisy and started down the hill.

“But, you will come again?” Laura called after her.

‘Oh, yes, every day if you don’t mind – I’m happy here, pretending,” she shouted happily.

Laura watched her out of sight, and then arose from the rock and walked slowly down the hill toward home.

“Pretending Garden,” Cindy had called the hillside. A suitable name, Laura thought wistfully. Hadn’t she momentarily pretended the child chasing butterflies was Darlene?

Robert was descending from the upstairs, probably from Darlene’s room, as Laura entered the front door. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you, darling. Where have you been?”

“I went to the hillside. It’s the first time I’ve been there in a long while.” She sat down on the davenport and smiled at her husband. “I met a little girl out there today, Robert.”

“Who was she?”

“Cindy Kent.”

“I just heard about the Kent family this morning,” Robert added as he joined her on the davenport. “Did … you enjoy yourself?”

“She’s very sweet.” Laura shrugged her shoulders and continued, “Oh, I guess I felt a little resentment at first, but she’s such a lonely little child.”

Robert bowed his head, and after a long silence spoke, “I don’t suppose they’[ll be here too long.”

Laura turned pale. “Don’t you think so?”

“Mr. Kent is very ill.”

“I know,”she answered. “Robert, let’s call on them. Maybe we could help.”

Robert slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I think we should. How about tonight?”

It was a short walk to the Kents’ through the hillside trail. Neither Robert nor Laura spoke as they walked hand in hand until they were near the home.

“I’m glad she found the hillside lovely,” Laura tried to sound casual. “Darlene loved to play there, you remember?”

“I remember,” Robert gave her hand a squeeze, “so very well.”

Cindy greeted them at the door, and taking Laura’s hand, announced, “Daddy’s in the living room. I’m glad you came.”

As they entered the room, a tall, thin man arose and extended his hand. “You’re Mr. and Mrs. Carlson? How kind of you to come. My daughter has talked of nothing but the beautiful, friendly lady she met today on the hillside.”

“I think the admiration was mutual,” Robert grinned.

Mr. Kent motioned them to the davenport. ‘Please sit down. I hope my daughter didn’t annoy you, Mrs. Carlson.”

“Oh, no,” Laura answered quickly. “Not at all.”

Robert leaned forward. “We’d like to help, Mr. Kent.”

“You already have,” the ill man replied. “We’ve been a little lonely since we moved here. And thanks for letting Cindy play on your hill.”

Laura smiled down at Cindy, who had seated herself next to her on the davenport. “I hope to see you tomorrow in the garden, Cindy.”

Cindy’s eyes filled with tears. “Tomorrow, I must pretend very hard.”

Laura made no comment to Robert about Cindy’s statement on their way home. But she kept wondering if Mr. Kent were worse, if they were moving, what the child had meant? Perhaps the youngster was only letting her imagination run away with her. Darlene used to, she remembered.

Finally, Robert broke into her thoughts. “Why don’t you invite that little Kent girl here sometime? Darlene had so many toys.”

Laura didn’t speak until they were at the house, and then she turned and spoke coldly. “I’m leaving the room just as Darlene left it.”

The next afternoon and every afternoon during the summer, Laura and Cindy met in their private hillside garden. Soon Laura was making fancy cookies and lemonade, and sometimes Cindy would come lugging a basket of goodies Mrs. Riggs had made.

On such occasions Laura would call out happily to the approaching youngster. “All must be well at your home today.”

Usually Cindy would answer, “Daddy is better today.” Once she added, “I don’t pretend so much anymore.”

“You’re growing up,” Laura gave her a hug. “We all have to face reality sometime. Some just do it sooner than others.”

Then one day Laura found Cindy sitting quietly on the rock ledge. “Daddy would like to see you and Uncle Robert tonight if you can come over.”

“Is your Daddy worse?” Laura asked, breathlessly.

“I think so. The doctor stayed a long time yesterday and talked to Daddy.”

Together Laura and Robert had made many trips to the Kent home, but tonight was different. Laura found herself wishing the distance was further. She was certain the news was bad, and she dreaded to face facts.

“You’d really miss that little girl, wouldn’t you?” Robert ventured, “yet, you’ve never asked her to our home.”

“No,” Laura replied simply. “I haven’t.”

Mr. Kent raised slightly on his elbow as they entered the room. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he remarked.

“No bother, I assure you,” Robert answered.

Mr. Kent leaned back on his pillow for support. “I’ll be brief. My doctor thinks with special treatment at the hospital, I have a good chance of getting well.’

“That’s splendid,” both Laura and Robert exclaimed.

“I wondered if Mrs. Carlson would write a letter for me. Mrs. Riggs says she’s too shaky, and I’m not up to it.”

“Of course,” Laura came forward and picked up a writing pad and pen. “I would be happy to.”

“You see,” Mr. Kent continued, “I want my cousin to take Cindy while I’m in the hospital. Mrs. Riggs has been needed by her older sister for a long time, but she would never leave us.”

“Where does your cousin live?” Laura cut in.

“In Detroit.”

“Is she, that is, would Cindy be happy with her?”

“I have no choice, Mrs. Carlson. She’s our only living relative.”

Laura laid the pen down. “Cindy would be a long way from you.”

“Yes,” Mr. Kent answered simply.

Laura looked out the window to where Cindy was busily making mud pies. Cindy would be living with a stranger – maybe with someone who wouldn’t love her. she shouldn’t be separated from her father. And then Laura thought of how she would miss the child. Somehow that wasn’t too important right now. It was the little girl’s happiness that mattered most.

Finally, Laura turned from the window and faced Robert. He smiled reassuringly at her and nodded his head.

“Mr. Kent, could we keep Cindy for you? She could visit you every day.”

Mr. Kent’s face brightened for a moment. “I couldn’t ask so much of you. I might be in the hospital for months.”

“We would love to keep her, Mr. Kent,” Laura said softly. “You see, we have an extra room … so suitable for a little girl Cindy’s age.”