Plight(3)

"Well, the garden beds are no longer visible, swallowed by weeds. The shed is rotten, the windows smashed, and the panels have been kicked in and graffitied," Mum paused. "And of course some disrespectful little so and so's with nothing better to do have defiled Mr Hillier's plaque. There's also a good chance the gum tree is dead or at the very least partially dead."

"Shit! So there's a lot of work to do?"

"Yes, sweetheart, there is. And we owe it to Mr Hillier to fix this. We also owe it to Elliot for working his magic and allowing us this second chance."

I nodded; she was right. What Elliot had done for our families, the Coldstream community, and Mr Hillier's memory was pretty cool. He'd fought for all of us knowing how important the garden was.

All of a sudden, he wasn't so creepy.

"Okay, Mum. So what time do we start on Saturday?"

"Be there at 7:00 am on the dot. And bring a shovel. Love you."

"I don't have a shov-" Before I could finish my sentence, she hung up. 7:00 am on Saturday morning? Are you kidding me? Ugh! There goes TGIF drinks after work.





Message from Danielle Cunningham:


I'll admit, I was a little unsure as to your level of creepiness for a minute or two. You got me good, Lots, lol. See you Saturday.





I first fell in love with Danielle Cunningham when I was eight years old. She wasn't the most popular girl at school, but she was the most beautiful, inside and out. That's why I'd fallen in love with her, because she was kind and she cared. She'd cared about me in particular and what I'd had to say.

Not many people ever had.

She'd also had the cutest button nose, apple cheeks, dark brown hair that reminded me of those chocolate curls that were sometimes on the top of birthday cakes, and bushy eyebrows that looked like little caterpillars. A few kids had teased her about her facial caterpillars, but I always thought they were cool. Unique.

The second time I fell in love with her was when she'd eaten my Cheezel ring and said she'd marry me. Marriage was a big promise for anyone let alone an eight-year-old, and it was a promise I now planned to have a bit of fun with, maybe even hold her to. She was the first girl I'd ever loved - the only girl.

As for the third time, well  …  there hadn't been a third time yet, but I knew there would be. I knew because my entire body had just frozen solid then slowly thawed the moment she stepped out of her Volkswagen Beetle wearing a thick grey beanie that was miles too big for her head. So if the mere sight of her could do that to a grown man, a man that hadn't laid eyes on her in seventeen years, then yeah, I knew I'd fall in love with Danielle Cunningham for a third time.

It was just a matter of when.

Awkwardly diverting my gaze to the scrap pile of wood pieces in my gloved hands, and instantly regretting that decision because Danielle was far better to look at, I quickly glanced back at her as she took a few steps toward us before pausing at the threshold of the garden. She toed a few rocks where a perfectly curved brick path had once wound through brightly coloured flowers and plants.

It no longer did.

My stomach twisted as I took in the sorrowful look on her face, because it was the same look I'd possessed moments ago when I'd stood where she was standing. The state of our memorial garden was a knife to the heart and a cold hard slap to the face, those exact sentiments emphasized by her wide open, coffee cup eyes that were melting as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.



       
         
       
        

Danielle's jaw fell slack, her mouth forming an O, her shoulders slumped, her arms lifeless by her sides. Every particle that composed who I was wanted to wrap myself around her and tell her that we'd fix this, that we'd restore the garden to its former glory and pay the respect and gratitude to Mr Hillier that he deserved. We owed him that and so much more.

We owed him our lives.

When we were just ten years old, Mr Hillier had heard our terrified cries for help and driven through a flash flood that had very quickly turned our storm drain hide-and-seek game into a matter of life or death. We'd become trapped underground behind a metal grated storm drain cover after being unable to return the way we'd entered the drain system we'd often hung out in. The rising floodwaters had been fierce, unapologetic, and rapidly climbing the height of the ledge Danielle and I were huddled upon.

Recalling that memory, even after twenty years, still sent a chill down my spine. It had been the single most frightening experience of my life; helplessly watching as a ferocious aquatic monster chased us down.

Thankfully, Mr Hillier - a local tree-lopper at the time - carried a chain in his utility truck and was able to winch the metal grate free of the concrete it was encased in, setting us free.