TRADITIONS

by JoAnn Baca

Author’s Note: For Sam, Tasha, PearlAnn and Cedany,
pursuant to our Writers’ Chat discussion –IYKYK!

It had been in the conceptual phase for months. And then had come the formal presentation to a very skeptical Council. Several times the plans were sent back to the drawing board (likely in hopes that the creative mind behind the concept would abandon the idea once another bright shiny thought came to mind).

Uncharacteristically, Mouse had not become discouraged…nor derailed by a new undertaking…and finally the Council, upon critical and exhaustive review, approved his plan.

There would be a garden built Below.

This was to be an all-volunteer effort (again, in hopes the daunting nature of the work involved would dampen the initial enthusiasm). Mouse’s detailed drawings would only be brought to fruition by a prodigious amount of luck and labor to find appropriate lengths of steel and tubing, build the shelving, and procure and install the tanks, irrigation system and grow-lights necessary for plants to thrive. It would require a varied and extensive amount of “found” materials. These mysteriously became available almost immediately, in part by virtue of a large discount store closing (the heavy-duty shelves were sold at take-away prices), the purchase funded by Helpers. Other needed items were discovered similarly – a bankruptcy sale at a greenhouse company, for instance, and a wholesaler which had deeply cut prices on inventory that wasn’t moving in their lighting department.

Mystery enveloped the project as it was brought to life, Mouse desiring to keep the project under wraps until its unveiling to avoid unwanted “advice” from lookie-loos. The majority of the Tunnel residents remained clueless about its progress, as the heavy work was done mostly by teenagers. They were the only enthusiastic volunteers, and able to execute the heavy labor involved during their spare time – after classes and homework – if excused from their chores. Since work assignments at their age generally were minor and capably absorbed by the adults Below, permissions were grudgingly granted. Work was performed under the watchful eye of Vincent, who assumed Council oversight of the project…and Mouse…during the extensive building phase.

Finally, the long months of work on the project were coming to an end. Mouse, in fact, chose the Tunnel’s special celebration – Say It With Flowers Day – to officially unveil the enterprise to the whole community.

* * *

“How have I missed this day in all my time visiting Below?” Catherine murmured to Vincent as they walked with the crowd of excited residents towards the entrance to the chamber that, until now, had been hidden from inquisitive eyes.

He shrugged. “I suppose because it’s just a simple day here – no concerts are planned, not even a special meal. And I recall that on at least one occasion, you were in California on a case for Joe, so you couldn’t have participated, even had you known.”

“Hmmm…” She was hardly convinced, and wondered if Vincent had given her roses on a particular day when he was “saying it with flowers” without her knowing. There was that one time he had left her an assorted bouquet of colorful roses – a dozen of them – with no explanation. Now she wished she’d identified the particular types more carefully. She could have discerned their hidden significance. Ah, well…she knew now not to dismiss any floral gift without consulting a dictionary of meanings!

“Here!” Mouse announced unnecessarily, as they all had halted before a massive gate. He summoned Vincent, and together they pushed the heavy metal gate open. “Come!”

The cavern was cloaked in darkness until Vincent threw a switch and light flooded the vast chamber. The gabbing crowd was stunned into silence, gazing around in awe.

Row after row of shelving held hydroponic tanks, and a variety of plants grew in profusion. On a long table beside the gate was a platter featuring a harvest of the vegetables and greens being grown. Zach stood behind a huge bowl of mixed greens, and Ethan, next to him, held a filled salad plate in each hand, ready for distribution. Most of the residents got into line to try the home-grown salad, while a few Tunnel folk wandered through the many aisles in awe.

Vincent tilted his head to indicate she should follow, leading Catherine down the last aisle at the far left. Others had started their tour at the farther end, closer to the gate. Thus, she was the first to visit the “flower garden” – an amazing array of flora set, not in hydroponics, but in raised beds, also nurtured by the grow-lights.

Her jaw dropped as she inspected each variety.

“This is…my special project,” Vincent told her, his head bent as if he were shy.

She turned to him and smiled. “Tell me…each one…the meaning?”

He nodded.

She pointed to sweet alyssum.

“Worth beyond beauty,” he murmured. As she passed the bluebells, he added, “Constancy.”

He chuckled as she halted by a cabbage rose bush. “Well, this one happens to fit because it embodies strength of love and depth of passion…but it wasn’t actually my selection.”

Catherine eyed him, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

Shaking his head, and with a smile, he clarified his comment. “You see, one day I left Mouse to his own devices. He went Above to a nursery to look at seeds and plants. He was so proud to come back with a big ‘cabbage’ plant…which was actually this cabbage rose.”

Catherine smiled. “He had the money to pay for it?”

“I…think he did. Anyway…” Vincent shrugged. “I was glad of the mistake, as it was a rose I wished eventually to put into my part of the garden.” He stroked a deep red bloom that was just opening, its fragrance beginning to fill the air.

A small cedar tree, only two feet high but with room to grow within the enormous pot in which it was set, was stationed at the end of the row. “Strength,” he said, then, capturing a leaf, he turned to her and added, “I live for thee.”

Catherine paused, then shifted her gaze from the tree to Vincent. She placed her hands on his shoulders, rose on tiptoe, and kissed him tenderly. His mouth, hungry as always for her kisses, molded to hers.

When she pulled away, it was only to murmur against his unique lips, “I must get you an Indian jasmine. It’s a fragrant evergreen. I recall my mother growing it in our yard in Connecticut. She told me that my dad got it for her because its meaning is ‘I attach myself to you.’ I believe I need to follow family tradition, now that you have somewhere to grow it.”

His surprise melted into a smile, the tips of his canines gleaming in the light. She rose up once again and wiped the smile from his face in the most delectable way he could imagine.