“I’ll be quiet,” I promised.

I moved to the chair next to the window and was just about to sit down when I heard a ragged whisper.

“Hello, Wilson. Thanks for dropping by.”

When I turned toward him, he winked.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“Nah,” he said. He began to sit up in the bed. “I had to fake it. She’s been fussing over me all day like a baby. She even followed me into the bathroom again.”

I laughed. “Just what you wanted, right? A little pampering from your daughter?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s just what I need. I didn’t have half that fussing when I was in the hospital. By the way she was acting, you’d think I had one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.”

“Well, you’re in rare form today. I take it you’re feeling like new?”

“Could be better,” he said with a shrug. “Could be worse, though, too. But my head’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No dizziness? Or headaches? Maybe you should rest a bit anyway. If you need me to feed you some yogurt, just let me know.”

He waggled a finger at me. “Now don’t you start with me. I’m a patient man, but I’m not a saint. And I’m not in the mood. I’ve been cooped up for days and haven’t so much as smelled a breath of fresh air.” He motioned toward the closet. “Would you mind getting me my sweater?”

I already knew where he wanted to go.

“It’s still pretty warm out there,” I offered.

“Just get me the sweater,” he said. “And if you offer to help me put it on, I should warn you that I just might punch you in the nose.”

A few minutes later, we left the room, Wonder Bread in hand. As he shuffled along, I could see him beginning to relax. Though Creekside would always be a foreign place to us, it had become home to Noah, and he was obviously comfortable here. It was clear how much others had missed him, too—at each open door, he waved a greeting and said a few words to his friends, promising most of them that he’d be back later to read.

He refused to let me take his arm, so I walked close to his side. He seemed slightly more unsteady than usual, and it wasn’t until we were out of the building that I was confident he could make it on his own. Still, at the pace we walked, it took a while to reach the pond, and I had plenty of time to observe that the root had been taken out. I wondered if Kate had reminded one of her brothers to take care of it or whether they’d remembered on their own.

We sat in our usual places and gazed out over the water, though I couldn’t see the swan. Figuring it was hiding in the shallows off to either side of us, I leaned back in my seat. Noah began to tear the bread into small pieces.

“I heard what you told Kate about the house,” he said. “How are my roses doing?”

“They’re not finished, but you’ll like what the crew has done so far.”

He piled the pieces of bread in his lap. “That garden means a lot to me. It’s almost as old as you are.”

“Is it?”

“The first bushes went in the ground in April 1951,” he said, nodding. “Of course, I’ve had to replace most of them over the years, but that’s when I came up with the design and started working on it.”

“Jane told me you surprised Allie with it . . . to show how much you loved her.”

He snorted. “That’s only half the story,” he said. “But I’m not surprised she thinks that. Sometimes I think Jane and Kate believe I spent every waking moment doting on Allie.”

“You mean you didn’t?” I asked, feigning shock.

He laughed. “Hardly. We had rows now and then, just like everyone else. We were just good at making up. But as for the garden, I suppose they’re partly right. At least in the beginning.” He set the pieces of bread off to one side. “I planted it when Allie was pregnant with Jane. She wasn’t more than a few months along, and she was sick all the time. I figured it would pass after the first few weeks, but it didn’t. There were days when she could barely get out of bed, and I knew that with summer coming, she was going to be even more miserable. So I wanted to give her something pretty to look at that she could see from her window.” He squinted into the sun. “Did you know that at first there was only one heart, not five?”

I raised my eyebrows. “No, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t plan on that, of course, but after Jane was born, I sort of got to thinking that the first heart looked mighty skimpy and I needed to plant some more bushes to fill it out. But I kept putting it off because it had been so much work the first time, and by the time I finally got around to the task, she was already pregnant again. When she saw what I was doing, she just assumed I’d done it because we had another child on the way, and she told me it was the sweetest thing I’d ever done for her. After that, I couldn’t exactly stop. That’s what I mean when I say it’s only partly right. The first one might have been a romantic gesture; but by the last one, it felt more like a chore. Not just the planting, but keeping them going. Roses are tough. When they’re young, they sort of sprout up like a tree, but you have to keep cutting them back so they form right. Every time they started blooming, I’d have to head out with my shears to prune them back into shape, and for a long time, the garden seemed as though it would never look right. And it hurt, too. Those thorns are sharp. I spent a lot of years with my hands bandaged up like a mummy.”

I smiled. “I’ll bet she appreciated what you were doing, though.”

“Oh, she did. For a while, anyway. Until she asked me to plow the whole thing under.”

At first, I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly, but his expression let me know I had. I recalled the melancholy I sometimes felt when staring at Allie’s paintings of the garden.

“Why?”

Noah squinted into the sun before sighing. “As much as she loved the garden, she said it was too painful to look at. Whenever she looked out the window, she’d start crying, and sometimes it seemed like she’d never stop.”

It took a moment before I realized why.

“Because of John,” I said softly, referring to the child who’d died of meningitis when he was four. Jane, like Noah, seldom mentioned him.