Not good enough.Aunt Maggie had needed help with the upkeep when he was younger.He should have made sure she was still getting help.
Though she was stubborn.
He would have expected Sabine to help her aunt.She’d married a wealthy man and, from what Chelsea had told him, Aunt Maggie had helped them both when Sabine was a struggling single mother.
Ethan ran his fingers over the wooden table, the rough grain grounding him.He pushed through the small gap in the overgrown hedges and underneath the large peppermint trees which formed a cool canopy between the public garden and the three cottages which Aunt Maggie rented out as holiday accommodation.
He inhaled deeply, enjoying the protection from the hot autumn sun.
The hammock still hung between two trees, its olive-green canvas dirty, but the thick ropes still seemed to be in good condition.Sturdy enough to hold two people.Though he’d been lighter then, and Chelsea was only small.
Sometimes they’d snuggle in tight together.Other times they’d lay head to toe, both content to read their respective books through the heat of the day.
He smiled at the memories and continued.
Ground cover and grass covered the path that wound its way through the section of the garden Aunt Maggie had opened to the public.
Here there were myriad memories of the work he’d done; water fountains he’d cleaned were now dry and filled with leaf litter, a Balinese pagoda where he and Chelsea would take a break and talk about life now contained only a mouldy mattress, and a few ponds were now unrecognisable but he knew where they should be.And of course, the replica of the Sydney Harbour Bridge spanning the dry harbour lake.
His heart ached at how quickly the weeds had taken over and turned this once beautiful, tranquil space into an eyesore.Aunt Maggie would be devastated.
He was tempted to track down Sabine and give her a piece of his mind.
Ethan stopped in front of the sculpture of Cupid.The red and pink rose bushes surrounding it hadn’t been pruned in some time and the flowers desperately needed dead-heading.He plucked off a couple, rubbing the soft petals between his fingers and inhaling the sweet scent.
He’d given Chelsea a single red rose from this garden on the day he’d told her he loved her.
His throat closed over.This wasn’t right.
He spun around and strode to the garden shed behind the house.There were no locks on the door and the metal protested as he forced it open, pushing the rust on the hinges to give way.Inside was dusty and dim, but the secateurs hung above the bench right where they always had.He grabbed them and the nearby weeding bucket and headed back to the roses.
It had been over a decade since Maggie had taught him the correct way to prune roses, but it wasn’t something he’d ever forgotten.
He got to work.
An hour later, the sun was sinking to the horizon, and he finished pruning the last bush.He stepped back and wiped the sweat from his forehead.The bushes were stalks now, but they looked much better.He glanced at the weeds choking the roots and gingerly knelt on the ground, his pelvis twinging.
The weeds came out easily and each section of clear dirt made him feel lighter, as if he was achieving something.
A willy wagtail hovered nearby, watching his progress, and darted forward to eat an insect he’d disturbed by weeding.It chittered its thanks and flew away.
Ethan smiled.The bird life in the garden had always been a source of entertainment and joy.The magpie warble or the kookaburra’s laugh early in the morning, the crows coming throughout the day to see what was happening, the blue wrens flashing their colour during mating season and the cheeky willy wagtail always looking for the easy meal.
Lilydale had been a place of peace.
The sun touched the horizon as he pulled out the last weed.He rocked back on his heels, ignoring the ache.Done.
It wasn’t much, considering the sixteen acres of gardens, but it was a start, and it felt damned good.
He sighed.What was he doing?
This wasn’t his place, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave.It was the first place he’d found a home, a sense of belonging, love.
He couldn’t just let it go.
Ethan dumped the weeds in the bin and returned the equipment to the garden shed.He had to find somewhere to sleep, and then he could track down Sabine and ask about her plans for the place.
His gaze caught on the old barn.It used to be filled with hay when Aunt Maggie had a horse and a few rescue animals.He smiled.He and Chelsea had had some epic make out sessions in the barn.
