Graham rose impatiently, reaching a hand up to the mantle, her face turned toward the fire. "I know that she is almost my height, and strong. I could feel that in her hands when she took my arm in the garden. She laughs softly when something pleases her, and she loves the land. She knew how to bring the flowers to my minds eye" She halted in frustration, unable to complete the picture of the woman who was so often near, but whom she could not see.

"You already know the best parts of her, Grahamher goodness, and warmth, and her wonderful love of life."

Graham turned around, her fists tight. "Yes, but what does she look like? What color is her hair? Her eyes? What does she wear? Helen, I cant see her!"

Helen longed to go to her, to stroke the anger and frustration away. She knew very well that Graham would not allow it, would not allow any sign of sympathy.

"Her hair is blonde, rather like honey, and cut back away from her face. Her eyes are very blue, like the ocean on an August morning. When shes excited about something, her skin flushes a light rose and her eyes sparkle. In my day, wed call her wholesome. She has the kind of strong body women have these days--you can tell shes fit, but, she flows in the right places, too."

"How long is her hair? What colors does she wear?"

"Her hair just touches her collar, and its not so much curly as wavy. It blows around in the wind, like your does, all wild and free. When shes working outside she sometimes ties it back with a bandanna round her forehead. She likes to wear those loose trousers with the drawstrings at the waist, and tee shirts, -or those mens shirts that are made for girls. Lovely colorspurples, dark greens, deep golds."

Graham had become very still as Helen talked. The tension slowly left her body.

"Does that help?" Helen asked her.

Graham nodded, concentrating on the picture forming in her mind.

"Shes not at all like Christine, is she?" Graham asked softly.

"Oh my dear, not a bit."

**********

Anna waited impatiently in the kitchen. Helen had been gone for so long! She had been starving when she came in for dinner, but the longer Helen was absent, the more anxious she became. Graham had been so subdued on their way back to the house, Anna was certain something was wrong.

"Is Graham all right?" she asked the moment Helen rejoined her.

Helen looked at her in surprise. What had gotten into the two of them? They were both so jumpy! "Yes, dear, shes fineshe just wanted to talk to me about a few household thing. Now, why dont we eat before everything is completely cold."

Forcing herself to relax, Anna poured them each some coffee and joined Helen at the kitchen table. She tried to appear nonchalant.

"I was just a little concerned. She spends so much time alone, and shes so very sensitive"

"Thats her nature," Helen commented. "All she ever wanted was to play the piano. Her father had to force her to do anything else. He adored her, though. I thought he would go mad himself after the accident. For so long we didn't know if she would live, and then when she finally opened her eyes, he was sitting right there by her bed. She put her hand out to take his. She didnt say anything for the longest time; we didnt know that anything was wrong. It did break his heart when she said, so quietly, that she couldnt see him. Oh, it was a horrible time!"

Anna closed her eyes with the pain of the image, of Graham so brutally injured, of a family so hurt. Some part of her longed to change the past, to undue the horrible suffering.

As if sensing her thoughts, Helen said, "We all felt so helpless" She shook herself, rising briskly. "It doesnt change things, does it, to wish for the past to be different?"

"What was she like, before the accident," Anna asked quietly. As each day passed she wanted to know more. She was certain that the key to Grahams silence and her pain was hidden in her past. Anna couldnt stop thinking that if she could only understand what had caused Graham to withdraw from all she had been, she would find some way to reach her. Exactly why that mattered so much to her she couldnt put into words, but she knew she had never been so affected by anyone in her life. Maybe it was just knowing what an incredible genius Graham Yardley possessed, and that the loss of such a gift went beyond personal tragedy.

Helen laughed. "She was a regular hellionshe never got on well in regular schools. Not that she wasnt bright - she was always good at whatever she tried. Its just that she never wanted to do anything except play the piano. She said once that when she looked at the world, she heard music. It was her language, as natural to her as talking is to us. All you ever had to do was listen to her play to know what she was feeling. Its the one place she could never hide. When her father put her in the music school, with tutors at home, she did much better. From the time she was young she was in the company of adults, and she never had a childhood. She had been all over the world by the time she was fifteen. She grew up surrounded by people who wanted things from her - a piece of her fame, a piece of her passion. Her music might have been pure, but the world it thrust her into wasnt. Sometimes I feared it would destroy her!" Helen sighed. "She loved a good party, though, and, oh, what a good dancer! She made up for all the hours she spent lost in her work by being a little wild. But we all forgave her for the times she worried us, because she was such a wondershe brought us all so much happiness."

Anna tried to imagine Graham that way, infused with energy and enthusiasm. That there were great depths to her sensitivity Anna had no doubtbut Grahams passionate embrace of life had disappeared. What Anna couldnt explain was her own desire to rekindle it.


Chapter Seven


Anna respected Grahams wishes, and did not mention the abundant correspondence that still arrived regarding her former career. Graham remained for the most part an easy person to work for, and if it werent for the fact that Anna was acutely aware of Grahams deep unhappiness, she would have found Grahams company more than satisfying. On those occasions when they escaped from the drudgery of paperwork to relax on the terrace, Graham seemed sincerely interested in Annas life. Anna enjoyed their times together, only wishing for some way to make Grahams rare smile linger.

Unexpectedly at first, Graham began to appear in the garden while Anna was working. She would stand nearby, often wordless for long lengths of time, and then simply disappear. Eventually she started to ask Anna what it was that she was doing. Graham would listen attentively, then smile to herself as she made a mental note of a new shrub or planting. She was slowly creating a new vision of Yardley with Annas help. As the days passed, her visits became more frequent. Anna found herself looking forward to these encounters. On those days when Graham didnt appear, Anna finished her work strangely restless and unsatisfied.

Late one morning Anna glanced up to find Graham close by. Her hands were thrust into the front pockets of her trousers, and she leaned forward with a perplexed expression on her face.

"What are you wondering?" Anna asked, leaning back to see her tall companion.

"What youre planting. This isnt the rose garden, or the English garden, or the perennial bedin fact, this isnt anything at all as I recall." Graham gestured toward each of the gardens as she spoke.

"Youre right on all counts. This is the kitchen garden."

Graham frowned. "We dont have a kitchen garden. Helen always said she couldnt grow weeds, and II never had the time." Her expression became distant, a response Anna was coming to recognize. Whatever the memory, it was painful.

Anna reached into her carry all. "Here," she said, placing a pair of soft work gloves into Grahams hand. "Put these on."

Graham turned the gloves over in her hands, clearly at a loss. Anna found her consternation appealingshe was usually so commanding. Had Graham known her bewilderment was apparent, Anna knew she would have been embarrassed.

"But why?"

"So you can help plant the tomatoes," Anna said matter-of-factly. "Were making a garden so we can grow our own vegetables this summer." She knew she was risking alienating her reclusive employer, just when she seemed to be emerging from her isolation, but she had to try. The gardens seemed to bring Graham some peace. Anna only hoped her instincts were correct. She was quite sure that no one had ever suggested to Graham Yardley that she dig in the dirt.

Graham hefted the gloves. "I dont need these."

Anna studied Grahams hands. They were long-fingered and delicate, ribboned with fine blue veins beneath soft pale skin. The supple fingers suggested strength, but they were not meant for rough work. Anna had seen Grahams hands on the keyboard, how they moved with certainty and grace. She had heard the music from those hands on the night breeze. She did not need newspaper accolades to know they were exquisite instruments in themselves.

"You do need them," Anna said softly. "Please put them on. I cant let you do this without them."

Graham hesitated for a moment, then nodded. She slipped them on, then asked, "Where do you want me?"

Anna grasped her sleeve. "Here, on my right. Give me your hand." She placed a seedling in Grahams palm. "There are twelve of these in each flat. Make a hole six inches deep, then put the seedling in, pot and all. Press the earth firmly around the peat pot, so there are no air pockets. Put the plants a foot and a half apart. Move straight to your right back toward the house. All right?"