I dug small holes with my fingers, trying to shove the disconnected roots back into the ground. “But you love wildflowers … .”

“Not in my garden, Ellie. Not here.”

I froze, the heat and wetness of the day felt only as a cold ice settling over my body. I ran inside and up to my room. Mother found me under the bed. She sprawled down next to me. “Ellie, what is wrong with you?”

“I thought you wanted wildflowers. I was surprising you.”

She held out her hand where dirt sat under her fingernails, the dirt from my flowers. I took that hand and crawled out. We sat on the edge of my white chenille bedspread.

“You wanted to surprise me? That is so sweet and wonderful. Thank you so much,” Mother said in a singsong voice.

“But you don’t love them.”

“I just didn’t know. That’s all. I just didn’t know. I thought weeds were taking over my garden. You see, wildflowers aren’t a specific kind of flower. They are a mix that grow wild … .” Mother paused and then pointed out the window. “That garden is for botanical and cultured flowers.”

“Oh,” I said.

“There are thousands of wildflowers, and they grow where and when they want. But that garden is a botanical garden—one where I document and cultivate specific plants for ornamental purposes.”

“Huh?”

She laughed. “Let me try new words. It is a garden where I grow very specific flowers for their prettiness and cultured pedigree. Okay? So no wildflowers in my botanical garden. And you see, wildflowers usually aren’t planted on purpose.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks for trying to do something sweet, Ellie. Would you like to plant a wildflower garden on the other side of the yard?”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” I said.

She kissed me on the forehead. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

She left me alone in my room. I stood and walked to the window overlooking her botanical garden.

Her garden: Cultivated for ornamental purposes.

Me: Not planted on purpose.

I’d told that story only once, and it was to Hutch.

I was stunned that Hutch remembered this story, yet I was filled with warmth, like the concrete sidewalk absorbing the sunlight. I walked until I reached the courthouse. I hadn’t told Hutch, but I was determined to find out who else sat at Murphy’s counter.

The marble steps were warm and I sat on them for a few moments, folding and unfolding the newspaper article. Happiness opened inside of me, spreading its wings. Being near Hutch always opened my heart in all the good places. I was smiling when Micah appeared in front of me.

“Well, well, little lady, what are you doing?”

I jumped up. “Micah, hello.” I stumbled and righted myself on the banister. “I was about to come in to visit you when I sat down for a moment.”