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  The Gate and the Garden

  The Verdinia Chronicles: Book One

  JR Tague

  The Gate and the Garden

  The Verdinia Chronicles, Book One

  JR Tague

  Copyright © 2019 by JR Tague. All rights reserved.

  Cover Art: EDH Graphics

  Editor: Aven Rose

  Visit the author’s website at jrtague.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Twenty minutes. The clock on the wall told me we were only twenty minutes into our Tuesday morning meeting, and yet it seemed like enough time had passed for an entire civilization to rise and fall in the time it took us to decide on a way to celebrate Employee Appreciation Day.

  “What about cold, hard cash?” Kelly suggested, splaying her perfectly manicured hands to each side as if she were pointing out the obvious. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?”

  A small smile played at my lips. I loved the way Kelly was always upfront and honest about what she thought. If I were as brave as her, I’d tell them this whole idea of a celebration was stupid and we should just give everyone the day off. But I wasn’t brave.

  “We just distributed quarterly bonuses last week,” Tom, our boss, said. “Don’t you think everyone would want something…I don’t know. Different?”

  The other head honchos, Dave, Joel, and that guy with the blonde hair and rich kid name I could never remember—was it Blaine?—all nodded in agreement. The young execs of the little start up where I worked ran the fashion gamut from hipster-chic to Silicon-Valley-casual. Their jeans and hoodies surely cost more than my most expensive pieces of furniture, but they pretended not to know it. They were “cool” and “approachable” and they ran the longest, most pointless meetings in the history of the universe.

  I couldn’t complain, not really. I’d been lucky enough to intern here the summer after my freshman year of college, answering phones and doing general receptionist work. There were only eight or nine of us at the time, but the company took off like gangbusters and, when I was about to go back to school that fall, they offered me a full-time position at twice my previous hourly rate. It had been hard to say no, so I hadn’t. And anyway, I didn’t really love college the way you’re supposed to. The movies made it look like non-stop parties and exciting meet-cutes. But to me it was just loud and hectic and kind of aimless. I didn’t know what I wanted to study—hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to study anything at all—and there I was, going tens of thousands of dollars into debt just to share a bedroom with two other girls and read long, heavy books I didn’t fully understand.

  So I’d stayed and worked my way up to Office Manager, and then, more recently, to Director of Employee Optimization. The title was ridiculous. But the purpose of my new position was surprisingly decent. Tom had wanted me to focus on what we could do to increase the quality of life for the company’s employees, because he believed that happy, contented employees did better work. His reasoning was sound, and I’d actually been excited about the promotion when I first got it. But I hadn’t yet figured out how to optimize our employee experiences, aside from getting better coffeemakers for the break room and working with Kelly to beef up our benefits package. I still had no idea how to make these meetings bearable.

  I sighed soundlessly, my eyes flickering, as they always did, to the window on the far side of the conference room. It was a beautiful, floor-to-ceiling, wall-length window that was always kept crystal clear by a small army of women who cleaned the building. I’d thought about those women a lot, wondering if they liked their jobs, or found satisfaction in them, and wanting to thank them for keeping that window so clean. Because it gave me a perfect view of the small, city park where I ate my lunch on warm days. I always arrived at meetings early, just so I could snag a seat with the best view.

  “What do you think, Sarah?”

  My eyes flickered up at the sound of my name. Tom looked at me with genuine interest. As though my opinion actually counted. As though I mattered. The other execs, as usual, followed his lead.

  “I think a taco buffet and an in-house masseuse is a great idea,” I said with a smile. I’d long-since learned how to listen for the important stuff with one ear, while the rest of my brain wandered. “Who knows, if it goes over well we could make it a quarterly thing.”

  Tom looked relieved, grateful even. It was sort of cute how badly these young, successful men needed reassurance. In a way we were all play-acting at being adults. We’d all stumbled into financial stability so early in life that we were left floundering to prove we deserved it. It had become part of my job to strike the right balance between gently telling them when their ideas were terrible and giving encouragement on everything else. I told them no just enough that they believed me when I said yes. It was a skill, of sorts. One that I doubted found its way into many job descriptions, but was in high demand just the same.

  “Who’s joining us at Aman’s today?” Tom asked a small group of us as we filed out of the conference room. He was looking at me as he asked, then looked away when I met his eyes.

  A sliver of anxiety ran down my spine. I could never tell if he was carefully flirting with me, or just trying to engage me in the weird, “we’re all best friends here” corporate culture they were always trying to promote. Tom was definitely cute, in a nerdy, Clark Kent kind of way. He was also mature, and kind, and seemed to genuinely care about his employees. And I wasn’t so oblivious as to not realize that if we hit it off, I’d probably be taken care of for the rest of my life and would never have to work again.

  But that’s not what I wanted. I didn’t enjoy working in a cubicle or sitting through endless meetings, but I didn’t want to be someone’s housewife either. So I smiled politely and tried not to give off the wrong vibes. Which was a shame, because I really loved Indian food.

  “I’m totally in,” Jason, my friend from IT, said. “They’ve got the best buffet in town and I’m starving. Did I tell you guys I started this new workout program? It’s super effective, but my appetite’s through the roof.”

  “About a million times,” Kelly groaned. “I’ll go if Jase promises not to tell us about his morning training.”

  I laughed. Kelly had a way of speaking her mind without making anyone hate her. I was envious and impressed on a daily basis.

  “What about you, Sarah?” Tom asked when we’d reached the lobby.

  “Oh, I brought lunch today. I’m just gonna head over to—”

  “The park,” Kelly sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re so predictable.”

  The sun hit my face as I stepped out of the office, warming me, body and soul. I breathed in the fresh—well, somewhat fresh—city air as I made my short trek to the park. My park.

  It was an especially warm April day in Philadelphia, and I shrugged out of my cardigan when I reached my favorite bench. Closing my eyes, I turned my face to the sun and basked in its glow for a few seconds, until my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out, grimacing at the text.

  Hi Sarah, it’s Dad. Your mom and I would love t
o see you sometime soon. Let us know when you can visit…XOXO.

  Guilt burned in my stomach. My dad barely knew how to use his phone, and yet he’d made the effort to learn to text, while I could rarely be bothered to visit without massive amounts of prompting. When was the last time I’d been home? A month ago? Two?

  But the last time had been bad. My mom hadn’t even recognized me. Her early onset Alzheimer’s seemed to be getting worse by the minute and, the last time I’d seen her, she’d kept calling me “Terry” and asking me to fetch her an ice cream sandwich.

  I put my phone away, not ready to think about my next visit yet.

  Instead, I turned my attention to the chirping birds that had already gathered near my feet. They were mostly fat, bold, pigeons, but there were some smaller brown birds too. I didn’t know what they were called, but I knew what they liked to eat.

  “Calm down little guys, you didn’t think I’d let you go hungry, did I?” I cooed at them as I rummaged through my purse for the little bag of bird seed I always carried. I used to feed them chunks of stale bread, which was in constant supply, since I lived alone and hadn’t gotten the knack for buying just the right amount of groceries yet, but then I read somewhere that bread wasn’t good for their digestive tracts. So I looked online, but all the bird seed on Amazon was in giant bags, for people who had houses and bird feeders and probably families and lives. I couldn’t find any single lady portions online, so I’d gone to an actual garden store a few blocks from my apartment.

  I paid nearly double for my small, purse-sized bag of “Locally Grown Artisanal Bird Seed”. But for some reason, that seemed less pathetic than having a ten-gallon stash in my living room and carrying around little Ziploc baggies of the stuff. Marginally less pathetic.

  “And besides,” I said to the little guys pecking at my feet, “you deserve the best, don’t you?”

  I scattered the seed and watched them eat for a while.

  “Those birds are gettin' snobby,” said Harry, an old man who walked a daily circuit of the park with his wife, Mae. “They wait for you, ya know. They know you’ve got the good stuff.”

  “It’s all part of my plot for world domination,” I said with a smile. Harry nodded. He and Mae were retired, and also completely adorable. Seeing folks like them, so loving toward each other after decades of marriage, made me feel warm and fuzzy, but also sort of achy and sad at the same time.

  “Good afternoon, dear,” Mae said. “If you ever want some company on your lunch break, you just let me know. Our grandson Billy is a wonderful—”

  “Leave her alone, Mae. She comes here for the peace and quiet, don’t you?”

  “And for the birds,” I said, winking.

  “Right. Smart girl. We’ll leave you to it then,” he said, starting to walk away.

  “Have a wonderful afternoon,” Mae said.

  “Thanks, you too,” I called after them. I wasn’t offended when Mae occasionally hinted that I should have a strapping young man to share my lunches with. But it was awkward. And she wasn’t the only one. It seemed like everyone, from family members to strangers I met at the grocery store, were always telling me I needed to meet someone. As if I couldn’t be whole on my own.

  I never regretted dropping out of college. I didn’t miss it and I didn’t have any dreams that would require the degree I didn’t get. But sometimes I felt like quitting school had bumped me forward a few years toward adulthood, and now everyone expected me to be a responsible grown-up, while my old friends were still going to class in their pajamas and getting plastered at parties every weekend.

  Well, the joke was on them. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. But I knew it wasn’t a college student or a Director of Employee Optimization. I just wished I were brave enough to come up with some kind of third option. Maybe I could become a full-time bird lady?

  I checked the time on my phone and sighed. Somehow it was almost time to go back to work already. I wolfed down my tuna fish sandwich, my cheeks full like a chipmunk storing acorns, and decided to save my chips to snack on during my inevitable three PM energy crash. I rolled up the bag of birdseed and stowed it in my purse, then slipped my cardigan back on.

  I was just reaching for my bag when something shimmered in my periphery. I turned toward it, getting an eyeful of the tall, black, wrought iron gates at the back of the park.

  I’d wondered often what lay beyond those dark, imposing gates, but they were always locked. I’d checked several times. I’d even been scolded by a park maintenance man when I’d stopped by on a Saturday to see if maybe they were open on the weekends. They weren’t.

  I’d peeked through the bars, but my view was always blocked by thick foliage on the other side.

  Today, however, I could see something sticking out through the bushes and the bars. It looked like a flower. My heart sped up as I grabbed my things and made my way to the gate.

  “It’s a rose,” I murmured aloud once I was close enough to get a better look.

  I didn’t know much about plants or gardening, but I was pretty sure it was too early in the season for roses. And yet, there I was, gazing at the most beautiful rose I’d ever seen. It shimmered in the afternoon sun, seeming to change colors in front of me. At first, I’d thought it was white or maybe pale pink. But as it swayed in the breeze, I saw other colors emerge—blues and greens, purples and golds. It was almost like a crystal that reflected all the colors of the light.

  I reached out my hand to touch it, lightly, so as not to harm such a magical looking thing. But then something else caught my eye—the wrought iron gates that guarded their secrets from me.

  They were unlocked.

  2

  I took a step forward, checking around to make sure there weren’t any grumpy groundsmen lurking nearby to yell at me. When I was sure the coast was clear, I inspected the gate. One side was still locked firmly in place, but the other was just slightly ajar. I pushed it farther inward and, when no sirens blared, I slipped inside.

  I followed a narrow path through tall, immaculately trimmed shrubbery until it opened up into a scene that literally took my breath away.

  Flowers. Hundreds, no, thousands of flowers in every conceivable hue sprawled before me in a garden so large I could barely make out its edges. I gaped at their delicate beauty until a pounding in my head reminded me to breathe. I sucked in air, not bothering to be graceful about it, and my nose was filled with a harmonious mixture of scents. My body buzzed and tingled, as if drawing vitality from the life around me.

  It was freaking awesome.

  I reached out to touch the leaves that leaned into the path, as if bowing. The thick foliage between my fingers had a grounding effect, telling me this place was real. But I wondered how they were able to hide such a large garden in the middle of the city. I walked down the path, noticing how the sun felt brighter, the breeze warmer, the air fresher. The plants could account for the air quality perhaps, but the rest?

  Up ahead I spotted a fountain at the junction where several of the garden paths met. It was a tall, two-tiered fountain made of glistening white marble with gold veins running throughout. The top was a large, round basin that trickled water down into the lower tier. I knelt down beside it, to admire the lily pads in the water and the rings of flowers that grew along the outside edge. I spotted a smattering of shimmering coins on the bottom of the fountain and smiled to myself. If ever there were a fountain to cast your wish into, this was the one.

  I rummaged in my purse for a coin. Blame it on the fresh air or the dazzling flowers, but I was feeling happy and a little magical myself. But then I noticed something odd about the coins in the water and set my purse down. They were large, maybe the size of a quarter, but they looked even bigger than that. And they were golden. They didn’t look like any coins I was familiar with. I pushed up the sleeve of my cardigan and reached my hand into the water. It felt cool and welcoming on my skin as I pulled out a coin and held it up toward the sun to examine it.
r />   On one side was a medieval-style castle, carved in such great detail I could make out some of the stone work. When I flipped it over, I found the image of a young king, whose expression looked remarkably sad beneath the weight of his jeweled crown. I stared at it, turning the coin over in my hand and wondering where it came from. I was so intent on the coin, I didn’t notice the shadow until it was right in front of me.

  “It’s considered a capital offense to steal from the king’s own fountain.”

  I jumped at the sound of the young man’s voice, dropping the coin into the grass in the process.

  “I wasn’t going to steal it,” I hastened to say. “I was just looking at it. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  The man smiled, and oh boy, what a smile it was. His whole face lit up with warmth and kindness as his sparkling blue eyes narrowed into slivers and his lips parted to reveal beautiful white teeth.

  “Not many have,” he said, then pointed a large, calloused finger at it. “That’s a full gold piece from the king’s own treasury. It’s worth more than most folks’ homes down in the village.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling impressed and nervous, and then utterly confused. “Wait, what? There’s a king?”

  The man laughed, his broad shoulders shaking beneath his simple, cotton shirt. It was obvious he had some good muscles going on under there. “Have you hit your head? Everyone knows King Ash. You know…the ruler of Verdinia?” he said, opening his arms wide to imply the land we were in. For a moment, I thought he’d break into song, just like the real-life Disney prince he appeared to be.

  “Verdinia,” I said, feeling deflated. I gazed from his thick, sun-kissed hair, to his killer smile, right down to the cleft of muscular man-cleavage just visible below the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Of course. The handsome man I met at the park was a total nut job.