Chapter 47: Gardening at Night

"So why not? I mean, how many times can one say the rosary anyway?"

There was a knock on Kurt's door and he jumped. For a moment he was angry, but it faded quickly. In the circus closed doors meant the occupant was not to be disturbed. But this wasn't the circus; this was the real world where people knocked on closed doors.

"Come in." Kurt said.

He was expecting Father Dietrich, but it was Alexandra who poked her head in the door. "Gardening" she said.

"Gardening?" Kurt asked, confused.

"Yes," Alex said, stepping in. She was wearing a large floppy straw hat and carried a small crate with a handle that was filled with tools and seed packets. "It's time to plant. Care to join me?"

"Where?" Kurt asked.

"Well, in the garden of course," she said.

"You mean outside?"

Alex smiled. "That's where the garden is," she said.

Kurt shook his head. The idea of sitting outside in the sun wearing his hooded coat sounded horrible. It was real summer weather outside, hot and even a bit humid in the sun. The cast on his arm only made it worse. "That's okay," he said.

"Have you ever planted a garden?" Alex asked.

"No, but…" Kurt trailed off. He actually did want to help her. He knew exactly the spot she was talking about. It was a small, protected area on the far side of the church where a statue of the Blessed Virgin stood over a small congregation of flowering plants and vegetables. He had always liked sitting there as a child. But how could he possibly go outside without being covered? So far he'd evaded Father Dietrich's attempts to introduce him to anyone but Alexandra. This meant that he was constantly dodging the church staff and as long as he could find a place where no one could see him to teleport from, he was fine.

But he couldn't do that if he was out in the garden with another person.

"You don't want anyone to see you," Alex said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Kurt said, nodding.

"What about tonight then?" She asked.

"Tonight?" Kurt looked confused again.

"Sure. We can plant the garden tonight. I don't exactly need to work on my tan, what about yours?"

Kurt stifled a laugh. "No, my tan's good," he said.

"So why not? I mean, how many times can one say the rosary anyway?"

Kurt looked down at the beads in his hand. She did have a point. He'd gotten in the habit of saying the rosary when there was nothing else to do. It was a good way to fill time and since he barely had any free time with the circus, he could usually say the whole thing over the course of a week. But here he had nothing but free time so his average was considerably higher.

"Okay," he said at last. "What time?"

"Tonight. After the sun has gone down. You don't have plans to be anywhere right?" Alex said.

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "I'll be here," he said.

As promised, Kurt met Alex in the garden that night. Together they took the flats of seedlings that she had started in the warmth of the small shed that sat next to the rectory and carefully placed them in the dirt. Alex had the garden all planned out, flowers radiating out from the statue of Mary with vegetables along the sides and at the corners.

For the first week nothing seemed to be happening, though the seedlings got taller and sturdier, there were no flowers or vegetables and the garden required little more than watering and a bit of weeding. It wasn't long though before the plants exploded into bloom, surrounding the Virgin with color and life.

By the time there were vegetables to pick, Kurt had been living at the rectory for over a month. He had the routine down and was never seen by anyone but Father Dietrich and Alexandra. Teleportation made this easy as long as he could find a shadowy spot. He kept the door to his room locked from the inside so that he had a safe place to retreat to at all times.

The only close call was when a contractor doing a painting estimate had caught him in the church. There was no way Kurt could teleport out of the church without the sound echoing everywhere and he certainly didn't want to be seen. Either way there would be questions. After dodging the contractor several times, he had finally resorted to teleporting around the church yelling at him in Latin, hoping to scare him away. It worked. The contractor thought the church was haunted and ran from the building. Kurt's last teleport was to his room and he vowed to be more careful after that.

Even with all the hiding, Kurt was surprised by how comfortable he'd gotten. He spent most evenings in the garden, the light from Father Dietrich's study casting a soft yellow glow over the whole yard. After he was done, he usually visited with Father Dietrich in his study, listening to the progress of that week's homily.

"We have peppers now." Kurt said, standing in the doorway of Father Dietrich's study. They were the slowest growing. They had had small green tomatoes on the vines within a few weeks, but it had taken most of the summer for the peppers to ripen to the point where they could be picked.

Father Dietrich swiveled his chair around. "Really? This is the best garden we've ever had I think."

"Alex says I have a green thumb, but I told her I thought my hands were colorful enough without that." Kurt said. He walked in and sat down in the chair next to the desk.

Father Dietrich shut the notebook he was writing in quickly. It was a red binder that Kurt had never seen before. And Father Dietrich usually typed his sermons out on the computer but that was sitting dormant off to the side.

"What is that?" Kurt asked.

Father Dietrich looked at the red notebook guiltily. "I'm procrastinating," he said glancing back at Kurt. "This isn't the sermon I'm supposed to be writing."

"What is it then?"

Father Dietrich's gaze returned to the book and he slowly opened it again. Kurt could see the Father's neat handwriting, the kind of handwriting he would never have. "They're stories; stories for children." Father Dietrich said. Kurt looked confused.

"It's an old project that I started while I was in seminary. When I was a kid I was the only one who listened during Sunday school and then when we got home, I'd tell my younger brothers all the stories from the bible that they hadn't been paying attention to. So, while I was in seminary, they said I should write them down like I used to tell them." Father Dietrich explained.

"What are you going to do with them?" Kurt asked. The binder had quite a bit of paper in it.

"They're written for children to read," Father Dietrich said, "I suppose one day I'll try and find an illustrator."

"Wolfgang!" Kurt shouted, "Wolfgang could do it. He's an amazing artist."

"Maybe." Father Dietrich said, smiling. "I don't think they're quite ready for that yet."

"Are they the ones you told me when I was little?" Kurt asked. One of his fondest memories was from when he was eight, sitting in Father Dietrich's church and listening to him telling him about Jesus' life. He knew first hand that Father Dietrich's brothers were correct; the priest was a really good storyteller.

"Some of them, and I've written some new ones." Father Dietrich said. "I'll let you read them someday."

"I'd like that," Kurt said. He watched sadly as Father Dietrich opened a drawer and put the notebook inside. As he was closing the drawer, Father Dietrich stopped.

"You're only going to be with us only two weeks longer aren't you?" He said.

Kurt nodded gloomily. "Ten days," he said.

Instead of shutting the drawer, Father Dietrich reached back in. He took the book and handed it to Kurt. "I suppose I could use another opinion, someone to do a bit of editing maybe" he said. "I trust you."

Kurt took the book in his hands, suddenly afraid that he might rip the pages. "Do you mean it?" he asked.

"Of course," Father Dietrich said.

Kurt beamed at him. "Thank you," he said. He had an urge to pull the older man into an embrace, but resisted it. "And thank you for everything.'"

"It's been my pleasure Kurt." Father Dietrich gave Kurt's unruly curls a quick tousle.

"I'm going to read them now," Kurt said.

Father Dietrich watched him leave and could see through his door across the hall when Kurt threw himself down on his stomach on the bed. Within a few minutes he was reading contentedly, his chin cupped in his palms and his tail twitching languidly. Father Dietrich could see the rosary that he'd given Kurt after his baptism, glinting in the light of the lamp from his bedside table. He noticed that Kurt kept it close at hand, usually wrapped around his wrist, most of the time.

He looked so perfectly at ease, like he was home. Father Dietrich just hopped that when the time came, Kurt would want to return to Circus Gehlhaar.