As I paced out the back door, I was blinded by the setting sun. As I made my way over to the garden shed, I felt somewhat bad for leaving Chauncey with Neville all day. Then I remembered I wasn't the one carrying constant crier, so I felt ten times better. I finally made it over to the garden shed, a rusty run down house where most of our junk was kept. No one really went back here, so I didn't know how to handle the boy.
"Bogmire……." I called softly. I cautiously opened the down, trying to find that lazy gardener. The shed was very gloomy looking, with a dirt floor and no light. It almost appeared haunted, as if some ghost were to sneak up and scare me into a heart attack. I thought I would never find him, until I looked up. Lo and behold, there he was, sleeping his life away.
"BOGMIRE!" I shouted loudly. With a shock of fear, the sleeping lump yelped and rolled down from the rafters and onto the dirt floor with a thud. At my feet, whining in pain, was the lazy sack known as Bogmire.
"Hello miss Lydia, hows ya doin' this fine ev'ning?" He asked in a flawless southern
accent. How Bogmire came to be our gardener was very confusing and very last minute.
It all began the first day he came to our house. Trying to enjoy some quite time, I heard a
loud banging on the front door. I was afraid he was going to knock it down. Neville
quickly answered the door, and there he was. He began to beg for our help.
Apparently, he was being chased by the local police force for stealing food with his fellow
convicts. I thought Neville would turn him away, but then he shouted to me to hide him in
the garden shed. Not understanding why, I grabbed Bogmire and stowed him away.
The police were at our house half an hour later. When they asked if they saw the
young convict come through here, Neville denied it. We went back to the shed two
hours later, when the police were well gone. When we saw him again, Neville had a deal.
If he wanted to stay out of trouble, he was to stay under our watch, as a
gardener. He could live in the shed, and be fed everyday. But when he was called for
work, he was to do so. This sounding better then life in prison, Bogmire agreed without
hesitation.
Bogmire slowly got up, still in pain from his latest plung. I stared at him with annoyance,
and disgust, seeing the three types of dirt across his face.
"Sorry to disturb your nap, but if you don't mind, these lovely flowers came by
for me today. Could you please dig a hole for them?" trying to hide my irritation
with a smile.
"I'm gussin' Henry and Orville gone off and broke yerr' vase again?" Smiling with his
wide grin of yellow teeth.
"Yes, they did." How to thank Bogmire for such a bitter reminder, I tried to repress it.
"Can you just plant the flowers please?!" more annoyed then ever.
"Any place in particular?"
"Put them by Ursula's grave, it's almost the anniversary of her death."
It may seem odd, but we do have a small graveyard in the back of our house. Only our
family is really is buried there. The first to be buried in the graveyard was Neville's
father. I think it's the only reason Neville allowed Nana to stay with us. That was one
thing Bogmire was good for. Although he may be lazy, he is a talented grave digger.
Bogmire took the flowers, and before racing out the door, when he suddenly shouted
back,
"Lydia! almost forgot! I was rummaging through all this crap yesterday cuz' I was bored,
when I found a glass jar in mint condition. Just a few scratches, but you hardly notice em'.
Think that crazy brother of yours might appreciate it?"
"I think he would. Thank you." concealing my fury for him. He raced out the door, and
my fake smile transformed into a hating frown. He may be our gardener, but that doesn't
give him the right to criticize my family. Although, as much of a dick he is, he was
unfortunately right. My brother Jarvis was a bit crazy. No one in my family knows why,
but his insanity began when he was little. He was reaching for something I a large glass
jar, when it tipped over and fell on his head. He was knock out for two weeks. After he
woke up, my parents began to notice him develop strange behaviors. He created an
abnormal obsession with jars. He collected jars, and they became his 'family'. Jarvis
always concealed himself in his room, surrounded by his family. He kept to himself and
hardly left the comfort of his room. He was forced to come live with us when my parents
died. I don't mind him staying with us. He's my only brother, and I would do anything for
him.
I was less agitated with Bogmire on my way to visit Jarvis. I was feeling very
good, until two waltzing characters swiftly crashing into me and caused to fall.
"O my! We're so sorry miss Lydia. Are you ok?" Waverly quickly asked, hoping I didn't break anything.
"I quite fine, it's alright" I lied. "What are you doing anyway?"
"Why, practicing for the waltz competition this weekend! Must be perfect if we are to win
first." pronounced Warren proudly. This is what happens when two local waltz champions
are forced to live you against your will. At least, this was their situation. Waverly was my
oldest sister, and from the moment she discovered what dance was, she never stopped
dancing. As a child she would always take the floor and dazzle everyone with her fantastic
moves. She entered every dance competition she could, and that's how she met Warren.
The two discovered the dance of waltz and made it their passion. Through hard work,
they perfected the dance, and stole the show every time they preformed. They were
supposed to raise money and live in a house of their own, but Warren killed that dream by
proposing to Waverly earlier then planned. Now they live here because my mother forced
it in her will, to make sure, when they finally raise enough money, they had a place to stay
until they can get a house.
"Sorry again for knocking you over." Waverly apologized "We're just so excited about
the next competition! We're trying to get as much practice as we can."
"So practice in the ballroom……… where it's ok to dance…….. And not knock anyone
over."
"Marvelous idea!" proclaimed Warren. The two danced their way to the ballroom, and I
was trying to hide my frustration as I made my way toward Jarvis's room. As I felt a small
pain creeping up into my head, I felt as though I was about to cry. The feeling stayed with
me for a brief moment, but I quickly put on a straight face for Jarvis when he saw me.
"Jarvis…" I called, looking around at the abundance of jars .
"Lydia? Is that you?" I heard a voice ask.
"Yes dear, it's me. I have something for you." I immediately heard a small clanging , as I
saw a figure with short, bleach blonde hair arise from the sea of shaped glass.
"O Lydia. How are you this da- what happened to your stomach?" I almost forgot the last
time I saw Jarvis was two weeks before I had my baby.
"O, I delivered about a week ago. Your new nephew's name is Chauncey."
"Chauncey, ah yes, a fine name, I shall consider it when I get a new child."
I didn't know what he meant by this, but then I remembered that each jar in his room was
his own child. He never met a woman during his life, and I think he never will.
"You said you had something for me?" he quickly answered back.
"Hmm? O yes, I do." I brought he jar into his sight, and he stared at it like it was a
priceless artifact from a lost kingdom. He ran towards me, and took the jar
carefully, like it was a new born infant.
"Such beauty this one has. A bit dirty, but I shall take her" he said, he eyes sparkling with
happiness.
"Her?" I questioned.
"Yes, a beautiful girl. A few scratches, but none the less, a fine one. I shall name
her Abigail."
"A beautiful name indeed" I agreed with him. I may be crazy for talking like this, but he
needs the support. If people tried to correct him, he would be just miserable.
"DINNER IS READY!!!" I heard Mr. Luggs scream at the top of he lungs. I felt the
vibrations of everyone in the house racing down toward the dining room to eat dinner.
"Jarvis, are you coming?" I asked.
"Yes, yes" he responded, slowly coming out of the crowd of jars. When he finally came to
me, we both exchanged smiles as I began to escort him down to dinner.