I do not own Clark, nor his Ma nor Pa nor their hometown of Smallville. Mr. and Mrs. Wingate and their home and garden though I did make up.
I make no money from this, so please just read and enjoy.
"And please be in prayer for Garnet Wingate, our dear sister in Christ. She fell and fractured her hip Wednesday while visiting her sister in Topeka. She'll now have to stay in a big city hospital for some time. Despite having her sister there with her, I'm sure Garnet misses being in her own home and all of us."
Clark nearly jumped out of his family pew. As usual, on this Sunday morning, he was in church with his ma and pa. They'd been listening to one of the deacons read a list of prayer concerns for the congregation to bow their heads and petition God about. He had not expected Mrs. Wingate to be mentioned.
When he was small, Mrs. Wingate had been the wife of the banker. When he was ten, though, the banker had died of a heart-attack. The whole county had seemed to go to Mr. Wingate's funeral including his ma, pa, and him. His pa had gone up to Mrs. Wingate after the burial and told her her late husband had given him extensions on loans a time or two that had really helped their family out.
That had made Clark both grateful and embarrassed. His pa tried to avoid borrowing if he could. He taught him to do the same. Now and again though, seed had to be bought for the coming season, when the last harvest had been too bad to pay for it, or the tractor broke mid-harvest. What could you do when you couldn't make money without spending it, but didn't have it to spend? You couldn't pay anyone back if what you needed to pay them back didn't work or wasn't yours yet. Every now and then you had to borrow. Pa said it was okay if you put forth every effort to pay what you owed and let others borrow from you when they were in like need.
Mrs. Wingate, watery-eyed, had shaken his pa's hand and thanked him for his kind words without really looking up from the ground she was staring at. Clark had felt sorry for her. Ma said everyone poor and rich alike needed comfort sometimes, because death came for everyone, except a select few in the scriptures who got carried away. Even they were mourned by their loved ones left behind.
When they got home, Ma had made another loaf of bread for Mrs. Wingate, because she'd said she'd already finished the one ma had sent her when Mr. Wingate was first taken to the hospital where he died. That had been years ago, but now Mrs. Wingate was once again mentioned in prayer. Clark couldn't help but remember it was now mid-March.
Mr. Wingate had died in winter. During the next spring, when the late Mr. Wingate's birthday had been along with their wedding anniversary, Mrs. Wingate had told folks that working in her garden had helped her work through the grief. What could she do to work through it laid up in a hospital far away? And what about her garden itself? Would anyone tend to it?
Having no children of their own, the Wingates, or at least Mrs. Wingate, had had more money than responsibilities. At least, Clark had heard folks say that. While Mr. Wingate had spent a lot of time managing other folks' money for them, Mrs. Wingate had spent a lot of time managing other folks working in her front and back yards. Both were really one big garden. Many said it was the best managed and most beautiful garden in at least a dozen connected counties. Her potted flowers and flower-arrangements always won prizes at the county fairs and sometimes placed in state.
Most children in Smallville had been paid to help care for Mrs. Wingate's garden at some point, maybe many points, in their lives. He had gone when he was eight and been back many times with Pete and Lana and other kids he knew from school. It was sort of a right of passage and point of pride for a Smallville kid to earn their first wage working in Mrs. Wingate's garden. You could usually water and weed before you could mow. Of course, you had Mrs. Wingate talking or "directing" over your shoulder, but after you were done, she gave you lemonade and cookies from boxes on her back porch. And right before you left you got your money. She gave you what she promised and maybe more if you'd been real careful in following her instructions. She might also dock you for doing the opposite. She always warned you about that before you started, though. Clark kinda understood her doing that if you ruined rather than helped her beloved plants grow.
Parents in Smallville tended to think of working in Mrs. Wingate's garden as a life learning opportunity for their children like caring for a neighbors' stock, mowing their lawns, and picking up accidentally left behind ears of corn in other folks' fields.
Having some change or a few bucks in your pocket was worth getting an earful on how to do things from Mrs. Wingate for most Smallville kids. Her being so particular paid off too. Clark thought her garden was usually the prettiest sight in Smallville most of the year outside of sunrises, sunsets, and his ma's pies fresh out of the oven. His ma's fresh baked bread came pretty close too now that he thought about it.
Mrs. Wingate, though, didn't bake, crochet or quilt. She only gardened. So, what was she gonna do while laid up so long in a hospital all the way in Topeka?
Clark wondered how long it would be before she could return to her house let alone work on her garden. After church, he overheard some ladies talking about it and a few particular comments broke through his attempt at inattention. Overhearing other folks' words had been inevitable for him for a few years now, but "listening" was a choice and eavesdropping, he knew that. But still, it was hard not to listen this time.
"Will she be able to afford a hospital stay, especially in the city? They say Howard's insurance policy and their savings are running out. He died right after they refurbished the house. And the stock market is down."
"He was only sixty-eight. He expected to work a few more years. Said he enjoyed it, and it wasn't like he was working in the fields."
"She'll probably weather it financially better than most, but she'll have to be more careful with her spending, now, like the rest of us."
"She'll have to cut back on what she spends on her garden next year. I don't suppose she'll be able to do anything with it at all this one."
The four ladies fell silent, perhaps mourning the prettiest sight in Smallville disappearing like a mirage in the desert. Despite knowing they were right behind him Clark was so focused on listening, he jumped when his father laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, Boy, let's go home."
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God bless
ScirbeofHeroes
