A pit formed in my stomach. I felt like I had been punched. I stared in disbelief at what I had just read in the paper. Under the obituaries, it was all there: her name, her photo and the details of very full life. The memories came back. She was a part of my past; a good part. I reread her obit. I was alone on my back porch overlooking my garden of colorful flowers, native shrubs, and manicured trees. She had sparked my love for gardening.
Her name was Ginger Green. At first, I called her Ms. Ginger. She preferred that over Ms. Green. My college required me to complete community service hours, and my mother suggested I try the city botanical gardens. Ms. Ginger was the first woman I met when I showed up one early Saturday morning. She pulled up in an early '80's two door Mercedes coupe convertibles. The top was down and she looked like a movie star from yesteryear. Her big blonde hair was restrained under a green scarf. She smiled my way as she pulled into her parking spot. She turned the car off and called out to me.
"Are you Chris?" She called out.
"Yes ma'am." I respectfully answered.
Her smile continued as she exited the car. I shook her hand and asked if I could help her with the grocery bags stacked in the passenger seat. That scored points with her.
"Thank you for helping me. I brought breakfast for the volunteers." She carried her purse and two bags off to the main building. I followed, carrying the rest. With Ms. Ginger in the lead, I was able to observe her from behind. Her legs were a matched pair of elegant muscle. She liked to walk, a lot, and it showed. My eyes moved up to her ass. I just knew it was like her legs under her long khaki shorts.
She caught me starring when she turned around at the entrance gate. I sheepishly looked to the side.
Ms. Ginger explained the volunteer procedures. "This is where we all go in during volunteer hours. We make sure to check in with Gus." She pushed a code on the button lock, turned the knob and we were in.
Gus, the security guard, was housed in a small room close to the garden's front gate. He slumped behind a glass window with theater box office holes in it playing solitaire.
"Morin' Gus." Ginger announced with a cheery sing-song voice.
Despite his gruff look, Gus was generally cheery.
"Good morning, beautiful director." He sing-songed a response in kind.
Ginger pulled a small paper bag from one of the big bags she was carrying. She slid it through the wide, lower opening.
"Thank you! You are such a sweetheart." Gus beamed. Turns out most every Saturday morning she brought him a special breakfast.
Gus saw me out of the corner of his eye. "Is this your son?" He asked.
"No." She said. "This is Chris, my newest volunteer."
I nodded and said good morning. Ginger had me moving along. She asked me to set up a table with the grocery items while she made coffee. The rest of the volunteers filed in. After half an hour, a pot of coffee, and several boxes of morning pastries, everyone had their work assignments. I ended up with Ms. Ginger.
She had me pushing wheelbarrows with new plants, compost, and clippings. On my last clippings dump before lunch, one volunteer told me to tell Ginger that lunch was almost ready. I added a few new plants to the wheelbarrow for the return trip and pushed them back to where Ginger was working.
I rolled up the path and saw Ginger on her knees. She was sitting up, holding a bulb, checking it, and then placing it in a bag. She had on a broad brimmed gardening hat without her sunglasses. She kept her back totally straight which made her breasts appear larger than they were. At that moment she looked like a 1950's pinup beauty.
I put the skids of the wheel barrow down with a thud and she turned to me. Once again, Ginger caught me looking at her body.
"Are you having fun yet, Chris?" Her tone was sarcastic.
"Yes ma'am." I smirked. "Lunch is about ready."
"Great!" She put down her trowel and stood up. We walked to the building where we had breakfast. We made small talk, and she commented about my hard work as she rubbed my arm from elbow to shoulder.
Lunch taught me more about Ginger and the rest of the volunteers. Ms. Ginger was the social leader of this group. She was young and vivacious enough to keep the group moving. Some of the people were bitter and negative. She was the opposite with enough positive energy to negate a few of them.
After lunch it was more of the same for me. I pushed the wheelbarrow until we finished in the late afternoon. Ms. Ginger asked if I had a ride home. I told her I had my truck.
"Thank you for coming out. I hope you continue to come, we need some energy here. See you next weekend?" She smiled. I think she wanted me to say yes. So I did. "Excellent!" She beamed. "Now I am off to jump in my pool, then my hot tub." With that she drove off. I so wanted to jump in her pool.
The next weekend I was there early again. It was another weekend of hauling with the wheel barrow. Ms. Ginger's smile and soft flirtations were a great addition. I enjoyed the work. I was learning a great deal about plants, organic fertilizers, water, and soil types. Plus the gardens were peaceful and quiet.
I enjoyed that second Saturday so much that I became a regular volunteer. Some days I was there for 4 hours, others a bit more. One morning Ms. Ginger spoke to all the volunteers during the sugar-caffeine breakfast.
"Earth Day is coming up. We will need volunteers to help set up booths for the various groups that will be here." Her announcement led to groans from some. There was a signup sheet. I was the first one to put my name on it. Ms. Ginger saw it. She affectionately rubbed my arm and said a quiet "Thank you."
When that day came it was not a big deal physically, but it was a long day. We were there early and late for put up and tear down. My favorite booth was the solar power booth; they were making cookies. Ms. Ginger was zipping around the gardens like a humming bird ensuring everything was ok. We both exchanged smiles when she checked on me and a few other young guys hauling ice to various water stations.
At the day's end I was tired, sweaty, and just wanted to hit the shower. After the last booth was tucked away in a storage barn, I was enjoying a soda with some of the volunteers when Ms. Ginger came up and thanked us for our hard work. Despite having been there all day she did not look the least bit disheveled. She gave us all hugs and then went on to find another group to thank. One guy mentioned how attractive she was for "an older woman." We all thought that.
The next weekend I showed up the usual time. The skies were threatening rain from a cool front. I was in the truck in the parking lot when Ms. Ginger pulled up next to me. She had the top up and quickly exited her vehicle and tapped on my passenger window. I let her in. She hopped up on the bench seat. Something was different about her this morning. Her hair always looked good. But this morning it looked more like she was set for a night out, not a day at the botanical garden. I also remember she smelled amazing.
"Good morning." She greeted me with a hug, leaning over. "We might be the only ones today. If so, and it rains, we can do a few things in one of the greenhouses."
I secretly wanted it just to be us. We waited. No other cars showed up in the parking lot and the sky continued to grow dark.
"Shall we go?" She asked.
"Yes, let's." We both exited the truck's cab and headed through the gate, past Gus, and down a path to an out of the way greenhouse. Once inside I noticed how dim it was. The overcast sky gave it a soft green light. There were empty shelves alone the perimeter walls. In the middle of the greenhouse there was a waist high pile of bagged potting soil stacked on a pallet. Some of the cold weather sheets they put over plants were neatly folded on top.
"Where is the light switch?" I asked and turn around to look back at the door we just came in. Ms. Ginger shut it.
"There isn't one." She said. Her voice was low and soft.
She silently approached to me.
"What do you need me to do today?" I asked with all the naiveté of a young man.
