One day, Mr. Adams called Jennie and Kara over to the house. He wanted them to come and take his wife's plants and the food that was left in the freezer. Soon he would lock up the house and leave for a long visit at his daughter's.
The pink petunias were growing nicely in the window boxes. Aunt Sarah had planted them early that spring. As Jennie came up the walk, Mr. Adams was waiting on the porch swing, just as his wife used to do.
They walked to the back garden where vegetables were growing in profusion and the big apple tree was loaded with ripening apples. It made her think of the day last fall when she helped Aunt Sarah rake all the fallen leaves. How much fun and laughter they shared as the wind broke up and whisked away their little piles almost as rapidly as they gathered them.
Inside, the plants were ready for them to take. They had been Aunt Sarah's pride and joy. Following Mr. Adams to the basement, Jennie waited while he opened the big freezer. "She saved everything!" he said, showing a trace of amusement through his sorrow. "Look at this, Jennie." He showed her some little dabs of leftover soup. "I think I'll just keep them. Maybe I can mix them up together and have a big hearty bowl before I leave. But take these rolls. She made them herself. I know you people will enjoy them. And look at this! Ugh!" He made a face. "Chicken livers. It seems she saved everything!" It was a bittersweet time-sad and amusing all in one. "I'm going to take them out and bury them in the back yard," he said disgustedly.
"But Muffin would enjoy them," Jennie suggested.
"If you want them, you take them," he said without emotion. "And please take all of this chicken. I can't use it for a long while. Your mother might as well cook it up."
He walked with them in the waning sunshine to the car. They were loaded down with food and plants. There was an especially large plant that he set ever so carefully in the back seat so as not to break the delicate leaves. "Give them the same loving care she did, and they'll all be fine," he exclaimed.
Jennie tried to do as he said, but eventually every one of the plants died.
A few days later, Jennie walked past the Adams' empty house. Mr. Adams had locked it up tight and left, not to return until winter set in. She recalled how happy Aunt Sarah had once been in this little cottage with its pink petunias. Now it was empty. Alec was gone. Stephen was working all summer. She saw little of him other than at the meetings. Julia was working in town, so she was gone from early morning until evening. She had finally found acceptable work in a small office. With school over for Jennie, she, too, was facing the dilemma of where to find suitable employment. It was good having the summer free, but she knew she needed to be busy through each day, and wouldn't be content to go on this way day after day. She wondered if Uncle Robert would come back after all. Life was so full of changes.
As long as Mr. Adams was away, she couldn't do for him the little services that had helped ease her loss. Before their daughter returned home after the funeral, she had asked Jennie if for a time she could do the few things that might be hard for her father and check in on him from time to time. It had been almost like doing something for Aunt Sarah, but now he was away and she preferred not to even pass the empty house.
She often climbed the long stairway to her bedroom to read, write letters, and jot down memories of Aunt Sarah in her diary. She didn't want to ever forget the understanding advice that had been given her. Those times meant so much to her now.
When the Adams' daughter left, she had said, "Now go and give the love you had for Mother to some other old person who needs it." Jennie thought that a generous, unselfish thing for her to say. But she had already decided she wasn't going to let herself love anyone that much again. Then she wouldn't have to bear the hurt.
The summer crops were ready for harvest. They lay in the fields around Jaffrey in the last rays of summer sun. At home she gathered tomatoes for her mother from the garden. After picking fresh ears of corn at suppertime, she popped them into the steaming kettle. As she passed her nature garden, the springtime when Stephen brought her the wild geranium seemed years away. It was reseeding itself this summer and several of its offshoots were blooming in other parts of the garden.