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Garden Plot Nancy leaned against the fence, taking a deserved break from the morning's labor. Using a shovel to plow the soil was rough work, but she loved it. She felt it made her garden produce more, as if her sweat made the earth more fertile. She always felt close to her farming ancestors when she turned the earth by hand, as if she were a part of history itself. It's the perfect spring day, too, she thought. Cool yet sunny, there was a bright glow over everything, as if nature stood in a spotlight. There wasn't a hint of breeze, yet the air was full of the smells of recent rain, of opening blooms, and of sun-warmed soil.The happy sound of birds making new nests reached her, even over the laughter of her three year old son. Michael sat at the other end of the garden plot, giggling as he sunk his pudgy hands and arms elbow deep into the newly turned dirt. Sunlight sparkled off his dark blonde hair, and he lifted playful blue eyes up to her. "Thoo!" he exclaimed happily."Yes, honey, two arms in the dirt. I see you. You're going to need a bath after Mommy is done, aren't you?" Nodding, oblivious to her question, he returned to his own digging. Gripping her shovel with renewed vigor, she followed his example. She wanted the soil ready for planting later in the month, and last night's forecast had predicted rain later in the week.Moving into this house had been a blessing, a miracle considering the obstacles they'd had to overcome. But the large backyard and quiet neighborhood had been worth the effort it had taken to secure. They'd lost most of the summer during the negotiations, and had moved in during the last fine days of fall. Disappointed that she wouldn't be able to plant anything that late in the season, she had contented herself with preparing the ground for an early spring planting. She had found the ground in this part of Portland to be riddled with river rocks, and she'd now had a huge pile of stones to line the garden with. The rocks had forced her to dig deeper than she'd first planned, but the difference in height to the yard would help her keep water inside the garden, saving her both money and time when the dryer days of summer came. Today the earth was soft and pliant, and she was grateful for her own hard work last fall."Thoo!" Michael cried triumphantly. She glanced over and saw him yank an enormous dirt clod out of his hole. Perhaps 'thoo' meant 'do' or 'you' today. Yesterday it had meant 'two' and 'tooth', last week it had meant 'choo-choo train'.Banging the lump against his feet, he laughed as dirt flew off in every direction. Fearing he might get some of it in his eyes, she hurried over to him. "No!" she ordered, snatching the huge clod out his hand. It was heavier than she'd expected, and she brushed the clinging dirt away, thinking to add another stone to her sizable collection. Instead, she found herself holding a decrepit shoe. With a disgusted cry, she dropped it, and it landed at her feet with a dull thud.Michael reached for it. "Thoo!" "No! It's gross!" she cried, retrieving the item with two fingers, loathe to touch the object fully.Perhaps one of the previous occupants of the house had chosen to bury his trash in the yard. It had built in the 1950's, and people then had been known to skimp any way they could. More plausible that it had been the favorite toy of some large dog. Perhaps someone had gotten their foot stuck in the mud, and simply forgotten the shoe when they returned to the house. She didn't care, it didn't belong in her son's hands, and it didn't belong in the garden. Holding it out in front of her, she tossed the shoe down next to her compost pile. She could put it in the trash later."Thoo!" Michael giggled. Not another piece of trash, she pleaded to the sky. Hurrying over, she picked him up and moved him to a grassy part of the backyard. The last thing she needed was for him to eat some bit of tin or ram his foot down on a rusty nail. She'd have to get a closer look at his end of the garden.Michael thrust a grubby fist into her face. Proud of himself, he opened his hand. In the center of his palm was a greenish-white tooth. "Thoo!" Shocked, she simply stared at the gross thing in her son's palm. Lifting his hand toward his mouth, instinct took over, and she slapped the object out of his hand, sending it spinning across the yard. Feeling stupid, she stood immobile, staring at where it hand landed.If he'd managed to get that thing into his mouth . . . she didn't dare finish the thought. Sending a prayer of thankfulness skyward, she left Michael pulling grass out of the yard, and went to his hole. What other disgusting things were in there? Crouching down, she pushed clods up and out of the opening, noticing how rich the soil felt. Darker than the rest of the garden plot, as if it had been over fertilized. What could they have buried under here? Did common household trash really create such rich earth?A second shoe covered in moist earth was revealed. Swallowing her inclination to toss the filthy thing aside, she examined this one. Cautious, she brushed the dirt away from the objects instead of removing them. Greenish-gray bones, long buried in her backyard, were revealed. She followed along the edge of one of the longer ones, until she was sure these horrible remains were not from a favored pet.Nausea swept over her, and she scrambled to her feet, trying to escape the sight of those old bones. Someone had buried a human body in her backyard. She lived in the house of a murderer! Panicked, she stumbled over to where she'd left Michael. He was covered in bright green now, grass clinging to his hair and clothes as she snatched him up. Jogging, she raced for the front of the house, and her phone.
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