Chapter 6 - Bloom and Uncertainty

The drive home from the farmers market felt lighter than the morning had.

The azaleas were tucked carefully into the back seat, cardboard sleeves bracing the pots so they wouldn’t tip at every stoplight. Linda kept twisting around to check on them, as if they might shift when no one was looking.

“You realize,” Sam said from behind the wheel, “we went for honey.”

Rebecca smiled, already rearranging her garden in her mind. “And came back with structure.”

Linda nodded confidently. “Structure is important.”

Sam sighed. “I’m starting to fear that word.”

When they pulled into the driveway, the late morning sun had softened. The shade garden beyond the gate looked calm and steady — layered greens, quiet ferns, the familiar comfort of routine.

Rebecca stepped through first.

Everything looked the same.

She inhaled, letting the cool air settle her. Then, without thinking, she turned toward the potting bench.

The seedling.

The one that had survived the wrong delivery.

The one she had soaked in a bowl.

The one Sam had nearly sent into orbit with fertilizer.

She hadn’t checked it yet that morning.

Behind her, Linda was still discussing azalea placement. “Near the birdbath would catch the morning light.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Rebecca said absently.

She crouched beside the small pot.

The soil looked darker than yesterday. Still damp.

The leaves weren’t shriveled. They weren’t burned. But they weren’t standing as tall either. One leaned slightly to the side. Another had a faint pale edge creeping along the tip.

It wasn’t dramatic.

But it wasn’t strong.

Sam noticed her silence. “What’s wrong?”

Rebecca touched the soil gently. “I’m not sure.”

Linda walked over, lowering her voice automatically. “Is it worse?”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca admitted.

Before either of them could say more, a familiar voice drifted over the fence.

“Market haul successful?”

Dave leaned against the rail, squinting at the new azaleas.

“Define successful,” Sam muttered.

Dave stepped through the side gate like he’d been waiting for an invitation. “I see color. That’s new.”

Linda straightened. “Azaleas.”

Dave nodded approvingly. “Bold move.”

Rebecca barely looked up. Her eyes were still on the seedling.

Dave noticed. “What’s the status of the patient?”

She gave him a small look. “Uncertain.”

He crouched beside them without ceremony. “Let’s see.”

All four of them studied the tiny plant like it might respond to group pressure.

Dave pointed gently toward the base. “That new?”

Rebecca leaned closer.

There — barely visible — a thin, pale green spear just beginning to rise from the center.

Small.

Fragile.

But undeniably new.

Linda gasped softly. “Oh.”

Sam exhaled. “See? Tough.”

Rebecca didn’t smile wide. She didn’t celebrate. She just watched it carefully, weighing hope against caution.

“It’s trying,” she said.

Dave nodded once. “That’s what they do.”

He stood and brushed his hands on his jeans. “You can’t rush ‘em. Can’t rescue ‘em twice either. You did your part.”

Rebecca sat back on her heels.

The excitement from the market felt distant now. The azaleas still waited in their sleeves. The kettle corn smell had long faded.

“Maybe I keep overthinking it,” she said quietly.

Dave shrugged. “Garden’s not a performance. It’s a process.”

Sam raised a hand. “Can we put that on a sign somewhere?”

Linda laughed softly, tension easing just enough.

Rebecca stood slowly. “No more adjusting. No more boosting. No more hovering.”

“Especially no boosting,” Sam added.

Dave smirked. “That was memorable.”

They all looked at the seedling one more time.

Small. Quiet. Alive.

Rebecca felt something settle inside her — not certainty, but trust.

“Alright,” she said gently to the plant. “You grow when you’re ready.”

Dave gave a short nod and headed back toward the fence. “I’ll check on it tomorrow. See if it’s decided to prove you all wrong.”

Linda picked up her azalea again. “Birdbath corner?”

Rebecca looked around the shade garden — at what was thriving, what was uncertain, what was still becoming.

“We’ll find the right place,” she said.

And this time, she wasn’t just talking about the azaleas.