“I need to sit,” she said weakly, seconds before falling to the floor, the impact softened by a rug so deep her fingers sank into the fibers, and she wondered if it would close over her head like the sands outside, and the raging waters of the river.
Ben walked into the shadows and she heard the scraping of furniture, followed shortly by the reemergence of his face, puffy with exertion, as he pushed a padded chair to her. “Have a seat,” he said grandly, then dropped to the floor next to her, falling back onto the carpet and staring into the emptiness of the far-reaching ceiling.
Lucy could almost forgive his attitude when she saw how much it had cost him to bring her the chair. She lifted herself into it, studying his pasty, pale face while he had his eyes closed for a moment. “Thank you for the chair,” she said.
“Dad says I need to make sure I’m polite. He says a boy built like me won’t get a girl who wants protection. So I’ve got to aim for one who wants someone to be nice to her.”
“So you’re nice on purpose, not because you want to be, is what you’re saying?”
“Is ‘nice’ a naturally occurring trait?”
Lucy didn’t answer, since she doubted failure to thrive was a naturally occurring trait either. Ben sat up and pulled himself to his feet using her chair. “C’mon. Dad’s in the gardens. He’ll be wanting to see you.”
She followed him through the cavernous lobby, their footsteps echoing out and above them, bouncing off the unseen walls and ceiling. They emerged from the darkness into a garden so bright Lucy’s eyes ached from the contraction of her pupils. The garden stood in stark contrast to the hollowness of the lobby, every inch covered with light and green growth. Lucy’s words did not echo endlessly there, instead absorbed by the life around her, drinking in her voice instead of throwing it back at her in defiance.
The loamy smell of good, wet dirt filled her nose and made her soul ache for home, and lengths of green fields drenched with rain. The sudden whiff of life was so direct and strong Lucy felt woozy again. She settled onto the cold marble floor with a soft sigh as her skin drank in the moisture around her, her body answering the life in the room with a response of its own as she felt every pore in her skin opening up to drink air cleaned by green leaves.
“I think she likes it,” said a deep voice, and Lucy startled from her reverie to see a man among the vegetation, his smile a glaring white against the backdrop of green.
“Dad, she can do it,” Ben said by way of introduction.
The smile slipped for a second as he shot an irritated look at his son, and then returned when he glanced at Lucy. “Hello, little one,” he said. The endearment sounded so natural in his deep voice that she felt comforted.
“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly aware that Ben’s father had a handsome face to match his voice. “I’m Lucy.”
“Lucy, welcome.”
She ducked her head in response but could think of nothing to say. Ben backed away as his father came toward them, emerging from the garden like a god of life. He was a massive man, the biggest Lucy had ever seen; he would dwarf Lynn, and Lucy herself only rose to his elbow. Feeling more childlike than ever, she reached up to shake his hand.
“I’m Lucy.”
“You already said that.” He winked at her, and her hand was immediately lost inside his, which was coated with the rich blackness of the soil.
“I’m Lander,” he said, releasing her hand and clasping her shoulder, turning her away from Ben. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
Lucy’s eyes were still riveted on Lander’s bicep, so she didn’t realize he meant the garden until Ben sighed heavily. “Yes,” she said, redirecting her gaze. “It’s… is that a tomato?”
The inviting flash of red among the waves of green brought Lucy out from under Lander’s protective arm, her mouth watering at the sight of a favorite food so long denied her. “You grew a tomato?”
“More than one, actually,” Lander said. “That’s the first ripe one of this crop.”
Nearer the plants, Lucy could see the bunches of green tomatoes, swelling with life and drinking in the sun from the glass ceiling above, the moisture from the thick air around it. The one that had caught her eye had just turned, the skin a deep orange that would turn to overripe redness in a day or two.
“It’s yours, if you want it.” Lander’s voice was at her elbow.
She reached for it, her hand barely glancing the thin skin pulled taut over the meat of the fruit, vibrant with life. It snapped off the vine easily, the spicy scent of the broken stem delivering the taste to her mouth before she’d touched it to her lips. “You’re sure? It shouldn’t go to someone else, someone who—”
“I grew it,” Lander said. “What’s here is mine, and that is for you. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Needing no more urging, Lucy bit, her sharp teeth breaking the skin and sending the red juice spilling over her lips and dripping to the marble floor at her feet.
Lynn looked mistrustfully at the green tomato Lucy had brought her as proof of the garden down the street. “You ate one?”
“A red one, yeah,” Lucy said, flooded with guilt that it hadn’t occurred to her to save part of the ripe one for Lynn. “I thought you could set that one in the windowsill, ’til it’s ready.”
Lynn sniffed it, closing her eyes in a replica of Lucy’s moment of bliss at the smell. A small smile tugged at her mouth, but it was tinged with sadness, and Lucy knew she was thinking of home instead of the small miracle in front of her.
“Once you feel good enough, you’ve got to see it,” Lucy said, unable to hide her enthusiasm. “I guess it used to be a botanical garden.” She pronounced the word slowly so it came out correctly, unable to shake the thought of Ben’s mockery even when he wasn’t around. “They had all kinds of weird plants and things there people would come to look at, so when the Shortage hit, Ben’s grandfather pulled up all the flowery plants and they used that dirt for vegetables.”
“Uh-huh.” Lynn ran her thumbnail over the tight green skin of the tomato. “And how do they water this garden?”
“I didn’t ask. But Ben said Lander’s dad took all the water out of the fountains and swimming pools—and there were a ton of pools, Lynn, you should see this place—and stored it in the hot water tanks of all the hotels.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I can’t not be,” Lucy said. “We’re in the middle of the desert and you’re holding a tomato.”
Lynn sniffed the skin one more time and handed it to Lucy to set in the windowsill. “Who is Lander?”
“That’s Ben’s dad. Wait ’til you meet him, Lynn—good God. He’s massive.” Lucy felt herself warming at the memory of his smile. “He might even make you feel feminine.”
Lucy turned from the windowsill to see Lynn staring over her shoulder out at the bright-blue sky. “I’ve never felt more or less of a woman because of a man.”
“I didn’t mean…” Lucy stumbled over her words, but Lynn waved them away.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just sick of being in this hospital bed.”
“It’s actually not a hospital,” Lucy piped up. “This is a hotel, same as the other where the garden is, but they took some of the first-floor rooms and brought over equipment from the hospital so everyone isn’t scattered all across the city.”