The Midnight Gardener: The Town of Superstition, #1

By R. G. Thomas

A lonely teenage boy whose father has moved them too often for him to make lasting friendships.
A mysterious neighbor his own age who hums as he gardens... at night... surrounded by fireflies.

 

Superstition is the town Thaddeus Cane and his father, Nathan, have settled in this time, and every evening Thaddeus becomes more intrigued with his new neighbor. When Thaddeus finally works up the nerve to visit his neighbor, the crush blooming underneath surfaces, and he realizes that Teofil, the midnight gardener, is lonely as well.

 

When his father finds out where he's been spending his time, Thaddeus is forbidden from returning. But the attraction is too strong, and soon Thaddeus is back in Teofil's yard, leading to the revelation of long held secrets that upend Thaddeus's quiet life and sends him on the adventure of a lifetime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mitten Ginger Media
• Release date: Jul 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223489122

Book preview

Chapter One

Thaddeus Cane stood in the middle of his new bedroom and looked toward the west. His room was in the front corner of the house, so it had two windows, a rare treat. His last four, maybe five, bedrooms only had one. He was able to see down into the neighboring yard from the window on the west-facing wall. A tall wooden privacy fence surrounded the neighbor’s yard and house, but from this angle, Thaddeus could see over it to the lush, green lawn, flowerbeds exploding with color like a fireworks display, and a long stretch of dark, loamy earth along the rear of the property where vegetables had been planted.

Near the western side of the yard, a massive, gnarled stump stood halfway between the house and the rear section of fence. Its surface had been bleached nearly white by the elements, and it looked like some giant bone sticking up out of the ground. Groupings of plants with long, dark leaves surrounded the stump, providing contrast. Thaddeus figured the tree had to have been massive, and he wondered what had brought it down.

The neighboring house itself stood three stories tall, sided in dark green wood, with windows framed in dark brown that gave the place an earthy feel. The paint was peeling in a few spots, but overall the house looked majestic, but in a tired way. A rounded turret rose along one front corner to a black-shingled pointed peak on which a dragon weather vane roared into the wind. Windows popped up along the roofline in both the front and the back—gabled windows, he thought they were called—but curtains blocked any possible view into the rooms beyond.

The other window in Thaddeus’ room looked out over the brown, scraggly front lawn that led to a tree-shaded asphalt sidestreet. He had checked out the backyard while carrying boxes in from the rented trailer, and seen a similarly neglected back lawn that ended at a thick wooded area. The trees stood close together, branches stretching up to the sky. The limbs of the trees were so entangled, he had trouble telling which branch belonged to which tree. It wouldn’t take long for a person to get lost inside that wood, he’d reasoned, shivering at the thought. Now, he peered through the glass at the neighbor’s fenced-in oasis again, and wondered why he and his father never seemed to be able to find a house with that kind of yard.

Because Dad doesn’t make enough money. He felt bad for thinking it even though it was the truth.

His dad changed jobs often. Actually, more than just often. Nathan Cane changed jobs even more than the number of times they’d moved to a new city. And that was quite a lot.

Thaddeus put those thoughts out of his mind and looked away from the window to take in his room. The walls were a bland but warm shade of gray, and the ceiling something off-white, but the space was almost perfectly square and had a small closet with a door. The closet was an upgrade from the last few places, where Thaddeus either didn’t have a door at all or the landlord had hung an old bedsheet or linen shower curtain up in place of one. His furniture included a single bed frame and mattress with a rickety nightstand alongside, a particle board desk with an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, and a bookshelf nearby. At least this house had some furniture. The last three places they’d lived, Thaddeus had kept his books in boxes stacked along the wall.

Even though his room felt stuffy from being shut up for too long, Thaddeus didn’t want to open the windows yet. He wanted to get to know the new house, smell it as it stood before fresh air rushed in and cleared out all of its history, all of its stories. He did this with every new place to try and get a feeling of home.

Maybe some day he’d actually find it.

He closed his eyes and reached his arms up over his head, fingers spread wide. The ceiling was far out of his reach—he was several inches shy of six feet—but the stretch felt good after such a long car ride. He breathed deeply of the scents in the room: old wood, moth balls from the closet, and carpet deodorizer.

The carpet beneath his socks felt thin, and he figured it was pretty old, probably trod on by countless renters before him. He kept his eyes shut as he grinned and imagined joking with his father that the carpet might be as old as him. Not that his father was truly that old. Well, he was forty now, which might as well have been a hundred and forty from Thaddeus’ perspective, but not really that old.

As if summoned by Thaddeus’ thoughts, his father cleared his throat from the doorway.

Well? he asked. Everything smell okay?

Thaddeus opened his eyes. In the late afternoon light from the window, Nathan Cane’s face looked drawn and gaunt. Just recently the crow’s feet at the corners of his father’s hazel eyes seemed to have deepened, and a small wrinkle of concentration or concern had appeared. His thick brown hair, always slightly unkempt but somehow stylish despite the cheap haircuts, was threaded with gray. Thaddeus wasn’t sure if it was the stress of them moving yet again or something else, but this relocation seemed to weigh more heavily on his father than all the others.

It’s nice, Thaddeus said. Smells good. Nothing bad.

Not like the place in Eagle’s Hollow?

Thaddeus sneered and shook his head. Not at all.

Good. His father grinned back, but the furrow between his eyebrows didn’t let up.

How did you find this place? Thaddeus asked.

His father shrugged. Usual way. Got on the computer and checked places for rent.

Pretty far away from Moberly, Missouri, Thaddeus said. And the town name is a little much.

You don’t like it? His father grinned. I thought it was intriguing. It was part of the reason I decided on it.

Superstition? Thaddeus shook his head. Sounds like a TV series aimed at teens or a tourist trap.

Tomorrow we can check out the downtown area and see if that’s true. He gestured to Thaddeus. Maybe you’ll be asked to star in a TV series. You never know.

Yeah, sure. Thaddeus rolled his eyes. And this carpet is brand new.

All right, smart aleck. His father turned for the bedroom door. I’ll get to work unpacking the kitchen.

Do you need help?

His father shook his head. Nah. I’ve got it down to a science by now. You stay up here and organize your room. I know you’re itching to get your books out of the boxes and on those shelves.

It is nice to have a few more pieces of furniture here, Thaddeus said as he eyed the bookshelf, already picturing how he would arrange everything.

Yeah, it is. Sorry we had to move again.

Thaddeus nodded, then waved at the bookshelf. It’s okay. I got a bookshelf.

His father laughed. I’ll let you get to filling it then.

Thaddeus watched his father leave the room and listened to him walk downstairs. Moments later, he heard drawers and cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen. With a final inhalation and exhalation of the air in the closed room, Thaddeus pushed up both windows. He noticed there were no screens on the windows, unlike other places they had lived, and hoped they hadn’t been overlooked during the rental preparations. He’d hate to wake in the middle of the night swarmed by mosquitoes.

Turning away from the window, he got to work unpacking the few boxes of his personal belongings. It wasn’t much, really, just clothes, a desktop computer his father had bought for him secondhand at least ten years before, a collection of CDs, a few DVDs and video games. And, of course, his books. Having moved so often throughout his life, Thaddeus didn’t own a lot of things. Physical belongings weighed a person down. The only really heavy items he owned were his books, and he wasn’t about to go without them. He unpacked his well-read copies of Tolkien and Heinlein, Bradbury and Martin, and lined them up on his bookshelf.

At the bottom of the box of books, he found an old, well-traveled envelope. He opened it and took out the small stack of library cards—one from every city they’d lived in, ever since he’d been old enough to walk. Since they always seemed to lack enough money for nights out, his father had spent most evenings reading to Thaddeus. Soon, he was reading along, and by the time he’d turned four, Thaddeus was reading on his own. The first school he’d attended had placed him in an advanced learning classroom, but that idea had gotten lost in their many moves.

The smell of the flowerbeds next door drifted in on the breeze, and every now and again he would lean on the windowsill and stare down into the neighboring yard. The landscaping that surrounded the house he and his father had rented was quite inferior to their neighbor’s. But as Thaddeus leaned a little way out of the window and peered across and down the street, he noticed that the neighbor’s yard outshone a number of other residences on the block, so he didn’t feel too bad about it.

Some people just had a way with gardening.

Later that night, following a dinner of pizza from a local diner called, unsurprisingly, Superstition Pizza, Thaddeus’ father helped him make up his bed, then Thaddeus helped his father assemble the queen-sized bed they brought with them each move. They worked well together, both familiar with the job. Once they had managed to lift the box springs and mattress onto the frame of his father’s bed, Thaddeus fell across it and caught his breath.

Guess we’ll both sleep well tonight, huh? his father asked.

He was bent over a box across the room, pulling out keepsakes and setting them atop the dresser. He put the photograph of Thaddeus’ mother in its usual place in the left hand corner of the dresser. It was black and white, and the camera had caught her midway through a laugh, her head thrown back so her thick, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. The spark of joy in her eyes was unmistakable. It was a great photo, a happy coincidence his father had snapped it when he had. Thaddeus had always thought his father placed the photograph in the upper left corner of his dresser because that was where his heart lay inside his chest.

I like that picture, Thaddeus said.

You say that every time I unpack it.

Doesn’t make it any less true.

His father stopped unpacking and lay on his back across the bed beside Thaddeus. Both of them stared up at the dusty ceiling fan above, hands clasped over their bellies.

Why’d we leave the last place? Thaddeus asked.

I just thought we needed a change. And it was hard for me to find a new job.

After you got fired? Thaddeus turned his head to look at his father. I saw the letter on the kitchen table.

His father made a face, still looking up at the ceiling fan. Yeah. I got fired. Again. Some role model I am, huh?

A pang of guilt jabbed Thaddeus’ gut. I didn’t mean anything by it.

I know. It’s just that things in Moberly got… complicated.

How so?

His father finally looked at him and frowned. Why all the questions?

I don’t know. The move happened really fast again, and we were too busy packing everything up and finding a place to live for me to ask before, I guess.

Well, my boss was acting like a jerk, and I wasn’t being paid enough for what he kept asking me to do, so I mouthed off and got fired. I decided it was time to move on. End of story.

So, you decided to move us to a whole new town and not just find yourself a new job?

I looked for something new, but I didn’t find anything in my skill set. His father looked back up at the ceiling fan. But, yes. A whole new town and not just a new job. Anyway, this move might be an easier adjustment for you than some of the last ones.

Because school’s out for the summer, and I can get familiar with the town and maybe meet some kids ahead of time?

His father chuckled and turned to look at him again. You’re always three thinks ahead of me, aren’t you?

Thaddeus grinned at his father. Maybe only two thinks. I’m not that much smarter than you.

"Oh, not that much smarter, huh?"

His father rolled over and grabbed him, and they tussled for a moment. Thaddeus protested and struggled to get away, shouting, Dad! I’m fifteen! but couldn’t help laughing as his father started tickling him, fingers grabbing his ribs tight.

Don’t pee your pants! his father said. Don’t pee your pants!

Finally, Thaddeus’ laughter and struggles rendered him breathless, and he managed to say between gasps for air, Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I surrender! I’m just one think ahead of you. Just one!

His father growled like an angry bear but released Thaddeus. He rolled off the bed and reached down to pull Thaddeus to his feet.

That’ll teach you, his father said in a mock serious tone.

Thaddeus straightened out his T-shirt and glared at his father. I’m fifteen, Dad. I’m too old to be wrestled with and tickled.

Remind me of that when I do it again. Now, go get showered, brush your teeth, and then hit the sack. It’s been a long day.

Thaddeus snapped his feet together and saluted. Heil, Father!

He received a glare in response and hurried off to the bathroom where he shut the door.

That night, Thaddeus couldn’t sleep. He always found it difficult to sleep the first night in a new house, though he should have been used to it by now because they had moved thirty-two times, by his count, and all since he was just a baby. All since his mother had died.

Thaddeus didn’t really know what had happened. His father didn’t like to talk about it. Thaddeus used to ask what his mother had been like and how she had died, but his father never fully answered him. Thaddeus just stopped asking. From the little his father had said over the years, she’d died in some kind of accident, but whether it was in a car or something in their home wasn’t clear. His father had loved his mother and hadn’t had anything to do with her death, that much Thaddeus knew for certain. And not only from the sadness that crossed his face when Thaddeus asked about her, but his father still put her picture out on top of his dresser wherever they moved. He wouldn’t do that if he harbored any guilt about her death.

He had left his windows open a bit to enjoy the night air, and he heard someone humming outside. It drew him out of bed and over to the window where he slowly, quietly pushed it up higher. Thaddeus peered down into their neighbor’s