The Last Frost

Susannah felt a blush rise to her cheeks, unexpected and unwanted. She ducked her head, focusing intently on her basil. “Hardly a pro,” she mumbled. “Just experienced.”

They worked in companionable silence for a while longer, the sun climbing higher in the sky. The awkwardness between them had eased, replaced by a tentative rapport.

As Susannah finished her planting, she noticed Robb struggling with a particularly stubborn weed. Without thinking, she reached for her weeding fork and crossed the boundary into his plot.

“Here,” she said, handing him the tool. “This will make it easier. Just be sure to get the root, or it’ll come right back.”

Robb took the fork, his fingers brushing hers. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Susannah stepped back quickly, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. “It’s nothing,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “Just neighborly advice.”

She retreated to her own plot, her heart beating a little too fast. She kept her eyes down, focusing on tidying her tools, but she could feel Robb’s gaze on her, curious and thoughtful.

As she gathered her things to leave, Robb called out to her. “Same time tomorrow?”

Susannah paused, surprised by the question. “I’m here most mornings,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Robb said, his smile warm and genuine.

Susannah nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She turned and walked away, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. The ease of their interaction, the spark of connection—it felt like a betrayal, somehow. A betrayal of Arthur, of the life they’d shared.

And yet, there was a part of her—a small, treacherous part—that felt something else, too. A flicker of warmth, of interest. A recognition of Robb’s kindness, his eagerness to learn.

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. It was just gardening, she told herself. Just two people sharing a patch of earth, a love of growing things. Nothing more.

But as she walked home, the sun warm on her skin, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had shifted. That a door, long closed, had creaked open, just a crack. And that perhaps, just perhaps, a little bit of light was seeping through.

As spring warmed into early summer, Susannah and Robb fell into a comfortable rhythm, their mornings at the allotment a shared ritual. They worked side by side, their plots separated by a narrow path but their lives increasingly intertwined.

The sun rose earlier now, casting long shadows across the vibrant green of the allotment. The air hummed with the buzz of bees and the chirp of birds, the world alive with the promise of summer.

Susannah knelt amidst her tomato plants, their stalks thick and sturdy, heavy with green fruit. She pinched off the suckers with practiced fingers, her movements efficient and sure.

Beside her, Robb wrestled with a tangled mass of pea vines, his brow furrowed in concentration. “These peas are staging a revolt,” he grumbled, tugging at a particularly stubborn tendril. “I swear they’re trying to take over the neighborhood.”

Susannah laughed, a sound that felt more natural now, less rusty with disuse. “They’re just enthusiastic,” she said. “Give them a trellis and they’ll climb all the way to the sky.”

Robb grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “You know, I think I’m starting to get the hang of this gardening thing. Thanks to your excellent tutelage, of course.”

Susannah shook her head, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re doing just fine on your own. Those peas look happy. And your kale is thriving.”

“It’s all thanks to you,” Robb insisted. “I’d be lost without your advice.”

Their conversations had deepened over the weeks, moving beyond the superficialities of gardening to more personal topics. They spoke of their lives, their pasts, the roads that had brought them to this shared patch of earth.

Susannah learned that Robb was recently divorced, the end of his marriage a painful but necessary parting. He spoke of it with a quiet sadness, but also a determination to move forward, to build a new life.

“I never thought I’d be starting over at 42,” he confessed one morning as they weeded their respective plots. “But here I am. Trying to figure out who I am without the person I thought I’d spend my life with.”

Susannah nodded, her own losses heavy in her heart. “Life rarely goes according to plan,” she said quietly. “We all have to learn to adapt.”

Robb looked at her, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re speaking from experience.”

Susannah hesitated, then nodded. “My husband, Arthur. He passed away five years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Robb said, his voice gentle. “That must have been devastating.”

“It was,” Susannah said simply. “It still is, some days.”

They worked in silence for a while, the weight of shared understanding hanging in the air between them.

It was Robb who broke the silence. “How do you do it?” he asked. “How do you keep going, after a loss like that?”

Susannah considered the question, her trowel still in her hand. “You just do,” she said at last. “You put one foot in front of the other. You find reasons to get out of bed in the morning. For me, it was this.” She gestured to the allotment around them. “This place. These plants. They needed me. And I needed them.”

Robb nodded, absorbing her words. “I think I understand that,” he said. “After my divorce, I felt so lost. Untethered. Taking on this plot, learning to garden—it’s given me a sense of purpose. A reason to keep moving forward.”

Susannah smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. “I’m glad,” she said. “It’s a good reason.”

As the weeks passed, their friendship deepened, nurtured by shared mornings and the slow, steady growth of the garden. They traded gardening tips and war stories, laughed over mishaps and celebrated small victories.

One particularly warm morning, the sky a clear, brilliant blue, they worked side by side, harvesting the first of the summer’s bounty. Susannah filled a basket with plump, red tomatoes, their skins warm from the sun. Robb collected a bounty of kale and lettuce, the leaves crisp and vibrant.

The air was heavy with the scent of earth and growing things, the sun warm on their skin. Susannah felt a sense of contentment settle over her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in years. It felt good to share this with someone, to have a companion in her gardening endeavors.

But the peace was not to last. As they worked, a bank of dark clouds rolled in from the west, swallowing the sun. The air grew thick and still, the birds falling silent.

Susannah looked up, frowning. “We’re going to get wet,” she said, just as the first fat raindrops began to fall.

Robb looked up, startled. “That came out of nowhere.”

Within moments, the sky opened up, the rain falling in sheets. They scrambled to gather their tools and harvest, but it was too late. They were drenched in seconds, their clothes plastered to their skin.

“The shed!” Robb shouted over the drumming of the rain. He grabbed Susannah’s hand and tugged her towards the small wooden structure at the edge of the allotment.

They stumbled inside, laughing and breathless, slamming the door shut behind them. The shed was small and cramped, filled with gardening tools and supplies. But it was dry, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.

They stood facing each other, dripping and panting, the rain hammering on the roof overhead. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and damp wool.

Susannah shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Her hair was plastered to her face, her sweater heavy with rain.

Robb shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Here,” he said. “You’re shivering.”

Susannah looked up at him, startled by the gesture. “Thank you,” she said, pulling the jacket tight around her. It was warm from his body, and it smelled of him—of earth and sunshine and something uniquely Robb.

He smiled down at her, his eyes warm. “Can’t have you catching cold,” he said softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the rain on the roof and their own breathing. Susannah was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, of the heat of his body radiating towards her. Her heart hammered in her chest, a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

Robb reached out, slowly, deliberately, and brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered, warm against her skin.

Susannah’s breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her pulse racing.

Robb’s gaze dropped to her mouth, his own lips parting slightly. The air between them crackled with tension, with unspoken desire.