Against all odds

Wilfred loved her. That was all that matters. He saw her from a far and knew he could never measure up to the standards her parents set for her. His father was her uncle’s gardener. Yet he loved her. He met her when he was six. He had accompanied his father as he clipped the roses. He looked up. She was there; her pink dress shining like the rising of the sun.

“Come play with me. “She said smiling. He would always remember that smile. It lit her face. Wilfred was aware his clothes were filthy. He had grubbed in the dirt helping his father plant new rose bushes.

“I…I can’t. My hands are dirty. “He said. He felt like a street urchin.

“We’ll wash them in the fountain.” She said, turning away.

“Go my son. She wishes to be your friend. “His father said, smiling.

And so, he did. He started to wash his hands in the koi pool. “No, over here.” Alice said softly pointing to the fountain in the middle of the garden. He washed his hands in the fountain with the water splashing him in the face. She giggled, handing him a towel. He dried his hands and face. “I have to be back in the house by lunch.” She looked at the clock on a pole. “We have an hour. I’ll hide; you find me.”

Her pink dress gave her away. “Now you.” Alice said, hiding her eyes. The hour passed quickly.
They parted for lunch. She in the big house he with his father. Wilfred and Alice played throughout the day.

The next week, she was gone. Back to her home in the country. He never forgot her.

The next summer, she was back. Sometimes for two weeks in the summer, sometimes not.

The years past. He grew into a young man working alongside his father. Making the estate beautiful. Then one day she was there. A young lady. His father, now older, set on a bench watching his son work giving pointers. “Come play with me. “He looked up into her smiling face and was transported back to when they were children.

“Hello, I’ve missed you.” Wilfred said, raising from the ground. His face flamed. He had watched her grow into a beautiful woman. How could he miss something he could never have? Yet he did.

“As I have you.” She said, taking his hand. Getting her hand dirty. “Come, we’ll wash in the fountain.” And so they did. Her uncle, watching the young couple from his bedroom window, frowned. Picking up the phone, he connected to a number he knew well. After washing their hands, Wilfred walked her through the garden. He took her on a tour, showing her the beds blooming with flowers of every variety. At the koi pond, they watched the fish play. At 5 in the evening, he returned to find his father gathering his tools. He smiled. “Did you have fun, my son?”
“Yes, father. I’m going to marry her.” The boy said, smiling, a dreamy expression on his face.

The father stopped, one hand on the hook, the other on a pair of shears. “That is not possible. She is from one class. You are from another.”

“But…but I love her.” The boy said, tears forming in his eyes.

“I know.” The father said, continuing to put his tools away. And so they returned home. She went to the big house and he to their small abode. That night, they dreamed of each other. They could never come together. But God was in the works. He who can do the impossible.

Two months later, her uncle died. The gardener and his son watched the service at the cemetery standing back from the few attendees. Having received no other instructions, the gardener and his son were weeding the gardens. An elderly man approached.

He set down on a bench next to where they were working. He leaned forward on a gold topped cane. “Mr. Marrowy, may I have a word with you, please?”

His father warily got to his feet; sure, he was about to be dismissed. He pled his case. “Sir, I assume you are the attorney for the estate. Please assure the new owners I will be just as faithful and perform my task just as well for the new owner.”
“The new owner has very high standards.” The lawyer said, frowning. “Are you sure you can keep the gardens as beautiful as they are today?”

“Just look around you.” The man said, sweeping his hand at the expanse of gardens.

The lawyer turned to the boy. “What do you think, son? Will you, as the new owner, keep him on?”

Open-mouthed, the boy stood there, his hands dirty, his shirt and pants soiled.

“What…what…do you mean?” The boy gulped.

“I mean,” the attorney said, smiling. “Alice’s uncle left everything to you. You, my young friend, are rich.”
“But…but I didn’t want that. I just wanted her to be my wife.” The boy said, tears coming to his eyes.

The lawyer reached inside his jacket. He produced a letter and handed it to the young man. “Just a minute.” Wilfred went to the fountain and washed his hands. Drying them on a rag, he accepted the letter and unfolded it.

Dear Wilfred:

For many years, I have watched you work with your father in my gardens. I find you to be a very studious and faithful young man. The man I would wish my son to be. If I had a son. I have also watched as you fell in love with my niece. I therefore, have left my entire estate to you. You alone will hold the rains to my fortune. Mr. Lowe has been my friend and my attorney for many years. He will guide you in the many decisions you will need to make in the months ahead. May God bless you and your young bride.

Fredric

And so, it was the son of the gardener stood at the rose arbor to receive his bride. At his side stood his father as his best man. Alice smiled at him as she passed the fountain where he first washed his hands as a child.