green monster. Ryan had no idea what else they’d find back there.
“We have to do something about that backyard,” Leigh said. “Before it swallows up the house.”
“It doesn’t look that bad.”
“It looks terrible, Anthony. I’m going to get back there this week, take everything out. Plant some flowers along the fence.”
Ryan looked back down at the old basketball. Rip had played with it so much, he’d worn off the pebble grain. It was as smooth
as young skin. A few nights earlier he’d leaped from his bed, heart pounding, when he’d thought he heard the thump, thump
of a basketball beneath his window. He’d been half-asleep and imagined it. Heard it because he wanted to. Like he’d heard
the words of Gillian Stone. I love you.
“Everything just keeps growing, doesn’t it?” he said.
“I still have that old landscaping plan you drew up. Want to take a look at it, see where you went wrong?”
“You never get tired of that old joke, do you?”
A platoon of fully grown trees surrounded the backyard. The Ryans had bought the trees from a mail-order nursery catalog over
three decades ago. Twenty-eight trees, the price so cheap that he couldn’t help himself. He’d expected a huge truck to make
the delivery, two or three strapping workers, maybe a forklift to handle twenty-eight trees. So when the UPS man handed Anthony
Ryan the package of twigs wrapped in a cardboard sleeve no bigger than a baseball bat, the look on his face sent Leigh Ryan
into a fit of laughter the kids had talked about for years.
“How’s Danny’s shoulder?” she said.
“He’s got his arm in a sling. The doctor gave him only one exercise to do: walking his fingers up the wall. Some heavy-duty
aspirin, that’s it.”
“Youth is grand,” Leigh said. “I couldn’t believe he went downtown to meet you just a few hours after he left the hospital.”
“Surprised me, too.”
“It must have been very important to him.”
Barefoot, in a short pink summer nightgown, she padded back and forth, folding socks and underwear, stacking them neatly in
dresser drawers. Streaks of silver glittered in her hair, which had gone completely gray in her early forties. He loved her
hair this color; it seemed to glow around her face. It was a good thing he loved it, because no amount of persuasion could
ever convince her to color it.
“Did you see Katie’s postcard?” she said.
“I did. I never thought our daughter and granddaughter would both get to Ireland before us.”
“Nothing stopping us from going,” she said. “You have enough vacation time to travel around the world a dozen times. You just
have to take some of it.”
“Maybe this fall.”
“The sun is shining now.”
Finished folding clothes, Leigh pulled back the bedcovers. She grabbed the hem of her nightgown and yanked it over her head.
After all the years of their marriage he was still surprised at the size and fullness of her breasts. She dressed to disguise
her breasts, not because of shyness, he thought, but because she loved the look on his face. Her magic trick. Voilà!
“You owe me a back scratch,” she said, kicking her panties across the room.
He slid into bed and pulled her against him, face-to-face, both on their sides. She buried her face in her usual spot against
his shoulder, her face tucked under his chin as she nibbled at his neck, murmuring about its softness. He wrapped both arms
around her and slowly, in circles, he grazed her back gently with the tips of his fingernails. Her breath was warm and steady
against his chest.
“Danny came to see you about Gillian Stone, didn’t he,” she said.
“He feels guilty. Thinks he should have helped her somehow.”
“Now he’s going to try to make up for it by helping you.”
“He wants to do something, Leigh. I can understand that.”
“But he’s too close to this situation, Anthony. You wouldn’t allow a cop to investigate the death of someone he cared
“We have to do something about that backyard,” Leigh said. “Before it swallows up the house.”
“It doesn’t look that bad.”
“It looks terrible, Anthony. I’m going to get back there this week, take everything out. Plant some flowers along the fence.”
Ryan looked back down at the old basketball. Rip had played with it so much, he’d worn off the pebble grain. It was as smooth
as young skin. A few nights earlier he’d leaped from his bed, heart pounding, when he’d thought he heard the thump, thump
of a basketball beneath his window. He’d been half-asleep and imagined it. Heard it because he wanted to. Like he’d heard
the words of Gillian Stone. I love you.
“Everything just keeps growing, doesn’t it?” he said.
“I still have that old landscaping plan you drew up. Want to take a look at it, see where you went wrong?”
“You never get tired of that old joke, do you?”
A platoon of fully grown trees surrounded the backyard. The Ryans had bought the trees from a mail-order nursery catalog over
three decades ago. Twenty-eight trees, the price so cheap that he couldn’t help himself. He’d expected a huge truck to make
the delivery, two or three strapping workers, maybe a forklift to handle twenty-eight trees. So when the UPS man handed Anthony
Ryan the package of twigs wrapped in a cardboard sleeve no bigger than a baseball bat, the look on his face sent Leigh Ryan
into a fit of laughter the kids had talked about for years.
“How’s Danny’s shoulder?” she said.
“He’s got his arm in a sling. The doctor gave him only one exercise to do: walking his fingers up the wall. Some heavy-duty
aspirin, that’s it.”
“Youth is grand,” Leigh said. “I couldn’t believe he went downtown to meet you just a few hours after he left the hospital.”
“Surprised me, too.”
“It must have been very important to him.”
Barefoot, in a short pink summer nightgown, she padded back and forth, folding socks and underwear, stacking them neatly in
dresser drawers. Streaks of silver glittered in her hair, which had gone completely gray in her early forties. He loved her
hair this color; it seemed to glow around her face. It was a good thing he loved it, because no amount of persuasion could
ever convince her to color it.
“Did you see Katie’s postcard?” she said.
“I did. I never thought our daughter and granddaughter would both get to Ireland before us.”
“Nothing stopping us from going,” she said. “You have enough vacation time to travel around the world a dozen times. You just
have to take some of it.”
“Maybe this fall.”
“The sun is shining now.”
Finished folding clothes, Leigh pulled back the bedcovers. She grabbed the hem of her nightgown and yanked it over her head.
After all the years of their marriage he was still surprised at the size and fullness of her breasts. She dressed to disguise
her breasts, not because of shyness, he thought, but because she loved the look on his face. Her magic trick. Voilà!
“You owe me a back scratch,” she said, kicking her panties across the room.
He slid into bed and pulled her against him, face-to-face, both on their sides. She buried her face in her usual spot against
his shoulder, her face tucked under his chin as she nibbled at his neck, murmuring about its softness. He wrapped both arms
around her and slowly, in circles, he grazed her back gently with the tips of his fingernails. Her breath was warm and steady
against his chest.
“Danny came to see you about Gillian Stone, didn’t he,” she said.
“He feels guilty. Thinks he should have helped her somehow.”
“Now he’s going to try to make up for it by helping you.”
“He wants to do something, Leigh. I can understand that.”
“But he’s too close to this situation, Anthony. You wouldn’t allow a cop to investigate the death of someone he cared
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