Joie de Vivre!

This story is by Judy Wiesner and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Rachel watched Ben smooth the soil around the base of the rose bush. The peach and pink blossoms perfectly framed the tender scene.

“’Loyal Companion’ was Dad’s favorite. He loved its joie de vivre!”

“Oh, Mom! He said that all the time!” They shared a smile.

Rachel closed her eyes, wondering how she’d ever find joy again without him.

In the months that followed, Rachel and Ben spent hours together in the garden. Amid shared memories, laughter, and tears, their grief gently settled.

Every August, they would create an extravagant centerpiece in tribute. This year, Rachel was the first to the garden. Ben ducked under the limb to join her.

“You’re almost as tall as your father!”

“Yep! Three years makes a difference!”

“Yes, three years is a long time…”

“And it’s about time, Mom! Sign up for a class! We might even take a class together next year; my first-year schedule just posted!”

He rushed her back to the house to the computer, spilling the roses across the table then clearing a space. She signed up for a class and, on a whim, joined the garden club. Its first meeting was Tuesday, chaired by Charles Downey, aka “Professor C.”

From the first meeting, Rachel was smitten. Charles brought the garden to life, telling stories about each plant, tracing its lineage as if an old friend. After the third meeting, Charles asked Rachel to stay and help with plantings. Rachel couldn’t catch her breath after that. It was as though the stars had aligned; the two became inseparable.

His rich baritone made her melt: “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am a thousand winds that blow…”

Charles understood the gravity of her loss, his wife having disappeared two years prior.

“Never to be found…”

“Not having closure must be torture,” Rachel responded, feeling strangely comforted knowing her husband lay safely in his grave.

“I feel Elizabeth is with me. I take solace in the wisdom that the body is but a temporary container for the soul, alas, at times a prison. Once shed, we reach new heights of being.”

For all his mystic beliefs, Charles also embraced mortal life. Rachel opened her home to him, and her garden, where Charles lovingly planted mustard seeds around the roses.

“…to brighten the early days of spring, to bring joy while blooms lie dormant.”

The yellow buds were just now forming.

It had been a four-month whirlwind. Last night, the whirlwind got spun on its head.

“Mom, you need to get up!” Ben called up.

Rachel pulled the sheets over her. It was early; her eyes were heavy.

“Mom, the police will be here soon!”

Rachel winced at the stream of light poking through a crack in the blinds.

The police. Rachel shut her eyes.

She tried to piece the night together. Charles waited for her when she got home. He pressed a fine linen envelope into her hand.

“Don’t open this until Friday.”

“I have some bad news,” Charles said. “When my wife disappeared, they questioned me. Because no body was found, they dropped the case. They found Elizabeth’s remains yesterday. I am certain they will open a case against me.”

Charles looked into her eyes. “It takes but a grain of faith,” he said solemnly. “I must go now, but I will always be with you.”

The shut of the door felt final. Must she lose not one but two loves? Why had she risked it?

Ben’s car pulled up. What will I tell Ben? Rachel’s mind raced, but she needn’t have worried; once Ben saw her, he gave her a big hug.

Guilt swept over her as she realized how difficult it must have been for Ben to watch her falling in love, no longer needing his attention, letting the dust settle on his father’s grave.

“What happened?” he asked, concerned.

The tears flowed as Rachel confided in him.

Ben’s stringent words followed. “I knew he was up to something! You could have been next!”

Rachel wandered up to her room, flopped onto the bed, and sank into the thick, familiar covers. She closed her eyes tightly. She knew well how to force sleep.

And today, this morning, reality faced her squarely. Rachel didn’t want to talk to anybody. She got ready quickly and took the stairs slowly. The second she entered the kitchen, Ben started in.

“Mom, I knew he was not to be trusted! There was something off about him.”

Rachel changed the subject. “I forgot to close the blinds last night. I had hoped you would have noticed when you said good night. The darn light shone—”

“I saw Charles through the window,” Ben blurted out. “He buried a satchel right in front of the rose bush.”

“The rose bush? Satchel? Did you get it?”

“I’m giving it to the police.”

“Are you going to tell me what was in it?”

“No.”

Weary of battle, Rachel retreated into the living room. Ben was being protective. But what had Charles buried? She remembered the letter. There must be a method to this madness. The letter would wait.

When the inspector and team arrived, Ben led them to the living room. Rachel was reticent but polite.

“I have nothing for you,” she told them.

“Respectfully, we have something for you,” the inspector replied.

“The coroner has determined the cause of death.”

Rachel held her breath.

“The remains of Elizabeth Downey were found downstream from Tower Bridge where we think she jumped or was thrown. Her neck was broken, presumably on impact from the fall. Probably died instantly.”

Ben bounded from his seat, producing the satchel from the garden.

“Here, this should answer a few questions!” Ben proclaimed, thrusting it toward the inspector.

The soiled strands remained tightly wound around it. Rachel’s heart dropped. Ben hadn’t opened it. It’s in their hands now. The inspector dangled the bag by a single twisted string between two fingers, signaling the officer to open an evidence bag before ominously dropping it in.

“If you think of anything else, here’s my card.”

Ben snatched it up. “Thank you, Inspector.”

Rachel watched Ben in admiration. He was a man now. He had tried hard to fill his father’s shoes, but a life of his own lay ahead.

The mounting losses had caught up with her. She missed her husband. She missed Charles. Her son was grown up. Her life, it seemed, was behind her.

For the next few days, Rachel and Ben hardly spoke. On Thursday, they greeted the inspector together.

“Ms. Downey’s suicide note was inside the bag. It appears to be in order. Apparently, the beastly cancer had returned. Still no word from Mr. Downey?”

They shook their heads.

“I’ll be in touch,” the inspector said on the way out.

Friday finally came. Alone, Rachel broke open the heavy seal.

My dearest Rachel,

Four months today all told
Our saddest day by far
When secrets of life unfold
From memories left as char

Having helped fulfill a mournful call
A tragic bond embraced
I too must make the greatest fall
Saving grace, alas not face

See me in the stars above
Hear me as the birds do call
Watch me in the wings of dove
For I did not leave, at all

-Charles-

Beneath his name he had attached a single mustard seed with the scrawl, “Answers lie buried near ole true.”

Yes, we know about Elizabeth, Charles, but what about you?

Rachel considered his words. If it was suicide, why did Charles have to “take the greatest fall?” He also implied he was complicit “having helped fulfil the mournful call.”

A photograph lay loose in the envelope. Tower Bridge. On the back was a date-stamp. The date of Elizabeth’s fall. Charles had been there. Rachel pieced it together. Charles wouldn’t let Elizabeth do this alone. He stood by her, to bear witness to her escape from the broken vessel, trusting that souls do live on.

But why had Charles asked her to wait till Friday? He had bought himself time. A few days to… Rachel’s throat seized up. For a long moment, time stopped. She envied them, all three of them…

It took months for life to get back to normal with Ben off to college and Rachel attending class. Standing in the garden, this clear autumn day, Rachel considered what lessons she might take from her time with Professor C.

Charles taught her to plant color amidst dormant blooms, to bring joy— A sudden breeze rustled the leaves, sending light flickers of gold everywhere. Rachel looked around in wonder, landing her gaze on a single rose. Her husband took her hand.

She heard a sparrow’s cheerful trill. Elizabeth! Rachel tracked its flight to a wave of stratus slowly migrating along the hillside, without a care. Charles!

“Mom, I want you to meet Sarah!” Ben beamed as they breezed into the garden. “She’s in almost every class with me!”

Rachel smiled broadly. Joie de vivre!