CH 25

"I'm telling on you!" The high pitched cry every parent dreads came from one of the kids out in the yard, one of the girls, he thought, although it was hard to tell.

Gareth sat up too quickly, making himself a little dizzy. He'd just laid down on the sofa for a moment's rest after working all day to surprise Phillip. The children had helped some, but most of the effort had fallen to him, which was to be expected, really. Gareth had developed a bit of a pounding headache from the fumes and now something happened that threatened whatever rest he was hoping for.

The screen door slammed with a clatter that only angry kids managed, and next thing he knew Franny was standing in the front hall howling loudly, unnecessarily, seeing as Gareth was sitting mere feet away.

"Daddy! Gabe broke Phillip's plants!" Her shirt was bespattered with mud, legs soiled, and her curls had bits of mulch and leaves stuck in them. Fat tears ran down her mottled cheeks.

"What on earth?" Gareth asked, rubbing his forehead wearily. Maybe a few more weeks at day camp for the kids would have been a good idea for everyone involved. Slowly he raised himself from the sofa, fighting a little nausea.

He followed Franny out the door and around the side of the house past the edge of the driveway where the children had trod a path in the damp soil, explaining how Franny was so messy. Gabe was next to the potting shed desperately trying to make a broken branch of some sort of bush reattach with no luck, and Daisy stood solemnly off to the side, observing with watery eyes. Both of them were also completely filthy. Not as bad as Franny, but still, their legs and clothes were streaked with dirt. It was obvious that Gabe was panicking as he turned towards his father and younger sister.

Gabe's face was red with worry and tears were rolling down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident, we were just playing, and then I pulled on it, and then it broke, and now it won't go baaaccckkk." Gabe started sobbing in earnest. "Philllliiippp's gonna hate me. We're gonna have to leeeeaaavee. And it's gonna be all my FFFAAAUULLLTTTT."

Gabe's wails were completely insensible and set Daisy to tears, too. It was like some sort of switch; one starts to cry and they all follow. Gareth's head, which had been pounding before, was now screaming in pain. He rubbed his hands on his aching temples before taking a few steps towards the cries opening his arms wide to comfort his wailing brood, or at least get them to quiet down some. Daisy sniffled and mentioned something about the coffee table. Gareth supposed she was referring back to Leeann and their old home, and it made the children cry that much more. He took a deep breath, trying to fight the urge to vomit that accompanied thoughts of Leeann and his headache.

At times like this he really wished he wasn't a father at all. For at least a few minutes. He took a deep breath and hugged them a little harder, trying to erase their hurt and his own guilt at the situation they used to be in. Things were so much better now.

Phillip pulled his sedan into the driveway, only to see some sort of chaos at the back of the yard, view partially blocked by his potting shed. After a trying meeting with a client in the morning that was far too much talking for his liking, then working in three different gardens in the afternoon, he was completely spent. Gareth had said he'd make dinner and Phillip hadn't had much time for lunch. He was starving, tired, and really in need of some peace and quiet.

Evidently, that might have been too much to ask for.

The sounds of the children in distress were the first things he heard as he got out of the car. It struck fear to the core of him. Worried that someone was injured, Phillip dashed to the back of the garden to find three unharmed, loudly wailing, totally filthy children, a completely exasperated Gareth, and one very broken branch of his very rare, very expensive, exceedingly difficult to care for shrub bauhinia orchid clutched in a child's hand.

His emotions swung wildly, something he really didn't know how to deal with. Ordinarily he'd escape to the yard, but it was seemingly a source of his anxiety at the moment.

Maybe it was his exhaustion, maybe it was his hunger, or maybe it was just one thing too many, but all Phillip knew was something set him off. He wasn't the sort to raise his voice, not the type to yell, and Phillip seldom lost the firm grip he had on his emotions, but this was his champion bauhinia that he tended to for years before he was able to get it to flower. It required special fertilizer, a specific type of wrapping in the winter, and very special shears to prune it. This wasn't just some plant that he could replace at any garden store, there were only three specialty gardening stores in the entire continent that carried this plant, and this was his yard, his garden, his domain. After hours of traipsing about trying to fix other people's poorly tended monstrosities, this was his completely special place. And he though Gareth knew that.

His face remained stoic, aloof, and his tone was cold, frigid. Phillip's hands were shaking. He didn't even look at the Lewises. "Leave."

"Phillip, I'm so sorr-" Gareth started, but didn't even get the whole sentence out.

"LEAVE." Phillip's face was deep red now, and his fists clenched in anger, keys cutting into the palm of his left hand. The children were frozen in fear and Gareth gathered them in closer.

"You don't mean-" Gareth's eyes opened wide in shock. He was trying not to shake, to be strong for the children. Phillip couldn't, wouldn't, do this to them, would he?

Phillip was almost insensible. Almost. He took a deep breath with his eyes firmly shut. "Just go inside. All of you. Please leave me ALONE." The last word roared forth with the force of all his frustration and fury.

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They'd had a simple meal of spaghetti, although none of them really ate, and leftovers went into the fridge, while Phillip's unused plate went back into the cupboard. Gareth tidied the kitchen after the kids were finished bathing and all three were curled up together on the girls' bed. While they were all fairly sure Phillip didn't actually want them to move out, sadly his reaction was something the children were used to. It was reminiscent of their mother, and although Phillip wasn't her, maybe there was just something wrong with them that made people hate them.

Gareth tried to discuss things rationally with the children while doing Daisy's hair, but it was hard for him to contain his emotions. The children didn't want to leave, they liked Phillip and they thought this was their home, and Phillip agreed. They were all still upset by the incident, so they stuck together, Gabe feeling horrible about the whole thing, thinking it was all his fault. The sisters offered their broken brother support, and they all wanted to sleep in the same room for comfort. Strength in numbers is what they said, even if Gareth wasn't sure what they meant. But they didn't want to be separated no matter how much Gareth cajoled.

In the end he was just too tired and ill to fight, so he left them all in the same bed, snuggled together. At least they weren't fighting anymore. Taking their soiled clothes, Gareth went downstairs and ran a load of laundry, taking the opportunity to peek out the sliding doors at Phillip. He was still in the garden even though it was close to dark and there was quite a swath of destruction. Gareth fought the urge to go to Phillip and hold him, talk to him. He wanted to desperately, but was giving Phillip the space he'd asked for, demanded actually. In his experience going anywhere near a partner who'd asked for space meant asking to get hit. While Gareth knew Phillip wouldn't punch him, he still wasn't sure what to do.

The shrub that had started it all was only partially intact. It appeared Phillip had pruned it back a great deal, and had wrapped the area where the branch had been broken with some sort of special tape. There were other plants that had been dug out completely and some that had been cut back to within an inch of their lives. Gareth wasn't sure what Phillip was doing, but it worried him some. He also knew that this was Phillip's way of coping, so maybe once he'd finished going all scorched earth back there, he'd come back in and be fine.

Although, maybe not.

After all, Gareth had almost finished redecorating their own bedroom as a surprise, but now probably wasn't the best time to have anything disrupted or changed. Shortly after Phillip left this morning, Gareth had removed all the floral paper and then started painting over the walls in a slate greyish-blue colour. He'd purchased some matching bedding, including a new duvet, new curtains, and even matching throw rugs for either side of the bed with white, grey, and blue accents. There was even a bit of red thrown in here and there for a pop of colour. It was masculine and contemporary, and he really wanted Phillip to like it. Heck, it was almost Phillip's idea, and he approved of the idea of redoing the girls' room as a birthday present.

Now everything seemed like a huge mistake and Gareth was second guessing the whole enterprise. The walls were done, but tomorrow Gareth had to touch up where he'd accidentally gotten the ceiling, and repaint all the door frames and window trim to a bright glossy white colour instead of the creamy pink they were. To make matters worse, the paint fumes really didn't sit well with Gareth's stomach and he was feeling rather sick, although that could be the anxiety, too. He was going to suggest they sleep on the sofa bed in the basement for the evening, but he wasn't sure that conversation, let alone any, was ever going to happen.

Sadly it was a waiting game, and one he was all too familiar with from dealing with Leeann. He felt like he was walking on eggshells and it was nerve-wracking. Were all relationships like this or just his?

It was a bit past nine when he put on the kettle and made the tea. While the kids probably weren't asleep yet, he couldn't sit with them any longer. The laundry was done and folded by ten. It was past eleven when he cleaned out one full and one empty mug and wiped down the counter. Unsure of what to do, Gareth decided that if it was space Phillip wanted, then it was space he was going to get. He stealthily checked out the window again, just to see if Phillip was still there, and there he was, religiously toiling in the soil.

Unable to stay in the master bedroom with the fumes, Gabe's bed was empty and Gareth was completely done in, so he stripped down to his boxers and collapsed onto the single bed. He fell into a fitful and worried sleep.

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He didn't move as the Lewises filed past him. He didn't lift his eyes to meet Gareth's, he scarcely drew a breath as they left the yard quietly and went into the house. Once they were gone Phillip unlocked his potting shed, the scene of he and Gareth's passion only a few days before, and got the special wrap and shears for pruning the exotic plant. He repaired the purple flowering orchid shrub as best he could, then pruned it back some to shock it into what he hoped would start a renewed growing state, even though it was the wrong season. Ignoring his hunger pains, he dug until he had blisters, then he dug until they bled. Eventually he didn't even feel hungry anymore.

As he worked, he thought; he ruminated on ideas. He was stupid to think that his garden wouldn't get damaged. It was summer break and there were three children in the house for heaven's sake. Three. He knew what children did to plants. They were reckless, and playful, and...children. After the first two hours of toiling, it struck him. The idea of playing in the yard shouldn't be something foreign. It shouldn't have been something that was forbidden to him when he was a child, and yet it was. As much as he and his mother had bonded over the garden, that hadn't happened until after the death of his father. Far more times before that happened he'd been punished for accidentally damaging a plant. And he was sure today's damage to the garden was accidental. None of the Lewis children had a malicious bone in their bodies. They were just kids. Good kids who cared about him. And he'd yelled at them...and their father...like Leeann.

Tremendous guilt weighed upon him. How could he have done that? Yelled at them? Let them walk by without even looking? And how could he fix it?

The sun started to set and still he worked.

As much as he'd grieved over the loss of his parents, Phillip had never fully grieved the loss of his childhood. A lot of which was lost to the garden, this garden. The same garden that Gabe had been playing in, heck all three of them had been playing in, and was that really so wrong? Phillip was furious. With himself. With his parents. With life. Mrs. Bentman said he was a nurturer, but how was that even possible, given the way he behaved today towards the people who cared? In the twilight he started transplanting different things, putting some plants into pots to move to clients homes, moving some out of the way of the path he was planning.

Phillip realized he'd scared the children as he dug out some hydrangeas. He'd hurt them, dammit. He almost kicked them out like their useless whore of a mother. He emphatically told them to leave. And he was a man of few words; usually carefully chosen words. Instead this time he'd acted out of anger. And that wasn't him. Heck he'd never even told off Brian, and he didn't care about Brian. He wasn't sure what he could say to make it up to them, if he'd be able to find the words. He'd fucking terrified the children and alienated their father. A man he wanted nothing more than to go into the house and fuck rotten or cuddle like crazy. A man whose touch he craved all the time.

Phillip always worried he'd end up alone, always thought he would, but then he'd met Gareth and the children, and his whole world changed. And he'd almost thrown it all away because of a shrub. An orchid, sure, but really, just a stupid plant. People should be, are more important. He was a total idiot and he didn't want to be like his father, officious and cold, he wanted to be better. He needed to be better; the kids needed him to be better. Instead he'd almost been like Leeann. He put the hydrangeas into some spare pots. Maybe he truly deserved to be alone if this was the way he treated people who cared?

Working on this garden rebuild was his self-imposed punishment. After what he did, he didn't deserve to lay down with the person he cared about more than anything in the world. He didn't deserve the comfort of a warm, soft bed after he'd almost lost it on the children for simply being children. When he was growing up, the punishment he received for messing about in the garden, his father's garden, was isolation. No books, no toys, no television, just his room--meals in his room, too. He transplanted some roses, some of his mother's roses, the thorns tearing into his skin painfully. It was a good pain, though. He deserved it.

It was dark. The lights in the house were off. The neighbours lights were off. The city was quiet. And, thankfully, Phillip's brain was finally quiet. Eventually, when a large portion of the centre of the yard was clear, Phillip put away his tools in the potting shed. Looking at the table where Gareth had been leaned over it, Phillip could almost see where his hands had been gripping. There was still a bit of a mark on the floor from where Gareth had spilled his seed. The last time they'd been in the garden together the outcome had been so much more enjoyable. Emotion built in Phillip as he thought of the man he'd hurt tonight, and it was painful. He'd wronged the best man in the world and he hoped his penance was enough.

Phillip carefully cleaned the dirt off the bottom of his shovel with steel wool to prevent rust and keep it sharp, like his father always insisted upon. He watered the freshly dug areas with water from his rain barrel under the downspout and also generously sprinkled the plants newly placed in pots. Then he placed the old metal watering can back in it's upside-down location on the wall of the shed to keep the bottom from rotting out. Taking one last rueful look at the table, Phillip shut the light out in the shed and firmly shut the door, replacing the lock.

He dragged himself inside through the sliding walkout doors in the basement and stripped off his totally revolting clothes, placing them into the washing machine. As much as Gareth always claimed to like the smell of a sweaty Phillip, there was no way he was the slightest bit good smelling now. He was disgustingly ripe. Hours upon hours of sweat, dirt, and grime soiled his clothes and body. Carefully, he showered in the laundry room, the hot water and soap stinging his badly damaged hands.

When he was dry and his hands bandaged, using supplies from the first aid kit in the medicine cabinet above the sink, Phillip put on some pyjama pants and lay out on the sofa in the basement, not even bothering to pull out the bed. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Phillip was so completely emotionally and physically exhausted it was like the sleep of the dead.

A/N: It can't always be sunshine and roses, even in Phillip's well tended garden. Sadly, couples have fights, that's just the way it goes. And add kids to the mix, and things can get heated more so than they should. It's how they get cleared up that matters most, though. Hopefully our two men can make things right. And what on earth was Phillip doing to his garden? I suppose this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but not too bad.

Next update is on Wednesday. Thanks again for everyone who has been reading, commenting, and voting! :)

<3 JJ