FICTION God's Garden Floyd D. Davis Unwelcome plants and noxious weeds, Mismatched colors, unwanted seeds; Creek-dumped, disdained to wash away. With no master plan, no garden tools, With no caretaker or human rules, God pities their forsaken, rootless state. Obeying, the water lifts them to the sun, Planting in His garden, one-by-one, Discarded jewels fixed in neglected earth. Riding as amber spiders on liquid webs, Borne wherever mountain streams might ebb, Sufficient to please God that falls a seed. To grow in God's garden. "It's over there, honey, see it? Over by that branch in the bottom," Melissa called. "I know; I see the damn thing!" Asa replied. "Half an acre of plants in pots at Wal-Mart, and she has to have this scrawny-assed little thing," he muttered under his breath as he pushed his way through the thick weeds and blackberry briars on the creek bank toward the stream below. He was in his high-topped boots and heavy jeans. Years of living with Melissa had taught him not to go "plant hunting" with her unprepared. Asa chose his steps carefully; snakes were surely in abundance in the thicket. Twice his heavy boots had saved him from snakebite, and he had no taste to tempt fate. He reached the stream at last, waded across the shallow water, and stepped up to mount the bank of the field in which the errant flower was growing. Immediately he sank over his ankles in blue clay. "Are you sure you absolutely have to have this one?" he called back to his wife. 30 "You're almost there; it's just a few more steps," she pleaded. "It was so beautiful and white this year, and I would so like to have it." Asa pulled his foot from the mud with an audible sloop and mounted the bank a few yards upstream. He made his way to the plant, pulling a trowel and Food City grocery bag his wife had given him for the purpose from his pockets. Squatting on his heels to avoid wetting the knees of his pants on the soupy earth, he forced the squat plant from the mire and slipped it into the bag. He then made his way back to the stream by the way he had come and pushed through the briar thicket to the edge of the road. "Here's your prize,"Asa said gruffly, still more than a little put out that Melissa had asked him to go to suchlengths for something so insignificant. Melissa draped herself around Asa's neck and stood very close. "Thanks for getting it for me," she said with genuine appreciation. She gave him a kiss and a hug and then took the bag fromhis hand so that she might examine her specimen. "You did a good job digging it, dear. There's lots ofbulbs and roots; I bet it will be full ofbloom this very next year." Seeing how pleased Melissa was with the flower, Asa relented as he always did. From the very beginning he had found it next to impossible to deny her anything. Her happiness had become his singleminded purpose over the years, so seeing her pleased and contented was reward enough in itself. As she smiled and bubbled about how beautiful the flower would be in her garden, he felt himself buoyed up by her enthusiasm. Snakes, briars, and mud were soon forgotten. Asa had met Melissa eleven years before while he was working in the local welfare office. She had come as a summer intern, and he had been a caseworker. She was a free spirit, headstrong and stubborn, but a tireless advocate for the impoverished minions who flooded the office every day. She would argue with caseworkers and supervisors if she felt decisions were unjust and would skewer inconsistent regulations and rules with a wicked tongue and sharp wit. By July, most of the office was praying for August and Melissa's return to school, but Asa's attraction to her only grew. In the last weeks of the summer they had begun dating, and when Melissa returned to school that fall, Asa drove to...