The Gardener of Baghdad Read online

  She gave me a slight smile and shied away a bit as she replied, “Thanks, Ali. And please call me only Mary.”

  We all agreed that I would start the work in a fortnight, as I had previous engagements and obligations to tend to. I took off my hat out of respect and bid them farewell.

  On the way back, I was ecstatic, happier than I’d ever been before. I felt I was flying, as if my steps were bouncing on a cloud. I couldn’t get her smile out of my mind, and I remembered every word her lovely lips had uttered. The way she’d said my name went through my mind time and time again and kept ringing in my ears.

  To calm myself down a bit, I took a seat on the pavement, not even worrying about the soiling or wrinkling it might cause to my suit. I tried to think the whole thing over logically, without letting my heart or its yearnings get in the way. It was difficult to grasp what was really going on, but I had a certain sense that there was something brewing between us. I said aloud, “I think she likes me. No, I know she does! Yes, Mary likes me,” I said, as if trying to reassure myself, my voice getting louder with every word. I was confident that there was a special bond connecting us, and I was sure it was more of a reality than just my dream. I felt our union was our destiny, that we were meant to be together. By the time I got up from the pavement, an ear-to-ear smile had stretched across my face. Only two weeks from now, I’ll see her again, I thought and grinned even wider.

  ҉҉

  In the days that followed, I stayed busy with my house. The rebuild was going as planned, and within five or six months, I hoped to have a beautiful house on the river, just behind my nursery, a house that would be any man’s dream. It would be two levels, with three bedrooms, a dining room, a living room, a big kitchen, and a beautiful terrace that led to a backyard garden next to the river. The house would have a separate entrance from the nursery so that when work was over, I could rest in a world all my own.

  Madam Laila came several times with some delicious food for me and the gentlemen working there. She also wanted to make sure I was all right and asked if I needed anything. I told her everything I was feeling inside because I couldn’t hide it any longer; after all, she was like a mother to me. I knew she saw the sincerity in my eyes when I spoke of Mary.

  When I was finished talking, she hugged me and said some beautiful words I will never forget: “As much as I agree with all those who have advised you before that this might be a mistake, something too risky and complicated, I see the happiness dancing in your eyes whenever you mention her, Ali. I know a feeling like that only comes once in a lifetime, and I think you should follow your heart’s desires. I believe in love, and I know love conquers all.” She was sincerely happy for me, and she’d often hinted that I should find someone to start a family with, so she couldn’t hide her joy when I told her about Mary.

  ҉҉

  I carefully planned out the renovation of Mary’s gardens and gathered all the various seeds, making sure not to forget her strawberries. I couldn’t wait to plant them for her, and I hoped the bright, red fruit would make her happy and remind her of me.

  When the long-awaited time of the renovation finally came, I took Hassan with me, a young gardener who’d been working with me from the start. Hassan was smart and always knew exactly what I wanted by just looking at the plans I drew up; I had made sure he knew how to read and write and spent an hour teaching him every day after work. This time, as with all of our previous assignments, I laid out the plan and advised him on some issues about the final design of the gardens. Usually, I would have left all the work to him and only returned in the end to make sure it had been properly executed, but I wanted to be directly involved with Mary’s project. Besides, I thought that would afford me more opportunities to see her, so I decided that Hassan and I would take turns, each one of us showing up once a week.

  It was a beautiful day, and we arrived early in the morning. Mr. Dalton showed us in and offered us breakfast, which we politely declined since we’d already eaten and were anxious to get to work. After thanking him, we excused ourselves so we could go out and get things underway. I showed Hassan the young lady’s balcony and indicated where we needed to plant the orchids she had requested. I also outlined the area where the strawberries would go. I wanted to make sure he understood everything perfectly: where the roses, orchids, and gardenias would be placed; what tulips were to be planted; and which colors of each plant were to be used in each location. I then focused on the ficus trees for their outdoor entrance; this was important because it was the starting point of the garden, the place where people would catch their first glimpse of the beauty of our work. Hassan had a natural gift in perfectly placing and designing ficus tree layouts, and the whole front area would be bordered with them, with a bigger one at the end, forming almost a conical shape.

  After twenty minutes of planning, we agreed on everything and were ready to get started, since we had little time to waste. As soon as Hassan was finished with the mowing, he would plant roses and seeds in the front, while I was working on the back yard.

  As always, I started by outlining the garden. I dug a third foot all around the area and filled it with smashed silver and dark maroon pebbles, colors I felt were a good match for the area. As I toiled away, I continuously looked up at Mary’s room, hoping she’d open the door and come to the balcony, fantasizing about how gorgeous she would look standing up there above me, like an angel of the morning. Whenever I thought I heard a noise, my heart started beating faster. I couldn’t wait to see her, but hours passed, and no one came.

  Way past noon when Mr. Dalton came out again and asked what time we could take a break so lunch could be served. Like the chatterbox he always was, Mr. Dalton informed me that Mary and Miss Naseema, had traveled to the UK with the general few days earlier.

  What?! She’s gone back to England? It was shocking, bad news to me, and it felt as if someone had shot me in the back with a sharp arrow. My whole world seemed to turn black and crumble around me, and I couldn’t see a thing. I tried to hide the disappointment, but I was hopelessly desperate to see her, and it showed in my face. When Mr. Dalton asked what was wrong, I had to make up an excuse about some sudden pain in my back from my work, and I told him I hadn’t slept well the night before.

  When he continued talking, I realized the news wasn’t that bad; I was quite relieved to learn that they’d be back, but I was still disappointed. I’d had high hopes of seeing her during the work, but those hopes were dashed. I began doubting that I’d ever have a chance to get to know her, and questions poured through my mind: What if she never comes back? Have I just been imagining that there is a connection between us? Has this all been in my head like some romantic fairytale? Maybe something important, something urgent happened in the UK and they had to go. I was anxious to know more, and I couldn’t stand being left without the details and the answers to all the questions. I asked Mr. Dalton, “How long will they be gone, and do they leave Baghdad often?”

  Mr. Dalton was kind enough to tell me that they visited the UK at that time of year every year to commemorate the anniversary of her mother’s passing at an annual family gathering. “They’ll be there for several weeks to be with family and pay their respects, but then they’ll be back,” he assured me. After he answered my questions, he began talking about Miss Naseema. “Mary’s real mother passed away when Mary was only six, but Miss Naseema has been like a mother to the girl for over fifteen years, ever since the general was appointed in Cairo.” Mr. Dalton then explained that because the general’s work kept him very busy and often required that he be away from the house, Miss Naseema and Mr. Dalton himself were the closest to Mary.

  As I listened to Mr. Dalton’s words, I began to feel even closer to Mary. Like me, she was somewhat of an orphan; we had even more in common than I had imagined.

  After our little talk ended, I called Hassan so we could have lunch together, and then we finished our day’s work before the Maghrib prayer and left.

  Over the course
of the next two weeks, I passed by several times, and lunch with Mr. Dalton was always interesting and very informative, much to my delight.

  ҉

  It was a normal day at our nursery, and I hadn’t passed by the general’s home in just over a week. Much to my surprise, I was visited by Mr. Dalton, who came to inform me that the general, Mary, and Miss Naseema had returned.

  “The general would like to see you tomorrow afternoon over tea so he can personally thank you for the work done on his glorious garden,” he said,

  The news couldn’t have been better. I was glad she was back at last, and I was sure she’d love the changes we’d made to the garden. Despite the fact that it would take several more weeks for the flowers to blossom and the strawberries to be ready for picking, the grounds still looked amazing. I could only sleep for a couple hours that night, for I was literally counting down the minutes until I’d be able to see her again.

  When I arrived the next day to meet with the general, I saw that Hassan had done a great job over the past week. Everything was in place, and every inch of the garden was immaculately mowed and trimmed. The layout was beautiful, perhaps one of our best jobs yet.

  The general was nothing like I’d imagined him to be. He politely and casually introduced himself and welcomed me in. After he thanked me for my work, he asked me to sit down for some tea and biscuits. He was a man of average build and medium height, just a little chubby. His hair was entirely gray, and his matching eyebrows were thick and knitted slightly together over the bridge of his nose. He looked older than he was, and it was instantly obvious that Mary had inherited her good looks from her late mother, though she did have her father’s striking green eyes.

  He was accompanied by a well-built, young, blond man with a square jaw, dark brown eyes, and a sharp nose. The bodyguard was in his early thirties and looked to be the general’s right arm. He was a cocky, arrogant lieutenant, and when I offered to shake his hand, he just greeted me without taking it. My first impression about him that he was a bitter man, a man filled with hate, and little did I know how right I was.

  After we enjoyed our tea and biscuits, I thanked him for his hospitality and offered to give a garden tour to the gentlemen so I could explain what we had done. I assured the general that in a month’s time, the flowers would decorate the place in a rainbow of colors and that his garden would be so lovely that he wouldn’t want to leave it.

  The general was clearly very happy with our work, but the snobbish young lieutenant wasn’t really satisfied. Every time I spoke, he uttered complaints and tried to belittle what we’d done and make a mockery of the information I was giving them. “Flowers are flowers,” he said. “All you have to do is give them water and watch them bloom for a day, and then they eventually rot,” he complained, then chuckled at his own cruel words. After only ten minutes of going around the garden, he informed the general, “Sir, we’ve wasted quite a bit of time out here.” Then he turned to me and said, “We have some real work and business to attend to now, if you don’t mind.”

  The general didn’t apologize for his rude bodyguard, but he cleared his throat and politely thanked me again, and they excused themselves and left.

  I had a few things to do in the garden, so I walked toward the back yard.

  “Ali, it’s wonderful! I’m coming down!” I heard a melodious voice call from the balcony.

  I was overwhelmed at the sight of Mary, and while it only took her a minute to come down, but it felt like hours to my poor, rapidly beating heart. My emotions got the better of me as soon as I saw her, and without thinking, I blurted out. “I missed you, Mary.” When I saw how taken aback and surprised she was by my forwardness, I quickly tried to correct my mistake. “Um, I mean…I wish you had been here to see the garden come together day by day. I would have loved to see your reaction, especially when we planted the orchids and strawberries.”

  She smiled again and replied, “I would have loved to have seen that, but I had to be with my family. I hope everyone was helpful.”

  “Yes, and Mr. Dalton is especially kind and friendly. I hope you’re satisfied with what we’ve done here.”

  “Oh very! I’m so happy that I can look out here and enjoy the view. I always thought it was a pity that this garden was never used properly all those years, but thanks to you, that has changed.”

  “I gave the general and the gentleman with him a short tour,” I told her.

  “That was very kind of you, Ali…and it’s even more kind that you refer to Charles as a gentleman. That’s more than he deserves. There’s nothing gentle about him, believe me,” she said, wincing as she thought of him.

  “I don’t want to be judgmental, but I had a feeling about him. I don’t think anything pleases him,” I quickly responded.

  Mary laughed. “Can you believe my father wants me to marry him? I wouldn’t consider him if he was the last man on Earth. Besides, I don’t want to marry a military man. I barely know my father because he’s a general, and I won’t subject myself to that in a husband.”

  Not wanting to give away how elated I was about her saying that, I just nodded. I was glad to know that she had no interest in Charles, but I also realized he might be trouble. If I wanted to have a relationship with Mary, I would have to be very careful.

  As I continued showing her around, she listened to every word I said about the garden. I explained in detail the best time for trimming the trees, when the grass should be watered, and when the flowers could be picked for beautiful centerpiece bouquets. After I finished telling her all about the garden, I felt it was time to leave. I bid her goodbye and told her if she ever needed anything, she was welcome to stop by my place. On my way out, I looked at a beautiful red rose and was about to cut it, but then I turned to Mary. “This is your garden, so perhaps I should ask your permission before I cut this rose?”

  She nodded.

  I cut the flower gently from its stem and gave it to her.

  When our hands touched a bit as she took it, she blushed.

  “I couldn’t see this beautiful rose anywhere but in your hands. Have a nice day, Mary,” I said softly as I made my way out.

  I was still in my car when Miss Naseema, who’d seemingly seen Mary and I together, approached and called me by my name. “Ali, can I talk to you?” Before I could even reply, she’d already gotten into my car. “I know you’re an honorable man, but don’t forget who she is and who her father is. You’re an Iraqi, and they will never let the two of you be together. You should put this out of your mind and forget about it, or it will just be more painful for everyone in the long run.” With that, she opened my car door and got out and walked back into the house.

  I was completely shocked. Everything had gone so well until she got into my car and ruined my day with her warnings, the same one so many others had given me. As wonderful as it had been to talk and walk with Mary, I was still Iraqi, and she was still a British general’s daughter, so I was faced with the same dilemma.

  I tried to weigh my options and digest my feelings bit by bit. Mary and I were from entirely different worlds, cultures, and status. Even the simplest of things would be complicated for us. I wouldn’t be able to get into the compound without an invitation. In that way, even in my own country, I was an outsider. Furthermore, I couldn’t even imagine what a scandal and rumor mill such a relationship would cause in the community. On the other hand, I already deeply loved Mary, and I knew I had to overcome all obstacles to have her in my life.

  When I finally arrived back at my place, I just stared at the half-finished home. In a few months, it would be complete, the most beautiful home I could possibly imagine, but it would be far too empty without the right person to share it with. I knew that person Was Mary. She was my destiny. I knew that with all my heart, and I could just feel it, even if everything and everyone around us seemed to be against us.

  In spite of the storm in my mind and heart, the weather was wonderful that day, so I headed to the dock area near th
e river, eager to take a ride on my little wooden motorboat. I hoped it would help me clear my head. The river flowed steadily, and with every passing minute, I felt more relaxed on that calm, rippling water, cooled by the comfortable, fresh air.

  I passed by some small fishing boats, and the old fishermen waved to me above their stretched nets as I greeted them. It was the time of day when they had to clean their nets so they could lay them out for the next day’s catch. One of the fishermen even pointed to me and asked me to join him. Why not? I thought to myself, so I moved closer to his boat so I could hear what he had to say.

  “Do you like fish?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  “I certainly do,” I answered.

  He took one out of a small, oval-shaped bowl. “This is my best catch of the morning,” he said, holding it up for me to look at. “You’re lucky, I guess, because I somehow left it behind when I took the fish to market. You seem like a nice enough boy. Why don’t you take it?” the fisherman offered.

  “Thank you,” I said and took the fish from him.

  “How about some tea?” he asked.

  Tea sounded wonderful, so I was happy to join him for a cup. We each stood on our respective boats, talking, sipping, and watching the sun go down. It is said that with age comes wisdom, and after that day and speaking with that man, I knew that to be true.

  The old river fisherman was in his late sixties, and he could tell by looking at me that I had a lot on my mind. He wasn’t the least bit shy and immediately asked, “What’s bothering you most right now, at this moment?”

  I did need someone to talk to, and I didn’t see anything wrong with opening up to that kind, wise old soul right there in the river. “I-I’m lost,” I stuttered. “I have a choice to make, and I’m not sure which path to take.”

  The old fisherman’s answer was one I would not soon forget: “My son, it’s not about what direction you should take. It’s about choosing one direction and working to move forward on that path, no matter what. Think of this boat. If I don’t control it and leave it to float by itself, the waves or tides will always control my path and take me wherever they please, whether I like it or not. If I decide to take a certain path, be it easy or difficult, and no matter how strong the tide is and what lies ahead, I can choose to steer my boat. I don’t have regrets or doubts in my life because I always choose what I want to do. No matter what I have to face and how challenging it is, I have the comfort of knowing that all things are consequences of my own choices, and I am happy to have the chance to choose. Do not wait for the tide to take you, my boy. Instead, you take on the tide”