Chapter 22 - The Garden Behind the Wall"You shouldn't wander back here, Mark," Sarah said softly, closing her pastel box with a quiet click. "Ghosts don't pay rent in this zip code."
Mark walked slowly up the paved driveway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his corduroy jacket. "I just wanted to see if the garden was still there," he admitted, his voice raspy. "The hydrangeas Elena planted. Did the new people tear them up?"
Sarah stood up, brushing a stray fleck of blue chalk from her coat. She gestured toward the side gate. "See for yourself."
Mark pushed the wooden gate open. The backyard was untouched. The hydrangeas had grown wilder, spilling over the cobblestone border in deep shades of violet and blue, framing the small patch of earth where Elena used to kneel on Saturday mornings.
"She bought it back, didn't she?" Mark asked quietly, looking down at the damp soil.
Sarah didn't answer immediately. She leaned against the wooden fence, watching a blue jay land on the branch of an old oak tree.
"She didn't buy it to live here," Sarah said. "She bought it the day after you left. She had the title transferred into a municipal preservation trust. No one will ever tear this house down, Mark. But no one will ever live in it as a museum to your mistakes, either."
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Mark exhaled a long, shaky breath, the cold air turning his sigh into a white plume. "She keeps the past safe, doesn't she?"
"No," Sarah corrected sharply. "She honors it so she doesn't have to repeat it. There’s a difference."
