The Secret in the Garden
Mornings in my house were never peaceful. They were loud, messy, and full of life. You’d hear footsteps running up and down the hallway, the ding-ding of Veronica’s phone while she posted photos and stories for her fans, and of course, the crash of something falling. That was always Bugsy—my cat—who believed gravity was his personal enemy and knocked everything off the shelves just to prove it.
But that morning was different.
It started with a scream.
“Mom! Dad!” Mia’s voice echoed through the house like a fire alarm. “Scooter is gone!”
Gone.
The word stabbed me in the chest.
From behind a barely open door, I heard sleepy groans. Then, Veronica stepped out, wrapped in a silk robe, her face lit by the blue glow of her phone screen. She looked at Mia with one eyebrow raised.
“Where could he have gone?” she asked, yawning. “Mia, is this another one of your weird spiritual dreams?”
Mia looked ready to explode. “I went into his room to get a bottle of water. He always keeps a few so he doesn’t have to go to the kitchen at night. But he’s not there. His bed wasn’t even slept in!”
Greg came stumbling down the hallway, his hair wild, pajamas wrinkled. “He’s probably hiding somewhere. Maybe he’s pretending to be a detective again.”
“No,” Mia said, shaking her head. “His notebook is still on the bed. He never leaves it behind.”
That made me sit up straighter.
Greg must’ve noticed my sudden change, because for once, he didn’t argue or roll his eyes. He walked straight to me.
I was exactly where he expected: curled up in my favorite armchair, sipping my coffee like always, already deep in thought. I’d been up since dawn, haunted by memories.
“I saw him last night,” I said calmly, stirring my coffee. “He was running through the hallway, holding something in his hand.”
I looked Greg straight in the eye.
“The house is safe. He’s probably just hiding somewhere. He won’t be able to resist the smell of pancakes.”
That was my mistake. I thought I understood Theo. But breakfast came and went. I made my fluffiest pancakes. The coffee was strong and hot. But Scooter didn’t show up.
By lunchtime, the house had turned upside down.
Greg searched every closet like a man on a treasure hunt. He even knocked over a few suitcases.
Mia climbed into the attic—twice—mumbling about “energy traces” and “astral planes.”
Even Veronica, who never put her phone down for anything, was on her knees, looking under sofas and behind curtains. “Is he hiding in a vent?” she asked, as if Theo had suddenly turned into a squirrel.
I took a different route. I stepped outside, letting the cold air clear my thoughts better than any coffee ever could.
That’s when I saw it.
A small gap in the fence.
You could barely notice it unless you knew exactly where to look. The same broken slat I had told myself I’d fix a hundred times. But I never did—on purpose. I’d left it open so Bugsy could sneak into the neighbor’s yard and dig up Harold’s perfectly arranged flower beds.
I stared at the gap and felt it in my gut.
Theo had gone through it.
Now, there were only a few things in this world I truly hated. One of them was visiting Harold.
That man drove me insane. Always out there in his ridiculous checkered shirts, making noise with his rusty chainsaw or spraying clouds of chemical nonsense over his garden. My beautiful roses had suffered because of him.
We had been locked in a quiet war for years. A war of dirty looks, sarcastic remarks, and garden sabotage.
And now, my grandson had crossed into enemy territory.
There they were, sitting together on Harold’s porch like old friends. Scooter was munching on pancakes, a plate piled high in front of him. Harold was sipping tea and flipping through an album.
“…and that was my first insect collection,” Harold said proudly, showing Scooter a page of bugs.
Scooter’s eyes sparkled. “That’s so cool! Do you still collect bugs?”
“Not bugs anymore,” Harold said, smiling. “Now I collect memories.”
I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Scooter!” I called out, storming across the yard.
He nearly dropped his fork. “Grandma Vivi!”
“Home. Now.”
Harold chuckled like this was all a game. “Why the attitude? We were just having breakfast.”
“He’s supposed to eat with his family. Not some—some strange man next door!”
Harold raised an eyebrow. “Strange man? Vivi, really? Isn’t it time you finally told them the truth?”
Theo’s eyes widened. “Wait… what truth?!”
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Not. A. Word.”
Harold smirked and took a long, slow sip of his tea.
I marched over and grabbed Theo’s arm. “We’re going home. Now.”
But in my heart, I knew. The past I had buried deep under years of silence… was starting to crack open.
“I can’t believe he brought up the past!” I snapped, storming into the living room where my daughters had already gathered.
Dolly, always the first to add fuel to drama, looked uncharacteristically quiet.
“Vivi,” she said softly. “It’s been so long. Maybe it’s time to stop carrying this secret. Don’t you think your family deserves to know the truth?”
“Oh, is that so?” I turned on her. “Great! Then maybe you should share some truth too. About that ‘mystery admirer’ you keep pretending sends you flowers?”
Margo, ever the calm one, raised an eyebrow and took a long sip of coffee. “Honestly, if you think about it, Theo and Mia might enjoy meeting their—”
“Enough!” I cut her off before she could say it.
She should’ve known I could read her thoughts before she even spoke.
“You’ve had enough coffee to fuel a rocket ship,” I said sharply. “At your age, that’s basically dangerous.”
Then I turned back to Dolly.
“And you—buying yourself flowers and acting like it’s some great love story? Who are you to judge me?”
Dolly looked wounded. “That was cruel, Vivi.”
I didn’t blink. “The truth usually is.”
And just like that, we were arguing.
I needed air.
I walked out into the garden. The sky was beginning to darken. The breeze was chilly, but it did little to cool the fire in my chest. I had only wanted my family together. Just for a while. But now their secrets had forced me to draw up a will with conditions.
Did they even want to stay here?
Only one person ever had. And I had never let him.
I was about to go back inside when I froze.
There, at the dinner table I had lovingly set up in the backyard, sat Harold. Calm as anything. As if he belonged.
He was helping himself to my roasted vegetables. My golden rolls. My fresh tomato salad. Even my favorite juice.
And the final insult?
Scooter looked up from his plate and beamed. “I hope you don’t mind—I invited him!”
“You what?” I stared at him.
“I invited Harold to dinner,” Scooter said again, grinning.
The whole table went silent.
Harold? At my dinner table?
He took another bite of eggplant and looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Mmm. You still cook like a goddess, Vivi.”
I opened my mouth… then closed it. I was speechless.
Belinda gently placed her napkin on the table. “Mom… what is going on?”
Greg stared at Harold, then back at me. “Yeah. I need answers. Or I might need therapy.”
Scooter held his notebook like a reporter at a crime scene. “Wait… who exactly is he?”
Harold leaned back, wiped his mouth, and said casually, “I think it’s time for the truth. I’m your father.”
A fork clanged onto a plate.
Mia’s eyes went wide.
Greg laughed—loud and awkward. “I’m sorry. WHAT?”
Harold calmly continued, “I came to have dinner with my grandchildren. And my son.”
Everyone went still.
“My what?” Belinda gasped. “Are you saying… he’s our real father?”
I clenched my jaw.
Veronica, who had been half-planning a video post in her head, suddenly leaned in. “Oh my god. Do you know how many followers would eat this up? Hidden fathers, secret pasts—this is peak drama!”
I slammed my fork down so hard Bugsy jumped off the chair and disappeared into the bushes.
“Veronica, if you post even one second of this, I will personally lock you out of the internet.”
She sighed and put her phone down. For once.
Greg buried his face in his hands. “This is too much. I need to breathe.”
Then Mia spoke, her voice quiet. “Grandma… what about our other grandfather? The one who died?”
There it was. The question I had feared.
I turned to Harold. For once, he looked serious.
“Don’t say a word,” I whispered.
Harold looked at me with sad eyes. “Vivi, maybe it’s time to stop hiding.”
“And maybe you should stop walking into my house uninvited.”
He winked. “You never lock the gate.”
Greg raised his hand. “Enough. Mom, you wanted us here. You set the rules. But if you don’t tell us the truth right now…”
I already knew what he would say.
“We’ll pack our bags and leave.”
I looked around. Belinda. Greg. Veronica. Mia. Scooter. All of them waiting.
I had come here to test their loyalty.
But now, I was the one being tested.
So, I took a deep breath… and began my story.
