Chicory Up: The Pixie Chronicles (37 page)

Was the ring trying to call her back to humanity and Dick? She hoped so. But she couldn’t go back yet. Not yet. She had to deal with Snapdragon once and for all. Then she’d find a way to be with Dick forever.

“W
HY’D YOU LET HIM COME WITH YOU?” Mabel asked. Her face flushed with temper. The monitor beside her hospital bed beeped faster.

“I brought your nephew because he is your only family and he deserves to know that you are healing,” Dusty said matter-of-factly. Gently, she smoothed the sheet, and refolded the top over the light blanket that covered Mabel to the waist. Then she hit the bed control to raise the head.

“Put that back down. I’m not comfortable sitting up yet,” Mabel insisted, more angry than ill. Her face remained flushed. But her gaze strayed to Ian, drinking in the sight of him. “Has your mother bankrupted you yet?” she finally asked.

“Not quite,” Ian chuckled and pulled up a straight chair to sit beside his aunt.

“What about the drugs? I caught you with kids that were headed down the wrong path and a known drug dealer.”

“I learned my lesson. Haven’t seen Bryon and Luis since I was eleven. Now I don’t even take an aspirin unless the doctor holds me down and forces it down my throat.”

“You can’t have my house. I’ve got it protected as an historic building that has to be preserved.” She crossed her arms and humphed. “Dusty, have you and Chase moved in yet?”

“After the wedding, if you are still unable to care for yourself. The house is still yours until
you
decide it’s time you need assistance and move to something easier to care for.” Dusty reassured the old woman.

Old. When had Mabel become so old? And irascible? So weak and vulnerable?

“I don’t want your house, Aunt Mabel,” Ian said softly. “I bought the Goddard House across the street from the Carricks and I’m intending to fix it up, maybe add on to the back or open the attic, if I ever need more room.”

“You want my land…”

“That is my mother’s idea, not mine. She thinks it’s valuable. It’s not.”

“What do you mean it’s not valuable?” Mabel speared him with the glare that had subdued noisy drunks, irate thieves, and frustrated police officers for decades.

Ian, bless him, did not back down. “I mean that there is no access to the long strip behind your house unless you bulldoze one of the houses.”

“The old Corbett place next door is up for sale. It’s such a mess it will have to be bulldozed.”

“I think the Corbett House—your house used to be the gatekeepers’ cottage and carriage house for it—is also on the historic registry,” Dusty mused, thankful that she’d done her homework when she first read Mabel’s will and trust documents. “Whoever buys it will have to restore it. It’s a bank-owned rental at the moment and has been for sale for nearly four years. I’ve read three petitions from the bank to remove the historic designation so they can pull down the structure and try to develop the strip—if they could buy it from you.”

“That strip running between the backyards on your block would make an excellent pocket park or community garden,” Ian said. “If we move your side fence in about three feet, and borrow another three from the Corbett land, we’d have enough for a public path. If we go with the community garden route, we could even put in a locked gate. Only those with rented plots would have access,” Ian continued.

“Lots of new condos and apartments are springing up as the town grows and we attract commuters. Wouldn’t surprise me if the residents jumped at the chance to have a bit of garden for vegetables, and roses and such,” Dusty added.

Mabel’s expression softened a bit. Then her eyes narrowed in speculation. “Dusty, would you and Chase agree
to making the back lot a community garden? I know you won’t live there long, once you start a family, but your interests are primary.”

“Mabel, Chase and I…” Dusty gulped and swallowed a few tears. “Since the chemo, I can’t have children. Chase and I have discussed adoption, but it’s so expensive, we’ll have to wait several years.” She turned her head away at the one great sadness in her relationship with Chase.

“You and I, and Chase too, will have a long discussion about that very shortly. In the meantime, living in my house without paying rent or a mortgage should help.”

“We appreciate that. Thank you for entrusting your home to us.”

“More than the house.” Mabel fixed Dusty with that glare of hers until Dusty had to look up. An instant of understanding passed between them. “I expect you to tend my roses as well.”

“Of course. Rosie… your roses are in good hands. Now about the adoption business…”

“Later. Now, Ian, tell me about your plans for the Goddard House, and how did you save enough for a down payment with my no-good sister spending every dime she can get her hands on?”

Dusty took that as her cue to leave. “Call me if you need a ride home, Ian,” she said as she gathered her purse and keys.

“No problem. I’ll walk. It’s only a mile or so back to the school and my truck.”

One problem solved. Six more cropping up. Dusty decided her next stop would be Chase’s office. He had some explaining to do about Mabel’s house and the possibility of adoption.

“Alessa, I really hope you will come see me from time to time,” Dick said, elbows on the kitchen table. His daughter—wow this was his daughter!—sat across from him. She made geometric patterns with her crackers.

“I won’t come back at all if you keep calling me that.”

“What? Alessa? That’s the name your mother called
you. Alessandra, same as her name. She’s Sandy, you’re Alessa.”

“Yeah, but it’s her name. I don’t want it. I want my own. I’m Hope now.”

“Okay, Hope.” Dick pushed aside his fears. His basic psych classes in med school would paint all kinds of bipolar disorders on this identity issue. There was more going on here than a rebellious child running away from a new and complicated family readjustment. “I eagerly anticipate you coming to see me on holidays and maybe several weeks during the summer. That’s what hope means. Looking forward to a brighter future.”

“Will your fiancée hope to see me, too?”

“I think so. She’s used to a big extended family.” He certainly hoped Thistle was coming back. That he could persuade her they really and truly belonged together. Tomorrow. He only had a little longer to wait.

“Speaking of holidays, why has this town gone so nuts about Halloween?” With a jerk of the head she indicated the floral arrangement at the center of the table. Golden chrysanthemums, red-and-orange leaves, a miniature scarecrow, and a candle all set into a glass pumpkin bowl. “I mean, there’s stuff all over town, even on Main Street and around City Hall. Every yard looks like a horror movie set with gravestones and ghosts and witches and lights and stuff. You put sound effects on a motion detector on your front gate for trick-or-treaters.” She tried to sneer with adolescent superiority, but her eyes shone with a bit of anticipation.

“For a long time this town was just another rural community with a failing textile mill and a long road into Portland for any decent paying jobs. The festivals helped bring tourist dollars in and formed a community bond; gave us a reason to remain an incorporated city rather than just another suburb. We’ve kept up the traditions even though the new corporate owners of the mill have revived the town economy, and the freeway makes Portland seem close enough to commute.”

“You guys really get into it?”

“Yes. In fact, I plan on taking you through the haunted maze in The Ten Acre Wood tomorrow or Saturday night.
My sister has organized most of it. Volunteers will represent the ghosts of some of our more notorious ancestors, including pirates, riverboat gamblers, and an ax murderer. So there are bits and pieces of history lessons thrown into the fun.”

“Cool.” Hope reached across the table for the matches tucked beneath the flower arrangement and calmly lit the pristine orange candle. The wick flared to life in paler colors than the flowers and leaves. She stared at it for a long time, seemingly mesmerized by the flickering blue-and-white center of the flame. The match burned down. She ignored it until she had to shake the matchstick free of fire or get burned.

An afterthought, or instinct rather than conscious decision?

Still she stared at the candle. Her face relaxed as her mind wandered.

Bits and pieces of that damnable psych course fluttered through Dick’s mind like a troubled Pixie looking for a safe perch.
I’m looking for trouble where there is none.

“We’ll talk to your mom about visiting me as often as you like when she comes to get you on Sunday.”

“Mom’s coming here?” Hope snapped out of her trance. “No way. No how. I’m not going back. Not if
that
man is still living in her house.” She shoved her chair back so hard it crashed against the floor. Then she ran out the back door without even stopping for a sweater or jacket.

“Chase Norton, you are as obsessive-compulsive as I am,” Dusty said.

“Huh?” He looked up from the computer screen to find his fiancée smiling at him from the doorway of his office. Of course, the moment he looked away from the text on the screen he knew where to place a comma to make sense of the long narrative. “Have you been standing there long?”

He half stood, ready to wrap her in a long and crushing hug. Maybe add a kiss or six to the embrace. He hadn’t wanted to leave her this morning when they both went to work. He didn’t want to let go of her now.

“I’ve watched you just long enough to feel guilty about disturbing you.” She moved close enough for him to grab her about her waist. He followed through with his plan.

Several breathless moments later he blindly hit the comma key, hoping the cursor was in the right place. He didn’t want to spend any more time untangling his report of ejecting a man from Chase’s parents’ diner for drunk and disorderly when they refused to serve him a beer. They didn’t serve any alcohol, but that didn’t keep the man from putting his fist through a glass desert case.

“I’m ready for a break. Do you want some dinner? Ginny’s supposed to have fried chicken on the special menu,” he said, still clinging to Dusty.

“In a moment.” She bit her lip.

“This looks like it might take a while. Why not talk about whatever is troubling you over dinner?”

“I think this needs more privacy than your family’s diner.”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the wedding! I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?” Panic made his heart race.

“No, silly.” She giggled a bit as she playfully hit his chest. “If anything, last night made me even more eager to spend the rest of my life with you. Did you know that when you fall deeply asleep, when pain and stress fall away, your face relaxes so much that you look ten again. Like you did when I first fell in love with you.”

“I look forward to discovering more about you when you are deeply asleep and I’m not exhausted and woozy from pain pills.” He kissed her again.

“Mabel hinted at some things that make me hopeful about our future together.”

“And what did Mabel say?” He nuzzled her neck, drinking in the faint hint of her lavender shampoo and soap.

“Something about helping us with adoptions.”