Susannah's Garden (17 page)

A
fter learning Patricia Carney’s married name from Sandy, Susannah picked up the telephone directory, which still lay on the kitchen table, and looked up Doug’s old girlfriend. She lived in Kettle Falls with her husband and family. Patricia Carney, now Anderson, remembered Susannah and invited her over. Welcoming the distraction and hoping for some clues, Susannah agreed to meet her.

Patricia didn’t resemble the girl Susannah recalled. She’d gained quite a lot of weight, and her lovely chestnut hair had turned a salt-and-pepper gray. With many exclamations of pleasure, Patricia led Susannah to the back patio of her cozy rambler.

“I can’t tell you how surprised I was to hear from you,” Patricia said as she pulled out a chair for Susannah. The pinewood table was covered with a red checkered cloth. Two glasses and a tall pitcher of lemonade sat on a tray, waiting to be poured. There was also a plate of still-warm
oatmeal cookies. The patio was surrounded by lush greenery, including dogwood and lilac bushes, and an array of blooming lilies, peonies and roses. A large vegetable garden took up a good part of the backyard.

What Susannah had learned from their brief telephone conversation was that Patricia was a retired nurse and her husband still worked as a U.S. Forest Ranger.

“You have quite a green thumb,” Susannah commented, glancing around. The profusion of fresh flowers made her heart quicken. Whoever was visiting Doug’s grave had access to flowers, too.

Susannah was chagrined that she hadn’t immediately thought of Patricia. She and Doug had been a couple from the time Patricia was a sophomore. Two years older, Doug had graduated and was working in town as a carpenter for a local builder. The war in Vietnam was in full swing then, and if Doug hadn’t died in the car accident, it was likely he would’ve been drafted. Susannah remembered conversations between Doug and their father about the war. Her brother, who hadn’t been academically inclined, had refused to apply for college, much to their father’s disappointment. He’d wanted to enlist but Dad had been against it, insisting that Doug wait until he was drafted. The irony was that if Doug had gone into the service, he might be alive today.

“Actually, Tom’s the one with the green thumb in the family,” Patricia explained, breaking into Susannah’s thoughts. She sat next to her and poured them each a glass of lemonade. Handing Susannah hers, she said, “I heard about your father. I’m sorry.”

Susannah lowered her eyes and nodded. “It was very sudden.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

“About as well as can be expected. I just moved her into assisted living—she’s having a bit of a problem adjusting. But I’m sure that eventually she will.”

“Help yourself.” Patricia leaned forward, pointing to the plate of cookies; Susannah smiled but shook her head.

“I take it this visit is more than for old times’ sake?” Patricia asked.

Susannah appreciated not having to make small talk before she ventured onto the subject of her brother. “As I recall, you and Doug were dating at the time of my brother’s death.”

A sad, faraway look came over Patricia’s face. “Your brother was my first love,” she said softly. “It broke my heart when he was killed.”

“I was out at Doug’s grave recently.” Susannah set her lemonade down on the pinewood table and studied Patricia. “There were fresh flowers on his grave.” She eyed the flower garden, paying particular attention to the roses and peonies. “Would you know anything about that?”

“No,” Patricia told her. “The only time I go to Calvary Cemetery is on Memorial Day. Tom and I put flowers on our parents’ graves.”

“So you weren’t the one who put flowers on my brother’s grave?”

Patricia shook her head. “Other than the day of his funeral, I’ve never visited Doug’s grave.”

This was discouraging news. Susannah had assumed it
must
be Patricia, who had once loved her brother. If so, it might explain who’d broken into the house, as well. “I thought for sure it was you.”

Patricia shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help you. Make no mistake, I loved Doug, but that was many years ago.” She stared into the distance, as if caught up in her memories.
“Life goes on. I married Tom after I graduated from nursing school. Doug was dead, but I wasn’t.”

“I know.” The tragedy had touched so many lives. In her heart Susannah believed Doug and Patricia would’ve been happy together. “I’m grateful you weren’t with him that night,” she murmured.

“Me, too,” she said, sighing. “Actually, I might’ve been, but he called and broke our date at the last minute. I was plenty peeved with him at the time because I’d come home especially to be with him.”

“Home?”

“I was at nursing school in Spokane by then.”

“Oh, right.” Susannah nodded.

“Doug and I were supposed to get together—it’d been planned for weeks—and then at the last possible second, he called and cancelled. Later, when I learned he’d been killed, I was devastated. Devastated,” she said again. “And I felt so bad for arguing with him.”

“I can imagine.” As long as she lived, Susannah would never forget the phone call telling her that her brother was dead. Her father had tried to calm her. That day had been the most horrible of her life; being so far from home had made it even worse. Her parents had never understood how desperately she’d wanted to come home. Her father hadn’t allowed it. In a few months, she’d be finished with her studies, he’d said, and it was too impractical and expensive for her to fly home twice in that short period. No matter how many years passed, Susannah could never forgive her father for being so heartless.

“My mother kept saying I could’ve been killed that night, too,” Patricia continued, “and she was right. If Doug hadn’t called, I would’ve been with him.”

“Life takes some odd twists and turns, doesn’t it?” Susannah murmured, sipping her lemonade.

Patricia nodded, then grew still for a moment. “Afterward, I thought I’d die, too. I’d never suffered that kind of loss and I wasn’t sure I could go on. I’d always assumed Doug and I would get married.”

“I always thought you would, too.”

She hesitated, and Susannah had the distinct impression that there was something the other woman wasn’t telling her. She waited, hoping Patricia would reveal whatever it was.

“I was planning to talk to Doug that weekend,” Patricia finally said.

“You were?” she asked softly, encouraging the other woman. “What about?”

“Well, when I first left for nursing school, Doug called me every night and drove up to see me at least twice a week. After a while, he started phoning every other night, and then just once the week before he died. I asked my friends who were still in Colville, and they assured me he wasn’t cheating on me. According to them, he wasn’t seeing anyone else. I didn’t understand what was happening between us. Something was. I could feel it. Unfortunately, I never found out what. And I still wonder….”

Susannah wondered, too.

“All I know is that after I went to Spokane, nothing was quite the same.”

“In what way?”

“I think there
was
someone else,” she said softly. “I was young and foolish, and I realize I’d romanticized the relationship, but that’s the truth. If he was seeing another woman, then my guess is she’s the person who’s leaving flowers on your brother’s grave.” She sipped her lemon
ade and added, “Because it isn’t me, Susannah. It simply isn’t me.”

Okay, so her brother might’ve been involved with someone else, although to Susannah it didn’t seem likely that Doug would deceive Patricia that way. Granted, she’d idolized her older brother, she’d always turned to him for advice and had considered their relationship special. She’d counted on him. In fact, before she left for France, he’d promised to do what he could to help her work out the situation with Jake.

“I have another question for you,” she began, “and I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Did my brother ever say anything about my father?”

Patricia blinked as though the question took her by surprise. “Like what?”

“Well,” she said, then exhaled slowly. “Did he ever say anything that might lead you to believe my dad wasn’t the upstanding citizen everyone thought he was?”

“Never.” Patricia sounded shocked. “Your father was a judge.”

“He wasn’t perfect. He had flaws like everyone else.” Because she felt she needed to explain further, she said, “I’m going through my father’s things, and I’m learning a lot about my family—stuff I never knew. If you remember
anything,
it might help me connect all the pieces.” Of one thing she was certain; her brother would never have condoned paying off Jake’s family. He would’ve been as outraged as she was.

Patricia’s face went blank and she slowly shook her head. “Your brother never said a word to me about your father.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her
voice. She’d hoped Patricia would have some answers to give her.

She finished her lemonade and set the glass down. “I’d better go and do some packing,” she said, getting to her feet. “Thank you so much for seeing me.”

Patricia stood, too. “I was happy to do it.”

She walked Susannah to her car. “Listen,” she said. “If you do find out who left those flowers at Doug’s grave, would you mind letting me know? I’d be curious to learn who it was.”

“I’ll do that,” Susannah promised and shut the door.

On the drive back to the house, she decided to stop at Safeway, since she needed a few groceries and didn’t want to make a special trip later.

Walking into the store she felt someone staring at her and turned to find Sharon Nance, Troy’s mother and her former classmate, a few feet behind her. The woman looked at least sixty. There was a hardness about her, evident in the wrinkled overtanned skin and heavily made-up eyes. She wore a short jean skirt that rode halfway up her thighs and a thin, purple sweater with lots of gold chains around her neck. She was smoking a cigarette.

“Hello, Sharon,” Susannah said cordially.

“Well, if it isn’t Susannah Leary.” Sharon tossed her cigarette on the asphalt and crushed it with the toe of her flip-flops.

“It’s Nelson now.”

“Oh, right,” she said in a bored tone.

“Your son and my daughter seem to have hit if off,” Susannah said, not letting on how much she disapproved of the relationship.

Sharon’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that right?”

Apparently Sharon didn’t know, and Susannah was
sorry she’d said anything. She nodded and as they neared the front of the store, she reached for a grocery cart.

“What are you doing in town?” Sharon asked, taking the next cart.

Rather than going into a long explanation, Susannah merely said she’d come back to move her mother.

“Really?” Sharon said with a sarcastic edge. “I thought maybe you were here ’cause of Jake. I saw Yvette the other day, and she told me you’re thinking of looking for him. She figured I might know where he is.”

Susannah didn’t take the bait. “The subject of Jake did come up,” she said, playing it low-key. And wouldn’t Sharon love to know she’d actually paid a P.I. to find him?

“He came back to me, you know.” She shoved the cart alongside Susannah’s. “After you left for that hoity-toity French boarding school, he wanted to get back together with me.”

Susannah let that comment slide and headed toward the produce aisle. She didn’t trust Sharon for a minute.

“Can’t say I blame him,” Sharon added, following close behind her. She carelessly tossed a small iceberg lettuce into her cart. “I was here and you…weren’t.” She emphasized the last word.

“And I’ll just bet you were available, too.” Susannah didn’t bother to disguise her scorn.

Sharon laughed. “I always knew he’d come back to me. You were fun for a while, but I was the woman he wanted. I will say he was bummed after you left, though. He showed me that St. Christopher medal you gave him.”

Susannah made an effort not to reveal her shock. She’d almost forgotten about that. She had given Jake the medal and couldn’t believe he’d shown it to Sharon.

“I heard from him not too long ago,” Sharon said, push
ing the cart past her. “I might still have his number if you want it.”

Susannah’s fingers tightened on the cart handle.

“Stop by the Roadside Inn some night and I’ll see if I can find it for you,” she said casually as she strolled by.

C
hrissie was already at the house when Susannah arrived. Hair flying, she ran out the front door the minute Susannah parked and surged down the steps with the energy reserved for the young.

“Where were you?” her daughter demanded.

That was an interesting question in light of the fact that Chrissie hadn’t seen fit to enlighten Susannah about
her
whereabouts in two days.

“When did you get home?” Susannah asked instead, remaining cool and collected as she headed up the steps and into the house, carrying her groceries.

“You had a phone call.” Chrissie, it seemed, wasn’t planning to answer any questions herself.

“Who phoned? Dad?”

“No.” Chrissie walked backward in front of Susannah, her eyes flashing with irritation. “A private investigator. You’re having Troy investigated, aren’t you?”

That might not be such a bad idea. Susannah wished she’d thought of it earlier. “No, I’m not,” she said bluntly. That denial appeared to mollify Chrissie—for approximately two seconds.

“Then what’s it about?”

“Nothing.” Nothing that concerned her daughter, at any rate. Although she realized she might have wasted a thousand bucks, since Sharon seemed to know where Jake was, and all she’d have to do was humble herself enough to ask for the information.

“Mom,” her daughter cried, using the same voice she had as a five-year-old determined to have her way. “You can’t keep this from me.
Why
did you hire a private investigator?”

Susannah set her purse on the kitchen table, then opened the refrigerator and put the pint of cream inside. While she had it open, she took out a cold soda. Closing the door, she leaned against it, frowning as she saw the ring dangling from a long chain around Chrissie’s neck.

“Where’d you get that?” Susannah asked, reaching out to examine the ring.

“I found it in one of the bedroom drawers. It’s kind of pretty.”

Susannah sighed. “It belonged to my dad.” The signet ring, bearing his law school crest, was the only jewelry her father had ever worn other than his wedding band.

Fingering the ring, Chrissie asked, “Is it all right if I wear it?”

“I guess. Just be careful with it.” She pulled the tab on her soda and took a deep swallow. “Now, what did the investigator say?”

Chrissie hesitated. “First I want you to tell me what this is about.”

“No. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh-kay…” Chrissie dragged out the word. “At least give me a clue.”

“What did she say?” Susannah repeated irritably. The confrontation with Sharon was responsible for her mood. She hated knowing that Jake had gone back to his former girlfriend.

Chrissie paced the area in front of the kitchen sink. “She said you should call. You might not get her right away because she’s going out of town, so she set up a two o’clock appointment for Tuesday, after the holiday.”

Susanna had completely forgotten this was the Fourth of July weekend. Knowing that if she didn’t catch Shirl Remington right away she’d have to wait, Susannah hurried to the phone.

Chrissie regarded her with a suspicious glare. “Are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with Troy?”

“I’m positive.” As she picked up the receiver, Susannah discovered that she didn’t have the agency number on hand.

“Where were you so long?” Chrissie asked again, this time without the defiant attitude.

Susannah sighed as she rummaged through her purse for the investigator’s business card. “In Kettle Falls visiting my brother’s old girlfriend and then I stopped at the grocery store.”

Frowning, Chrissie mulled that over. “Any particular reason you looked up one of Uncle Doug’s old girlfriends?”

“I thought I’d say hello. It was a social call. Why all the questions?”

“I just wanted to know where you were.”

Susannah found the card and her heart slowed. She
would rather have put off calling until Chrissie was out of the room, but checking the clock, she dared not delay a second longer.

“Are you going to tell me what the P.I. says?” Chrissie asked as Susannah lifted the receiver again.

Susannah ignored the question and punched out the number. After five endlessly long rings, Shirl Remington’s answering machine clicked on. “I’m sorry I can’t take your call. I’m either on the other line or away from my desk. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you at my earliest convenience.”

Awash with disappointment, Susannah waited for the annoying sound of the beep. “Hi. This is Susannah Nelson returning your call. I’m sorry I missed you. I’ll see you—”

“Shirl Remington.” The P.I.’s voice broke in.

“Shirl, oh, hi.” Susannah’s heart rate soared. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“I was on my way out the door. Your daughter gave you the message?”

“Yes. Were you able to find…my friend?” she asked, shooting a glance at Chrissie who was watching and listening intently.

“I’ll be able to tell you more when I see you. Does Tuesday afternoon work for you?”

“Yes, perfect.” Susannah hoped the investigator wouldn’t keep her waiting until then. “Can you tell me anything now?” She hated to reveal how anxious she was.

“I managed to dig up one interesting bit of information. It’s rather complicated so I’d prefer to explain later.”

“Okay.” The frustration was killing her. “I might have some information myself.”

“Great. I’m putting out some feelers in Canada. Hopefully I’ll have more to tell you when we meet.”

“Canada?”

“I’ll explain everything on Tuesday,” she repeated.

“Right…have a nice weekend.” Susannah’s head was spinning. Did Jake live in Canada?

“Happy Fourth of July,” Shirl said and, with that, the line went dead.

“What did she tell you?” Chrissie pried. “What was that about Canada?”

Still absorbed in her thoughts, Susannah shook her head. “She said we’d talk on Tuesday.” Until then, her stomach would be in knots. Instinct told her she was close to finding Jake. She could feel it. Although maybe that was merely because she so badly wanted to talk to him.

“Dad doesn’t know about this, does he?” Chrissie said, accusing her with a look of righteous indignation.

“Ah…”

“I talked to him this afternoon, and he said he didn’t.”

Susannah scowled at her daughter, furious that she’d mentioned this to Joe. “Thank you very much,” she snapped.

Chrissie’s jaw sagged as though she’d been the victim of a great injustice. “I beg your pardon. I thought my parents communicated with each other. Guess I was wrong. I suppose this has to do with that old boyfriend of yours. That’s all you talk about, you know. Don’t think I can’t hear when you’re on the phone with your friend—it’s Jake this and Jake that. I even heard some of your phone calls to those other Jake guys. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re
married.
”

Susannah’s face burned with anger and guilt. “For crying out loud—”

“You’d better call Dad,” Chrissie cut in. “He wants to know what’s going on and frankly I don’t blame him.”
Chrissie stormed out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway to her room.

Susannah grabbed the icy soda. Her hand shook as she brought the can to her mouth. Sooner or later, she’d have to tell Joe about the thousand-dollar fee to the private detective.

After taking a few minutes to let her pounding heart settle down, Susannah tried calling Joe at the office. Her one hope was that he was in the middle of a complicated root canal and couldn’t be disturbed. No such luck. He was between patients and eager to talk to her. He took the call in his office.

“What the hell is happening there?” he asked, clearly angry and worse than that, hurt.

Joe so rarely raised his voice that Susannah felt even guiltier. “Good afternoon to you, too,” she muttered.

“Susannah, I only have a few minutes. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“If you’re asking about the private investigator, I hired her to find Jake Presley.” There, it was out with no embellishments, no explanations and no excuses.

The silence between them seemed to shout at her, echoing Chrissie’s taunt.
You’re married.

“It didn’t occur to you to talk this over with me first?” he finally asked. “How would you feel if I decided to look up Donna Terry? She was my first love, but you don’t see me paying good money to hire someone to find her.”

“This is different,” she insisted.

“I know you’re upset about what your father did,” he continued, “and I get that, but this is carrying things too far.”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Fine. Why go behind my back?”

“Because…because I knew you wouldn’t want me to and—well, okay, I knew how you’d feel. I don’t expect you to understand, but this is something I have to do.”

“So you went through with it even though you were well aware that I’d disapprove? My opinion doesn’t count?”

“Ah…”

“You can’t answer that, can you?”

“Joe, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should never have handled this the way I did, but I didn’t feel I had a choice. I was afraid you’d talk me out of it or make me feel guilty for wanting to track him down.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “I would hope you’d trust me enough to discuss such an important matter with me.”

“I know….” Her words faded. She wanted to explain what had led to her hiring the detective, but Joe wasn’t listening. She certainly couldn’t tell him that the money might well have been wasted.

“Why is it so important for you to find him?”

“It just is—for all the reasons I’ve already mentioned.”

“He didn’t bother to find
you.
Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

It didn’t, because Jake had to honor his father’s agreement with hers. She was under no such obligation.

Another silence, filled with accusations.

“Did you talk to the detective?”

“Yes. She was on her way out the door so we didn’t have a chance to say much. I’ve got an appointment Tuesday afternoon.”

“You’re keeping the appointment?”

Susannah frowned, feeling helpless in the face of her own regrets and his unyielding bitterness. “I intend to, yes. Please, Joe, don’t be angry with me.”

“Keep your appointment,” he said, “but I don’t want to hear a word about it, understand?”

Before she could agree or disagree, the line was disconnected.