Susannah's Garden (21 page)

W
hen she returned from Spokane, Susannah wasn’t surprised to discover that Chrissie was gone. Her daughter insisted she was moving to Colville. She’d left no room for discussion; she’d made up her mind and, as far as she was concerned, that was the end of it.

A quick check of Chrissie’s bedroom revealed that her suitcase was still there. The last threat, when Susannah told Chrissie she couldn’t live in the house after this summer, was a moot point. Apparently Troy had invited her to move in with him. Given no other option, she’d accept his invitation, Chrissie said. Susannah wasn’t about to let her daughter blackmail her. Unsure how to respond, Susannah decided to bide her time and visit her mother. She hoped Chrissie hadn’t mentioned the possibility of staying in Colville to Vivian, who would like nothing better than having her granddaughter nearby.

When Susannah arrived at Altamira, Vivian was in her
room watching television, transfixed by the screen. As usual, she had on a cooking program.

“Hi, Mom.”

Her mother finally dragged her gaze away from the TV and a smile lit her face. “Jean, it’s so good to see you.”

More and more often, her mother had been calling Susannah by her aunt’s name. Her dead aunt’s name.

“Mom, it’s Susannah.”

Her mother frowned. “I know that.”

“Are you up to talking for a few minutes?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and patient.

Vivian picked up the remote control and muted the television. Sitting back in her chair, she tilted her head to one side in anticipation. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Mom, can I ask you a few questions about Doug?” This was hard.

Her mother blinked as if she didn’t recognize the name. Then everything seemed to fall into place. Her eyes went liquid with grief, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Susannah came to stand by her mother, bending to wrap one arm around her shoulders. “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

She shook her head. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t know how much I remember anymore.”

“Just answer what you can, all right?”

“You want to know about Dad?”

“No, Doug.” Her mother’s short-term memory seemed to be declining, too. “Was Doug in trouble when he died?”

“Trouble?” her mother repeated. “With whom?”

“The law.” She kept her voice devoid of emotion, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the use of sea salt in a particular recipe.

“Doug was a good boy. Everyone loved him.”

Knowing her father’s penchant for keeping things from her mother, Susannah wondered how much she’d known at the time, let alone what she recalled now.

“No mother should ever have to bury her son.” Vivian grew quiet. She stared into the distance as if lost in memory. “Oh, Jean, I’m so grateful you came to visit after Doug’s funeral. Having you with me was all that kept me sane.”

Again her mother had confused her with her aunt. Perhaps she resembled Jean more than she’d realized. She patted her mother’s hand. It would be impossible to get any information from her; it’d been a mistake to try.

“Who were Doug’s friends?” Susannah asked, making one last attempt. She crouched at her mother’s side.

“There was Ronny Pedderson.”

Ron and Doug had been in Boy Scouts together, Susannah remembered.

“Ronny lives in Portland now. His mother told me all about him and his family. Doug never had a chance to marry.” Fresh tears brimmed in her tired eyes.

“Yes, Mom, I know.”

“He and Scotty were good friends, too.”

“Don’t think about it anymore,” Susannah murmured. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why did you ask about Doug?” Vivian was sobbing openly now. “George never let me talk about him, you know. Every time I brought up his name, he’d get angry with me.” She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her dress. “I couldn’t pretend we never had our son, but that was what George wanted. It was like everything gentle and good inside him died with Doug.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom.”

“You were my only joy.” Vivian lifted her hands to Su
sannah’s face. “I know you didn’t get along with your father. I tried to make him see that his attitude hurt you both, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Mom, please, let’s not talk about it.” Vivian was suddenly recalling things clearly, and that seemed even worse than her forgetfulness, because her memories brought pain.

Her mother nodded, sniffing a little.

Susannah left ten minutes later, filled with regrets. Every decision she’d made this summer had created disastrous consequences. Restlessness had led her on this quest to find Jake; her need had become a foolish obsession. Now she was paying the price, and it was far too high. For everyone.

Sitting in her car, Susannah got out her cell phone and after the briefest of hesitations, called Joe at his office. He was with a patient, but Miranda, the receptionist, said he’d contact her in about ten minutes.

Susannah parked in the shade at Colville City Park. The pool was at one end, with lawn and trees at the other. She sat and waited for Joe’s call, watching mothers and young children at play, teenagers on bicycles, elderly couples strolling and holding hands.

Although she’d been expecting the phone to ring, she was startled when it did.

Call display told her it was Joe’s office. “Hi,” she said, knowing this would be a difficult conversation.

“I got your message.” From his tone she could tell he was still upset with her.

Her nervousness made her stomach jumpy. “I saw the private investigator this morning.”

He didn’t ask for the results. He’d said he didn’t want to know.

“She didn’t track down Jake and, frankly, I don’t care
anymore. I’ve been such an idiot. Joe, I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve made a terrible mess of everything, and…and now Chrissie—” She couldn’t finish.

“What’s wrong with Chrissie?” he asked.

Susannah swallowed her tears and blurted out the ultimatum their daughter had given her. “Chrissie insists she’s moving to Colville to take care of her grandmother and if we don’t let her live in the house, then she’ll move in with Troy Nance.”

“What?”
Joe exploded.

“I’m worried sick about this.”

“You told her absolutely not, didn’t you?” The anger in Joe’s voice was so unlike him, so out of character for her normally even-tempered husband. “What the hell is going on over there?”

“I told her I’d talk to you about it. She’s blackmailing us, Joe, and any argument I give her at this point will drive her straight into Troy’s arms.”

Joe was silent for a moment; he seemed to be mentally reviewing their options.

“Joe, I don’t know what to do.” She hadn’t intended to tell him this way, but once she’d heard her husband’s voice, she couldn’t stop herself.

“How should we handle the situation?” she asked after a minute or so of silence.

“I know Chrissie’s close to your mother,” he murmured. “Maybe she really feels she can help.”

“I’m sure that’s part of it, but I don’t want her around Troy. It’s not a good relationship.” She bit her lower lip hard to keep from telling him that Troy was almost certainly Jake’s son. No need to add fuel to
that
fire. “He doesn’t have any visible means of support.”

“Which means he’s probably doing something illegal.”

Susannah didn’t disagree. “You could talk to Chrissie, reason with her. She might listen to you,” she told Joe.

“She stopped listening to me a long time ago,” Joe said tersely.

“We
can’t
let her quit college. Not only that, Troy Nance is completely wrong for her. This relationship could ruin her life.” It didn’t take much imagination to recognize trouble brewing. If Troy was a drug dealer, which everyone in town seemed to suspect, he could be arrested at any time, and Chrissie would be guilty by association.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Joe asked.

“I should’ve sent her home when she first showed up,” Susannah muttered. “I’m the one to blame,” she said wretchedly.

“We don’t need to cast blame,” Joe said. “Right now, we’ve got to concentrate our efforts on Chrissie.”

Susannah pressed her palm against her forehead, thrusting her fingers through her hair. She heard voices in the background. Joe said something she couldn’t understand.

“Suze, listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, but Joe—”

“I have to get back to my patient. I’ll call you later, all right?”

“Of course.”

The phone buzzed in her ear and Susannah shut it off. When she looked up, she noticed a couple in the park. She frowned as the man pushed the woman up against a tree and began to kiss her. His hands roved her body in what she could only describe as an X-rated manner; this display was completely out of place in public.

All of a sudden she recognized the man.
Well, well, well.
Darned if it wasn’t Troy Nance—with another woman. Susannah strained her eyes to be sure.

This was the perfect opportunity to show her daughter that Troy wasn’t to be trusted. If Chrissie wasn’t with him, which she most certainly was not, she was probably still at the house. All Susannah had to do was get her daughter, bring her to the park and let her see with her own eyes what kind of man Troy really was. Telling her would never work, since Chrissie wouldn’t believe a word she said.

Starting the engine, Susannah barreled out of her parking spot and headed for the house, praying all the while that Chrissie was home.

Of course she wasn’t.

C
arolyn had dropped Susannah off at her mother’s place after the trip to Spokane. From there, she’d returned to the mill, where she called Kettle Falls Landscaping and left a message for Dave Langevin to get in touch. She wanted to ask him to come for dinner.

He’d been to her house that one night, just that once, and it’d been the sweetest, most romantic night of her life. She hadn’t told Susannah much about their evening together. Carolyn didn’t know how to explain that she’d never felt more cherished. Yet Dave had hardly touched her.

Not for lack of wanting on either his part or hers. The attraction between them was explosive, and she knew his guardedness was no match for the pull he felt toward her.

Carolyn still had her own misgivings about an affair. By his own admission, Dave was a drifter. He’d never said why he moved around as much as he did or the reason he’d
come to this area. Intensely private, he asked nothing of her, nor did he offer anything personal about himself. Nevertheless, she was drawn to him in a way she hadn’t been drawn to any other man in years.

At the end of the workday, the whistle blew and the sound jolted Carolyn from her thoughts. Within minutes the men started out of the gates, their lunch buckets in their hands. Dave, too, would be getting off work and when he got back to the office he’d receive her message. He didn’t have a cell phone, otherwise she would’ve contacted him directly.

But even if he did get the message, there was no way of knowing whether he’d accept her invitation. She waited at the office for an extra half hour, wondering if he’d get in touch with her there. When no call came, she decided to go home.

As she drove, Carolyn felt depressed. Needing a man in her life—a particular man—was an uncomfortable feeling. Dave had said that in the end he’d hurt her, although that seemed to worry him more than it did Carolyn. She felt a sudden and unaccountable conviction that he wouldn’t show. That he’d already made his decision.

By seven she knew she was right. Barefoot and wearing red cotton capris and a sleeveless red-checkered shirt, she watered her garden, trying to focus on the sensual feel of the grass against her feet, the sun on her arms, the heavy scent of the old roses.

Two thick steaks sat on the kitchen counter, and the green salad made with lettuce from her garden and fresh tomatoes, green peppers and slivered carrots was in the refrigerator, ready for her green goddess dressing. The recipe had been her mother’s and Carolyn hadn’t prepared it in years.

Just as she was about to put everything away and make herself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, she heard a vehicle traveling down her driveway. Walking around the house to the patio, she saw Dave’s truck.

She watched as he climbed out, noticed that he’d showered and changed clothes, wearing clean khakis and a black T-shirt. Standing beside his battered pickup, he didn’t see her at first.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said.

He turned to her and his smile engulfed her. “I didn’t think I was, either.”

Her heart was racing. “I’m glad you did.”

“I tried, but I couldn’t stay away.” He moved toward her then, his steps making short work of the distance. When he reached her, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk directly into his arms. He embraced her, holding her close.

Carolyn raised her mouth to his and brushed his lips with her own. The kiss was moist and sweet and filled with longing. Dave lifted her braid and ran his fingers down the length of it.

He kissed her again, and again. Finally, with a reluctance that equaled her own, he released her.

“I’ve got steaks ready to grill,” she told him.

“Would you like me to cook them?”

“Please.”

They dined on the patio, drank wine with their meal and savored a second glass. They talked little. It was enough just to be together. As the sun set and the deer grazed in the meadow, they held hands. Every now and then, Dave would kiss her knuckles.

“I’ve never spent time with a woman like this,” he admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” He shook his head as if he hesitated to say more.

“No, tell me,” she urged.

“I should go,” he said.

An automatic protest rose to her lips, but she swallowed it and stood up with him. He kissed her, his arms tightening around her waist.

Carolyn’s body ached for him and she knew he experienced the same intense desire.

His gaze held hers, in it she read pain and regret.

“Does it bother you that I own the mill?” she asked.

“The truth is, I wish you didn’t.”

“Why?” The mill was part of who she was, her heritage. Bronson family blood flowed through that mill and she was the third generation to manage its operation. One day she’d be forced to sell it because the Bronson line ended with her, but she wasn’t ready to think about that yet. She had too many goals left to accomplish.

He shook his head again, unwilling to answer.

“It doesn’t bother me that you’re who you are,” she said, knowing she sounded defensive. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It…it doesn’t matter.” She broke away from him and carried their empty plates into the kitchen.

Dave followed with the wineglasses. He took the dishes from her and set them on the counter. Carolyn’s eyes locked with his and she nearly wept at the sadness she saw in him. Tentatively she raised her hand to his face. Her heart was pounding so hard, it felt loud enough to bring down the walls.

“I knew this wouldn’t work,” he said. “I tried to tell myself I’d do whatever was necessary to be with you. Damn the gossip, damn the speculation.”

Carolyn was afraid of where this was leading. He was going to pull up stakes and leave Colville, and she couldn’t bear it if he did. Her life had never felt empty until she’d met him. Now the emptiness was there anytime he wasn’t.

Rather than allow him to continue speaking, she slipped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. To her surprise and delight, she met with no resistance.

Dave took control of the kiss, his desire so strong it threatened to consume her. She grabbed his shirt collar, needing an anchor, something to hold on to while her senses went wild.

She gasped when Dave released her. They stood just inches from each other, their breathing harsh and ragged.

“The truth is, Carolyn, I am who I am and you are who you are. I’m basically an itinerant laborer, while you own the most important business in the area. I live in a second-hand camper, while you live
here.
” He gestured around him. “People will talk. They are already. You think there’s anyone in Colville who doesn’t know about us? They all do and the things they say are going to hurt you. I won’t let that happen.”

“But—”

He gripped her shoulders to stop her. “I’ll put in my two-week notice tomorrow.”

“No!” Without a job, he’d do what he’d always done and simply drift away.

It seemed for a moment that he’d reconsider, but then he shook his head. “I’ll find another job. Somewhere else.”

“How will you support yourself until then?”

“I have very few expenses. I’ll be all right.”

“I don’t care who knows about us!”

He touched her face gently. “I care. I won’t have you talked about around town.”

She knew he meant what he said. Throwing her arms around his middle, she hugged him. “I feel so selfish and guilty for wanting to be with you.”

He stroked her hair and held her close. “I want to be with you, too. I won’t leave you yet.”

“Promise?”

She felt his smile against the side of her face. “Promise,” he whispered.

When the time came, she’d let him go; she had no other choice. But she had to believe her love would draw him back.