The Chocolate Garden (Dare River Book 2) (28 page)

“Look, Mama,” Annabelle cried, pointing to the Barbie dolls Amelia Ann had taken from her bedroom and arranged in the dollhouse he’d bought.

Rye had insisted on paying for everything, and rather than come to blows over it, he’d agreed. The dollhouse was the one thing he’d bought for Annabelle himself. For Rory, he’d pulled his telescope out of a storage closet and installed it into one of the openings.

“That telescope is J.P.’s, Rory,” Rye told him, “so you’ll have to ask him about the stars and such. He’s always been able to pick out all the constellations.”

After his father left, John Parker had hated sleeping in the house, so his mama would let him camp in a tent with his golden retriever, Duffer, all summer long. When the heat was stifling, he’d end up on his back with the stars overhead. Because he noticed patterns in the sky, he checked out a library book about astronomy and learned all the constellations. As a kid, it had been a comfort to him to look up at the night sky because he figured if God could hold up millions of stars like that, he could and would help John Parker and his family.

“We figured this would be the perfect place for y’all to play,” Hampton said from the corner of the room, jostling the two little chairs in pale green nestled against the white work table decorated with Annabelle’s tea set and Rory’s toy soldiers.

Susannah had also added some decorative battery-powered lanterns for light and some rough artwork above the window openings with sayings like
Kid Zone, Love Wins,
and
Let There Be Magic.
A colorful mobile of dragonflies, which also lit up, hung from the ceiling like a chandelier. In the corners were nestled two dog beds for Barbie and Bandit.

“I love this place!” Annabelle cried, sounding more like her old self.

“Me too! Thank you so much, Uncle Rye, Mr. McGuiness, Granddaddy,” Rory said, and Annabelle thanked each of them too, giving out hugs and kisses.

Soon it was time to say goodbye, and they were all gathered in the drive with the kids crying and clinging to their granddaddy and aunt and uncle.

Rye hugged Tammy long and tight, and said, “I hate leaving y’all like this, but I know y’all will be okay here. There’s no one better than J.P.”

“I know, Rye,” she whispered back, and again, that open look in her hazel eyes made him wish they were alone.

When the two vehicles pulled out of his driveway, John Parker had to keep a firm hand on Rye’s dogs, Bullet and Banjo, who had returned, almost as if they sensed Rye was leaving them for a long time. Once they were settled, he scooped Rory up into his arms and turned to Tammy, who was already holding Annabelle.

“Well now, how about we head inside and scrounge up a snack?”

Tammy nodded, and as they crossed his threshold, he said a prayer that they were here to stay, right where they belonged.

Chapter 30

They settled into a rhythm over the next couple of days. At first, Tammy tried to do everything herself, but like water to a rock, John Parker slowly waited her out until she started including him in the ongoing actions of taking care of Rory and Annabelle, anything from helping Rory with his bath while she tended to Annabelle to reading them stories and comforting them after one of their ongoing night terrors.

Her family called each day, and Rye made good on his promise to send a collection of songs to play for the kids at bedtime. Sometimes John Parker sang along with Rye as he and Tammy put the kids to bed, and Annabelle melted his heart by saying, “You have a pretty voice too, Mr. McGuiness.”

The construction was complete on his property, and the side gardens had been planted—the soil still soft, the mulch still fresh. Whenever Tammy fussed about the chocolate garden being incomplete, he would tell her to focus on the kids and catch up with her other clients. He was already a client for life, so she could finish his garden later. She thanked him profusely and promised to be fast about it. In truth, he loved to watch her work—drawing garden designs with a sharp yellow pencil or combing through gardening books while the kids played outside or watched TV.

Each night after the kids went to bed, they settled on the couch and watched a movie or walked through the gardens. She had started carrying a long-range baby monitor on these occasions, wanting to hear the kids if they needed her in the night. Often they kissed in those quiet moments. Sometimes he caressed her, but he held back, keeping things light between them.

Even though he was going mad with desire for her.

A week into their time together, Annabelle’s scream tore through the house in the middle of the night. He’d taken to sleeping in a T-shirt and boxers, so he was running down the hall to her room in a matter of seconds. Tammy was already by her side, clad in a simple cotton wrap over her nightgown.

“Mama,” Annabelle cried out, her eyes wide in the dim light of the room. “The bad man is coming.”

Tammy sat on the bed and pulled her daughter onto her lap, rocking her. “No, darlin’, he can’t, remember? We’re safe here.”

Rory was shaking when John Parker scooped him out of bed too. “But he could come back,” the little boy said.

“No, son, I told you, he won’t find us here, and even if he did, you know your mama and I would protect you. Nothing bad can happen to you here.”

“It did at Uncle Rye’s house,” Rory protested.

There was no way to convince him otherwise. Fear had a way of turning everything on its head, and John Parker felt helpless again as the little boy clutched at his neck, crying softly with Annabelle, the dogs whining with them.

That night, after changing the sheets and putting Annabelle into fresh pajamas, all four of them ended up in Tammy’s bed, the kids cuddled between the two adults. It had only happened a couple of times, but each time, John Parker would link his hand with Tammy’s over the kids’ small bodies until they finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Then he would watch as her silent tears fell into the pillow—every drop like a hammer strike to his heart.

“I’m going outside for a while to think,” he whispered to her finally. “We need to come up with a way to help the kids. We can’t continue on like this.”

She squeezed his hand before he carefully removed himself from the bed and padded down the hall, letting himself out the back door, the bigger dogs following in his wake.

The crickets were carrying on something fierce with the cicadas, and there was comfort in that. Even at night, things were still awake and singing, bringing order to a world in darkness.

That was it: the kids needed balance to be restored to them. They needed to know something could watch over them at night. All the reassurances in the world weren’t working.

Like he did when he was writing a song, he went inside himself, letting the grass caress his bare feet as he walked until he could make out the pale light coming from the water feature Tammy had installed on his land.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it didn’t seem dark at all. The starlight in the heavens shone like white diamonds, and he made out Ursa Major and Minor and then Sagittarius, who was symbolized by the archer with the bow.

Maybe if he told them the story about the half-man, half-horse watching over them from the stars, they would feel safe again.

But he could already hear Rory’s logic.
The archer is so far away. What if he can’t get here in time to help us?

He needed something tangible, something the kids could believe was close by. And there needed to be something magical about it. Fairytales helped children believe good always overcame evil, that love conquered all.

To help him think, he started humming like he always did when he was searching inside himself for lyrics, but this time he asked God to help him find the right story to help the precious children he loved so much.

He sat on the bench in front of what was supposed to become his chocolate garden. The beds lay fallow, but he could smell the ripeness of the land waiting to be planted. His eyes closed, and behind his lids he could see Tammy’s chocolate garden—the lush chocolate vine she planned to train around a tower in his yard, the chocolate sunflower that would stretch its dark face to the bright sun. He could smell the chocolate plants that would give off a heavenly cocoa fragrance.

There was magic here, he realized. Could he use that to help the kids somehow?

By the time the moon had traversed his backyard, there was a plan fleshed out in his mind, and he hung his head and said a prayer of thanks. He’d have to tell his mama about his time alone with God in the wee hours of the night, and his conviction that there would always be an answer when one was needed.

As he crossed his land back to the house to seek his bed, a shooting star streaked across the sky, and he took it to be another sign. All would be well.

Streaks of brilliant orange dotted the dark sky when he awoke, feeling a deep sense of peace. Tammy was already seated at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee, when he wandered in. Her beauty stole over him again, and his love for her burned in his heart.

He held out his hand to her. “Come outside with me.”

She picked up the baby monitor and crossed the room to stand at his side. He framed her face and kissed her lightly before taking her hand in his. He drew her outside in her bare feet, the dew cooling their soles. Turning her toward the future location of the chocolate garden, he rested his hands on her shoulders.

“I know why we weren’t supposed to plant your chocolate garden before.”

Looking back at him, she asked, “You do?”

He turned her in his arms, wanting to see her eyes. “Bad things can’t happen to homes that are surrounded by a chocolate garden, Tammy.”

A new light entered her eyes, and he could see the spark of childlike faith flicker to life inside her.

“They’re magical places,” he continued, “guarded by special chocolate fairies who make chocolate at night when little children are asleep in their beds.”

“Oh, John Parker,”
she whispered. Tears entered her eyes, and one fell with slow grace down the curve of her cheek.

“Bad men can’t enter because the chocolate fairies always keep them out. They use their special powers to prevent anyone from stealing their chocolate. And the people who grow this special chocolate garden, letting the chocolate fairies make their magical chocolate, receive special protection. The chocolate fairies take care of the family and always keep them safe.”

Her head fell to his chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

He held her tightly to him and rocked them back and forth. “Annabelle has lost her faith in the scary world of adults, but she still believes in magic and fairy tales like a child. She’ll believe it, Tammy. And while Rory may not, I think it will help restore his faith too.”

She pressed back and traced his brow, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “It’s so beautiful I just don’t know what to say.”

“We have to give the kids back the magic of believing they can be safe again. They need to believe there’s something more than just adults watching over them because deep down, through no fault of our own, we couldn’t stop that man from breaking into Rye’s house. That’s why they can’t trust us completely, even though they want to.”

“Oh John Parker…”

“We have to plant it, Tammy. Now. And we’ll get the kids to help us.”

She started weeping quietly. “Yes.”

“It’ll work, I promise.” He knew it like he knew when a song was ready.

Tammy wiped away tears and leaned back to look at him, and her hazel eyes looked like Mother Nature, all lush and open and green and brown. “I love you, John Parker.”

He let the words he’d prayed to one day hear from her wash over him. But still he asked, “Are you sure?”

She gave a teary smile. “How could I not be? You stayed up in the middle of the night to dream up that magical story for my babies.”

“I don’t want you to only love me because of how I am with the kids, Tammy.”

“I don’t,” she said, tracing his mouth gently, setting him on fire.

He kissed those fingers, wanting to press her into his land, to let it cushion them both as they finally came together. But he knew it couldn’t happen yet. The first time they made love needed some thought, and yes, he would admit it, some magic.

“I’m glad. I want you, you know.”

The light in her eyes dimmed, and he knew it was because of old scars from her marriage. “I know, and I want you too,” she finally said. “I’m grateful you’ve given me some time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said, even though it killed him to say the words.

Her deep exhalation was ripe with relief, and he knew he’d been wise not to rush her.

“The kids are asleep. I don’t know when they’ll wake up, but we have a while.”

“We don’t have enough time for me to make love to you like I want, especially for the first time, but we can still make this moment our own.” He tugged her hand. “Follow me.”

As the morning sun rose and burned away the muggy mist, he would give her a prelude to how it would be between them. He could help restore her faith in this most sacred union between a man and a woman.

He led her to the edge of the woods where the tree house stood. It was private enough, large enough, and comfortable enough for them. Her smile was girlish as he opened the door decorated with gum drop paths and other magical things. Once they were inside, he knelt on the rug, more than thankful they would have something to lie on. When she lowered herself to press against him, setting the monitor off to the side, he leaned in to kiss her gently, sipping at her lips.

She must have been hungry for him because unlike her usual slow-cooker kisses, her tongue pressed inside and tangled with his right away as if needing to dance. His arm snaked around her back, and he pressed her against his full length, letting her become used to the feel of his body and his desire for her, something he’d been careful to shield from her before. His blood beat to a powerful rhythm only she could command, and he felt the answering response of her own heart pounding for him.

Their kisses grew as steamy as the air, thick with possibility, lush with desire. His hand opened her wrap and nightgown and caressed her soft breast through the white cotton, first one and then the other. When she tensed a fraction, and then pressed closer, he could feel her courage, sense her battle to stay with him.