Into the Garden

by Robert Hass

  He didn’t. Typical Sloan. Tell him he couldn’t do something and he would die trying. He sliced the vegetables, scrubbed the potatoes, set the table with two plates, and when she protested, he just shrugged. Sloan Hawkins was pretty handy in the kitchen, which meant he’d done his own cooking. Was there not a woman in the picture?

  “Your dinner is ready,” she said, setting the golden squash and a plate of cold ham slices on the table.

  “Yours, too.” He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, waiting for her to be seated.

  Fighting an unwelcome rush of attraction, she said, “I really should go.”

  “Come on, Annie. It’s only a meal. I know you haven’t eaten.”

  When he put it that way, she felt foolish for refusing. It was only a meal and she was an adult, not some silly teenager. Justin had ball practice until dark and Mother was thrilled to have Delaney. Eating alone at home was depressing anyway. “Well, all right.”

  After an uncomfortable moment when she’d said grace and felt him staring at her the whole time, they began to eat.

  “When did you get religious, Annie?” he asked, forking one of the crispy squash.

  She didn’t consider herself religious, per se. The word made her think of the scribes and Pharisees who’d condemned Christ. “I committed to Christ a few years ago, if that’s what you mean. I was trying to make sense out of life, and God offered a hope I didn’t have.”

  “Simple as that?”

  “Faith is simple. God is good and loving, and without Him we’re a mess.” She laughed softly. “Sometimes I’m still a mess.”

  “Human nature is a mess,” he said and popped a buttery new potato in his mouth. “Man, that’s good. You can’t buy that flavor in a store.”

  “Lydia has good friends. This time of year, the gardeners keep us all in great-tasting produce.”

  “I don’t remember Redemption as being that generous.”

  “Because your view is skewed. Redemption is a wonderful town, filled with decent, honorable people.”

  He scowled at a tomato slice. “Not everyone.”

  “No, but most. When Joey left, I was devastated and humiliated. I’m sure a few gossips had a field day, but for the most part this little town wrapped its arms around me and helped me keep going when I wanted to give up.”

  “What happened? With Joey, I mean?”

  Her heart lurched. Sloan didn’t know it, but he was treading on dangerous ground. “Half the marriages in this country end in divorce.”

  “That’s an excuse, not an answer.”

  “I could say it’s none of your business.”

  “You could.” He didn’t seem the least bit offended, which was likely the reason she told him.

  “Joey got tired of me, tired of the kids, tired of being married. We fought a lot after Delaney was born.” She dropped her gaze to the pretty gold-rimmed china. “He started seeing other women.”

  Sloan’s dark fingers closed over hers. “Creep. Want me to hunt him down and hurt him for you?”

  The juvenile statement made her smile.

  “The marriage was bumpy from the beginning. I probably shouldn’t have married him at all.” That was an understatement, but Joey had been eager and she had been desperate.

  “Did you love him?”

  “Maybe at one point.” But not in the beginning, nor in the end.

  She didn’t say that, of course, though she experienced an interesting sense of relief, an absolution of sorts, at sharing her disastrous marriage with Sloan. She’d felt so guilty about marrying Joey while still aching for her first love. “What about you? Did you ever marry?”

  She wasn’t sure why she’d ventured there.

  Sloan withdrew his hand and went back to his meal. “Too busy.”

  Annie sipped at her water, mouth suddenly dry. “Where have you been, Sloan? What have you been doing? Where did you go?”

  The questions came out unbidden, but she’d wondered for so long. Why not ask now when they were both feeling comfortable and nostalgic?

  Sloan chewed and swallowed, his expression bland. “I joined the army.”

  The answer was not what she expected. Sloan had never once mentioned a desire to enlist. The old hurt swelled inside her. “What a weird thing to do.”

  His laugh was a bark. “Wasn’t it?”

  “Why?”

  Some odd emotion flashed through his eyes but was shuttered so quickly, she could have imagined it. “A man’s gotta do something with his life.”

  They’d had plans. Had he forgotten those? “My father said you ran away the same way your mother did.”

  He pretended interest in a cucumber dripping vinegar. “Is that right?”

  “You tell me.”

  “What else did he say?” The cucumber slid off the fork and plunked onto his plate.

  “He said you were in trouble with the law and ran to avoid prosecution.”

  “There you are, then. Just like your daddy says.”

  Annie heard an undertone of anger in the flip answer and wondered if there was more to the story than either her father or Sloan was willing to tell. Something in the tense set of his jaw warned her not to press the subject.

  “What have you been doing since the army?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out, the tension dissipating with the change in topics. “Living in Virginia. Started my own security business.”

  Sloan went on to describe a thriving company that protected dignitaries, heads of state, and others in need of security all over the world. Stunned, she realized Sloan Hawkins was not some thug on a motorcycle. He was a businessman, and from the sound of things, a very successful businessman.

  “Wow, impressive.” She couldn’t quite reconcile this new Sloan with the old one.

  The telephone rang.

  Sloan reached over her head and took the receiver from the wall phone. “Hawkins’s residence.”

  His face, alive and passionate about his company moments before, went flat and hard. “She is.”

  He handed the phone to her. “Our favorite police chief.”

  “Daddy?” she said into the mouthpiece.

  “I tried your house. What are you still doing over there with Hawkins?”

  She wasn’t sixteen anymore, but her father made her feel that way sometimes. Especially since Sloan had come home. “Having dinner. Why? Do you need me for something?”

  “Justin’s in trouble again.”

  Her stomach dropped. “Oh, Dad.”

  Sloan came around in front of her, head tilted to one side, expression questioning. She held up one finger.

  “What happened this time?”

  “Deputy Risenhower caught him breaking out windows with rocks.”

  “Breaking windows?” She ran an exasperated hand over the top of her head. “But he’s supposed to be at ball practice.”

  “He got kicked off the team, Annie.” Her father’s voice was tired. “I guess he took out his anger on the first place he encountered—Staley’s drugstore. All the windows on the third floor were broken and a few on the second.”

  Stomach in a knot, she leaned her forehead against the heel of her hand. Staley’s was a gorgeous old building on the historic register. “Oh, Justin, Justin, what am I going to do with you?”

  A strong hand clasped hers and squeezed. She took one glance at Sloan, saw the compassion there and had a memory flash of him doing the same thing in high school when she’d failed a test in geometry. He’d been there for her, supporting, encouraging and always on her side.

  She swallowed the heavy dose of regret mixed with dismay. Raising a son was far more important than a test and she couldn’t afford to fail.

  Grateful for Sloan’s support, she latched on to his strong, manly fingers. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone besides herself to lean on.

  “Chuck Staley is pressing charges,” her father was saying. “So my hands are tied. Says he wants to make an example out of the police chie
f’s grandson. You’ll have to pay restitution and he’ll likely be on probation.”

  Twice before, Justin had been in scrapes and his grandfather had dealt with it. “Where is he?”

  “Here at the police station. I would have taken him home but I couldn’t find you.” The statement was an accusation. He was upset because she was in the same house with Sloan. His ulcer would perforate if he knew they’d shared a companionable meal and conversation. If he knew they were holding hands, he’d explode.

  “I’ll meet you at my house in ten minutes. Okay?”

  “Right. And Annie?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t bring Hawkins.”

  The kid was driving her nuts.

  Sloan parked his bike outside the bank and stepped up on the curb. Giant pots of red and white flowers flanked the clear glass doors of First National of Redemption.

  His cash flow was running low and he was here to deal with the formalities of opening an account, but his brain was still dealing with the problem of Annie’s son.

  This latest incident had just about shattered her. Oh, she’d acted tough, but he knew Annie. Those big green eyes had swum with unshed tears and her voice had quivered when she was on the phone with her father.

  He was disturbed at how badly he’d wanted to take her in his arms and give her the comfort she needed. He’d offered to go with her, too, to deal with the boy. Her refusal didn’t surprise him, but the rejection he’d felt did.

  This morning, she’d brought Justin with her to Lydia’s. The kid had been his usual sulky self, but he was also more subdued. According to Annie, she was not letting him out of her sight the rest of the summer. He almost felt sorry for the boy. Whatever was eating the kid was not going to go away just because his mother was watching him every minute. The kid needed to be busy, not sitting on the couch playing video games while Annie worked to replace the broken windows. The restitution should be Justin’s, not hers.

  Why he should care about Annie’s problems or Annie’s troubled kid, he didn’t know. But he did.

  Stewing on that bothersome revelation, Sloan went inside the air-conditioned bank. At a teller’s window, he stated his business and waited for the paperwork. Housed in a historical building dating back to 1903 like most of the town’s main street, the exterior of the bank hadn’t changed much since he’d been gone, but the interior boasted new glass-enclosed offices and a bevy of loan desks.

  The clerk returned with the papers. Sloan signed and then took the envelope of bills, stuffing it into his jeans pocket.

  As he turned to leave, an all-too-familiar voice stopped him.

  “Hawkins.”

  Sloan sighed and turned around.

  Police Chief Dooley Crawford stepped away from the next teller. “Borrowing money to pay your fines?”

  Annie’s father was thinner than most men his age, but still tall and mean-looking. Sloan had no doubt he still evoked fear in the local teenagers.

  “Been harassing any other citizens, Chief? Or am I special?”

  Dooley’s face hardened. “A man with your reputation needs to be real careful that he doesn’t end up in jail, if you get my drift. You steer clear of my daughter. You hear?”

  “Seems like I’ve heard that warning before.”

  “And last time you had sense enough to run while you could. We don’t need your kind in this town.”

  “And what kind would that be? A law-abiding citizen come home to take care of his ailing aunt?”

  Dooley sneered. “You can’t fool me. You’re here to cause trouble, just like your daddy and mama.”

  Sloan bristled. “My mama never hurt a soul.”

  “No? Well, she left her worthless kid to terrorize the town and keep the cops busy.”

  Sloan’s hands fisted at his side. His years in the military and as a business leader had taught him self-discipline. And he needed every bit of it to keep from punching out the local law.

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Dooley. And I don’t scare. This may come as a nasty surprise—and I hope it does—but you did me a favor twelve years ago. What you meant for harm turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Dooley’s narrow lips lifted in an imitation smile. “Be glad to do it again, boy.”

  Sloan laughed and walked away. He could feel the icy daggers of Dooley’s stare against his back.

  Once outside on the sidewalk, he drew in a breath of fresh, cleansing air, but his pulse pounded wildly in his ears. For those few seconds under Dooley’s glare, he’d felt like a worthless teenager again.

  “Sloan. Sloan Hawkins, wait up.”

  Sloan emitted a low growl. Someone was about to get an earful because he was in no mood for another snide remark. Not even one.

  “What?” he barked, one hand on the handlebars of his bike, eager to escape as soon as possible.

  Two women came toward him, toting shopping bags. He recognized one as Kitty Wainright, a former schoolmate and owner of the Redemption Motel. She’d been Kitty Bates back then, dating Dave Wainright. According to Aunt Lydia, Kitty was a widow now, Dave lost in the Middle East wars. Lousy deal. The other was a woman with ink-black hair and a cop’s walk. He could spot a trained police officer a mile away.

  “Sloan, this is my friend, Cheyenne Rhodes. We overheard what Chief Crawford said and we want you to know something.”

  Sloan nodded as politely as he could toward the women. Lydia had received an invitation to Cheyenne’s upcoming wedding. An invitation that included him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Not everyone in Redemption agrees with what Chief Crawford just said. Most people never did.”

  “Is that a fact?” Sloan couldn’t remember anyone but Annie and Lydia ever defending him.

  “Yes, it is. Lots of folks back then talked about how Dooley had it in for you. Apparently, he can’t let bygones be bygones.”

  Sloan relaxed a little. “Some of his animosity was well-earned.”

  “Well, maybe.” Kitty laughed, a pretty, musical sound that lifted his mood. “But that was a long time ago when we were crazy kids. We all did goofy things, and Dooley was scared to death you were going to marry his baby girl.”

  Sloan kept quiet on that one. He would have married Annie if Dooley hadn’t forced him out of town.

  “Annie says you’ve been awesome to Lydia and to her, and that’s enough for us.”

  Annie had said that? She’d been talking about him?

  “I appreciate it. Thanks.” He was too stunned to say anything else.

  Kitty hitched a shopping bag higher on one arm. “Redemption is a nice town. The majority of people care about their neighbors and will do anything to help you out. Everyone is not like Chief Crawford.”

  Sloan’s thoughts flashed to the fresh vegetables, the visitors, Mrs. Miller at the Garden Center. But those had been for Lydia, not for him, not for that Hawkins boy. Right?

  “Redemption draws people, Sloan. I believe God has led you home for more reasons than your dear aunt.” While he was digesting the cryptic comment, she switched gears on him. “Well, we’ve got to run. Weddings don’t plan themselves.” She and Cheyenne looked at each other and laughed. “When you get that garden fixed up, we expect an invitation to see it, okay?”

  They’d heard about the garden, too?

  “Yes, sure.” Though he hated thinking the thoughts, he wanted the garden finished while Lydia was around to enjoy the results. “But it’s taking longer than I’d like.”

  “If you need help, Redemption is loaded with teenagers looking for summer jobs.”

  And that’s when Sloan had a great idea.

  Justin sat slumped on the couch, staring belligerently at nothing. Annie sighed and started down the hall toward Lydia’s room.

  Lord, show me what to do about my son.

  Instead of better behavior since the incident, he’d grown more sullen. Even Delaney couldn’t get a smile out of him. Thank goodness this job with Lydia was mostly private dut
y for a friend or she would have been fired days ago.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Annie’s stomach leaped. Annoyed, she pressed a hand there and paused, waiting for Sloan to pass so they didn’t have a repeat collision. She was still thinking about that moment in his arms far too much.

  Sloan appeared, as deliciously disheveled as usual in faded jeans and a camo-green T-shirt, only today he’d exchanged the chain-laden boots for a pair of sneakers. He rounded the stairs, entered the living room and went to stand between Justin and the television set. After a quick, rueful glance toward Annie, he tossed a baseball mitt into Justin’s lap.

  The surprised boy oomphed and curled inward.

  “What’s this?” Justin picked up the gleaming new Rawlings glove and turned it over and over in his hands.

  “You gonna play, you gotta learn to field a ground ball.” Sloan bounced a snow-white baseball in one palm.

  Justin’s face closed up tighter than a clamshell. “Who said I wanted to play baseball anyway?”

  “With your arm? You’re kidding me, right?” Sloan lobbed the ball. Justin caught it in his bare hand.

  “I got kicked off, remember?”

  “Yeah, well, if you prove yourself, you can still make baseball camp next month.”

  Justin’s posture straightened; a hopeful yearning came over him. “You talked to Coach?”

  “So what if I did?” Sloan stabbed a finger at the surprised boy. “You gonna make me sorry?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know.” He shrugged, looking so bewildered that Annie wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “Come on, then. Move it. We got an hour to practice before your mother goes home. And I got a proposition for you.”

  Looking confused and suspicious, Justin took his sweet time unfolding all the lanky arms and legs from the couch, but Annie could feel an underlying excitement coming off her son. She wanted to hug Sloan.

  “You really think I got a good arm?” Justin asked as the two of them headed for the French doors.

  “No doubt about it, kid.” Sloan clapped Justin on the shoulder. “You just gotta learn to use it appropriately.”

  Heart clutching in her chest for all that wasn’t and all that might have been, Annie watched the man she’d once loved encourage her son in a way Joey never had. Justin was desperate for a man’s attention, someone other than his grandfather, who alternately spoiled and ignored him.