Susannah's Garden

by Debbie Macomber

  Susannah frowned. As far as she could recall, her parents had never hidden a key for easy access.

  “Years ago Grandma showed me the place.” She smiled at Susannah. “I was praying like crazy that the key would still be there behind the brick and it was,” she said triumphantly.

  As youngsters, Susannah and her brother had found a loose brick in the back of the house. The key fit behind it perfectly. Looking at the bricks, no one would suspect anything was hidden there. Susannah had completely forgotten about it and was surprised to realize their hiding place might still exist.

  “I put it back,” Chrissie assured her.

  Deciding she needed a cup of tea, Susannah stood and filled the kettle, putting it on the stove to boil. “Your father knows you’re here?”

  Chrissie didn’t answer right away. “He found out when he came home from work. I left him a note.”

  “Chrissie!”

  “Mom, it was awful without you. Besides, I wanted to be here in the worst way. I love Grandma and I want to be with her. And you, too,” she added as if in afterthought. “All Dad and Brian cared about was having me cook and clean for them. I was their slave. Even when I tried to make interesting dinners they complained. Okay, so the chicken curry didn’t turn out like the one on the Food Channel, but at least I tried.”

  Susannah remembered her husband’s reaction to the recipe, but Chrissie was right; she was making an effort and clearly it wasn’t appreciated. She was right, too, about being close to her grandmother. It might be a real help to have her daughter here, if for no other reason than the closeness Vivian shared with her granddaughter.

  Chrissie sat back in the chair and braced her bare feet against the edge so that her chin rested on her knees. Her hair fell forward, obscuring her face. “I phoned Jason this morning.”

  “Oh?” Considering how adamantly Chrissie had insisted she didn’t want anything more to do with him, this was no small concession. “How’d it go?”

  “Bad. He said he wasn’t seeing Katie, but I don’t believe him. He also said he thought it’d be best if we broke up. That’s fine by me—all he had to do was be honest.” She sounded nonchalant but Susannah suspected that was merely a pose.

  Susannah patted her daughter’s forearm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  Chrissie shrugged as if it wasn’t important, but Susannah could tell that she was hurt.

  “Don’t be mad at me for coming. Please, Mom, I just had to get away. I needed to talk to you and it isn’t the same over the phone. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

  After the last few days of frustration and backbreaking work, Susannah welcomed the help—and the company.

  “Actually, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You are?” Chrissie sounded so relieved. She tried to hide the fact that she had tears in her eyes. “How’s Grandma doing? I’m really worried about her without Grandpa.”

  Susannah struggled with her own emotions. “She’s not adjusting as well as I’d hoped.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Mom’s doing everything she can to make sure she’s miserable.” Every conversation involved a litany of complaints. The food tasted terrible, the people were unfriendly, the rooms were too cold, and so on. Susannah had stopped listening.

  “My being here will cheer her up,” Chrissie stated with such confidence that Susannah believed her. “The thing is…”

  “What?”

  Chrissie sighed audibly. “I don’t think Dad’s going to be happy about the way I left.”

  That was no doubt an accurate prediction of Joe’s feelings. Susannah suspected some of those messages were his. “Don’t worry. I’ll square it with him.” She turned to her daughter. “As for you, now that you’re here, I expect you to work.”

  “Sure.” Chrissie gave her a tired smile. “Thanks, Mom, you’re the best.”

  The sad part was that Susannah didn’t feel she was the best at anything. Certainly not at being a daughter or a wife. Not even being a mother…

  CHAPTER 14

  Vivian was delighted when her granddaughter showed up the next morning. She’d just finished her breakfast—the eggs were cold and the bacon greasy so she hadn’t taken more than a single bite of each.

  She was getting ready to work outside in her garden when Susannah and Chrissie tapped at her door. Not her garden, she reminded herself. She didn’t live in her home anymore. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by a sense of loss.

  “Hi, Grandma.”

  With the way her memory had been acting up lately, she felt obliged to ask, “Did I know you were coming?”

  “No, Grandma, this is a surprise.”

  Vivian hugged the girl and was astonished at how tall Chrissie had become since her last visit. When was that? Three or four years ago? “Such a beautiful young woman,” she murmured, pressing her hands against Chrissie’s cheeks, studying this girl she loved. But her granddaughter wasn’t a girl anymore, she was a woman. The realization stunned her. “You look wonderful.”

  “You look great, too.” Chrissie’s arms were gentle around Vivian, as if her granddaughter was afraid to crush her. Vivian didn’t remember being that fragile. She was, though. She’d changed, become feeble. Frail. What terrible words.

  “I can’t find my gardening gloves.” Vivian was irritated. Her biggest worry about moving into this place was thievery. Hired help was not to be trusted; even Martha, who’d worked for her for years, had turned into a thief. Obviously, someone had walked off with her gardening gloves. They were her favorites and well used. Why anyone would take them was beyond her.

  “Mother, what do you need gardening gloves for?” Susannah asked.

  As much as she loved her daughter, Vivian swore Susannah could annoy her faster than anyone on earth. Ever since she’d arrived this morning, Susannah had tested Vivian’s patience. “So I can trim my roses,” she said slowly and deliberately.

  Susannah’s response was just as slow and deliberate. “Mother, the roses are at the house.”

  “I know that.” And she did. She remembered exactly where her roses were.

  Susannah cast a look at Chrissie. “But you’re here.”

  “My roses need trimming and I’m determined to do it.” Vivian wasn’t letting anyone near her roses, especially Rachel Henderson. Her neighbor was no more trustworthy than anyone else.

  Another glance passed between Susannah and Chrissie, but it was too hard for Vivian to read the look they’d exchanged.

  “I could take Grandma back to the house,” Chrissie suggested, “so she can work in her garden.”

  “Would you like that, Mother?”

  This was the most ridiculous question Susannah had asked her yet. “Yes, of course I would.”

  “Okay, Grandma, then let’s get you a sweater.”

  “What about my gloves?” Apparently both Susannah and Chrissie were willing to ignore the fact that someone in this abominable place had stolen her favorite gardening gloves.

  “They’re at the house, Mom, on the back porch. The pruning shears are in the garage.”

  “I know where those shears are.” She hated to sound so impatient, but at times Susannah treated her as if she didn’t have a brain in her head. Yes, she had a few problems with her memory now and then, but that didn’t mean she was incapacitated.

  “I’ll get my jewels.”

  Susannah and Chrissie exchanged glances again.

  “You don’t expect me to leave this room when anyone could walk in and take my jewelry, do you?”

  “Mom…” Susannah seemed about to argue with her but then she didn’t.

  That was good, because Vivian had no intention of leaving her pearls behind, not when someone could easily steal them. She retrieved her brown purse, where she kept her favorite necklace, and looped the straps tightly over her arm. She put on a sweater—she was often cold these days—and reached for her red “everyday” purse.

  “When I’m finished with the roses, I’ll take you b
oth to lunch. My treat.” If she stayed here much longer she’d starve to death. In all her life, Vivian had never tasted blander food. These people obviously didn’t know the purpose of a salt shaker or a spice rack.

  She locked her room, tested the knob three times, and then they headed for the front door. Susannah stopped to talk to Rose, who ran the desk. Fortunately the staff wore name tags. She wished everyone did. It would help her remember the residents’ names. Several had introduced themselves, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall the name of a single one. Yes, everyone here ought to wear a name tag.

  The instant they stepped into the house, Vivian felt distressed. Furniture had been moved and there were dishes stacked on the kitchen counter. Then when she walked outside, she was in for another shock. “Someone’s been in my garden,” she blurted. The roses were trimmed and there wasn’t a single weed in sight. Everything was tied up and clipped back. There was almost nothing left for her to do. Someone had been in her garden, and it could only have been Rachel, her neighbor.

  “Mother,” Susannah said, placing an arm around her shoulders. “The garden is lovely.”

  “Yes, it is,” Vivian muttered. She’d come to recognize her daughter’s tone and she didn’t like it one bit. Just the way she said mother told Vivian Susannah thought something was wrong with her.

  After ten minutes or so, Susannah disappeared inside the house, probably to make more calls on that little phone of hers. Vivian shook her head hopelessly—Susannah seemed to be making a big mess of things. Frankly, she’d taught her daughter to be a better housekeeper than this. But wanting to maintain the peace, Vivian said nothing.

  She wasn’t sure how long she and Chrissie worked outside, puttering about, moving a few annuals—when had she put those begonias in? She really couldn’t remember. Vivian noticed Rachel Henderson peering through the window a couple of times, but she tried to ignore her. The minute that busybody stuck her nose out the door, Vivian intended to tell Rachel to keep out of her garden, otherwise she was contacting the police.

  “I’m hungry,” Vivian announced after a while. It was the first real hunger she’d experienced since her daughter had moved her to that godforsaken facility. It was a good feeling. She’d lost interest in food, although heaven knew the best television these days was on the Food Channel.

  “I’m ready for lunch, too,” Chrissie told her, straightening.

  All they had to do now was collect Susannah. Vivian knew where she wanted to go for lunch. Le Gourmand was new to Colville, and Vivian had heard that they served an incredibly good chicken salad. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. She missed going out for lunch; many an afternoon she’d lunched with her two best friends, Barbara and June, but they were both gone now, God rest their souls. George, too.

  “They have outside seating,” Vivian said as Susannah held open the car door.

  “Who does, Mother?”

  “Le Gourmand.”

  “Is that where you’d like to go for lunch?”

  Silly girl. She’d already said so. Sometimes she swore Susannah simply didn’t listen. “Yes. It’s such a nice afternoon, let’s eat outside.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Susannah said, helping Vivian into the front seat.

  Vivian struggled with the seat belt. The car manufacturers made them so hard to reach these days. If not for Chrissie’s handing it to her, Vivian would’ve needed to be a contortionist.

  “It’s new, but apparently their chicken salad is excellent. They add chopped walnuts.”

  “Le Gourmand has been around for ten years,” Susannah said.

  “Yes, I know.” They did a nice lunch business, but were closed for dinner.

  Thankfully there were plenty of empty tables on the patio. Vivian watched as Susannah went inside to place their order. Vivian remembered that she wanted to buy their lunch, but all of a sudden she couldn’t seem to find her purse. She twisted around in her seat, and her heart started to pound hard. George would be so upset if she lost her pearls.

  “What’s wrong, Grandma?” Chrissie asked.

  “I don’t know what I did with my purse.”

  Chrissie leaned close and whispered, “It’s on your lap, Grandma.”

  Her relief was immediate. The red purse lay there, as peaceful as a sleeping kitten.

  “Your brown purse with the jewelry is in the trunk of the car, remember?”

  Actually, that little piece of information had slipped her mind. She was grateful for the reminder, although she wished Chrissie hadn’t shared it with the entire world.

  “Here comes Mom now.”

  Susannah took a seat at the small round table. Vivian appreciated the umbrella that had been tilted to shade her face from the sunlight.

  “Our order should be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Did you get my tea?” Vivian asked, but her question was drowned out by the roar of a truck engine as it pulled to a stop at the intersection. A long-haired young man turned to look at them. His window was rolled down and his dark hair fell into his face. He needed a shave, too. His tanned elbow rested on the window ledge, and he hadn’t bothered to put on a decent shirt that morning. Instead, he wore a sleeveless T-shirt. While Vivian assessed him, he was making eyes at Chrissie. Such flirting was inappropriate and she was about to warn Chrissie when she noticed that her granddaughter seemed to be enjoying it.

  He nodded in Chrissie’s direction and to Vivian’s horror, Chrissie nodded back. Vivian pursed her lips. He started to say something, but his gaze slid to her and he changed his mind, as well he should.

  She needed a few minutes to recognize the young man, but her brain provided the answer the second he looked at her. It was Troy Nance, a known troublemaker.

  The light turned green and Troy drove off with a burst of noise and exhaust.

  “Who was that, Grandma?” Chrissie asked.

  She hesitated, wondering if she should tell Chrissie, and then decided she would. Susannah’s daughter was a sensible young woman and would see that Troy was completely unsuitable.

  “He’s the son of that girl you went to school with,” Vivian told Susannah.

  “I went to school with a lot of girls, Mom.”

  “I can’t remember her name.”

  “What’s his name?” Chrissie pressed.

  “Troy Nance.”

  “Sharon Nance’s son?”

  “Yes.” Of course. Sharon hadn’t been married, so she and her son had the same last name. Although hers might be something different now…. Vivian shook her head; she couldn’t even imagine who the boy’s father had been. Whoever he was, he certainly hadn’t stayed in the picture long.

  “I haven’t seen Sharon in years.”

  Not that Susannah was likely to cross paths with the other woman. The last Vivian had heard, Sharon was working at the Roadside Inn on the outskirts of town. She was the kind of woman George often saw in his courtroom—the kind of woman he described as trouble looking for a place to happen.

  “He’s cute,” Chrissie murmured.

  Susannah’s eyes flew to Vivian’s and this time the two of them traded a look. Vivian knew what that look meant, too.

  It said Chrissie wasn’t as levelheaded as Vivian had assumed and Susannah was well aware of it.

  CHAPTER 15

  When Susannah took her mother back to Altamira, she could see that Vivian was exhausted. Still wearing her sweater, Vivian sat in front of the television and automatically put her feet up. Within minutes, she was sound asleep and snoring softly.

  Susannah and Chrissie quietly left the room after securing her mother’s purse with the jewelry in the bottom dresser drawer. As soon as they were out in the parking lot, Chrissie turned to her and said, “Grandma hardly looks the same anymore.”

  “I know. She’s gone downhill so fast it’s frightening.” The difference was noticeable even to Chrissie, who tended to be self-absorbed, as were most girls her age.

  “What do you want to do now?” Chrissie asked
as Susannah unlocked the car door. Chrissie couldn’t bear not to have something planned—usually something social. But she seemed genuinely willing to help. With Chrissie there, Susannah hoped to finish packing up her parents’ house more quickly than she’d expected, but the girl would probably wear her out, too.

  “I need you to help me finish loading everything up and into the storage unit,” Susannah explained. Cleaning out each room was a tedious and heartbreaking process.

  “I suppose that would be all right.” Chrissie didn’t sound enthusiastic and Susannah didn’t blame her.

  They went to Safeway, where the manager had set aside half a dozen cardboard cartons. Collecting boxes had become part of Susannah’s daily routine. Her favorites were the reinforced ones used for fruit. Twice a day, Susannah would take whatever had been boxed up to the storage unit. The boxes were labeled and would wait there, neatly stacked, until she decided what to do with them. When that would be, she didn’t know. She’d merely deferred many of these decisions. She still had to figure out what she should keep, what should go to the kids, what could be donated to charity. Susannah was afraid she might discard something she would later regret.

  When they pulled up in front of the house, she noticed a smartly dressed woman sitting in a car across the street. When they climbed out of the Crown Victoria and opened the trunk to remove boxes, the same woman emerged from her car.

  “Hello,” the tall brunette said with a warm smile as she crossed the street. “I’m Melody Highland.” She peeled a business card out of a small gold case and thrust it at Susannah. “I work with the Colville Real Estate Company. I understand you’re going to be putting your mother’s house on the market soon.”

  Listing it now would be premature; Susannah realized she wasn’t quite ready to take that final step. She accepted the card and was about to tell the real estate agent that, but before she could say a word, Melody continued.

  “Colville Real Estate has an impeccable reputation in the community. I’ve been with the firm eight years and I’m their top salesperson.”