Susannah's Garden

by Debbie Macomber

  She hobbled around the darkened apartment from her bed to the living room chair. She couldn’t remember where the light was…. But it seemed George always came to her at night, so perhaps if she sat up and waited for him, he’d know how badly she needed to talk to him.

  The dark and silence lured her, and it demanded effort not to drift back to sleep. Her head sagged to one side, startling her into wakefulness. Jerking upright, she felt her heart beat frantically until she remembered she was waiting for George. She had something important to ask him—only she couldn’t quite remember what. She reassured herself that she’d recall it in a moment.

  She tried really hard to think. Her question had to do with Susannah; that much she knew. But George still didn’t come.

  In an instant Vivian realized why. He must have forgotten she wasn’t living at the house anymore. He was probably there now, wondering where she’d gone. He must be terribly worried. There was no help for it; she’d have to go to him.

  Leaning on the cane, she raised herself to an upright position and was breathing hard by the time she was standing. Slowly, she shuffled toward the door. It felt as if someone had strapped ten-pound bags of flour to her feet. Lifting them and walking normally seemed impossible. Each step was a struggle, but she wasn’t deterred.

  Opening the door, she looked both ways and didn’t recognize a thing. Heaven only knew where she was now. George would be upset with her.

  Moving as fast as she could, she stepped into the hallway. Long and dimly lit, it resembled a hospital corridor, but Vivian knew that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t wearing a hospital gown and she didn’t see any medical personnel. That didn’t mean much, though, not these days. All the hospitals were understaffed. No one respected the sick. Old people were left to their own devices.

  With labored steps, Vivian started down the hall. No one seemed to be around.

  “You’re up early.”

  Not seeing anyone, Vivian stopped and glanced around.

  “In here.”

  She turned toward the sound of the voice and found an elderly man standing next to a pool table. He wore a housecoat and had a pair of crutches. One crutch rested along the side of the gaming table. This was some fancy hospital, if it was a hospital.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “George.”

  “No, you’re not.” She was furious that some man would try to pass himself off as her sweetheart. “I know my husband, and you’re not him.”

  “You’re not my wife, either, but my name is still George.”

  Vivian stepped a bit farther into the room. “I’m looking for him.”

  George nodded and using his crutch as a pool cue, aimed at the black ball in the center of the table. With an ease that amused her, the ball rolled toward the corner pocket and slid effortlessly inside.

  “Good shot.”

  “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

  Vivian began to leave the room. “Very nice meeting you, but I need to find my husband.”

  “Good luck,” he said, waving his crutch at her.

  Vivian continued down the hallway. This was a hospital, all right. She recognized the nurses’ station. It was deserted at the moment, which was probably for the best. Vivian didn’t want anyone to stop her.

  Two doors opened to the outside. This area was well lit and, supported by her cane, she started out. To her surprise, no matter how hard she pushed at one door and then the other, they wouldn’t budge.

  “They keep the doors locked,” George said from behind her. He leaned heavily on both his crutches now. “No one can come in or go out until after eight in the morning.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Yup. That’s how they do things around here.”

  She was being held prisoner. “This is an outrage. I’m telling my daughter.”

  Using both crutches, George swung forward. “Won’t do you any good. That’s just the way it is. What’s the matter, can’t you sleep?”

  Vivian was tired and confused. “I need to talk to George. I told my daughter I would. She’s going to be so disappointed that I didn’t see him.” This burden was almost more than she could carry.

  “Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me all about it. I’m a good listener and my name is George.”

  “But…”

  “You can tell your daughter that we talked it over, and then you’ll both feel better.”

  Vivian wasn’t sure that would work. Susannah had been so rattled. Doing what this George suggested would be cheating, but she’d promised Susannah…. Only she couldn’t quite remember what she needed to find out.

  “Have we met?” she asked, wondering if George was someone she should know. He must be; she’d met so many people through the years.

  “Not until tonight. I take meals in my room. You’re new, aren’t you?”

  She frowned. “Fairly new.” That seemed like a safe answer.

  “So, do you want to sit down and talk for a bit?” He gestured with his crutch to the room off the lobby, the one with the massive stone fireplace. It was cozy and inviting, with a number of chairs and a sofa. A piano took up one corner and a bookshelf the other.

  “Will it help?” she asked.

  “It might,” he told her.

  Since she couldn’t get out of here, Vivian decided she might as well talk to this George. That was the best she could do for now.

  Shuffling her feet, moving awkwardly, she made her way into the room and sat down in the big overstuffed chair next to the fireplace.

  George used his crutch to push aside the ottoman in the chair next to hers and carefully eased himself down. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  Vivian shook her head. “I can’t rightly say. My daughter insisted I come.” She should’ve fought harder, she mused, and wished she had. “I didn’t want to leave my home, but George told me I should.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Calvary Cemetery.”

  Her newfound friend bent forward and stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. “Dead, is he?”

  Vivian nodded. “But he visits.”

  “I see.”

  Vivian hadn’t told many people and thought perhaps it was a mistake to trust this man with her secret.

  George studied her through half-shut eyes. “Your husband only comes when he feels like it?”

  She didn’t know exactly how to explain. “He comes when he can. I need to ask him about Susannah. She’s our daughter and she was upset this afternoon about something her father did.”

  “You told her you’d discuss it with him?”

  “Yes, but George didn’t come and I’m afraid she’ll think even worse of him.” She was embarrassed to admit to this stranger that her husband and daughter hadn’t always seen eye to eye.

  “What’s the problem?”

  Vivian rested the cane between her knees and planted both hands on top. “That’s just it—I don’t precisely remember. He did something.”

  “Out of love?”

  “Of course! George loved his children. There’s only Susannah now…. Our son was killed years ago. I’m afraid George was never the same afterward.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Tears welled up in Vivian’s eyes. “It wasn’t the same with us, either…after we lost Doug.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

  The tears ran down her face and she used one hand to wipe them away.

  “Now, you listen,” George said gently. “You tell that daughter of yours that you talked to George—and you did.”

  Vivian sniffled. She was willing to listen, but only because she was growing desperate. “What should I say?”

  “Tell her that whatever your husband did was for her own good.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He nodded emphatically. “Sure as anything. Will you do that?”

  Vivian said, “Yes,” in a small voice.

  “Good.” George gave
her a satisfied grin. “Now, I think it’s time we both went back to our rooms.”

  Already Vivian felt better. Susannah would, too, as soon as they had a chance to talk.

  CHAPTER 20

  On Monday morning, right after her first cup of coffee, Susannah reached for the kitchen phone. With her fingers trembling and her heart beating frantically, she pounded out the long-distance phone number Carolyn had gotten off the Internet.

  In less than a minute she learned that this Jacob Allan Presley wasn’t the boy she’d once loved. The retired telephone lineman who lived in Texas simply told her that the country was filled with Presleys. He wished her luck in locating the Jake she was searching for and that was the end of that.

  She replaced the receiver, figuring she was going to need a lot more than luck.

  “Any reason you’re looking glum?” Chrissie asked twenty minutes later as she strolled into the kitchen in her shortie pajamas. Without waiting for a response, her daughter walked over to the coffeepot and automatically grabbed one of the few mugs that hadn’t been packed.

  Not wanting to discuss the matter, Susannah shook her head and cradled her cup with both hands as if it was a source of needed comfort. This was not the way she wanted to start her morning. It was barely after eight and she was already depressed.

  “Troy asked me to ride into Spokane with him this morning,” Chrissie said. She opened the refrigerator and took out a small carton of cream; standing there with the door still open, she added it to her coffee. She returned the cream and closed the door, all without glancing in Susannah’s direction.

  Chrissie was spending the day with Troy again? Objections stumbled over the tip of Susannah’s tongue, but she bit them off. “Oh?”

  “Yeah!” From the way Chrissie answered, Susannah could tell that her daughter wasn’t asking permission. It was a foregone conclusion that she intended to go.

  “What time did you get in last night?” As soon as the words were out, Susannah realized the question would have been better left unasked.

  “I’m not a child.” The disdain in Chrissie’s voice wasn’t even slightly disguised.

  Rather than argue, Susannah pointed out the obvious. “I assumed you were in Colville to help me.”

  “I’ll do my share. Don’t worry about it.” With that, Chrissie walked out of the kitchen, clutching her mug of coffee.

  Susannah might not be a contender for any Mother of the Year award, but she knew her daughter and suspected Chrissie was up to no good with Troy. Chrissie was definitely feeling guilty about something. Susannah didn’t want to consider what, although several possibilities loomed large.

  After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Susannah walked down the hallway to Chrissie’s room. Tapping on the door, she opened it and found Chrissie cross-legged on the bed. She was staring blankly into space and didn’t acknowledge her mother.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Susannah asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

  Chrissie kept her gaze trained away from Susannah. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  Susannah shrugged. “You don’t usually snap at me this early in the morning.”

  “You don’t usually drill me about my friends, either. I’m sorry you don’t like Troy, Mom. But I do. In fact, I like him a lot. He’s not like any other boy I’ve dated. He’s a man, and I’m tired of dating boys.”

  Chrissie had that right; Troy was certainly no Jason O’Donnell. It was clear to Susannah that Troy’s attention was giving her daughter a way to cope with the pain and rejection she felt because of Jason. This wasn’t a good situation and she needed to tread lightly, but before she could even suggest that Jason might be a factor, Chrissie said, “You aren’t going to give me a hard time about driving into Spokane, are you?”

  Susannah didn’t have any choice other than to let her daughter go. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t have the energy to fight Chrissie. Joe seemed to think their daughter was old enough to make her own decisions. Although she usually agreed with him, in this instance she didn’t. Still…

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Yes,” came her instant reply, “and before you say anything about Jason and me, you should know this has nothing to do with him. Jason was a boy. Troy is a man.”

  Susannah opened her mouth, but the disdainful look was back in her daughter’s eyes. “You aren’t going to guilt me into staying,” Chrissie muttered. “This is the first fun I’ve had all summer.”

  Susannah didn’t understand why everything had to be about fun. Chrissie would experience a rude awakening when she discovered that there was more to life—that fun was meant to be a diversion, not the main activity.

  “I’m not really that much help packing up Grandma’s stuff, anyway,” Chrissie added, as if that excused her behavior.

  Without another word, Susannah walked out of the bedroom, gathered up clean clothes and quickly showered. Afterward, feeling refreshed, she dressed and blow-dried her hair and decided to talk to Chrissie again, but it was too late. Her daughter had already left the house.

  So much for that.

  At nine-thirty Carolyn phoned. “Was it him?” she asked after the briefest of greetings. Her enthusiasm for this project was just the solace Susannah needed, especially after her initial caution about looking for Jake.

  “No,” Susannah said. “Someone altogether different.”

  “I have a little time this morning. If you stop by the mill, I’ll do some checking on the computer here.”

  “Will I get a chance to meet the lawn-maintenance guy you mentioned? You did say he’d be mowing the grass outside your office, didn’t you?” she said mischievously.

  “No.” Carolyn’s response was adamant. “And no.”

  “I’ll try not to be too snoopy.” A renewed sense of hopeful anticipation filled her. “I’ll be there in about an hour.” Susannah felt like dancing as she hung up the phone.

  She hurriedly ate a piece of toast, then drove to Altamira to see her mother. Vivian was tired and listless, insisting she’d spoken to George, who’d apparently visited in the middle of the night. The conversation delayed her an extra ten minutes while her mother repeated word for word the entire exchange with her dead husband. When Susannah finally left the complex, Vivian seemed grateful to return to her morning nap.

  On her way out the door, Susannah made an appointment with the nurse. She felt it was time to discuss the state of Vivian’s mental health.

  From the assisted-living complex, Susannah drove directly to the mill. She parked in front of the office in the vacant visitor’s slot next to Carolyn’s truck. As she parked, a battered pickup pulled out. It had to be the lawn guy. She tried to get a look at him, but failed.

  Carolyn was waiting for her in the outer office.

  “Who was the guy I just saw leaving?” she asked casually. “In the beat-up blue truck.”

  “That was Dave,” her friend said, glancing around self-consciously.

  “Any reason he stopped by?” She wanted to hear every single detail. “You told me he wasn’t working here today.”

  “He came to get an update on Grady, the man who had a heart attack last week.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m supposed to meet Dave later this afternoon to go over some ideas for my new flower beds.” Carolyn said this stiffly, as if she regretted ever commenting on her plans. Then she got up from her desk and closed the door.

  “You really are keen on him, aren’t you?” Susannah asked.

  Carolyn hesitated. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Not really, but I know you.”

  She exhaled sharply. “Call me a coward, but I’ve decided against the new flower beds. I…don’t think I’m going to go through with it.”

  Susannah had hoped that Carolyn’s attraction to Dave would overcome her shyness and her fears.

  Carolyn sat down at the computer. Purposely changing the subject, she said, “Like I told you, I had a few extra minutes this morning and log
ged on to the Internet. I found six other Jake Presleys.” With her eyes on the computer monitor, she reached for her mouse and hit the print icon. The hum of the printer started immediately.

  “Six!” Susannah felt exhilarated, despite her nagging concerns about Chrissie.

  Leaning back in her chair, Carolyn gazed up at Susannah. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “So how’s everything with you this morning?”

  Susannah merely shrugged.

  Carolyn gestured for Susannah to sit down, which she did.

  “When we were in France,” she said, “I could always tell when you were unhappy. You get this look I can read a mile away.”

  Susannah couldn’t see any reason to hide what was happening. “Chrissie and I had an argument this morning,” she confessed. “She’s spending the day with Troy. He’s driving into Spokane and she’s tagging along.”

  “They’re together again?” Carolyn straightened, frowning slightly.

  “That’s not all. I went to see Mom before I came here.” She mentally reviewed the disturbing conversation. “Mom insisted she talked to my dad again last night. Apparently he had an important message for me. She claims my father loved me deeply. Mom said Dad would never do anything to hurt me. He wanted her to tell me it was because he loved me that he got rid of Jake.” Susannah found it impossible to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Ask your mother to have him check up on my parents,” Carolyn teased.

  “Very funny.”

  “You notice I’m not laughing all that hard. In a few years that could be us, you know.”

  Susannah sighed. “I know.”

  The phone rang, reminding her that the mill was a busy place.

  Carolyn grabbed the sheets from the printer tray and handed them to Susannah. “Good luck,” she said.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later.” She walked out the door with a little wave. The fact was, Susannah already had an alternative plan, although she was keeping it to herself for now.

  One thing was certain—she intended to find Jake no matter what it took.

  CHAPTER 21

  None of the six Jake Presleys on Carolyn’s list turned out to be the Jake Presley from Colville. Susannah and Carolyn spent Monday and Tuesday evening trying various Internet search engines, but to no avail. When she wasn’t on Carolyn’s computer or the phone, searching for Jake, she was making detailed notes about her father’s cash withdrawals from the bank statements she’d found.