“Slice them up and share the pieces. You can never reclaim a piece, but there’s always more to give. I gave you and Daddy the biggest slices, and one day I might give away more, but right now, there are only two things I know with certainty.” She brushed back his tousled hair and kissed his forehead. “I love you to Pluto and back, and our life with Daddy will always be precious. Nothing, and no one, will ever change those two facts.”
“Will you give James a slice of your pie?”
“Why would you ask that?” She feigned surprise even though she knew the answer to her own question. She knew even before Isaac explained.
“When you walk away, James watches you go. And then he watches for you to come back. He watches you a lot. Haven’t you noticed?”
And Tilly shook her head. Each truth she hid from her son was easier to conceal than the one that preceded it. She needed to tread carefully because if she didn’t, this whole business of lying could become her personal pandemic.
Chapter 21
“Don’t speak.” James slammed his thumb knuckle into his forehead. Rain drummed on his shoulders but he ignored it. He needed to get Tilly inside the Hall, out of this downpour, but first, he must explain. He must make amends.
He grabbed the hood of her slicker and yanked it up. Why didn’t she look after herself better? The rain had flattened her normally wayward hair giving her the appearance of a waif—small and skinny but with huge, beautiful eyes. Trusting eyes. Eyes that had seen him at his worst. How could he have sunk so low the night before? He had provoked her out of jealousy, an emotion he had struggled to chain all these years. What was happening to him? Since meeting Tilly he was unraveling. He was losing control. That was not good, not good.
“Last night I was out of line.” He shivered. His clothes were soaked and his body numb, and yet inside he blazed with humiliation and regret. “Forgive me, please? I was unforgivably rude, unforgivably rude. I had no right to say that, no right.”
“For the record, I slapped you. I’m the one who should apologize.”
He stared at the gravel. “I was so rude, so rude.”
“Hey, handsome. Look at me.”
Handsome, she’d called him handsome. That had to mean something, right? He dragged up his head, hoping for what? Anything but the sight of Tilly sticking out her tongue. So, she was going for a gag line, a joke, nothing more. The knowledge stung.
“There,” she said. “Now I’ve been ruder. Shall we call it quits? Then we can get you into some dry clothes. No one ever told you raincoats are a fabulous invention?”
“I could say the same thing about hoods.”
“Touché.”
James shook back his sopping hair, releasing a fine spray. “Can I say one more time how sorry—”
“Nuh-uh.” Tilly held up a finger. “Apologies are soooo last season. How high’s the fear thermometer?”
The OCD was all-powerful when it latched onto Tilly and Isaac, and yet with that one sentence, she’d thrown him a lifeline. She had remembered about fear thermometers, had known instinctively to use a command code from the war against obsessive-compulsive behavior. How could he walk away from this woman? How could he not? Sebastian could give her Woodend and a ready-made family. All James had to offer was a lifetime of anxiety. For her sake, he needed to accept failure and walk away. For her sake, he needed to become a quitter.
“Down to a seven. I’m down to a seven. But the OCD is telling me hateful things will happen to you if I don’t keep apologizing.”
“Big fat whoop. Yesterday it told you I would die. And yet here I am—slightly damaged, but very much alive. Blahdy, blahdy, blah. Same old, same old, if you ask me.”
Every time she found the right words. And yet, it wasn’t enough. It never would be. He was greedy; he wanted more than she could give. But God Almighty, she was incredible, and she needed to realize that. It might be the only gift he could ever give her.
He took a breath. “Will you follow me?”
Say always, say always.
“Of course,” she said with a smile.
A polite, noncommittal answer, the response he didn’t want but the voice told him he deserved. If only he could reset time, return to the previous day and their talk of tropical beaches. He hated the beach, couldn’t deal with sand. Particles of grit that wormed between his fingers and toes, grains of disintegrated rock that leeched onto his skin with unseen pollutants. But in the hospital parking lot, when they had talked about the ocean, he’d read happiness on Tilly’s face. If he could scoop her up right now and take her to the best beach in the world, he would. For Tilly, he might even forgo the beach towel and sit in the sand.
They slogged across Rowena’s lawn, following one of the perfect lines mowed the day before by an ancient-looking worker with a graveyard cough, which was, hopefully, nothing contagious. Sheep bleated mournfully across the park as James’s sneakers squelched through the spongy grass. The hems of his jeans were weighted down by moisture.
When they reached the gate to the walled garden, he cupped a hand under Tilly’s elbow and released a slow breath. Touching her hand in the hospital, a hand that was buried in dirt every day, had been impossibly hard, and yet touching any other part of her body was a powerful sedative for his battered psyche. “Close your eyes,” he said. “And promise not to look.”
“Gardener’s honor,” she replied, and let him guide her inside.
Why did she trust him? She really did deserve so much better. He couldn’t fault the voice on that train of thought.
James took his hand away but stayed close so he could still feel her spirit, her fire. “You can stop now.”
Tilly was smiling before she opened her eyes. “I can smell rue,” she said.
“It’s only a beginning.” His eyes flitted across her face. “But what do you think?
Tilly turned toward the rows of thyme. Two perfect rows he had created for her. “You’re amazing, James! How did you manage it?”
No, she was amazing. He was only able to do this because of her. “Rubber gloves and two trash bags per arm secured with duct tape. I couldn’t bring myself to dig, but I pulled up the weeds.”
Tilly glanced at his pile of tossed plants and frowned.
Oh. They weren’t all weeds.
“I’m screwed on our little bet, aren’t I?” she said, offering him a smile he hadn’t earned. But he would.
James tapped his leg twice. “I should warn you that I’m fastidious when it comes to finishing a project. I never miss a deadline. How about Wednesday afternoon for your skating lesson? Rowena’s offered to drive me into Northampton to buy Rollerblades. I gather you’re the same shoe size?”
“Aha! Therein lies the flaw in your otherwise brilliant plan. You can’t garden in this deluge. And tomorrow’s the family outing to Woburn Safari Park. I wouldn’t be so confident about winning, Mr. Master Gardener.”
“I’m not coming tomorrow,” James said.
“Oh, pish posh—don’t be so competitive.”
She elbowed him playfully and he almost caved. But he had spent all night agonizing over this decision, and he was sticking with it. It was the only way he knew how to protect her from the greatest horror of all: him.
“Look, James. I’ll skate with you even if you don’t finish. You deserve a reward for that alone.” She nodded at the thyme. “See? You don’t have to stay here and garden.”
“I don’t intend to garden. I have personal matters to take care of.”
; “But we’ve been planning this all week. Driving through the animal enclosures in the morning, junk food at lunchtime, then feeding nectar to the lorikeets followed by pedallos on Swan Lake. How can you miss out on that much fun?”
She was whining, and Tilly wasn’t a whiner. This was what he had done to her. He had been right to come up with a new plan. A plan he would put in motion tomorrow while he was alone and no one could talk him out of it.
He kept his face blank, his mind closed to her. “Thank you, but no.”
Chapter 22
“How about a pair of peacocks?” Sebastian said as the electronic gates of the monkey enclosure slid open. The safari drive was at an end, and Tilly had fingers and toes crossed that the children wouldn’t demand a repeat circuit. Yes, it had been fun, but no matter how much she shifted, the ache in her shoulder blade left her nauseated. Worse, it was a constant reminder of her work with James and the feeling that she had been careless with something she should have treasured. Once again, he had pulled her close only to shut her out. Mind you, she had left a red welt across his cheek. Was he the type of person who held a grudge? His sudden coldness suggested he was, but who knew. Being around James was worse than risking the roads after an ice storm. You could put the car in low gear and pump the brake pedal until your foot dropped off, but if you were on an incline, you were merely along for the ride.
Sophie, who was sitting between Sebastian and Tilly on the backseat of Rowena’s Discovery, bounced with indignation. “Peacocks? Don’t be naughty, Daddy. You promised me a white pony. And you told Archie he could have a puppy.”
“I don’t know, chaps,” Rowena said from the front. “I’m in the market for that male lion in the Kingdom of the Carnivores. Did you see the size of his…pride? I bet his lionesses are happy.” She winked at Mrs. Haddington, who chortled.
Rowena drove forward slowly. “Which animal would you adopt, Haddy?”
“A giraffe.”
“Interesting,” Rowena said. “Would that, by any chance, be because giraffes are tall with big brown eyes and eyelashes any woman would kill for?”
“No, Rowena.” Tilly stretched back her arms until her elbows dug into the seat. If she could just get comfortable…. “It’s because they’re a contradiction. Their legs look so brittle, and yet they move with grace and power.”
The car rocked as Archie and Isaac shrieked from the fold-down seats in the rear. A patas monkey had landed on the hood of the car, its cheeks puffed out with food. It stopped chewing to stare at Rowena, then turned and mooned her.
“Struth,” Rowena said. “Not sure anything quite so small and hairy has ever shown me his privates before.”
Archie’s laughter ricocheted around the car, and then everyone else joined in. Everyone except Sophie, who tutted dramatically. Tilly sat back, watching. The group dynamic was lighter without James. He was the cuckoo in the nest, the interloper who didn’t belong.
Personal matters, my ass. James had stayed behind because he realized it was easier this way: without him.
* * *
Tilly hunkered into her hoodie and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, fending off the chill that had swept in with the storm the night before. Her fingernails raked up lint from the seams: detritus she’d brought from North Carolina without even knowing.
“I’m off for a wee,” Rowena announced. Her green eyes were bright and her normally pale cheeks were flushed from the cold. She waved at Sebastian and Sophie, who were pedaling a huge fiberglass swan across the lake. Isaac and Archie steamed away in another swan, giggling and clearly plotting. Mrs. Haddington was presiding from a bench, looking every inch the proud matriarch despite the slightly grubby cast.
Tilly turned to her mother. “Ro’s in a good place these days, isn’t she? D’you think it’s because Isaac’s become Tweedledum to her Tweedledee?” She hoped so; it lessened the guilt of what she wanted to say.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s part of it,” her mother replied. “He calms her down…she pushes him to be less pliable. But no, I think Rowena has finally found her niche. Sit with me.” Mrs. Haddington began buttoning her cashmere cardigan, working from the bottom up, and Tilly felt the conversation slip away from her before it had begun.
“Such a shame James didn’t join us.” Tilly felt her mother’s gaze. “He’s extraordinarily intuitive for a man—giving you and Sebastian space.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but there’s nothing going on between me and either man.” Tilly held up her right hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a Girl Scout. Or a Brownie. You refused to wear the uniform, as I recall, and made some precocious comments about conformity.” Mrs. Haddington examined her engagement ring, moving her finger to let the stones catch the sunlight. “Did you know that I used to watch you sleep in your cot? Your father assumed it was out of concern that you, too, would be taken from me, but he was wrong.” Her mother pursed her lips. She never talked about Henrietta and Clemie, who had died in their cribs before Tilly was born. “I knew you’d survive. Such a strong, healthy baby. But I sensed that happiness would come at a terrible price for you. Sadly, I was right.” She gave Isaac a small wave and then returned her hand to her lap. “I thought if I watched over you I could keep you safe. Protecting one’s child is an instinct one never loses. And it begs the question—is Sebastian the easy way out? After all, he is your Achilles’ heel.”
“To be honest, I think he’s your Achilles’ heel.” Especially now you’re happily selling him our family home. Even if she could accept the loss of Woodend, she didn’t have to celebrate Sebastian buying it.
“Do you? How interesting.” Her mother gave a hearty sneeze and removed a lace handkerchief from her cardigan pocket.
“When we messed up, your anger was directed solely at me. Why was that?” Tilly tried not to remember the weeks of punishment after her mother caught her and Sebastian in bed.
“Well, apart from the fact that you set the tone and Sebastian followed, he was far too frail for chastisement.” Mrs. Haddington used her isn’t-it-obvious voice. “Gracious, I didn’t dare look at him sideways after his father left. The dear boy puts on a brave front, but one doesn’t have to look hard to see the cracks. Your father and I were very fond of Sebastian, but we always knew you’d outgrow him.”
“And now?”
Her mother wiped her nose, then repocketed the hanky. “Oh, I think the future’s a little more complicated, don’t you?”
The sounds of summer squealed around them despite the cold and the mud. “Are you really okay with this, Mum? Doesn’t it hurt like hell watching him claim Woodend?”
“Second-guessing one’s decisions is an utter waste of energy, darling. Besides, pain is part of the process of moving on.”
Amazing what you learn from hiding in a wardrobe. “Talking of decisions—” spit it out, Tilly “—I’ve asked Rowena to become Isaac’s legal guardian.”
“Excellent,” her mother said. “She’s agreed?”
Tilly blew out the breath she’d been bottling up. “You’re not upset?”
“Darling, I would move heaven and earth for Isaac, but God forbid, if he needed to live with a guardian, wouldn’t you rather he was at the Hall than bunged in a cottage with two gin-swilling biddies who spend the winter reading seed catalogs? I’m only surprised you didn’t ask Rowena sooner. What changed your mind?”
“I’m having a rethink, on the map of life.”
Her mother bent down, grunting as she used both hands to shift her plastered leg away from the wet grass. “If something were wrong, you would tell me?”
“Uh-huh.” Tilly inhaled sharply. The air was heavy with the musk of damp earth, a smell she normally loved. But this afternoon it dragged her down, along with her thoughts.
Her mother looked up. “Goodness, I think they’re going to crash.”
Isaac and Archie wore matching grins as they pedaled frantically toward Sebastian and Sophie. Sebastian had pulled forward, his body language saying, You’re on. The air was filled with chatter, laughter and the plash of pedals slicing through water, but the sounds melted away until Tilly heard only Sebastian’s giggle.
Chapter 23
Tilly breathed in the orangey perfume of Lady Roxton’s philadelphus and enjoyed a rare moment of nothingness. Except that James’s gardening notebook lay temptingly close on the bench next to her, his Montblanc rollerball marking his last entry. One peek wouldn’t hurt, would it? She would never commit the sin of privacy invasion, but scribblings about plants could hardly reveal intimacies. Beside, James didn’t have the brain circuitry for mixed content. On the other hand, he might go nuclear if she messed with his possessions. Everything in James’s world had its place.
A tractor rumbled in the distance and Tilly swallowed. Her throat was sore from hours of prattling. Lecturing, while James hung back and scribbled in his little book. Black, of course, since everything about James was black today, from his earrings to his mood. He had expressed no interest in the Woburn jaunt and had ignored her probes about his day alone. Not that she needed to ask how he’d spent his time, since mounds of rosemary now circled evenly spaced rows of thyme, sage and rue. Clearly, he’d fobbed her off with that crap about personal matters. Tilly gnawed on a hangnail. Frustrated didn’t begin to explain how she felt. But then again, all things James had become wrapped in barbed wire since his bombshell about David. Maybe gardening was all they had left to share.
The Unfinished Garden Page 24
