“No, I’ll take the sandwich home. I’m sure I’ll eat it later.”
Rachel finished her sandwich and tore into the small bag of chips. “Well, I am famished. The cherubs were a challenge this morning and I didn’t have time for breakfast.”
After a few bites, she set the bag down. “Susannah, does it feel good to be home?”
“Yes it is nice to be home, with my things, and my own itinerary. But, then it’s hard to be here too. I miss Mark more when I’m at home. The house feels empty, and then ―”
“What?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s nothing, but sometimes I feel like I’m not alone.”
Rachel raised one eyebrow. “As in?”
“I sometimes hear noises. Think I see something, but nothing’s there.” She shrugged. “Buddy doesn’t react, so it must be just my imagination. You know, the job is probably a good idea. Gets me out of the house and gives me something else to think about.”
“Did that thing you encountered in Africa follow you home?”
“I don’t know. If it did, it hasn’t manifested in anyway other than possibly the noises and just an oppressive feeling. The house is so quiet after being around all the other volunteers in the missions. Maybe my mind is just conjuring up things, noises, and such.”
“Our minds are tricky, they often react in illogical ways to stress, and you certainly have enough of that in your life. Have you thought of talking to someone, like our pastor? They are trained in that sort of thing.”
“Maybe.” Susannah stared out across the parking lot.
“What are you thinking?”
“I am thinking about golden sunsets, watering holes teaming with wildlife, birds flying pirouettes, hippos, crocs, campfires, a canopy of stars.”
“Sounds wonderful. Almost makes me want to go. But, speaking of going. I’d guess I’d better get back to work. What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”
Susannah shrugged. “I don’t know. Take Buddy for a walk, maybe visit with Mom. I haven’t seen either Mom, or Dad, since they picked me up at the airport.”
“Good idea. That’s a much better plan than spending another afternoon bouncing around in that house alone.”
Susannah tucked her sandwich in her purse and they sauntered across the parking lot to the shop. Susannah hugged her friend and climbed into her car. Rachel waved and disappeared through the front doors.
What did she really want to do? It was too hot to take Buddy walking and she didn’t really feel like chatting with her folks. Neither did she want to go home and sit alone. So, what did that leave her? Still early, maybe take a drive down to the river and let Buddy romp in the water.
She backed out of the parking space and drove home. Buddy greeted her at the door with his usual exuberance. After he calmed down, she gave him a few minutes of attention, then packed some snacks and drinks, and grabbed his lead and ball. She threw in an old towel from the washroom and lugged it out to the car.
“Come on, Buddy, let’s go play.”
She drove north out of town to River State Park and took the nearest hiking trail with Buddy on heel. Then the memories hit. The bench Mark and she sat on while watching Buddy splash in the shallows Mark holding her hand over a particularly rough spot in the trail and the kiss under the huge pine.
This had been a mistake, but going back home would be harder.
Susannah pulled out her cell phone. “Hey, Mom. Want some company?”
***
Susannah pulled into Ginny’s driveway at seven-forty-five the next morning. She was unsure what she had expected, but the place was a step back in time. A yellow, two-story Victorian home sat several hundred feet from the main road, surrounded by large trees and seemingly acres of lawn. Behind the house were vast gardens. To the left lay monstrous greenhouses. Susannah estimated several acres of them. No wonder Ginny needed extra help.
The back door opened before Susannah had a chance to knock.
“Come in, come in. Let’s take a moment to chat before I show you the gardens and greenhouses. Coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Ginny poured two cups. “How do you take yours?”
“Cream, no sugar.”
Ginny gestured they sit at the large wooden table in the center of her spacious kitchen. Susannah had never been in a kitchen quite like it. Painted in a pale yellow with white trim, the room was a bright, cheery addition to a Great Room, obviously from a vintage era, beautifully re-modeled with vaulted ceilings and reproduction appliances. The old look with modern features. Clever.
“So,” Ginny said, “What do you know about herbal remedies?”
“Um. Ginkgo, herbal teas.”
Ginny waved off Susannah’s hesitancy. “Not an issue. I have some pamphlets that will give you a little more information, but since you won’t be doing any sales, at least right now, it doesn’t matter much. I mainly need help with the caring for the plants. I sell most of my harvest to herbal companies who actually make and market the remedies.
“I offer fresh and dried cooking herbs as well as medicinal plants, and make and sell my own line of soaps, shampoos, and such. The line of natural cosmetics I carry I buy from another manufacturer. Federal regulations on those items are more than I care to handle.”
Ginny gave more details on the intricacies of herbal products, only half of which Susannah understood.
“Okay, enough biology lessons for today. Let’s head outside.”
Susannah followed Ginny out the back door toward the gardens and greenhouses. “I understand you have a Masters in Biology and are also a Master Gardner.”
“I do, and I am. Got the biology degree at Gonzaga. The other at Washington State University in Pullman. I was lucky to study what I wanted and stay pretty close to home.”
She stopped beside the first garden. “The plants in this section are mostly native. There’s a garden like this one at Washington State, white man relearning what the Native Americans knew for centuries.”
Susannah scanned the seemingly endless rows of plants. “All of these plants can be used for medicinal purposes? I don’t recognize any but a few. Are those California Poppies? What are they used for?”
“Oh a variety of things: insomnia, aches, nervous agitation, bed-wetting in children, and diseases of the bladder and the liver. Sometimes extracts are used to promote relaxation and sleepiness. Used with other herbs they help with depression, and a whole host of other symptoms.”
“And the thistles?”
Ginny recited another long list of uses. Susannah didn’t bother to ask about the other plants. Her head was already swimming with information on just those two.
The greenhouses were massive buildings, filled with row upon row of shelves with plants in various stages of growth.
Ginny pointed to several different areas. “We grow some plants from seeds, others from starts. Some we will replant outdoors as the weather permits, others are tropical and stay here where we can control the climate.”
“Interesting.”
Ginny looked at her. “Are you serious or just being polite?”
“I’m serious. I think it’s fascinating and I’d like to learn more. My late husband loved gardening. He is the reason my home is so beautifully landscaped. I can manage to keep it up, but I have no clue how to do much more than to weed and water. I’d like to learn more about the plants, their care, and their uses.”
“I have a full library of books I’ll be happy to loan, but first, let’s get you acquainted with the plants, how to care for them, their names, and so on, and then we’ll move on to their uses. Here is your list for today….”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Susannah decided there was something soothing about immersing her hands in potting soil, surrounded with aromas from the various foliage, add in Ginny’s collection of easy listening and relaxation CDs, and the atmosphere was very relaxing.
Some scoffed at Ginny’s choice of music, but she shrugged them off. “The hard stuff
isn’t good for humans and definitely not for the plants.”
Susannah favored the recordings with nature sounds, and played one CD in particular repeatedly. She liked the sound of the birds and the gurgling creek, with just a little flute music in the background. She imagined being out in the woods, camping, far away from the city, from the loneliness and heartache. It reminded her of camping with her folks when she was little. She felt safe then, her whole life spread out in front of her.
She paused, resting her hands against the pot. Would she ever feel that again? Of be being loved ― and safe? Shaking her head, she went back to work.
At noon, she fetched her lunch bag from the car, carried it to the back porch, and sat in the swing.
Ginny’s yard was a feast for the eyes with acres of lawns, flower gardens, and trees. Susannah guessed there had to be thousands of plants spread out front and back. Who tended it all? Ginny hadn’t said anything about yard work.
Susannah unwrapped her chicken sandwich and took a bite. Life was odd. A few months back, the thought of her going to Africa, or working in a greenhouse, was beyond her imagination. Now look at her, a veteran African missionary, of sorts, and a gardener. Yes, life was strange.
Something touched her foot, a tiny calico. The small feline contorted around Susannah’s ankles in a desperate ploy for a treat. Pinching off a small piece of the chicken, she held it out. The feline snatched the morsel from her hand with such ferocity Susannah inspected her fingers for damage. Amazingly all were intact and bloodless.
“So, you must be the infamous Tiger Lily Rachel told me about. Tiny but mighty.”
Seconds later the rest of the menagerie materialized, two other cats, both Burmese, Susannah guessed from their size and coloring, and the mutt Rachel had mentioned. What was his name? Oh yeah, Rufus. Hard to tell what mix he was, but definitely large breeds.
Susannah tried to ignore the woeful eyes following every move of her hand, gave up after only a few minutes, and handed out the last half of her sandwich.
After putting her things back into the car, she headed out to the gardens. It was then she realized her mistake. The menagerie followed on her heels, lined up in a single row. Tiger Lily was first and then the two Burmese, with Rufus bringing up the rear. Everywhere she went, they went. When Susannah turned on the hose, Tiger Lily lay down under the stream. She shook her head. A cat who loved water.
The animals fought to get close and be petted when she knelt to pull weeds.
She stood and put her hands on her hips. “Hey, you guys. At this rate it’ll take me hours to finish.”
Spying a tool shed, she quickly chose mechanical assistance. The moment the small rototiller growled to life, the menagerie disappeared. Better choice anyway, with the mechanized help, she would be done in half the time it would have taken her by hand. Correction, a quarter of the time with the menagerie factored in.
Pausing at the end of the last row, she wiped her brow and looked toward the front of the house. A car slowed, and a boy tossed out the evening paper. A misty veil dropped. The center thinned, sharpened. A boy of about twelve stood on the front porch of an older home. A middle-aged man argued with the boy. Slowly, as if the volume on a TV set gradually turned up, Susannah heard the conversation.
“Sir, I just need this month’s paper collection. I can’t help you with any chores.”
“Don’t have time to help a good customer with a little task?”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I can’t. My mom is expecting me.”
“Well, she’ll just have to wait.”
The man reached out, grabbed the boy, and dragged him inside. The scene panned back until Susannah could clearly see the house number and the street sign. The incident was to take place in a half hour.
Susannah shoved the rototiller back to the shed, latched the door, and flew through the other lock down procedures. She ran to her car and backed out of the driveway, resisting the urge to floor the gas pedal. It wouldn’t do to leave skid marks in her new boss’s driveway, or get a speeding ticket. She’d never make it on time then.
An agonizing twenty minutes later, she pulled opposite the house. The boy was just entering the yard.
Now what, cause a distraction, or tell the boy not to go up to the door? She didn’t think to bring her pepper spray and vowed to carry it with her, always.
Susannah put on her Bluetooth earpiece, opened the glove box, and pulled out a city map. She pretended to study it while she watched the boy walk up to the porch and knock. The man opened the door. The argument commenced.
Susannah voice dialed 911 and gave the dispatcher the house address and the nature of the emergency. She then drove down another block, made a U-turn, and parked about a half block down, hopefully far enough not to be noticed by the police, yet close enough she could see what happened.
An ugly feeling descended. Things were going badly inside the house and the police were taking too long to respond. She had to do something, yet she had no gun, no weapon of any sort. She noticed several good-sized chunks of concrete lying beside a loose a section of sidewalk. They would do.
She approached the house. Knock or force her way in? She eyed the large front window. It would at least get his attention and with some luck he’d let go of the boy and come out. They might arrested her for vandalism, but that was a small thing to trade for the boy’s life.
Susannah threw the stone as if pitching a baseball. The concrete arced over the fence, the front porch, and landed squarely in the center of the window. The glass shattered, scattering shards over the porch, the walk, and the lawn. Within seconds, the man was at the door, screaming expletives at her.
Susannah cut him off. “Let the boy go. I saw you pull him into the house. Let him go.”
“Are you nuts? Go away before I shoot you.”
“Shoot me then. I have the police dispatcher on the phone right now. She has your address and she is listening to everything we’re saying. So, let the boy go.”
The man came down the steps. Susannah waited until she was certain he was close enough not to miss, and chucked her last weapon dead center of his face.
The man dropped as if shot. Susannah skirted around the unconscious man and ran into the house. The boy was lying in one of the back bedrooms, blood oozing from his mouth and his nose. She felt for a pulse. Satisfied he’d live, she slipped out the back door.
The first cruiser turned the corner as she emerged from the backyard into the alleyway. None of the officers noticed when she pulled away from the curb and turned onto a side street.
***
Rachel shook her head, reached over her kitchen counter, and picked up the carafe. “Susannah, you were so lucky. If you’d missed, things could have turned out much worse.” She poured more coffee in both cups.
“I know I took a huge risk today, but I couldn’t just sit there knowing the man was hurting the boy. Who knows what he would have done before the police arrived.”
“Actually, I would have done the same thing, Susannah. I couldn’t sit there knowing the kid was hurt, either. What I don’t understand is how he expected to get away with it, or how you will get away with it this time. He got a good look at you.”
“True, but I fit the description of a lot of women. And I think he has more things to worry about than the identity of the woman who knocked him out.”
Rachel shook her head. “And broke his window. You don’t know which ones will look for revenge, Susannah, or who might try to sue you, or press charges for battery, or whatever they call it. It probably won’t take long for the police to find you. You’re playing with fire.”
“I know, but what else could I do? Besides, I am not doing all of this on my own. I have some advantages.”
“Well, I guess this is another instance where faith flies in the face of reason. Still, I wish there was someone with training and authority who could actually follow up on your premonitions and handle the rescues, or at least advise you on how to proceed.”
“
I do too, Rachel. But no police officer is going to listen to me.”
“I guess I’d have to agree with you there. You’d have to prove it somehow.”
“And that is exactly where I get stuck, every time.”
“So what now?”
“The same old routine, until something better comes along.” Susannah stood, walked to the sink, and rinsed out her cup. “I’d better get home. Poor Buddy’s been there alone all day and it’s a ways past his dinner time.”
Rachel nodded. “Be careful and call me. I don’t care what time of day or night.”
Susannah smiled, waved, and stepped out the door.
Buddy was waiting beside the kitchen door. After the usual mauling, Susannah fed him, warmed up a frozen dinner, and went into the den. She flipped through TV channels until she found an old black and white comedy. The program was just enough of a distraction to keep her thoughts away from Mark and dark things that made noises in the middle of the night, and monsters that prowled the streets.
***
The next morning, Susannah took her coffee to the breakfast nook and gestured for Buddy to jump up beside her. She laid her head against his.
“Oh, Buddy, I have been lucky so far, but what about the next time? What if I really do mess up, and someone gets killed? I don’t think I could live with that. And, what about this Daniel, this hero who’s going to save me from lions and demons? When is he going to show up? Then, the better question was will he show up, ever?”
She gave Buddy’s ears one last rub and picked up her devotions. The first listed reading was from Hebrews 13: 1-8. “And hospitality do not forget; for by this some, being not aware of it have entertained angels.”
Below the scripture was a poem. The third verse spoke of a surprise of love, pre-planned by God, just for her.
She wanted that with all of her heart, but at the same time was terrified of it. If she couldn’t trust her partner with everything, then was it the right relationship? She loved Mark, and yet she couldn’t share the most important aspect of her life, the one area where she needed the most help. How would another relationship be any different?
And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1) Page 17
