“He cares more for you than you think.”
“You don’t know.”
“I know my brother. I know us. We’re better people than our parents were, and he’s the best of us.”
That got his attention.
“We may love them but our parents had…have serious flaws. We try not to emulate them but, god knows, we’ve inherited some of their traits. Rich…He struggles to share. Or maybe it’s a man thing. Grief…It’s the thing Gardeners’ struggle with most of all. Mum tries to pretend otherwise but she’s barely getting by.”
“Not so, judging by appearances.”
“Oh she gets out of bed in the morning. Showers. Does her hair. Puts on her makeup. Dresses, and goes about her day. She doesn’t break down. She doesn’t sob. She doesn’t cry, not in front of anyone, though we hear her sometimes. Or rather I do.” Saffie shrugged. “I’ve eavesdropped outside her door since I was a little girl. It’s a hard habit to break. This time I’m doing it to be sure how she’s doing, because I’m as worried as Rich is. I guess times have changed. So you see, you’re not wrong. She wears a uniform, a mask. She wants you to judge her by her appearance. Rich wants her to mourn, but I don’t know if she’s capable. She’s not talking except to complain. She’s eating less by the day. And Rich…he’s a hypocrite. We can’t say we liked our father much. We can’t say we always like our mother. But, hell, we loved both of them. Rich hurts. There’s so much he never got to discuss with his father. He hurts because his father wouldn’t have accepted many things even had he the chance.”
Did she mean Rich’s being gay, or having dallied with the gardener? Churlish to ask.
“Rich doesn’t share his emotions. He doesn’t realise he finds it as hard as our mother does. But he tries to. Mum…she makes us wary. He’s tip-toeing around her, trying to make her talk, keep her busy, puts suggestions to her, to make things better in the long run. You must be aware he wants to sell this house.”
Ethan gave her a terse nod.
“So he did open up to you. It’s a lot of sharing for a Gardener. I agree with him, about the house. I don’t want to live here. Rich and I will wilt here long term. We want our own homes and there’s nothing stopping us, but as much as we want to move on, we don’t want to leave our mother rattling around this ridiculous house. And we have other plans. Rich juggles more than you know, things he can’t tell you if he wanted to, because it’s all up in the air. And he’s raw from the funeral. From the things he never got to say to his father. Never got to hear, never would have if the man had lived. And you want him to talk about your father? To ask how you’re feeling? Trust me, he wouldn’t know how. And he’s got too much on his plate to think of everything.”
“Taking over the family business. I get it. I’m sorry he’s under so much pressure but you’re…” He stopped.
Sapphire narrowed her gaze. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Nothing to think about. You want me to exhibit some sympathy toward Richard and I do, but he’s not the one out of a job, and he has one which earns him more in a month than I’ll likely see in a year for all I know. Or a lifetime.” He didn’t have a clue, sprouted these statements to put his point across. “It’s difficult to feel any real sense of sympathy. He’s seen more of the world than I’m ever likely to, so forgive me if it’s a little hard to hear him complain over the one thing which has fulfilled and financed half of his dreams. Dreams most of us have but never see realised.”
“You think…” Sapphire stood blinking. A sharp laugh pealed out of her. “Oh, you’re priceless. You think dear old dad paid for Rich to go galavanting around the globe? My dear brother travelled with a pack slung on his back. He worked to earn his way and travelled from place to place, taking part in all sorts of conservation projects. His real dream? He doesn’t want any of this.” Sapphire waved a hand toward the manor house. “He never did.”
Ethan backed up a step. Richard? A conservationist? He fought to get his head around the idea. “No. He may not want this particular life but I’ve seen his idea of lifestyle. He showed me the house.”
“The new eco-friendly mansion he helped build? Yes, he intends to live there, but it’s a living project. He’ll use it for business as much as a home, to show new innovative ways to build. He doesn’t want to be CO. He’s never been interested in the family business. Rich wants to breach the barrier between manufacturing and building with the environment in mind.”
“It’s not possible. He was asking the price.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about so I can’t answer that, but if there’s something you want to know, there’s an easy solution.” Sapphire backed him up to the side of the shed and poked him in the chest. Ethan struggled not to rub where her fingers struck. “You ask him, you dope.”
Chapter 17
Rich looked up as movement caught his eye. Ready to face a battle with his mother, he put down the pen beside the papers he signed, and tensed…and stayed taut when he set his gaze on Ethan Fields. A chat with Ethan rather than Ruby should have been a better prospect, but this conversation was likely to be the more important. The man hovered in the doorway, looking more out of place in the study than he had in Rich’s bedroom.
What was he doing in the house?
A flash of purple answered the question as his sister scurried on past.
Forcing some of the tension out of his shoulders, Rich placed his hands on the desk, as though he tried to show the man he carried no weapons.
“Is there something I can do for you?” The words, soft, low, rumbled out and still managed to sound too loud in the large room.
“Can we talk?”
Well, they had to sooner or later, and no more harm could be done. “You’d better come in and close the door.”
A twitch tightened Ethan’s forehead. The man gazed at the door as if he didn’t know what it was used for. After a few seconds, he took hold of the handle and turned to close it quietly.
What have I said wrong now? Rich sought an answer and came up with zero.
When he had Ethan’s attention, he nodded to a chair at the side of the room—three chairs around a small circular table. The space designed as an alternative means to discuss business was more intimate and less formal. His father had only sat people opposite his desk when he was furious with them. Rich recalled sitting there more than once.
“What problem do you have with me asking you to shut the door?”
“None.” Ethan dropped into one of the chairs, and Rich took the one closest to him.
“You made it look awkward.”
“Not been asked inside often, though…” That warm brown gaze flittered over the furniture.
On a hunch, Rich asked, “Would you like a drink?” He was unsurprised when Ethan’s gaze flicked to a black cabinet in the corner behind which Rich’s father had kept a stock of alcohol. “So…you’ve been in this room before.”
Now those brown eyes returned to staring at him. “Once. My father used to come here to talk to yours. But I needed to…speak with your mother once. Your father was away and…”
“Whatever you had to say didn’t go your way.”
“So you do know?”
“Know what?”
“Why I’m truly pissed at you.”
Rich struggled not to sigh, too passé. “No, but I’ve been around my parents long enough and seen enough business dealings to make wild but often accurate guesses. You’ve been angry with me since I returned, and it’s not all about what we mean…” The muscles in his face tightened as Ethan glowered. “Not all about what we mean, or don’t mean, to each other.”
Rich sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and cupping his hands together. “Ethan, I’m no mind-reader. Please, wherever we go from here, be honest with me. Let me get you a drink and for everything we’ve shared and may yet share, please tell me what’s troubling you.”
* * * *
“I remember the night like it was yesterday.” Ethan c
radled a tumbler with a single shot of whisky. Rich had offered more but he’d refused. The sting as he took a sip was welcome, an occasional nip enough to keep him from trembling, but he needed a clear head.
“You think it rained the other night…Well, that night we had the weirdest storm. I came up to the house early afternoon but the sky was so dark it looked like the heavens were going to fall. Rosie begged me to wait. She feared I’d be struck down with lightning even from the staff house to here. She remained with my father. He was so ill, we’d moved him downstairs by then.”
Another nip gave him time to look at Rich, to see how he had the man’s concentration. “It’s why the room’s so crowded. We moved my father there and all his things. The canvasses are his. He used to paint as well as sketch garden designs. At the time he could no longer manage the stairs. Your father…he provided a bit of home help at first, but that day…” A shake of his head snuck up on him as though he tried to clear his mind of unwanted thoughts, or unwanted memories.
“No parent wants their child having to help them go to the toilet and things were heading that way. Also, though I’m strong, I didn’t have the power to lift him alone. At least I wouldn’t have had for much longer and we both knew it. Getting a hoist and all the equipment was one step too far for my father. He didn’t want me to go through that. I didn’t mind but I didn’t want to force it upon him.”
A frown had settled over Richard’s face and he obviously had a question. “What is it?”
“Sorry. I was wondering. Why do you sleep there now?”
“Convenience. I’d been kipping in a camp bed at his side for weeks. Once he was gone, Rosie remade the bed before I thought of it, let alone asked her. I’d taken to pacing, unable to sleep, and she said this way I wouldn’t disturb her. My room used to be next to hers upstairs and she said the floors creaked. I think it was only part of her reasoning. She thought it best I stay surrounded by my parents’ things. That’s what’s in the boxes and, in the end, it’s why I’m still there. I meant to sort through them, but…” Ethan glanced out of the window. “There’s so much to do. I can’t keep up with it. Your parents thought I could just step into my father’s shoes, but it’s not so simple.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Ethan couldn’t even be sure Richard was aware he’d spoken.
“When I placed my father in a home, I ended up trying to see him as much as possible, as well as working here…and I took a part-time job, cutting local lawns, washing windows, whatever I could. Not gonna kid you, it made everything harder. Between working and visiting him, there wasn’t any time for anything but sleep. I was exhausted.”
Now Richard’s frown blossomed but he sat silent, waiting, for which Ethan was grateful.
“On the day, before all that happened, when the sky grew so dark it looked like some kind of looming apocalypse, I came up to the house, hoping to see your father, unaware he’d been called away on urgent business. Your mother was here.”
He’d drained half the whisky and had better slow down or he’d ask for another. Despite the resolution, he acquired a sudden need to clear his throat so sipped.
“I asked her for…a loan, a gift, anything she could contribute. I wanted to put him in the best care home possible. She said I already owed your parents quite enough for the nurse who came in a couple of times a week. She said…” His throat clicked as he tried to tell the story. He couldn’t. Came as a surprise when Richard appeared at his side and took the glass out of his hand, replacing it seconds later, topped up.
“You don’t want to hear this,” Ethan said after a few sips. “Despite my being angry with you, you weren’t here and I know you wouldn’t have been a part of it.”
“She refused you. Not hard to work out.”
Ethan barked out a laugh. “I suppose not.” He waited a few beats, gathering his thoughts, able to see Richard would not be put off. If Ethan didn’t tell him, the man would demand the truth from the old woman.
“She refused all right. She said the nurse was one gift more than she would have given. She said we had both low rent accommodation and salaries, which was true. We had savings, but…”
“Care homes are expensive.”
A nod was the only way to answer. “I didn’t care about savings. She wouldn’t help so I used every penny. I never told my father the truth. I’d about emptied our bank accounts by the time he died. The extra jobs…hell I was getting a few quid to cut a few lawns and I spent most of it on things like books and soap and sweets to keep my father content. He wasn’t aware his salary stopped the moment he became ill.” A twisted smile tugged at his lips. “Ain’t it the kicker? He’d put all his funds into paying for his care, believing it was enough and I would carry on here as normal, had savings, and a job, and a home here. Shortly after he died, your father…he presented me with a bill for the nurse. Said it was your mother’s idea. Couldn’t look me in the eye. Talked about it being good business sense.”
He felt ill. Richard looked it. Both men took a gulp of their drinks.
“I never let him know of her refusal. Couldn’t do it to him. Not after all the years he’d worked so hard for your parents. And I shouldn’t have let it eat me up inside. I shouldn’t take it out on you. It’s been hard to carry on here after he died. I should have left sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The question clogged his throat and water welled in his eyes. He gave Richard what must be an equally watery smile. “I had a debt to work off, and I waited, hoping you’d come home before I made the decision. I kept telling myself I needed to sort out my parents’ stuff first but in truth I put it off, because once I sorted it all, my excuse to stay was gone. All the time I wanted to see you one last time. I don’t know entirely why. It was like you were a link to the past, to happier times, those I shared with my father anyway and even with you. Not every moment when you hung around was dreadful. We were younger then, life seemed to contain more hope. I guess death starts to darken things. Course, my mother went long ago but I was too young to understand grief then. For some reason, if I left without at least seeing you, if not saying goodbye, I didn’t feel as if I’d get closure.”
“Would you have told me about the money? If things hadn’t gone the way they did between us?”
“Dunno. Probably not. That wasn’t my plan, not then, not now. But I couldn’t leave with you wondering. At the time, the months went on and there was no sign. By the time you did show, I thought I’d put all that behind me. Thought my feelings were an adolescent daydream. How wrong I was.”
Time moved on, marked by the tick of a clock. If Richard didn’t speak, they might never move. Wasn’t like he had anything more to say…yet a final thought came to him.
“That day, the one where all I got was a brutal refusal, the sky darkened but only a few drops of rain fell.” He met Richard’s gaze. “Tell me, how is it possible?”
* * * *
“I can’t believe it.” The oriental pattern of the rug created a trail for his eyes to follow, while his mind diverted down other tracks, trying to find a way through the labyrinth of his parents’ minds. “I mean, I can believe it of my mother,” he added when he noticed Ethan’s black stare. “But my father? What the fuck was he thinking? Ethan, I swear, had it been down to me, there wouldn’t have been an issue of a loan. I would have paid. It’s not like we can’t afford it. I’d do the same for any of our long term staff. Service of over twenty years certainly deserves more respect.”
Though his tone remained calm, Rich feared he was almost babbling, wishing to compensate. What could he say?
“Nothing I can do will make it right, but…let me…” What he intended to say trailed off. Rich uttered a small laugh. “I’m scared to make the offer to pay you back. I don’t know whether it’ll piss you off, but I have to say it. The offer’s there, and it has nothing to do with us. It’s about what’s right. I’d do the same for you. For Rosie.”
Maybe he found the right words after al
l. At the mention of Rosie’s name, the glint went out of Ethan’s gaze. The man didn’t exactly relax, but something in the way he sat, the way he held himself, eased down.
“I’ll…think about it. I’ll work out…costs. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”
Without doubt, it took Ethan a lot to agree to that much. Was it wise for Rich to push his luck?
“There’s more I need to tell you, but can I do it without you storming out?”
Ethan’s dark glower sparked back to life, but the man didn’t move. Took seconds, but his head at last moved up and down in slow agreement.
Resisting the temptation to cross his fingers, Rich settled for interlocking them, making a steeple with his thumbs, palms towards him, arms resting on his knees. How to begin?
“There are meetings all this week, and at one of those, I plan to put two proposals to my mother.” The slow, steady tone Rich adopted almost squeaked at the end. An urge to clear his throat created a silence lasting several beats. When able to speak again, Rich chose the more obvious option—the one Ethan knew a little about. “The first is the suggestion we sell this house.”
Would be good if he could gauge Ethan’s reaction. What did the man think of them selling the house and grounds, considering the years of care and hard labour William Fields had put into creating the landscape? Best thing was to address the situation.
“I’ve found a number of properties I think will suit her, not that she has to accept any of them, but I’m hoping to show her what she can live in more comfortably and that the idea will appeal…when she learns neither I nor Saffie intend to live here, even if she refuses to sell. I’m sorry it will mean leaving everything your father has done behind.”
“What are you asking for? My permission? It’s your land to do what you like with.”
Hard to tell whether the man didn’t care or hid the fact he was peeved. “I know, but it’s the only regret I’ll have.”
The comment, genuine and meant as a pleasantry, appeared to have the opposite effect to his intention. Ethan broke eye contact and lowered his head. His expression turned stony. Rich swore the man’s jaw tightened as Ethan stared at his empty hands. Any combination of emotions might be causing these minute clues, but Rich made a good guess at the strongest.
Flowers for the Gardener Page 19
