The Wedding Dance

by Lucy Kevin

  “Where are you going?” her mom asked. “I’ve come over to visit, and I’ve barely seen you.”

  “A—” she paused, trying to find the right word for what Patrick was to her, “—friend from work asked me to help out with a volunteer gardening project.”

  “Gardening? That sounds lovely.”

  Her mother looked so hopeful for a moment and it was such a nice change from the lost, forlorn expression that had been all but etched into her face since the previous night, that Phoebe suddenly found herself saying, “Mom, how would you like to come out with me today?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I don’t think it’s healthy for you to sit around here in my apartment all day. You should be out doing things. Having fun.”

  “I don’t know…” her mother began again, but Phoebe wasn’t about to give her the chance to come up with an excuse to avoid it. Instead, she stood, pulling her mother up with her hand.

  “You’ll enjoy it. I promise.”

  Angela probably would, too. At least as long as Phoebe kept her away from the more backbreaking parts of the landscaping project. Her mother enjoyed gardening almost as much as Phoebe.

  “I guess it would be nice to do something together,” her mother admitted. She looked around at Phoebe’s apartment. “And to get out of this place. Really dear, maybe we should spend the day visiting realtors or—”

  “Come on, Mom.”

  Phoebe had already put a few basic supplies in the trunk of her car, so they didn’t need to do anything beyond getting in and driving to Golden Gate Park. Her mother was quite subdued as Phoebe drove, but at least she wasn’t talking about how badly the men in her life had let her down.

  Not wanting her mother to be too surprised by the work that awaited them, Phoebe said, “We’re actually going to be spending the day helping a local gardening group clear some of Golden Gate Park.”

  “We’re going to be pulling up weeds?” Her mother sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s all right.”

  “I remember when I was little, you’d take me around the garden,” Phoebe said, “showing me which were plants and which were weeds. I had my own watering can, but you’d only let me help with the planting if I was very careful.”

  “That watering can was as big as you were, but you’d take it everywhere.” Her mother sounded lost in the past. “As I recall, I had to stop you watering the cat to see if that would make it grow.”

  In the reflection of her mother’s features in the windshield, Phoebe thought that she caught the barest hint of a smile. Thank God.

  Phoebe parked the car then went around to the trunk. She’d brought gardening gloves, trowels, and a few other things she normally used to keep the Rose Chalet’s flowers on track for the upcoming weddings. Thankfully, she at least had a spare pair of gloves she could lend her mother, though to Phoebe’s surprise, she turned that offer away.

  “If I’m going to be elbow deep in dirt,” her mother said, “I might as well do it properly and get some dirt under my fingernails.”

  There were groups of people working to weed flower beds and trim back trees, build retaining walls to stop banks of earth from slipping, and thin out some of the wilder scrub around the edges. They seemed to be working in an organized kind of way, but there didn’t seem to be much sign of whoever was doing the organizing. There was also a small tent set up over to one side, obviously intended for the volunteers to relax in after they were done working.

  It was only when she looked over the gardens for a second time that Phoebe spotted Patrick helping with one of the low retaining walls. It made sense that he wasn’t anywhere near any of the plants.

  She headed over with her mom in tow. “Hi Patrick. This is my mother, Angela.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” Patrick said.

  “You too, Patrick.”

  Her mother looked from him to Phoebe and raised her eyebrows, which Phoebe prayed he didn’t notice as she asked, “Where do you want us?” Although, with the way Patrick’s muscles stood out against his shirt, she couldn’t make up her mind whether it would be better to work next to him or as far away as possible.

  He smiled at her, that gorgeous smile that turned her insides to goo every time. “Let me check with RJ to see who needs the extra help the most. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Phoebe watched him leave. So did her mother.

  Angela gave Phoebe a pointed look. “I’m suddenly starting to understand why coming out here to help was such a big deal for you.”

  Phoebe frowned. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just here to volunteer.”

  “Oh, come on, honey. I’m your mother. I know you better than anybody. It’s obvious that you like him. And why wouldn’t you?” Angela added with an appreciative sigh. “He’s gorgeous.”

  Phoebe thought briefly about arguing, but there didn’t seem to be much point. Lately, no one seemed to believe that she wasn’t interested in Patrick. Why should her mother be any different?

  Chapter Nine

  “Phoebe’s just arrived,” Patrick informed his brother, “and she’s brought her mother, Angela. Where do you want them?”

  “The flower garden,” RJ said. “If anyone can make sense of the mess in there, she can. Unless you think she’s needed somewhere else?”

  “No, I think that makes sense for the two of them. Does that old palm tree stump next to the flower garden still need digging up?”

  RJ looked at him with obvious surprise. “Are you offering to do it? I was thinking of leaving that one. It’s going to be backbreaking work, you know.”

  Patrick shrugged. “You’ve got it under control here, so I might as well handle that.”

  Although his brother clearly thought he was nuts, he said, “If you’re offering, that would help a lot, thanks.”

  No, Patrick thought, he should be thanking his brother for a tailor-made excuse to spend the day just yards away from Phoebe.

  When he went back to them and relayed RJ’s assignments for the day, Phoebe looked surprisingly happy at the amount of manual labor she’d just been given, though her mother looked less enthusiastic, especially when they reached the gardens, which were every bit as bad as RJ had suggested.

  “It’s like a jungle in here,” Phoebe said.

  “Not exactly like you wandering around with your little watering can, is it?” her mother asked, clearly taken aback.

  Patrick watched Phoebe pull back her shoulder blades and stare down the unruly garden. “Well, at least we’ll know we made a difference today.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for showing us what we’re doing. I guess you’d better get back to the walls.”

  “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily, I’m afraid,” Patrick said. He nodded to the old tree stump in the middle of the garden. It was gnarled and dark with age, obviously rock solid. “That’s my project for the afternoon.”

  “Oh boy,” Angela said. “Those things have roots like iron.”

  Patrick could barely take his eyes off of Phoebe to reply to her mother. “I’ve often heard it said that nothing worth doing comes easy.”

  “Yes, well, occasionally you put in all that work and still get nothing out of it,” Phoebe pointed out, but then stopped and glanced across at her mother. “We should probably let Patrick get to work, Mom. It looks like he has a lot to do, and so do we.”

  That was true. First he had to dig around the stump, finding the roots and removing them before probably having to hack the thing down to a moveable size with an axe. Even then, he’d probably need RJ’s help for the final removal. Still, the sooner he got started with it, the sooner he’d be finished, so he went and fetched a shovel.

  By the time he got back with his tools, Phoebe and her mother had already set to work on putting the garden into some kind of order. Phoebe worked her way methodically along the rows of weeds, separating them out from those plants that could still be salvaged there. She worked with a straightforward kind of determination that Patrick greatly a
dmired.

  He set to work on getting the stump out, and it was every bit as hard as both RJ and Phoebe’s mother had predicted it would be. Pretty soon, sweat was pouring from him as he worked his way around the roots. But it was all worth it because he not only got to watch Phoebe working with her mother, he was also just close enough to hear them chatting.

  “I’d forgotten what hard work this was,” Phoebe’s mother said. “Are you sure we used to enjoy it that much?”

  Phoebe laughed. “Oh yes,” she said in a deadpan voice, “we loved it.”

  Only, instead of laughing with her, Phoebe’s mother picked up a plant her daughter had put into the compost heap and stuck it back in the ground.

  “Those aren’t weeds, honey. They’re perfectly good Gardenias.”

  “I know, but they’re dying.” Phoebe removed the plant again. “It’s better to get them out now and get it over with, so that there’s room for something to really flourish.”

  Her mother’s face fell. “Maybe all they need is a little loving attention, rather than being tossed in the nearest trash container.” Her mother took the trowel from Phoebe’s hand. “And it would be better if you held it like this.”

  Phoebe pressed her lips together and he was almost certain she was counting to ten before speaking. Just as he sometimes had to do with difficult clients.

  “You know I do this for a living, right Mom?” Phoebe said in a voice so soft that Patrick more read her lips than heard the words.

  “That doesn’t mean that you know everything, dear. Besides, maybe if you spent a little less time working and a little more getting out to meet some suitable young men, then you would spend your days off doing something other than yet more gardening.”

  Patrick clenched his teeth at the idea of Phoebe meeting any “suitable young men.” She’d already met one, thank you very much.

  “I’ve told you before,” Phoebe said in a voice that was a whole lot more relaxed than it should have been. “I like my life, Mom.”

  Patrick had to admire her self-control. It seemed clear to him that her mother wasn’t trying to be unpleasant, but that surely couldn’t make it any easier for Phoebe. If this was something that she had to deal with on a regular basis then no wonder she was careful about letting people in.

  Looking at the pair of them, he could guess an awful lot about Phoebe’s childhood, with a mother who was clearly broken up by the loss of the men in her life. But instead of that sudden insight making Patrick want to back off, he only admired Phoebe more. And it only made him believe all the more strongly that if anyone deserved some real romance in her life it was Phoebe.

  Patrick wasn’t sure how he was going to do it yet—the walls Phoebe had set up around herself seemed as solid as the tree stump he was working on—but he was determined to get through to her. Besides, he’d always thrived on challenges.

  Working to whittle down the stump to a more manageable size, when Patrick finally looked up from his hard work, he was amazed by the transformation of the garden under Phoebe’s hands. He could hardly believe it was the same overgrown wilderness they had begun the day with.

  Looking back at the remains of the stump, he considered calling over his brother for help. But then he had a better idea.

  “Phoebe, Angela, would you give me a hand with this?”

  “Sure,” Phoebe said as she and her mother headed over to help. “What do you need?”

  There were so many possible answers to that question, starting with a simple You and going from there. For now though, Patrick settled for pointing to the remains of the tree.

  “I’d love some help getting this into the wheelbarrow.”

  Phoebe didn’t hesitate. So many of the women he’d been out with would have hated the idea of doing that kind of hard manual labor. Most wouldn’t have stayed for the day’s work so far, but she was only too happy to help at one side of the stump while Patrick got the other. Even Angela didn’t balk for too long, and he suddenly realized where Phoebe had gotten her strength from. Angela wasn’t an easy woman, perhaps, but in the end she was a survivor.

  Between the three of them, they managed to lift what was left of the tree stump into the wheelbarrow. As Patrick wheeled it away, he stole a glance back and saw Phoebe smiling over at her mother. It was obvious how much Angela mattered to her, but then, it had been obvious all day.

  And what a lucky woman Angela was, to be loved by Phoebe.

  Chapter Ten

  By the end of the day, Phoebe was so exhausted from working on the garden that she felt like she could sleep for a week. Yet as she looked around, seeing the difference that she had made to the flower garden along with her mother, it was easy to think that it had all been worth the effort.

  “So,” Patrick asked, coming back from getting rid of the last of the tree stump, “did you have fun today?”

  Phoebe was surprised to find that she had. It had been fun spending the day doing something worthwhile, even if it had taken a lot of effort.

  Maybe because it had taken so much effort.

  “I did,” she said with a small smile, suddenly feeling shy around Patrick.

  “How about you, Angela?”

  “Just as long as I don’t have to do it all over again tomorrow,” her mother replied, but she was smiling too.

  Phoebe hadn’t seen many smiles from her since she showed up at her apartment. Clearly, a day out in the fresh air had done her some good. That or a day around Patrick.

  She had been impressed with the way Patrick had persuaded her mother to help, and coaxed her into assisting with the remains of the tree. He’d made a real effort, but he hadn’t intruded on a situation it would have been easy to make worse.

  “RJ tells me there’s a small party for the volunteers over by the tent. It would be great if you could both come after putting so much effort in.”

  “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Phoebe?” her mother said before Phoebe could make up an excuse to leave.

  Knowing there wasn’t much of a chance of stopping her mother now, she settled for putting away her gardening gear in the car before she headed over to the tent. Patrick did the same, walking over to his brother’s waiting truck with the axe and the shovel he’d been using.

  “Will your mother be okay?” he asked.

  “Oh, she’ll be fine,” she said, even though the truth was her mother had never been able to hold her liquor...which was made worse by the fact that she thought she could.

  Knowing it wouldn’t look good if she sprinted over to check on her mother, Phoebe briskly walked across the lawn, glad for her hiking boots. In the tent the volunteers were enjoying themselves with BBQ chicken and drinks from a couple of large coolers.

  RJ intercepted them. “Thanks for coming out today. You’ve made a real difference to that flower garden.”

  “It wasn’t just me,” Phoebe said, looking past RJ to see if she could spot her mother.

  “Your mom seems great, by the way.”

  Phoebe tried to smile. “She is great, thanks. Have you seen her?”

  RJ turned to look for Angela. “She was just here a second ago. Is everything okay?”

  What could she do but nod? “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you relax and have something to eat?” he said and before she knew it she found herself eating a BBQ chicken sandwich while caught up in a conversation with a couple who were just in the middle of landscaping their own garden and had heard she was a plant expert.

  “What kind of flowers would you recommend for a deer tolerant yard?” the woman asked. “We keep trying things that people have recommended, but they don’t always do that well.”

  “Honestly, the best advice I can give you is to take a look in your neighbors’ gardens. Nine times out of ten, what works has as much to do with the soil and the general location as anything else.”

  A few minutes later, she spotted Patrick at the entrance to the tent, waving her over. “Sorry,” she said, “I think I’m needed.”

&nb
sp; She hurried over to Patrick, who looked worried. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve found your mother.”

  “It’s bad?”

  Patrick didn’t reply immediately. “I think you should come and look.”

  He led the way outside, round to the back of the marquee. There, Phoebe’s mother was sitting on the grass, a bottle of champagne in her hand. It was nearly empty. She looked up as they approached.

  “There you both are. I thought you’d run off, Patrick.”

  “I just went to get Phoebe, Angela.”

  “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had left me here,” she continued. “Men are always running off on me. It’s like there’s something wrong with me.”

  “No, there isn’t,” Patrick said as they got closer. Very gently, he took the champagne bottle out of her hand and put it aside.

  Phoebe moved to kneel beside her mother who looked more stricken by the second. “What kind of example am I…am I—” she paused for a moment, as though trying to remember the word “—setting?”

  Phoebe hooked an arm under her mother’s. “Let’s get you home.”

  “I don’t have a home anymore. Not since me and your father split up.” She was crying by that point.

  “Here,” Patrick said, “let me.”

  He lifted her mother easily, carrying her over to Phoebe’s car and helping her into the back seat before sliding into the passenger seat.

  “What are you doing?” Phoebe asked.

  “You’ll need help getting her to your apartment.”

  She didn’t bother to argue with him. Not when the thought of trying to carry her mother up the long flight of stairs made Phoebe a hundred times more tired than she already was.

  “Thanks,” she said at last, and started to drive. When they reached her apartment, Patrick helped her mother out of the car, wrapping her arm around his shoulders to support her.