by Grace Greene
The morning air was still fresh, but it would be a hot day. My car was parked over to the side. Mr. Blackwell’s van was parked nearby, along with a truck. Likely his assistant’s vehicle. No Mitchell Landscaping vehicles. No Will.
What of Victoria? She wasn’t around. Nor was her car. I presumed she’d gotten it fixed somehow, or it was somewhere up the drive, disabled. Should I check? In fact, had I picked up the mail yesterday? I didn’t remember doing so. I could take a walk and check the box. And maybe find out what else was going on.
I slipped on my shoes and set out.
Her car was up around the curve, pulled off to the side on a slightly wider stretch of the drive, far enough over that the other vehicles had been able to get past without incident. Victoria was leaning against the side of the car, her back to me, and talking to someone who evidently belonged to the work truck that was pulled up close to hers—almost nose to nose. That person was hidden by the raised hood.
I recognized the truck—Will’s—as Victoria laughed.
Darkness stirred in me, an upwelling of raw emotion, even bigger than the anger and resentment I’d felt before. Like an ancient tide it came, with frustration, resentment, anger, jealousy, and dark impulses rolling up before it. I didn’t recognize these feelings. I didn’t want to recognize the ugliness hiding in that morass of emotion. Shaking seized me, and I felt powerless to stop what was about to happen.
Chance in the form of Mel saved me from awfulness I could never have taken back. Mel drove toward us, slowing as she reached Will’s truck and Victoria’s car.
The shaking grabbed me again and ran the length of my body. I pressed my eyes tightly closed as I breathed in deeply. I discovered I did have control, after all. It had been me, all of it—the darkness, the anger. All parts of me. My knees felt weak, and I crossed my arms tightly.
Was I jealous of Victoria interacting with Will? Probably flirting with him? Not that alone. There was a history of things she’d done.
A tiny voice in my head whispered that my logic was flawed.
“Kara?” Mel called out. “Can you come over here?”
I walked. An ordinary response to Mel’s request, but it felt unreal laid over the top of what was still stirring inside.
Will caught sight of me and waved in my direction. His smile was bright and open. Victoria half turned and saw me. For a brief moment I thought a smile was about to appear on her face, too, but as I passed her, her expression changed, and she backed away. I kept moving.
When I reached Mel, she put her hands on my arms. “You okay? You’re white as a sheet.”
“Am I?”
“I brought this for you.” She handed me a covered casserole dish. “If you aren’t going to eat it right away, go ahead and freeze it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What? You aren’t going to argue?”
“Not today. Thanks, Mel.”
Will walked away from the car, leaving Victoria standing there. He asked, “Are you okay? You’re pale.”
I forced a smile. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” I nodded toward Victoria and the car. “She has a problem.”
He nodded. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and I can fix it here and now.”
“Maybe so.”
Mel said, “Get in the car. I’ll give you a ride home.” She kept hold of my arm until I was securely in the passenger seat. I was still holding the casserole. As she settled behind the steering wheel, she said, “You want to tell me about it? What’s wrong?”
“No. Nothing, I mean.”
I felt passive. Maybe in shock. I was afraid that if I put a foot wrong, that dark ugliness would swamp me again. Would overwhelm me. I hadn’t thought I was capable of so much . . . hate.
And that wasn’t Victoria’s fault.
So much of it . . . I must’ve spent a lifetime accumulating it, tucking it safely away. Thinking that was good enough.
At the house Mel got out of the car with me. She took my arm again as we walked up to the porch. “You gonna be all right?”
“I’m fine, really.” I gave her a polite smile.
She squinted at my face. “I don’t think so. Maybe go lie down for a while? I can stay, if you need me.”
“That you, Mel?” Moore Blackwell called out as we walked inside.
“It’s me, Moore. How’re you and Sheryl doing?”
I took that opportunity to get away. I said, “Bye, Mel. And thanks.” With a quick reassuring smile, I gave her a hug and disappeared down the hallway with the casserole. I closed the door to the kitchen, put the casserole on the table, and sat.
Maybe thirty minutes later, Victoria walked into the kitchen. I’d spent the time trying to recover my calm, to know that I was in control of my life and no one else.
I was also responsible for my life. In charge, as Seth might say. I couldn’t blame anyone else for what happened in it.
As pleasantly as I could, I said, “You didn’t need to come back to the house.” My voice sounded wooden.
Her smile faltered, as did her voice. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality and give you an update on the car.”
I stared at her. “Okay.”
“Will’s a really nice guy, isn’t he? He tried but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Maybe the alternator. At any rate, he has a friend with a tow truck, and he’s getting him to tow my car into his service station.”
“Okay.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll catch a ride with the tow guy when he arrives. I’ll get out of your way.”
“Okay.” But this time, the repetition of my stoic okay grated. I added, “That’s good.”
She nodded and tucked her curls back behind one ear. “When I lost my job, I traded my other car in for this one.” She shrugged. “Smaller payment and cheaper upkeep, presumably, yet it’s already broken down and needing repairs. Hope they’re not expensive.” She flashed a nervous smile again. But she lingered.
What more was she expecting or hoping for? I kept silent.
Finally, she said, “I’ll wait on the porch.”
I looked away. Victoria walked back to the front of the house.
A few minutes later, the kitchen guy arrived. Victoria must’ve let him in, because I looked up from where I sat at the kitchen table, and there he was, carrying some odd pieces of cabinetry that hadn’t arrived with the rest. He said I could stay and wouldn’t be in the way, but I was still in that state. That nothing state. I excused myself and went out to the terrace and planted myself there instead. I felt like a hostage. I was also the jailer. If I had the key to escaping this nothingness, apparently I’d lost it.
Will came around the corner of the house and stopped when he saw me there. He came over. “Sorry for the delay.”
I crossed my arms. “No worries. You were doing a good deed.”
“Still angry with her?” He raised a hand. “Sorry, not my business.”
“No, it isn’t.” I looked away, shaking my head. “I apologize. I’m in a mood this morning. Might be coming down with something.”
“I hope not. Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m sure it will pass.”
“I wanted to let you know that I wasn’t able to help her much. Unless my cousin Mack can figure out the problem on the scene, and I doubt it since I couldn’t, then”—he shrugged—“it looks like a tow-and-repair job.” He nodded. “But he’ll do right by her. He should be here anytime now.”
“Good.” I added, “That’s excellent news.”
He gestured toward the creek and the woods. “Lon and Derek have been working on the creek path.” He gestured to his right. “Instructions were to trim back growth and try to smooth out the path where possible without losing the natural look. Take a look when you have time and let me know if we succeeded.”
“Sounds good.” In fact, I loved the idea, and I was sure I’d feel excited about it again eventually. When this empty feeling passed. Talking to Will . . . his steadiness . . . his manner was
calming. I wanted to prolong the encounter. “Maybe we should add a bench along the way, just in case someone wants to rest or pause for a while to listen to the birds?”
Will grinned. “Wooden and rustic?”
“Exactly.”
“Your color’s a little better now. Can I get you something? Maybe something to drink?”
“Thanks, no. I’m feeling better.”
He turned to leave.
“Will?”
“Yes?”
There was an expectant look on his face. Again, I was struck by the change to his appearance. It made me doubt my memory of him from the day we’d met. Maybe I hadn’t been paying adequate attention.
“Thank you for helping Victoria,” I said.
“No problem.” He turned away, and this time I let him leave.
It would be strange not to have Will around, but that day would come. I’d miss his . . . handiness. Dad had been excellent in business but hadn’t been handy. Niles certainly hadn’t been. But Will was, and he was pleasant to have around too. I felt selfish. He’d had a life before me and Wildflower House. His sister, for instance. He’d mentioned his mother and a grandmother too. Maybe . . . a wife? No, somehow I knew there was no wife, but shame on me for not asking him about his life.
At some point the work here would run out . . . but not yet. And he’d started planning out the new wildflower plot. I thought of it as a memorial. A private memorial that would mark events and feelings in my life that most would never be aware of. Will had called it a medallion. I liked the sound of that.
“Kara?”
With a jolt I turned to face Victoria. Her duffel bag was at her feet.
I asked, “Did the tow truck arrive?”
With a tiny hitch in her breath, she said, “It did. He came. He towed.” She shook her head and spread her arms. “I’m sorry. I intended to leave with the tow truck, but he had a helper with him. No space for me. He’s towing the car to his brother’s garage, and they’ll let me know what’s wrong. Fingers crossed, it’s a cheap, easy fix.”
She shrugged and paused, perhaps hoping for signs of a thaw from me. I couldn’t give them to her.
“So anyway, the repair guy will call me with the news one way or the other. I’m going to call my mom and see if she can drive out here and fetch me.” She paused for breath. “I apologize that I’m still here. I’m trying to work this out. The thing is I don’t know how I’ll be able to prevent her from wanting, expecting, to say hello to you. She doesn’t know about our . . . difficulties. I can tell her you aren’t home. That should work if you’ll stay out of sight when she arrives.”
Stay out of sight? Hide from her mom? How ridiculous would I allow this to get?
“When do you expect the garage to call?”
“This afternoon, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Fine. If they haven’t contacted you in a little while, give them a call for an update. You can call your mom then, if you need to.”
“Well . . . but if the car is ready today—that’s if I get super lucky—I’ll need a ride over to the garage.”
“Then go ahead and call her now, or maybe Will can take you.” I turned away to hide my face.
I heard Victoria running up the steps to the porch and then the screen door shutting behind her. Not long after, the door opened again. Victoria.
“Mom is visiting her sister in Hampton.” She breathed in and out sharply.
I looked away. I wouldn’t offer. I’d already allowed her into my home. No more. “Then I guess you’ll have to wait until you can get a ride with Will or one of the other landscapers into town, or maybe call a cab.”
She looked stunned. I stood and walked away without another word.
What would my mother have said about my behavior?
Not a clue. She probably would’ve smiled blankly and patted my hand and gone back to staring at the window.
What would Dad have said?
He’d ask me why I was being such a jerk. But then he’d always liked Victoria. He’d say, If you want Victoria gone, then why not expedite it? Give her a ride to wherever she needs to go.
I’d already allowed her to stay, not only overnight but while she was waiting for the tow truck.
Yeah. I was quite the generous spirit, wasn’t I?
I hadn’t been able to confront Mom about her lack of mothering. With Dad I’d pushed about certain things but had never told him where he’d failed as a father. So why was I so determined to punish Victoria for relatively minor wrongs?
Did it matter that I was in the right? Sometimes you went overboard, so far beyond reason that it was hard to find the way back, at least the way back with dignity.
I was determined. I was in control. Most days. Today . . . maybe not so much.
My head ached again, and my thigh hurt. I reached the bench and the creek. My cane . . . where had I left it? Should I blame Victoria for the return of the pain? Was she responsible for everything that had gone wrong in my life in recent years? Where was my responsibility?
I stopped and pressed my hands to my temples. The ridge of scarred flesh was there. Another reminder of Niles and failure.
This was killing me. This iron control. This denial of expression.
And who was asking me to hide what I felt?
Only me.
I bumped into the bench and gripped the back tightly.
Victoria said softly, “Kara?”
“What? Are you following me?” The words burst from me. “Can’t I have any peace from you?”
“Kara. Please listen to me. You’re wearing me down. I’m close to giving up. That’s your plan, right? Ignore me or insult me until I vanish?” She whispered, “I don’t altogether blame you, but you are wrong. You are wrong.”
I gripped the back of the bench so hard that I thought my bones might snap. I didn’t speak.
“Tell me this,” she said. “Let’s keep it basic and simple. Do you believe I cheated with Niles?” She paused, then resumed. “Even if I considered it, at any time in my life, I never acted on it.”
I controlled my expression, but I couldn’t keep contempt from my voice. “Do you want a gold star?”
“You are angry at me because when I understood what he was doing, I went to him instead of coming to you. I didn’t tell you right away, and you feel I betrayed our friendship. That I was disloyal.”
“You did. You are.”
“Maybe. I think we will have to disagree on that, but I concede that I should’ve told you when I found out. I shouldn’t have waited, hoping that Niles would be honest with you himself.”
“That last day, the day I told you to leave, you said it was my fault.”
Victoria grimaced. “That was anger. I’m sorry for that too.”
I opened my mouth to speak, and Victoria said, “Wait. Please. I want to say something else, and you might want to kick me out—again—when I’m done, but since you care about honesty . . . in a way, it was your fault.”
I felt that red-hot anger rising, wanting to rush right up into my face and heat my cheeks.
“Because you are strong. A strong personality. Always contained and always in control, but fierce when crossed and sometimes scary. You know that old saying about keeping one’s mouth shut and that everyone will think you’re smart until you open it and prove otherwise?”
She shook her head and held up her hands. “Wait. That isn’t what I’m saying. You’re smart. Very. But it’s that calm, stoic personality you project. It’s a little scary at times but also attractive. It attracts people. They read into it what isn’t there. Even I didn’t understand that until I met your dad and got to know him a little. You are strong. You are in control. But not necessarily because that’s how you are. Rather, it’s how you had to be to keep your life together. People like Niles never understood that. He was attracted to you because you had what he lacked. Steadfastness. Courage. Focus. He didn’t understand that a partnership like marriage required him to have strength too. He
didn’t get that he couldn’t ride into his future using you as a crutch. Not that he thought he needed a crutch. But you know how he was. He got by on flash and charm. On personality. And maybe that’s what attracted you to him.”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. It seemed clear in my head when I was thinking it through, but I’m saying it all wrong.”
There was a very long pause. I held my thoughts, my own angry words, inside, where they churned and slashed within me. The air around us grew sour and bitter.
Victoria said, “So that’s it? Is that all you’ve got for me? Fine. Let’s just forget it.” She crossed her arms. “I’m going to slip away and call the repair guy and do some begging. Excuse me.”
She left.
My lower lip trembled. I was glad I’d been able to hide the hurt, the pain, until she’d gone. What a mash-up that explanation had been. Nonsense. Except I did know what she meant. And she wasn’t all wrong.
I needed air and movement to dispel the awful miasma Victoria and I had created around us. Will had said something about working on the path. I could check that out. Maybe Victoria would be gone, one way or the other, by the time I returned.
I fled, as I’d fled from her in that confrontation in the carriage house. Was I fleeing from Victoria or from this box I’d trapped myself in?
Victoria had said I would go to almost any length to not allow someone a second chance. A second chance was one more opportunity for hurt. Better to focus on other things. Inconsequential considerations. Decisions that didn’t need to wait for morning light. The best kind.
Once in the woods, I paused to catch my breath and massaged my thigh. I would never be free of the past if I didn’t find a way to let it all go. All of it. All the way back to my early memories, including my mom.
Toss out the old junk. Make new stuff. Cultivate the stuff I wanted in my life. Like adding that bench along the creek path. A small thing, but a nice touch. Forget the old painful stuff. Instead of walling it in, wall it out.
Much nicer to think about a new bench. Who could dispute the value of a convenient resting place along a forest path? Not me. Not the imminently reasonable, well-controlled Kara Lange Hart.
