Proposals and Poison

by Rachelle J. Christensen

  As he reached for the last tulip bulb, his hand brushed mine. He liked the dirt under my fingernails. I almost laughed at the thought. Too many dates with business men, lawyers, and would-be doctors had me feeling ashamed of my chipped nails. Travis was different. We’d just had a conversation about varieties of flower bulbs. He was handsome and looking better by the minute.

  We stood and brushed the dirt from our clothes. “Thanks for the help. I usually don’t work this late, but I got a little carried away with this flowerbed.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful. I’m glad you were still here.” His smile widened. “I have to say, I’m kind of glad I lost my keys.”

  The blush tinting my cheeks had me feeling like a school girl, so I hurriedly gathered my tools and tossed them in the back of the Gator— my golf cart on steroids. I loved driving it around the park.

  “Can I give you a ride to The Sugar Cube?” he asked.

  I looked at my dirt-smudged jeans and wrinkled my nose at the dark smear of mud on my t-shirt. “I’m kind of a mess.”

  “I think you look cute.” He motioned to his right knee. “And look; I have a matching stain.”

  My resistance melted when he proudly showed off his grass stain. “Okay, let’s go.” I stowed my tools and followed Travis to his car.

  The sunset tinged the sky with purple as we drove to the city center. Travis opened my door and led me inside the cozy café. We grabbed a booth in the back corner where it was quiet and the lights were dim. A few minutes later, we were warming our hands on mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream. The jitters in my stomach were pleasant, but I wasn’t ready to give in to them yet. This was a thank you, not a date— it had been too long since I’d had a good date.

  “Have you lived in Boise long?” Travis asked.

  “I’m pretty much a full-blooded Idahoan. How about you?”

  “I’ve spent some time in Montana, but I’m back to my roots. It’s nice to be close to family, especially since, well, Heidi is growing up fast.”

  I could tell he meant to say something else, and judging by the shadow that crossed his face, it was something painful. My curiosity reared its persistent head, but I sipped my cocoa and steered the conversation elsewhere.

  “Guess how many bulbs I’ll be planting in the park this fall.”

  Travis looked up and pretended to calculate. “Three-hundred.”

  I laughed. “I wish.”

  “More than that?” he asked, his eyes bright with interest.

  “Only about five times more.”

  Travis whistled. “That’ll mean a beautiful park come springtime, but that’s a ton of work.”

  “I don’t mind. We’ve never had this many to plant before, but someone donated money for a special memorial garden. I’m thrilled with the plans I’ve drawn up. It really is going to be beautiful.”

  “That’s nice.” Travis sat up straight and clenched his fingers into a fist.

  “What’s wrong?” I blurted before remembering that I barely knew him.

  He swallowed, and when he looked at me, I could see a sparkle of moisture in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, because it kind of kills light conversation, but I know about that memorial garden. The reason I moved back here has to do with my sister and my niece. It’s a part of my reality that I can’t get away from no matter how hard I try.”

  Again, I swallowed back my questions. “I’m sorry. We can talk about something else.” I was ruining things by dominating the conversation with talk of bulbs and gardens. Did I really think this gorgeous guy would be interested in my fall planting plans?

  “No, it’s okay. That memorial garden is for Craig Simmons.”

  “Did you know him?” Something pinged in my brain at the name. The guy had been some kind of business consultant, and his firm had made the donation for the garden. I couldn’t remember all of the details, but judging by the look on Travis’s face, he was going to tell me.

  “He was my brother-in-law. He was murdered six months ago.”

  I gasped. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up sad memories.”

  “Not at all. It’s kind of a neat coincidence to meet the person in charge of Craig’s memorial. His firm, True Assets, wanted to do something for the family. Kami suggested the park, because Heidi loved to go there with her dad.”

  I thought of the sloping ground covered with gravel on the north edge of the park, which had been cleared of crabgrass, dandelions, and June grass. It had been a sore spot in my park for the past two years, and I was happy to make something beautiful out of the offensive weeds.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I licked my lips before continuing. “I’ll work extra hard on that garden.”

  “I’m sure you will. More than one person in this town has bragged about their beautiful park, and that’s thanks to your care of it.”

  “Thank you.” The boost to my ego was almost enough to drown out my curiosity. Almost. “Did they catch the person who killed Craig?”

  Travis shook his head. “And they don’t have any leads.” He pushed his mug forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Before Craig died, he told Kami that she’d always be taken care of. The last time she saw him, he said that when the time was right, she’d understand everything. He died that afternoon. Kami said it was like he knew that he was facing death, but there was nothing he could do about it.”

  “That’s terrible. I remember hearing about the murder. I’m so sorry.”

  Travis swallowed. “I feel bad for Heidi. That’s why I bring her to the park a couple of times a week.”

  “She’s lucky to have such a wonderful uncle.”

  “Thanks. I wish I could help her more.” He turned his mug slowly in his hands and took another sip. “Kami thinks Craig knew his killer— and that it wasn’t random.”

  “Have the police included her in their investigation— you know, to see if he left a clue she’d recognize?”

  He tightened his fingers around his mug, the tension of the conversation flowing out of his fingertips. “As much as they can,” Travis answered. “It’s been tough on her. She said that every time she searched through his stuff, it felt like he’d died all over again.”

  My heart hurt for the young mother I’d seen in the park with Travis. His sister had looked so innocent holding her daughter’s hand. I’d had no idea of the weight she carried in my simple observance. “That’s awful. Is she doing any better now that you’re here?”

  He nodded. “She seems to be coping. She says it’s helpful to see Heidi smiling more.”

  “I hope the police can solve the case, so you all can have closure.”

  He pressed his lips together then exhaled slowly. “We may have to find closure another way. I wish the police had more evidence to go on.”

  “How frustrating.” I wanted to ask more questions, but I could see that the conversation was taking a toll on him. I sipped my cocoa and waited for him to take the lead.

  He stared off into space for a moment, and I took the opportunity to study the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. His hair looked light brown from the front, but it darkened as it approached his collar. It was a bit on the shaggy side and I surprised myself with the sudden impulse to run my fingers through the thick strands. He looked up and gave his head a gentle shake. “See? I told you it was a conversation killer.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad you shared it with me. It’ll put more meaning into my work.”

  “So what do you do for fun?” he asked.

  I jumped at the chance to lighten the mood. “Anything outdoors. Hiking, mountain biking, a little white-water rafting.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Sounds like my kind of fun.”

  My stomach flipped. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Hard to choose, but my bike hasn’t seen any action since I moved back. Would you like to go for a ride with me?”

  I nodded. “Sure. There’s a path that runs along the river. It�
��s beautiful this time of year.” I tried to tone down the grin spreading across my face, because Travis had just asked me on a date to go mountain biking and he liked the dirt under my fingernails.

  “When do you get off tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I was hoping to get an early start so I could finish up by three.”

  “Oh, do you already have other plans?” The disappointment on his face made my cocoa taste even sweeter.

  “Just some errands. Nothing that can’t be rearranged.” I watched a smile return to his face. “But I’ll need time to change. I could meet you at the park at four.” It was mid-September, but already the nights were chilly. Afternoon was the perfect time to enjoy the outdoors. Biking was much more fun when I wasn’t freezing.

  “Sounds great. I’m only working a half day tomorrow, because I’ve pulled too much overtime lately.” He stifled a yawn. “This cocoa is making me sleepy.”

  “Me, too.” I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see that an hour had already passed. It was almost eight o’clock. “Thanks for the treat.”

  “Thank you,” Travis replied. “I’ll give you a ride to the park.”

  On the way back we shared mountain-biking stories. He told me about being chased by a “bear” that ended up being a large and friendly dog. I laughed until my sides hurt and found myself wishing the park was farther away so that I could enjoy his company longer.

  Travis offered me his arm as he walked me to where I’d left the Gator. I could feel his bicep underneath my fingertips, and for a minute I forgot where we were headed.

  “You’re so easy to talk to, Jillian. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He covered my hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Me, too.” I liked the feel of his hand on mine. He released my fingers and took a few steps back as he fished his keys out of his pocket.

  “I’ll hold on to these.” He jangled the keys and chuckled.

  I pulled my keys out and held them up before sliding into my seat. Travis waved goodbye as I started the engine and turned the lights on his retreating form. Those carpenter jeans looked even better in the headlights.

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  Evelyn stood in the one-bedroom apartment looking at a music box on the kitchen table. Slightly larger than a shoebox, constructed of pressed paperboard, and covered with ivory parchment, a narrow line of embossed gold decorated its outer edge. It wasn’t extravagant or expensive, but Evelyn held it close—it was her most precious gift in the world.

  “Oh, Jim, it’s beautiful! Is this to celebrate—”

  “Our five month anniversary.” Jim finished her sentence.

  “You remembered.” Evelyn touched his cheek.

  “Always.” He kissed her, and then bent over the jewelry box. “Look at these compartments.” He lifted the lids of the two side compartments, each lined in cheap red-velvet paper.

  “I like the color,” she said. She brushed aside the foreboding gloom that haunted her as she counted down the time they had together. Five days left.

  “I hoped you would. Push this lever over.” Jim pointed to the center of the jewelry box and let his fingers glide over her hand.

  When Evelyn pushed the metal button on the raised middle compartment, the center of the jewelry box clicked open to reveal a narrow chamber with padded ridges to hold rings and other precious treasures—things that nineteen-year-old Evelyn did not own. A tiny ballerina on a dais near the back popped up and began dancing an elegant pirouette in front of a mirror attached to the inside of the lid.

  “Oh, it plays music. Jim, where did you find this?” Evelyn located the brass windup key at the side of the box as it busily churned out a melody she’d never heard before. The music climbed tentatively up the scale and then scattered down with a resonance as deep as Jim’s voice. The wind seemed to listen, too. It took the tune and carried it on a lilting breeze out the window above the kitchen sink.

  “Now, that’s my secret,” he replied.

  “You and your secrets.” She put her arms around her husband and kissed him, then pulled back to look into his clear blue eyes, seeing the love he felt for her. “I love it. Thank you.” They swayed to the music and listened, and she wished that time could stop in that moment.

  “Now you’ll have a place to keep that locket and know my heart is with you.” Jim held her close and hummed along with the tune. He’d given her the heart-shaped locket with his tiny portrait inside on their wedding day. They’d started their life together in the shabby apartment in Colorado Springs with hopes of a bright future, but the war had changed their plans.

  Evelyn swallowed her tears as she felt the rumbling of his bass voice against her cheek. She leaned back to look at him. “You keep your heart right in your chest beating strong and come home to me.”

  Jim chuckled. “But don’t you know? I gave my heart to you for safekeeping the day we met.”

  She laughed, determined to hold on to the echoes of their happiness blending with the melody. She thought of her good husband, the man who made her a cup of peppermint tea every evening, kissed her first thing in the morning, and sang with her in the church choir. Jim wanted to be a father, and he would be a great one, but he was leaving, and Evelyn felt like they were running out of time even though their life together had just begun.

  Maybe the war would end soon. She rested her head on his chest. Her hair fell in soft auburn waves over his hands. “My mama told me not to believe everything you read in romance novels ’cause there ain’t a man off the paper that comes close.’ But she didn’t count on a flesh and blood, real-life hero like you, Jim Patterson.”

  Her words blended with the music drifting on the sweet sounds of spring. The words were what Evelyn’s romance novels called true love, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together to form a perfect picture. Evelyn loved how Jim could nearly finish her thoughts and almost read her mind by the expression on her face. She knew he loved her—mind, body, soul—the same way she loved him.

  Nearly two months later, Evelyn woke up with her stomach full of the turbulence Jim had often described from his flight training. She counted back the days on the calendar and trembled with the news she would write to Jim—that he would be a father. Good news she would send that there would now be two people in the Patterson household loving and praying for him while he was away. Her heart rose into her throat.

  She was alone and scared of the future, but she wouldn’t write those words. She’d always pictured a complete family when she’d thought about her future as a wife and mother. Evelyn put a hand to her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. She would bring this baby into the world by herself, but one day they would be a complete family.

  Evelyn opened her eyes and pushed herself to do something absolutely normal, like scrubbing the kitchen sink. Trying to get used to Jim’s absence was like wearing shoes a size too small. It pinched at the edges of her life and made everything feel tight and cramped. Staying busy didn’t help—walking in too-tight shoes only caused blisters.

  She had a cool cloth on her face when she heard a knock at the door. Rising on shaky legs, she breathed in and the edges of her mouth turned up in a hopeful smile. Maybe it was Lucy from the post office. She was always the first to hear the news. Evelyn put a hand to her stomach thinking of her own developing news. She opened the door. The world tilted when she saw the messenger—not Lucy—holding a yellow card. A telegram. Not bright yellow like welcome-home ribbons. Dark yellow. Like death.

  The laces of those too-tight shoes wound, wound, wound around her body. They hardened the hollow spaces of her heart into one deep cavern. They pulled her nightmares of losing Jim into focus. They choked the breath caught in her throat. The melody of her life went silent, and Evelyn’s world went dark.

  *December 1943*

  Evelyn sat on the loveseat in the fading light of he
r parent’s front room. She’d moved from her apartment near Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs to live with her mom and dad in the secluded town of Aspen Falls, Colorado. The reports said Jim’s body hadn’t been recovered, but nearly everyone in his company had been killed. Evelyn shuddered, remembering details she wanted to forget. Her fist tightened around the slip of paper that held her happiness hostage. Jim’s captain had sent a letter written in her husband’s familiar script. It said, “I love you, Evelyn. If I don’t come back, look in the music box. I left you one of my secrets.”

  She had looked inside and listened to the tune several times since reading Jim’s letter, each time watching the graceful ballerina with its tiny bit of tulle swirling. She hadn’t found anything—maybe he wanted her to remember he had given her his heart for safekeeping, and she still held it in the locket she wore.

  She did remember it—all of it—and when his voice began to fade from her mind, she wound up the music box and listened. The memory came back with the tune they’d danced to, and she could almost hear his hum, feel it vibrating in his chest against her cheek. But she still hadn’t discovered the secret.

  Thirty-nine weeks after Jim left full of life and courage on his way to fight the Germans, Evelyn gave birth to their son. She cried when she held him and recognized Jim’s strong chin and confident brow—or maybe she just wanted to see those things—features that would keep Jim alive in their new son. She named him Daniel, but everyone called him Danny.

  Her arms were no longer empty, and Danny began filling up the cracked spaces in her broken heart. She held on and listened to the memory of Jim coming from the music box. When the melody swelled higher and the petite ballerina danced, Evelyn let her heart believe that Jim would come back to her—maybe that was his secret. She nursed the hope of her lost love and cuddled her baby boy in the hollow space in her neck. Danny rested there as she hummed the tune, and her teardrops fell on the dark crown of his head.