Blue Dahlia gt-1

by Nora Roberts

  love her. I guess one question, if you don't mind me asking, is how you feel about being stepfather

  to her boys."

  "About the same way, I expect, you feel being their step-grandmother. And if I'm lucky, they'll feel

  about me the way they do about you. I know they love spending time with you, and I hear their Nana

  Jo bakes cookies as good as David's. That's some compliment."

  "They're precious to us," Will said. "They're precious to Stella. They were precious to Kevin. He was

  a good man."

  "Maybe it'd be easier for me if he hadn't been. If he'd been a son of a bitch and she'd divorced him instead of him being a good man who died too young. I don't know, because that's not the case. I'm glad for her that she had a good man and a good marriage, glad for the boys that they had a good father who loved them. I can live with his ghost, if that's what you're wondering. Fact is, I can be grateful to him."

  "Well, I think that's just smart." Jolene patted Logan's hand with approval. "And I think it shows good character, too. Don't you, Will?"

  On a noncommittal sound, Will pulled on his bottom lip. "You marry my girl, am I going to get landscaping and such at the family rate?"

  Logan's grin spread slowly. "We can make that part of the package."

  "I've been toying with redoing the patio."

  "First I've heard of it," Jolene muttered.

  "I saw them putting on one of those herringbone patterns out of bricks on one of the home shows.

  I liked the look of it. You know how to handle that sort of thing?"

  "Done a few like it. I can take a look at what you've got now if you want."

  "That'd be just fine." Will pushed back from the table.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Stella chewed at it, stewed over it, and worried about it. She was prepared to launch into another discussion regarding the pros and cons of marriage when Logan came to pick up the boys at noon.

  She knew he was angry with her. Hurt, too, she imagined. But oddly enough, she knew he'd be by—somewhere in the vicinity of noon—to get the kids. He'd told them he would come, so he

  would come.

  A definite plus on his side of the board, she decided. She could, and did, trust him with her children.

  They would argue, she knew. They were both too worked up to have a calm, reasonable discussion over such an emotional issue. But she didn't mind an argument. A good argument usually brought all the facts and feelings out. She needed both if she was going to figure out the best thing to do for all involved.

  But when he hunted them down where she had the kids storing discarded wagons—at a quarter a wagon—he was perfectly pleasant. In fact, he was almost sunny.

  "Ready for some man work?" he asked.

  With shouts of assent, they deserted wagon detail for more interesting activities. Luke proudly showed him the plastic hammer he'd hooked in a loop of his shorts.

  "That'll come in handy. I like a man who carries his own tools. I'll drop them off at the house later."

  "About what time do you think—"

  "Depends on how long they can stand up to the work." He pinched Gavin's biceps. "Ought to be able

  to get a good day's sweat out of this one."

  "Feel mine! Feel mine!" Luke flexed his arm.

  After he'd obliged, given an impressed whistle, he nodded to Stella. "See you."

  And that was that.

  So she chewed at it, stewed over it, and worried about it for the rest of the day. Which, not being a

  fool, she deduced was exactly what he'd wanted.

  * * *

  The house was abnormally quiet when she got home from work. She wasn't sure she liked it. She showered off the day, played with the baby, drank a glass of wine, and paced until the phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi there, is this Stella?"

  "Yes, who—"

  'This is Trudy Kitridge. Logan's mama? Logan said I should give you a call, that you'd be home from work about this time of day."

  "I... oh." Oh, God, oh, God. Logan's mother!

  "Logan told me and his daddy he asked you to marry him. Could've knocked me over with a feather."

  "Yes, me, too. Mrs. Kitridge, we haven't decided... or I haven't decided ... anything."

  "Woman's entitled to some time to make up her mind, isn't she? I'd better warn you, honey, when that boy sets his mind on something, he's like a damn bulldog. He said you wanted to meet his family before you said yes or no. I think that's a sweet thing. Of course, with us living out here now, it's not so easy, is it? But we'll be coming back sometime during the holidays. Probably see Logan for Thanksgiving, then our girl for Christmas. Got grandchildren in Charlotte, you know, so we want to be there for Christmas."

  "Of course." She had no idea, no idea whatsoever what to say. How could she with no time to prepare?

  "Then again, Logan tells me you've got two little boys. Said they're both just pistols. So maybe we'll

  have ourselves a couple of grandchildren back in Tennessee, too."

  "Oh." Nothing could have touched her heart more truly. "That's a lovely thing to say. You haven't even met them yet, or me, and—"

  "Logan has, and I raised my son to know his own mind. He loves you and those boys, then we will, too. You're working for Rosalind Harper, I hear."

  "Yes. Mrs. Kitridge—"

  "Now, you just call me Trudy. How you getting along down there?"

  Stella found herself having a twenty-minute conversation with Logan's mother that left her baffled, amused, touched, and exhausted.

  When it was done, she sat limply on the sofa, like, she thought, the dazed victim of an ambush.

  Then she heard Logan's truck rumble up.

  She had to force herself not to dash to the door. He'd be expecting that. Instead she settled herself in the front parlor with a gardening magazine and the dog snoozing at her feet as if she didn't have a care in the world.

  Maybe she'd mention, oh so casually, that she'd had a conversation with his mother. Maybe she

  wouldn't, and let him stew over it.

  And all right, it had been sensitive and sweet for him to arrange the phone call, but for God's sake, couldn't he have given her some warning so she wouldn't have spent the first five minutes babbling

  like an idiot?

  The kids came in with all the elegance of an army battalion on a forced march.

  "We built a whole arbor." Grimy with sweat and dirt, Gavin rushed to scoop up Parker. "And we

  planted the stuff to grow on it."

  "Carol Jessmint."

  Carolina Jessamine, Stella interpreted from Luke's garbled pronunciation. Nice choice.

  "And I got a splinter." Luke held out a dirty hand to show off the Band-Aid on his index finger. "A big one. We thought we might have to hack it out with a knife. But we didn't."

  "Whew, that was close. We'll go put some antiseptic on it."

  "Logan did already. And I didn't cry. And we had submarines, except he says they're poor boys down here, but I don't see why they're poor because they have lots of stuff in them. And we had Popsicles."

  "And we got to ride in the wheelbarrow," Gavin took over the play-by-play. "And I used a real hammer."

  "Wow. You had a busy day. Isn't Logan coming in?"

  "No, he said he had other stuff. And look." Gavin dug in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled five-dollar bill. "We each got one, because he said we worked so good we get to be cheap labor instead of slaves."

  She couldn't help it, she had to laugh. "That's quite a promotion. Congratulations. I guess we'd better go clean up."

  "Then we can eat like a bunch of barnyard pigs." Luke put his hand in hers. "That's what Logan said when it was time for lunch."

  "Maybe we'll save the pig-eating for when you're on the job."

  They were full of Logan and their day through bath-time, through dinner. And then were too tuckered

  out from it all to take advantage of the e
xtra hour she generally allowed them on Saturday nights.

  They were sound asleep by nine, and for the first time in her memory, Stella felt she had nothing to do. She tried to read, she tried to work, but couldn't settle into either.

  She was thrilled when she heard Lily fussing.

  When she stepped into the hall, she saw Hayley heading down, trying to comfort a squalling Lily.

  "She's hungry. I thought I'd curl up in the sitting room, maybe watch some TV while I feed her."

  "Mind company?"

  "Twist my arm. It was lonely around here today with David off at the lake for the weekend, and you and Roz at work, the boys away." She sat, opened her shirt and settled Lily on her breast. "There. That's better, isn't it? I put her in mat baby sling I got at the shower, and we took a nice walk."

  "It's good for both of you. What did you want to watch?"

  "Nothing, really. I just wanted the voices."

  "How about one more?" Roz slipped in, walked over to Lily to smile. "I wanted to take a peek at her. Look at her go!"

  "Nothing wrong with her appetite," Hayley confirmed. "She smiled at me today. I know they say it's just gas, but—"

  "What do they know?" Roz sprawled in a chair. "They inside that baby's head?"

  "Logan asked me to marry him."

  She didn't know why she blurted it out—hadn't known it was pushing from her brain to her tongue.

  "Holy cow!" Hayley exploded, then immediately soothed Lily and lowered her voice. "When? How? Where? This is just awesome. This is the biggest of the big news. Tell us everything."

  "There's not a lot of every anything. He asked me yesterday."

  "After I went inside to put the baby down? I just knew something was up."

  "I don't think he meant to. I think it just sort of happened, then he was irritated when I tried to point

  out the very rational reasons we shouldn't rush into anything."

  "What are they?" Hayley wondered.

  "You've only known each other since January," Roz began, watching Stella. "You have two children. You've each been married before and bring a certain amount of baggage from those marriages."

  "Yes." Stella let out a long sigh. "Exactly."

  "When you know you know, don't you?" Hayley argued. "Whether it's five months or five years. And he's great with your kids. They're nuts about him. Being married before ought to make both of you understand the pitfalls or whatever. I don't get it. You love him, don't you?"

  "Yes. And yes to the rest, to a point, but... it's different when you're young and unencumbered. You can take more chances. Well, if you're not me you can take more chances. And what if he wants children and I don't? I have to think about that. I have to know if I'm going to be able to consider having another child at this stage, or if the children I do have would be happy and secure with him in the long term. Kevin and I had a game plan."

  "And your game was called," Roz said. "It isn't an easy thing to walk into another marriage. I waited a long time to do it, then it was the wrong decision. But I think, if I could have fallen, just tumbled into

  love with a man at your age, one who made me happy, who cheerfully spent his Saturday with my children, and who excited me in bed, I'd have walked into it, and gladly."

  "But you just said, before, you gave the exact reasons why it's too soon."

  "No, I gave the reasons you'd give—and ones I understand, Stella. But there's something else you and

  I understand, or should. And that is that love is precious, and too often stolen away. You've got a chance to grab hold of it again. And I say lucky you."

  * * *

  She dreamed again of the garden, and the blue dahlia. It was ladened with buds, fat and ripe and ready

  to burst into bloom. At the top, a single stunning flower swayed electric in the quiet breeze. Her garden, though no longer tidy and ordered, spread out from its feet in waves and flows and charming bumps of color and shape.

  Then Logan was beside her, and his hands were warm and rough as he drew her close. His mouth was strong and exciting as it feasted on hers. In the distance she could hear her children's laughter, and the cheerful bark of the dog.

  She lay on the green grass at the garden's edge, her senses full of the color and scent, full of the man.

  There was such heat, such pleasure as they loved in the sunlight. She felt the shape of his face with her hands. Not fairy-tale handsome, not perfect, but beloved. Her skin shivered as their bodies moved, flesh against flesh, hard against soft, curve against angle.

  How could they fit, how could they make such a glorious whole, when there were so many differences?

  But her body merged with his, joined, and thrived.

  She lay in the sunlight with him, on the green grass at the edge of her garden, and hearing the thunder

  of her own heartbeat, knew bliss.

  The buds on the dahlia burst open. There were so many of them. Too many. Other plants were being shaded, crowded. The garden was a jumble now, anyone could see it. The blue dahlia was too

  aggressive and prolific.

  It's fine where it is. It's just a different plan.

  But before she could answer Logan, there was another voice, cold and hard in her mind.

  His plan. Not yours. His wants. Not yours. Cut it down, before it spreads.

  No, it wasn't her plan. Of course it wasn't. This garden was meant to be a charming spot, a quiet spot.

  There was a spade in her hand, and she began to dig.

  That's right. Dig it out, dig it up.

  The air was cold now, cold as winter, so that Stella shuddered as she plunged the spade into the ground.

  Logan was gone, and she was alone in the garden with the Harper Bride, who stood in her white gown and tangled hair, nodding. And her eyes were mad.

  "I don't want to be alone. I don't want to give it up."

  Dig! Hurry. Do you want the pain, the poison? Do you want it to infect your children? Hurry! It will

  spoil everything, kill everything, if you let it stay.

  She'd get it out. It was best to get it out. She'd just plant it somewhere else, she thought, somewhere better.

  But as she lifted it out, taking care with the roots, the flowers went black, and the blue dahlia withered and went to dust in her hands.

  * * *

  Keeping busy was the best way not to brood. And keeping busy was no problem for Stella with the

  school year winding down, the perennial sale at the nursery about to begin, and her best saleswoman

  on maternity leave.

  She didn't have time to pick apart strange, disturbing dreams or worry about a man who proposed one minute, then vanished the next. She had a business to run, a family to tend, a ghost to identify.

  She sold the last three bay laurels, then put her mind and her back into reordering the shrub area.

  "Shouldn't you be pushing papers instead of camellias?"

  She straightened, knowing very well she'd worked up a sweat, that there was soil on her pants, and

  that her hair was frizzing out of the ball cap she'd stuck on. And faced Logan.

  "I manage, and part of managing is making sure our stock is properly displayed. What do you want?"

  "Got a new job worked up." He waved the paperwork, and the breeze from it made her want to moan

  out loud. "I'm in for supplies."

  "Fine. You can put the paperwork on my desk."

  "This is as far as I'm going." He shoved it into her hand. "Crew's loading up some of it now. I'm going

  to take that Japanese red maple, and five of the hardy pink oleanders."

  He dragged the flatbed over and started to load.

  "Fine," she repeated, under her breath. Annoyed, she glanced at the bid, blinked, then reread the client information.

  "This is my father."

  "Uh-huh."

  "What are you doing planting oleander for my father?"

  "My job. Putting in a new patio, too. Your stepmama's a
lready talking about getting new furniture for

  out there. And a fountain. Seems to me a woman can't see a flat surface without wanting to buy something to put on it. They were still talking about it when I left the other night."

  "You—what were you doing there?"

  "Having pie. Gotta get on. We need to get started on this if I'm going to make it home and clean up

  before this dinner with the professor guy tonight. See you later, Red."

  "Hold it. You just hold it. You had your mother call me, right out of the blue."

  "How's it out of the blue when you said you wanted us to meet each other's families? Mine's a couple thousand miles away right now, so the phone call seemed the best way."

  "I'd just like you to explain..." Now she waved the papers. "All this."

  "I know. You're a demon for explanations." He stopped long enough to grab her hair, crush his mouth

  to hers. "If that doesn't make it clear enough, I'm doing something wrong. Later."

  * * *

  "Then he just walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot." Still stewing hours later, Stella changed Lily's diaper while Hayley finished dressing for dinner.

  "You said you thought you should meet each other's families and stuff," Hayley pointed out. "So now

  you talked to his mama, and he talked to your daddy."

  "I know what I said, but he just went tramping over there. And he had her call me without letting me know first. He just goes off, at the drop of a hat." She picked up Lily, cuddled her. "He gets me

  stirred up."

  "I kinda miss getting stirred up that way." She turned sideways in the mirror, sighed a little over the post-birth pudge she was carrying. "I guess I thought, even though the books said different, that everything would just spring back where it was after Lily came out."

  "Nothing much springs after having a baby. But you're young and active. You'll get your body back."

  "I hope." She reached for her favorite silver hoops while Stella nuzzled Lily. "Stella, I'm going to tell

  you something, because you're my best friend and I love you."

  "Oh, sweetie."

  "Well, it's true. Last week, when Logan came by to bring Lily her doll, and you and the boys came outside? Before I went in and he popped the big Q? You know what the four of you looked like?"