She pushed off from the pool wall and tried to run away, but the water was resistant, slowing her. She gathered the children from the shallow end, and hurried them out of the pool, casting a wary glance behind her.
With a shudder, she tried to puzzle out the meaning of the dream. Who was the man sitting in the dark place – was he watching her, or the children? Why was the dog muzzled, and why was it whimpering?
She tried to find any significance in the images. A childhood friend had a dog named Jasper, who used to wait for them outside the public pool. But the feeling from the dream was that it was the man’s name. She used to take the kids swimming, but why dream of that now? Or did those memories have nothing to do with the dream?
Miranda instinctively reached for the bar of soap, as if she could cleanse away the disturbing image. She usually had good dreams. Where had this one come from? Was she worried about Michael and Clara? She couldn’t pinpoint the emotion of the dream – something akin to apprehension, dread, the need to protect. She shook off the feeling. It was just a dream, after all.
She finished her bath, dried her hair, and put on her fleece pants and sweatshirt. The Seattle nights were still cool, especially with the light rain that continued to fall. She went downstairs.
Ben was at his desk, working on the layout for a cabin he planned to someday build near Sam’s. Just a small weekend place.
Miranda leaned over and wrapped her arms around him as he explained the drawing of the deck.
“An outdoor fireplace? I like that. It would feel like another room.”
“With a partial overhang,” he said, sketching in the detail.
“Sounds nice.”
“We could even have a hot tub out there – wouldn’t that feel great?” he asked.
She gave him a light squeeze, and went to the window. She parted the curtains and saw that a heavier rain was now falling. Down below in the garden house, a yellow light shone through the window. She was used to it being dark at night. It now appeared warm, welcoming, reminding her of when the kids used it.
“It’s nice, isn’t it – the garden house being used?” she said, more as a comment than a question. She continued to watch the lighted window, squinting ever so slightly. “Do we know any Jaspers?”
“Jaspers?” Ben asked, turning around. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Just a strange dream I had.” She rubbed her arms, and remained looking out into the darkness. She was about to close the curtain, when she saw William appear in the garden house window. He gazed out at the rain for a few moments, then took something from his wallet and looked at it. A photo, or perhaps a business card. Then he returned it to his wallet, and closed the blinds.
“We really don’t know anything about him, do we?” Miranda asked.
“Who?” Ben saw that she was still looking down at the garden house. “William? What do you mean?”
Miranda gave a tiny shrug. “Letting a complete stranger into your home. It’s kind of an odd thing to do.”
“Well, we didn’t do a background check or anything. But a personal recommendation is always best. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Miranda said, and let the curtain fall.
Chapter 4
Miranda hung up the phone, and went upstairs. She threw the towels and clothes into the laundry basket, more upset by Clara’s words than she wanted to admit: “Just because you gave up your dreams, Mom, doesn’t mean I’m going to give up mine. I’m sure about David, and I’m sure about Law.” Meaning that Miranda had never finished her degree, or pursued her art.
But how could she have? There was always something preventing her. In the early years of her marriage, she kept at her painting and sculpting, and began to explore gardening and cooking, with the same energy and passion to create. But little by little, she had put her things away. Focused on the kids. Was happy doing so, but now that they were gone, she was left with a void and felt disconnected from that earlier sense of self.
As she walked down the hall, she paused in front of the framed photos on the wall. Michael’s graduation picture. Another of him and Clara as teenagers at Multnomah Falls. Ben helping them find sea glass at the beach when they were little. Clara looking up from her stroller with her small face full of wonder.
Miranda set the laundry basket down, and went into Clara’s room. She fluffed the pillows on the bed, and straightened the items on the dresser. The room felt so empty and quiet. She walked over to the bookshelves, lifted down the Heidi doll, and sat on the bed. It was almost a month since the kids moved away. She had known that she would miss them, but she wasn’t prepared for the emptiness that now filled her.
She returned the doll to the shelf, and left the room.
In the laundry room, she began to separate the clothes into dark and light. She put the towels in, and was about to add detergent, but stopped – the black void of the washing machine seemed to widen and spread as she stared into it.
I need to get out, she thought. This can wait.
Miranda put on her shoes, grabbed her keys, and left the house, with the intention of walking off the growing darkness inside her. She left in such a hurry that she didn’t notice Paula waving from her driveway.
Paula held a bag of groceries in her arms and called out. “Hey! Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Miranda stopped, and crossed over to the fence. “Oh – I didn’t see you. I thought I’d get some air. Go on a walk.”
“You okay?” Paula never missed a thing.
“Just having one of those mornings,” Miranda said, trying to make light of it.
“What happened?” Paula asked.
“Oh, nothing, really. Just missing the kids, not sleeping well, weird dreams.” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. Paula loved analyzing dreams.
“What kind of dreams?”
“I hardly remember – just fragments. Swimming in a pool. Kids. Some weirdo watching.”
Paula nodded, as if figuring it out. “That’s your subconscious mind processing what Nicole said about the daycare.”
Miranda quickly forgot her problems. “I haven’t seen her – what did she say? Did something happen?”
“Oh, little Danny came home saying a man was trying to take away his best friend. But I saw one of the teachers at the store and she didn’t know anything about it. Just one of his tall tales.”
Miranda looked down at the ground, her brow contracted. She hated all the stories of abductions and abuse that seemed to be part of the daily news.
“I remember having troubling dreams when my kids left home,” said Paula. “It’s normal. You miss the kids, you’re worried about them, but you can’t do anything about it, so you have nightmares.”
Miranda nodded. “I’m sure that’s it.”
“How’s the tenant working out? Are you happy with your decision?”
“Oh, fine, fine. We don’t see much of him.” She looked in the direction of the garden house, but didn’t add anything more.
“Well, I need to put these things away. Listen Miranda, it can take a while to find your stride, but let me tell you – once you do, you’ll love it. You’ll finally get around to all the things you’ve been wanting to do.”
“Like getting into shape,” Miranda said, straightening up and smiling. “I’m sure you’re right about everything. A walk will do me good.” She waved goodbye and picked up her pace.
She breathed deeply, inhaling the cool morning air. It felt good to walk, to get her body moving. She wondered when, and why, she had stopped making exercise a part of her life. She had always taken the kids swimming and on walks, and she and Ben had always hiked and camped around the Northwest. Things had a way of just slipping away.
Miranda’s spirits improved as she walked higher and higher up the hill, taking in the gardens, the pretty homes, the view of Lake Washington. She had to stop once or twice to catch her breath, and she could feel the burn in her calves. I’ve gotten so out of shape, she thought. Soft.
This is exactly what I need – to push myself more, expect more of myself, to wake up and get moving – with everything. Paula’s right. This is a new beginning to be embraced.
But when she turned the corner, she was pulled right back into worry. A pool maintenance truck was driving off. Once again, the creepiness of the swimming dream filled her. She knew the dream was exactly what Paula said it was – a mom dream, and maybe an unconscious nagging to get back into shape, mixed with the memory of her friend’s dog, Jasper. Dreams rarely made sense. And yet.
Though she didn’t understand how, she knew the dream was connected to her recent sense of unease. But unease about what, she couldn’t say. It was like trying to catch an image at the far periphery of vision.
She wanted to see where the pool was. Who owned it. She crossed to where the truck had pulled out, and stood near the shoulder-high laurel bushes that surrounded a backyard. She moved to a spot where the bushes were not so thick, and peeked over the top. On the side of the house was a swimming pool, smooth and blue in the morning light. She paused indecisively, and then pushed aside the branches and stepped through, to take a better look.
“May I help you?”
Miranda jumped. She hadn’t seen anyone and was startled to realize that she wasn’t alone. A woman, perhaps in her late sixties or so, stood before an easel with a paintbrush poised in one hand.
“Oh, good morning,” said Miranda. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to get a better look at your pool. I saw the maintenance truck drive away. I’m thinking of getting one. A pool, that is.”
“Hmm,” said the woman, for the most part ignoring Miranda’s rambling explanation. She studied the canvas, dabbed at her palette, and made a few strokes. “Well, it’s certainly good exercise.”
Miranda saw that she was painting a grouping of potted flowers. “I used to paint,” she volunteered. “A little.”
“Did you? And why did you stop?”
“I forget. I mean, well, I still do. Sometimes. I plan on starting again.”
“You should. It’s a nice way to connect with the world, isn’t it?” The woman lifted a glass from a small table next to her, took a sip, and set the glass back down.
With a few blinks of surprise, Miranda realized that it was a glass of champagne. How wonderfully eccentric! She looked more closely at the woman. She was strikingly beautiful, with wavy gray hair down to her shoulders, and though she wore a long blue caftan, Miranda saw that her arms were well toned and that she was in good shape. She probably swam every morning. A large table with comfortable chairs around it stood next to the house, as if ready for summer gatherings. The entire pool area was full of flowers, climbing vines, and wicker chairs with colorful pillows.
“How pretty you’ve made everything!”
The woman gave an appreciative smile to Miranda, and then swished the brush around in a jar of water.
Miranda was about to leave, when she heard a tiny yelp. At the woman’s feet lay a small dog, its tail thumping languidly.
Miranda bit her lip, unsure about pushing on. “You know, I think I’ve seen you and your husband in the neighborhood.” Miranda made some vague gestures. “About this tall, wears glasses, I think.”
“My husband and I parted ways years ago,” the woman said, deciding on another color from her palette.
“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” the woman said, taking a sip of champagne. “It’s much better this way.”
Miranda opened her mouth as if to say something, but then took a step back. “Well, goodbye. Enjoy your morning.”
“Yes, I intend to.” The woman raised her head in goodbye. “I hope you get your pool.”
Miranda stepped back into the street, with two thoughts foremost in her mind. One, that she had just carried out the most pathetic act of sleuthing imaginable. And two, she felt inspired by the older woman.
She walked back down the hill, trying to remember where she had packed away her free weights. It was time to get them out again, time to become physically stronger. Would she ever exude such calm confidence as the woman by the pool? Miranda wondered if that was the kind of freedom older women sometimes referred to – the freedom to speak your mind, to do what you want when you want, to behave the way you want. She thought of the long blue caftan, the tanned arms, the champagne!
Though such an image intrigued her, she didn’t think she could ever be so self-contained. She would always want Ben and the kids by her side, or at least close by. Still, she wondered what it would be like to enjoy that kind of ease – to be so comfortable in her own skin. What would happen if she dressed the way she wanted to, and spoke her mind, and created whatever she wanted to? She thrilled at the possibility that inside her was another woman, just waiting to come into being.
In a burst of inspiration, she decided she would make a special dinner for Ben out on the deck. And wear something pretty for a change. Why shouldn’t every day be special? Maybe her life would never involve grand occasions and exotic destinations, but she could at least make her day-to-day life as wonderful as possible. Like she used to. How had she forgotten about that?
When Miranda arrived home, she showered and then began to rummage through the cupboard under the stairs. Yet more stuff to be gone through. In one box she found her old art supplies. She lifted some of the tubes of pigment, wondering if they were still good. She doubted it. But the brushes were fine. After staring at the contents for a few moments, she closed up the box, but moved it to the front of the cupboard. Then, after going through several more boxes, she found her hand weights and set them out.
She cleared a corner of the living room for floor exercises, and placed the weights there. Then she glanced at the time, surprised that it had gotten so late, and realized that she wouldn’t have time to make anything too elaborate for dinner. Besides, something light and fresh sounded more appealing. She decided on a few appetizers to enjoy out on the deck, and later they could have salad and sautéed fish.
Miranda spent the rest of the afternoon making two different dips, preparing savory puff pastries, and marinating some salmon for later. As ideas came to her, she added them to a new list: morning walks, tone arms, 50 sit-ups a day, clean out her closet and buy some new clothes. Go back to school? Start painting? Look into buying a small kiln?
She called Ben and asked him to pick up some wine on his way home. When he asked why, she just laughed and said, “Because it’s Friday. I thought we could sit out on the deck.”
The deck was one of her favorite places to be in the long summer evenings. It was high off the ground and overlooked the garden house and back garden. One end was shaded by a pergola that dripped with wisteria in the early spring, and was now planted with climbing pink mandevillas. Pots of brightly colored fuchsias, and delicately scented carnations lined the deck; hanging geraniums and yellow thousand-bells draped over the railing. In the sun stood several pots of herbs for her cooking: rosemary, thyme, sage, and basil. The table and chairs were arranged close to the sliding glass door, and two chaise lounges with pillows faced out from the house – perfect for star gazing on clear nights.
Miranda took out one of her vintage table cloths, a floral one in blues and green and pale yellow. Then she went to the garden and snipped some white daisies and blue delphiniums and put them in a green earthenware jar for the middle of the table.
Soon, her blue crockery held vegetables, cheese, and the dips. She took a moment to admire how pretty it all looked. Then she ran upstairs, took off her t-shirt, and pulled on a pretty embroidered tunic and some gold hoop earrings. She started to put on a pair of sandals, then kicked them off. She loved being barefoot.
She went back to the deck and began to set the table. The phone rang just as she heard Ben come in the front door. After a few minutes, he slid open the screen door, with the phone cradled under his chin. He nodded and laughed into the phone. “Sounds like a plan. Here’s your mom.”
Miranda’s face brightene
d, as it always did when the kids called. “Hi, Michael!” She listened with a big smile, by turns making sounds of surprise, agreement, and disbelief. She covered the phone and whispered to Ben, “There’s a basket on the counter – bread and crackers.”
Ben returned with the basket and poured them each a glass of wine.
Miranda touched her glass to Ben’s, and motioned for him to taste the dips; she watched him try several, and was gratified by his obvious enjoyment of them. She said goodbye to Michael and set the phone down on the table.
“He sounds so happy. He wants us to bring his tent the next time we visit. I told him we could come next weekend, but he and some friends are going down to Crater Lake.”
“Maybe the following week.” Ben tried the puff pastry, took a sip of wine, and let out a deep sigh of relaxed pleasure. “What a great way to begin the weekend. We haven’t done this for a while.”
“I was thinking the same thing. But now that summer has arrived, we can be out here more.”
They heard William drive by, and then saw him park his car behind the garden house. Miranda gave Ben a light shove. “Go see if he wants to join us.”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe – ”
“Go on, Ben. We never see him. We should make sure he’s comfortable. He must be lonely, all by himself, working all the time.”
“Maybe that’s what he wants. If he wanted people around I guess he would have stayed home.”
She gave him another push. “Go on. Just ask.”
Miranda followed Ben to the deck stairs, and leaned against the railing as he walked down the path. She heard him call out, “Evening, William!”
William raised his head in greeting, and walked up to meet Ben. They exchanged a few words, with Ben pointing to the house, and then made their way towards the deck.
“Oh, good,” said Miranda, and she stepped inside to get another place setting.
As they climbed the deck stairs, Miranda pulled out a chair at the table.
“Hi, William. Have a seat. Help yourself.”
Ben poured out a glass of wine for William and set it in front of him.
The Garden House Page 4
