Home to Eden

by Dallas Schulze

  "I thought you might like a cup of coffee," he said, holding a sturdy white mug out to her.

  "Thank you." She would have refused the coffee but the smell seduced her. If she'd hoped he'd simply hand her the coffee and then disappear, she was doomed to disappointment. He stood next to her, sipping his own coffee.

  He was wearing faded jeans and an ancient blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up to his elbows. His dark hair looked as if he'd combed it with his fingers, and there was a tiny nick on his chin where he'd cut himself shaving. The scent of the coffee didn't completely conceal the more subtle, spicy smells of soap and aftershave. He looked solidly masculine and appallingly attractive, and she hated herself for noticing.

  "You're here early," she said, anxious to break the silence.

  "I'm staying here now." He caught her surprised look and shrugged. "It makes more sense than staying with my parents. Now, if I get the urge to strip paint at two in the morning, I'm in the right place for it."

  She smiled faintly and hoped he wouldn't realize just how little she liked the idea of him being here all the time. Not that it should make any difference to her one way or another, she reminded herself. It was just that she'd liked the idea of having the place completely to herself, at least in these early morning hours. Harry was in the guest house, of course, but that was tucked into a back comer of the property, easily ignored. Now that she knew Nick was staying in the house, it wouldn't be the same.

  Kate sipped her coffee and groped for something else to say. For some reason, silences with Nick always seemed to hold an element of danger, as if there were things better left unspoken that might escape into any quiet moment. Coming up blank, she focused on the jay, who was still shuffling through the leaves as if in search of buried treasure.

  "Why do you do that?" Nick asked abruptly.

  Kate gave him a wary look. "E>o what?"

  "Close up whenever you see me."

  "I don't know what you mean." Her fingers tightened around the mug and she felt a sharp spurt of anger. Did he really have to ask why she closed up when she saw him?

  "Sure you do." His frown was thoughtful rather than annoyed. "You were enjoying the morning, looking all relaxed and peaceful, and as soon as you saw me, your face got all tight and you looked like you'd just swallowed a peach pit."

  Stung, Kate snapped at him. "If you knew you were going to ruin my morning, why did you come out here? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I just flat don't like you?"

  Her words seemed to hang in the air. She stared at him, shocked that she'd let her control over her temper slip that far.

  Nick's brows went up in surprise and she held her breath, waiting for him to explode. Instead, his expression became thoughtful, as if he was giving her question serious consideration. After a moment, he shook his head.

  "Nah. Everybody likes me. I'm charming."

  There was a startled moment of silence and then Kate found herself giggling helplessly. Damn him for being right.

  Chapter 6

  Nick shut the Harley's engine off and sighed with pleasure at the sudden silence. Perhaps it was time to replace the big bike with something that made a little less noise and held a lot more stuff. He'd had the motorcycle for three years and he'd enjoyed it, but lately it was losing its appeal.

  As he stepped away from the bike, he eyed the small yellow truck that sat next to it—Kate's truck. He'd seen it often enough at Spider's Walk during the past few weeks and lately he'd begun to envy her the simple practicality of the vehicle. A motorcycle was severely limited when it came to hauling lumber.

  Momentarily shelving the issue of transportation, he walked across the small parking area and stepped onto the brick walkway. The building in front of him had changed since the last time he'd seen it. An old-fashioned wooden sign hung from the eaves. The Wisteria Place was painted across it in gracefully flowing, deep lavender script.

  Other than the sign, the building looked like the comfortably frumpy old farmhouse it had once been. The landscaping reinforced the image. Iceland poppies lined the walkway, their colorful, fragile blossoms nodding on slender stems. Neatly trimmed shrubs softened the foundation.

  The deep porch ran the full length of the building and was topped by a sturdy wooden trellis. At this time of year, you had to look twice to see the tangle of vines that covered it, some as thick as your wrist. But Nick knew that in another month the whole trellis would be drenched in soft color. Fat, pendulous clusters of wisteria blossoms would create a magical canopy, and for a little while the chunky little building would rival a Victorian mansion for sheer gaudy beauty. When the flowers faded, the leaves would take over, providing a thick, green canopy that would turn the sharp heat of summer into something cool and inviting.

  For as long as Nick could remember, the house had been called the Wisteria Place. He wasn't sure if anyone had ever bothered to find out the name of the elderly couple who'd lived there, and it wouldn't have mattered if they had. The name would have stayed the same. If memory served him, about eight years ago, the couple had died within a few months of each other and the house had been occupied by a succession of renters. The last time he'd seen the place, the house had been sliding into a not-so-gentle decline. The paint had been peeling, the walkway had been a jumble of cracked concrete and a scruffy expanse of half-dead lawn had been the sum total of the landscaping.

  The place had now been restored in a way that made it look fresh and new without obliterating the mellow charm that only age could give. He was willing to bet that Kate had had a lot to do with that restoration.

  Kate. As Nick started up the walkway, he was uneasily aware of a feeling of anticipation at the thought of seeing her. Since the morning when he'd startled her with a cup of coffee, he'd made it a point to be somewhere else when she was around. Propinquity, he'd told himself. It was just propinquity that made her appealing. With a little distance this—whatever it was he felt—would fade away.

  A bell jangled cheerfully as he pushed open the nursery's front door. Okay, so he was attracted to her, but there was no crime in that. Engaged or not, she was an attractive woman. What bothered him was that, when he was with her, it was much too easy to remember their brief history together and easier still to forget that she was engaged to marry his brother.

  A teenage girl told him that Kate was going over the inventory and directed him out the back door. As he stepped outside, Nick thought he knew how Dorothy must have felt when she landed in Oz and found herself in a Technicolor world. There were plants everywhere, on tables, hanging from the slats of the lattice roof, in large pots on the ground. It was like stepping into a cool, green jungle. Flowers provided bright accents of color, like accessories on a woman's gown.

  Kate wasn't hard to find. Her khaki-colored shirt and pants stood out from the surrounding greenery. The teenager inside had been wearing a similar outfit, and Nick assumed it was a uniform of sorts. Her head was bent over the clipboard she held but she looked up, as if sensing his approach.

  "Nick. What are you doing here?" Her smile was pleasant but there was an unmistakable wariness in her eyes. Join the club, he thought ruefully. He felt more than a little wary himself.

  "I'm here as Harry's emissary. He said you asked him to look at some trees."

  Kate's laugh held a touch of exasperation. "He was supposed to come himself. I want him to have some input into what I'm doing. It is his property, after all."

  "I don't think Harry's much for gardening," he said apologetically.

  "That much is obvious from the condition of the gardens at Spider's Walk."

  There was a disapproving edge to her voice and

  Nick grinned. "When he hired you, he said that you looked like you'd have him hauled off by the plant police, if you could."

  "If there was such a thing, Yd be able to send him up the river for life." She sighed and gave him a questioning look. "Do you want to look at trees?"

  Nick knew she wouldn't protest if he s
aid no. They might have agreed to forget the past but it was always between them—a faint thread of tension that could be ignored but not erased. Truthfully, his interest in trees was about on a par with his interest in the sex life of South American tree frogs. There was no reason to say yes and some very good arguments for saying no.

  "I live to look at trees," he said, and called himself seven kinds of fool.

  The large trees, in their wooden boxes, were in the far comer of the nursery, set against one wall of an old bam, which was now used for storage. Kate was acutely aware of Nick as she led the way between the rows of plants. He was wearing the familiar uniform of faded jeans and T-shirt. The fabric of the black T-shirt molded the solid muscles of his shoulders and clung lovingly to the width of his chest, making her vividly aware of his size and sex.

  Why was she always so conscious of how big he was? she wondered fretfully. Gareth was nearly as tall and every bit as broad-shouldered. So why did Nick always look so very large?

  "The place looks great," Nick commented. "When I was a kid, half the town used to come out here every spring to gawk at the wisteria when it bloomed."

  "They still do. For the last couple of years, we've had a sale and the PTA sells lemonade and cookies as a fund-raising project. It's done very well for us. Last year, a news crew from L.A. came out to film a segment on it."

  "I bet they couldn't resist making a comment about finding 'a little slice of Eden right here in California.'" Kate smiled at his dead-on imitation of a commentator's manufactured enthusiasm.

  "They did say something along those lines."

  "They always do." He shook his head and one comer of his mouth curved in a sardonic smile. " Any time something happens here that's big enough to make it into the news, they can't resist making some comment on the town's name. If it's bad news, they look solemn and say something about violence striking even in Eden.' If it's good news, they talk about finding Eden right here in California. For a couple of weeks, smog-crazed Los Angelenos drive out here to take a look at the place. They eat at a quaint little cafe, drive around gawking at the genuine farms and then scuttle back to the city."

  "That's pretty much what happened last year,"

  Kate said, smiling at the accuracy of his description. "We did a booming business for a couple of weeks, though."

  "It's good for business," Nick agreed. "When I was a kid, the cafe on the comer down from the library was called Selma Ann's because Selma Ann Carver owned the place. But she changed the name to Eve's because she figured the tourists would love it. She was right."

  "Is that why half the items on the menu have apples in them?"

  "Yep." Nick nodded. "When I was about twelve, one of the local farmers grew the biggest pumpkin in the state. It must have been a slow week for murder in L.A. because a news crew came out to do a segment on this pumpkin. The dust hadn't even settled behind them before Selma Ann borrowed a typewriter and typed up a new menu. She stuck apples in just about everything on it. Even the burgers came with applesauce on the side. She doubled the prices while she was at it"

  "Didn't that upset her regular customers?"

  ''No, because she kept two sets of menus—one for the tourists and one for the locals."

  "Is that legal?" Kate asked, throwing him a startled look.

  "I don't think the Better Business Bureau would have approved," Nick said dryly. "But she made enough extra off the tourists that year to spend a week on the beach in Maui, sunbathing and surfing."

  "Surfing? Selma Ann?" Kate goggled at him. She'd met Selma Ann Carver. The woman was short and bone thin, with leathery skin and a face so full of lines that it looked like a topographical map of the Sierra Nevada. She claimed to be older than dirt and Kate believed her. The image of her sunning and surfing in Hawaii was enough to boggle the mind. "Selma Ann on a surfboard?"

  "So she said." Nick shrugged. "She's mean enough and tough enough to do just about anything. You know that kid's poem that says something about the goblins will get you if you don't watch out? I always figured whoever wrote it must have known Selma Ann."

  Kate was startled into laughter. "I can believe it. I once saw her harangue a customer for taking too long to order. She told him since he couldn't make up his damned mind, he could damn well eat what she damn well chose to bring him and if didn't like it, he could take his damned indecision to some other damned place. I don't know what she brought him but he ate it without question. I didn't blame him. She scares me to death."

  Nick chuckled. ''Sounds like she hasn't changed a bit. She always— What the hell is that?"

  He came to a dead stop and stared in disbelief at the structure in front of him.

  "It's a barn." Kate's answer was calm but her mouth curved in an understanding smile at his shock.

  "Barns are red. Or white. Or maybe a weathered kind of gray." Nick blinked as if to clear his vision but the image didn't change. "That thing is purple.''

  "Wistful Wisteria," she corrected. "That's the name on the paint can. Brenda thought it would be a good idea, sort of in keeping with the general theme of the place, you know."

  "Was she drunk at the time?" Nick demanded.

  "I don't think so," Kate said a little regretfully. She almost wished her friend had been drunk. It made her uneasy to think that Brenda could make a decision like this while stone-cold sober.

  The bam had even fewer pretensions to grandeur than the house. A plain, rectangular building with a peaked roof, it put function way above form and it seemed to Kate that it wore its new coat of paint with a faintly embarrassed air, as if it knew exactly how silly it looked.

  "It's certainly...eye-catching." Nick said, groping for something positive to say.

  "That's one way of putting it. I've hear more vivid descriptions. Gareth threatened to cite us for breaking some sort of visual pollution law."

  "It looks like a menace to society to me. Someone with a weak heart could keel right over if they came upon it unexpectedly."

  "Did I hear someone taking my name in vain?"

  Kate's giggle ended on a startled gasp and she turned too quickly, nearly overbalancing. Nick's hand came out to steady her as Gareth stepped off the gravel path behind them. She pulled away from that light touch, guilt washing over her. There was no reason to feel guilty, she reminded herself, drawing a deep, calming breath. At least no reason to feel guilty for anything that had happened recently.

  "Gareth!" She went to greet him, lifting her face for his kiss, ridiculously conscious that Nick was watching them.

  "I didn't expect to find you here," Gareth said, smiling as he looked at his younger brother. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side.

  ''I'm standing in for Harry," Nick said easily. His gaze flicked to where his brother's hand rested on her hip and Kate fought the urge to pull away from that familiar touch.

  She was engaged to Gareth, not to Nick, she reminded herself. And God help her for needing that reminder.

  "Were you admiring Brenda's taste?" Gareth asked, nodding to the bam.

  Nick shook his head. "I'm not sure 'admiring' is quite the right word. I've got to admit it's a little awe-inspiring, though."

  "It's god-awful," Gareth said bluntly.

  "That about sums it up," Nick agreed, smiling a little.

  "Did you come by to arrest Brenda for bad taste?" Kate asked. She noticed a yellowed leaf on a young sweet gum tree and reached to pull it off. The move shifted her a little away from Gareth and his hand dropped away from her.

  "No such luck," he said, grinning. "Actually, I came by to see if I could persuade you to sneak out for lunch. I've got an hour or so before I have to go back to the station."

  "Oh, I wish I could but I just got back from lunch," Kate said, aware that her regret was not as sincere as it might have been.

  "You could always come watch me eat," he coaxed. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture was casually intimate, and she w
as aware of Nick turning away, focusing his gaze on the pale bark of the sapling closest to him. Kate was annoyed with herself for being so aware of him that she noticed his slightest move.

  "I wish I could, but I just sent Jim home for the afternoon because he was looking tired. That just leaves me and Nancy."

  "I thought I saw Brenda's car out front," he said.

  "You did. Like I said, that just leaves me and Nancy." Kate's tone was dryly affectionate. "You know Brenda prides herself on not knowing the difference between a fern and a cactus."

  Gareth smiled, but he looked disappointed. "I haven't seen much of you lately."

  "I know." For some reason, Kate found her eyes drawn to Nick. He was looking at the trees and seemed oblivious to her conversation with Gareth. With an effort, she pulled her attention back to Gareth. "You can't blame me for that," she said lightly. "You're the one who's spending so much time in L.A."

  "I know." He looked guilty, but only for a moment. "I think this program can really make a difference, though. Gangs aren't just confined to the big city anymore and I—"

  "You don't have to convince me." She cut him off with a smile. "I know what you're doing is important and I'm not complaining."

  He smiled and brushed his knuckles across the curve of her cheek. "I'm the one doing the complaining. Between your job and mine, it doesn't seem like we have much time for each other. I hope we're not going to have to schedule time to see each other after we're married."

  "Me, too." She smiled, her gaze darting over his shoulder to where Nick stood, apparently absorbed by the information on the plant care label he held.

  "You're sure you can't make lunch?"

  "I wish I could." Kate hoped her regret didn't sound as false to him as it did to her. The truth was, she didn't feel like going out to lunch with Gareth today. Not because of any specific thing or person— she simply had too much work to do.

  "If you're sure I—'' Gareth's beeper went off, interrupting him. He unhooked it from his belt and looked at the number display. "I need to call the station."