A Life Without Flowers (A Life Without Water Book 2)

by Marci Bolden

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you have your grievances, and your mother has hers. I love you more than Nude Model Mondays at the art center,” Ellen said, causing Carol to chuckle, “but you’re not perfect either. You’ve done things that hurt them too.”

  “I know that.”

  “Are you ready to face them?”

  Carol nodded. “If I can face the reality that I inadvertently played a hand in my daughter’s death, I can certainly face whatever wrongs I’ve done to my parents.”

  “I hope so.” Ellen kissed her cheek. “Take a minute to calm yourself and then come join us. We can work on that puzzle to give us all a distraction.”

  Carol squeezed Ellen’s hand before she could leave. “I’m not trying to be cruel to her.”

  “She’s not going to see it any other way. You know that, don’t you?”

  She did. She’d known the moment she’d decided to come to Florida that her mother was going to feel attacked. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life wishing I’d done something to make this better.”

  “Confrontation isn’t the right approach if you’re trying to make this better, darling. You push her and she’ll put up her wall, and then you’ll never get in. You know this because you’re the same way.” Ellen kissed Carol’s head before standing. “Take a moment and then come on. This puzzle won’t put itself together.”

  Once alone, Carol closed her eyes and pictured Tobias’s garden. She remembered how the butterflies flitted from flower to flower. The low baritone of his voice as he talked to his plants.

  Even that wasn’t enough to ease the knot in her gut.

  Three

  After a tense hour or so hovering over the puzzle, Carol walked out to the backyard and sank into one of the chairs on the patio. Clearly the two chairs and little round table had been her aunt’s addition. Her mother never would have bought teal-painted wrought iron.

  Unlike Carol’s yard in Houston, with the endless varieties of plants, her mother and aunt hadn’t done much landscaping. There were a few cannas with fiery leaves and bright orange flowers in one corner of the yard and a palm tree in another, but for the most part, the yard was empty. There were no sweet scents in the air. Just humid oppression.

  Carol leaned over enough to slip her phone free from her pocket when it vibrated. Time stopped for a moment as she read the caller ID. Her real estate agent. Something inside her heart grew dark with dread. She hadn’t been expecting a call, not exactly, but she wasn’t surprised.

  “Hey, Pam.”

  “Afternoon, darlin’,” she answered with a Southern Texas drawl. “I wanted to let you know the bidding war is over. One of the buyers backed out. The price was getting too high for them. All that’s left is for you to accept the remaining offer.”

  Tobias’s garden flashed through Carol’s mind. The flowers danced on the breeze. Their sweetness filled her senses. This time, Carol didn’t feel calm. She felt the harsh slap of reality. All that stood between her and selling the house were a few signatures. A few scribbles, and she’d never see her husband’s garden again. She had a thousand photos and videos. She had picked flowers and pressed them in Tobias’s favorite book. She even had seeds he’d harvested from the plants so someday she could start a new garden in his memory.

  Suddenly, that didn’t seem like enough.

  “Are you there?” Pam asked.

  Carol inhaled and forced a smile in an effort to make her voice sound cheerful. “I’m here.”

  “You…still want to sell, right?”

  Even if she didn’t plan to spend an unknown amount of time traveling, keeping that big empty house wasn’t logical. She had spent the last ten months avoiding as much of her home as possible. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been in Tobias’s home office, the spare bedroom where she’d kept Katie’s belongings, and the living room. Every day was the same—she would walk in through the kitchen and go up the stairs to her office or to her bedroom. The rest of the house was untouched.

  But the garden… Was she truly ready to leave the garden?

  “Carol?” Pam’s voice had switched from cheerful to borderline panicked.

  “Yes,” she said, her tone flat without the forced cheer. “Yes, I still want to sell.”

  Pam laughed dryly. “You scared me there for a second.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s real now, isn’t it?”

  “I know this is difficult.” Pam’s drawl took on a maternal tone. “You and Tobias made so many memories there.”

  Though she was certain the little speech was one Pam had given to a thousand different widows or widowers or grown children who were selling their parents’ homes, Carol appreciated the attempt at comfort. “Yes,” she said, “we did. I know the new owners will too.”

  “Oh, darlin’, they will. I’ll email you the papers with instructions for your signature. If you can get them to me by the end of the day tomorrow, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I will. Thank you, Pam.”

  “You’re welcome. And as hard as this is, I want you to know the biggest selling point was your husband’s garden. The buyers love what he did with the yard.”

  Carol closed her eyes and swallowed down the sob welling in her chest. “I’m glad. We’ll talk soon.” She hung up as she lost the strength to hold back the sound any longer. Tears fell and she choked out a miserable sound as she dropped her phone into her lap.

  “Are you okay?” Judith asked from behind her.

  After wiping her cheeks, Carol glanced back to where her mom stood holding two glasses of iced tea. She sniffled as she dried her hands on her shorts. “I will be.”

  Judith held out a glass. “You’re upset.” Her comment was flat, emotionless.

  Carol knew from experience that her mother would never intentionally delve into her problems. Where Ellen would have rushed to sit and ask what had happened, her mother simply made an observation that was left for Carol to acknowledge or ignore.

  Carol accepted the drink, even though she didn’t care for her mother’s tea. Though she didn’t eat candies or cakes much anymore, she did prefer her tea made southern style—with a hefty dose of simple syrup and a pinch of baking soda to heighten the sweetness. Yet another thing they disagreed on that didn’t warrant pointing out. She’d drink the bitter tea without remark.

  “One of the potential buyers backed out. It’s a done deal.” Her voice cracked as she said, “I’ve sold the house.”

  “Oh.” Judith eased down into the chair on the other side of the small table. “I remember how heartbroken I was when I decided to leave Ohio.”

  Carol let the words sink in. For some reason, she’d never considered how upset her mother must have been to sell the home Carol had grown up in. She had few memories in that home that warmed her heart, but certainly her mother hadn’t shared her misery. Carol had been so selfishly relieved that she wouldn’t have to settle the estate someday, she hadn’t considered what her mom had gone through.

  Even when she’d returned for her father’s funeral, she’d checked into a hotel since Ellen was staying with Judith. Ellen had assured Carol there was room for them all at the house, but the last thing she wanted was to be stuck there, especially since she and Tobias had agreed she should go to Dayton alone.

  Her father hadn’t been any fonder of Tobias than he’d been of John. Neither Carol nor her husband had to wonder why. Dennis Stewart would never come right out and say so, but he was less than thrilled that his son-in-law was Black. Carol couldn’t say if her mother held the same prejudice or if she simply never pushed back against her husband’s.

  That didn’t change how Carol hadn’t been there for her mother when she’d been widowed or when she’d sold her home. Guilt and shame overshadowed her pain. “I didn’t…I guess I thought you wanted to move here with Ellen.”

  Judith was quiet for a few seconds. “I was lonely, Carol. I had friends in Ohio, but most of our family moved away years ago. Or died. There was
no reason for me to stay after your father died.” Ice clinked in her glass as she took a drink. She set it on the ground beside her and wiped her hands on her dress.

  Carol suspected her mom was waiting for some kind of response to her comment, but now wasn’t the time to inform her that had she at least tried to make Tobias feel welcome, they may have visited. Instead, her parents had been very clear that, like John, they didn’t approve of Carol’s second husband.

  Tobias had been everything they’d said they wanted her to marry—smart, kind, and successful. Yet, they’d never even attempted to make him feel part of the family. Of course, they barely made Carol feel like part of their family. Maybe she had expected too much of them. If they couldn’t be open and warm toward their own daughter, she shouldn’t have expected them to be that way toward an in-law.

  “I suppose you started to feel lonely in your own home too,” Judith said after several long seconds of silence. “There’s no reason to keep that big house, but parting with it is…difficult.”

  Carol swallowed around the pain in her chest. “That house was perfect for a family—the right size, the right neighborhood, the right school district. When that didn’t happen, we adjusted and made it the perfect home for the two of us. The last few months, it felt more like a museum. I was afraid to change anything because I didn’t want to lose my ties to the past. I could pretend Tobias was still alive if nothing changed.”

  “That’s not healthy,” Judith said with a strain to her voice that almost sounded like concern.

  “I know. There were too many times I really did forget he was gone. I’d fix two cups of coffee or get out two plates for dinner without even realizing what I was doing. I’d call out to him and listen for his response before remembering. Then everything would come crashing down on me, and I’d be a mess all over again.”

  “Your father has been gone three years, and I still fix him a pot of chicken and dumpling soup every week. Drives Ellen crazy, but it’s a habit I’ve had for fifty years. I can’t stop now.”

  Carol smiled as she imagined the spat the sisters likely had every Sunday afternoon.

  Growing up, Sundays were when her mother would ban everyone from the kitchen so she could chop vegetables and roll out homemade dough to cut into dumplings while the chicken boiled on the stovetop. There were few memories Carol could conjure that didn’t bring a hint of resentment to her heart, but picturing her mother in a short-sleeved dress and her white apron with cross-stitch embroidered flowers on the pockets around her waist was one she could count on.

  She hadn’t been allowed to help, but she remembered the scents, the sounds, and her mom humming as she worked. As she grew older, Carol realized being alone in the kitchen was the one time her mother ever seemed to be at peace.

  Her father spent that time preparing for the upcoming workweek by polishing his shoes and checking that his suits were crisp and ready to be worn. Both her parents were too busy to micromanage what Carol was doing, so in a way, Sundays were her most peaceful time too.

  Though her mother never taught her the recipe, Carol had learned to make a similar soup on her own. Tobias said the dish was one of the things that had won him over. Carol never fell into the habit of cooking soup weekly like her mother, but he’d always lavished her with praise when she did. Of course, he offered his compliments about everything she did. He had known how empty she was inside and spent their twenty-two years together filling the void.

  “Tobias has only been gone for ten months.” Carol’s voice was thick with emotion. “Do you think I’m letting him go too soon?”

  “You aren’t letting him go any more than you let Katie go,” Judith said. “Moving on, trying to have some kind of life, isn’t letting go. I can’t say I agree with, or even remotely understand, your choice to live like a vagabond, but the living can’t stay stagnant and wait to join the dead. Moving on hurts, but you have to do it. Tobias would want you to.”

  The surprising show of solidarity from her mother choked Carol up again. She bit her lip to try to stop from crying but had to turn her face away to hide her scrunched nose and tightly closed eyes from her mom. At some point, she’d have to explain her choice of living in her RV—her promise to John, a man her mother hated—but now wasn’t the time. She didn’t have the strength to have that fight right now.

  Her house was gone. Tobias’s flowers were gone. Another piece of her life with the man she’d loved more than anything else in this world was gone. She couldn’t fight right now if she wanted to.

  Judith stood and put her hand on Carol’s shoulder. “Come inside when you’re ready. Ellen is determined we’re going to finish that damned puzzle of hers.”

  “I, um…I need to go to my RV and pack some things if I’m going to be staying here. You two work on the puzzle. I’ll help when I get back.”

  Her mom didn’t argue as she moved around her chair.

  “Mom?” Carol turned and looked up through her tears. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you sold the house. It was selfish of me not to consider how hard that must have been on you. Now that I’m going through the same thing, I see how much my indifference must have hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  Judith nodded slightly. “I appreciate that.”

  Once she was alone, Carol sat back in her chair and looked up at the blue sky. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt like she was on the same page as her mother about anything. This felt nice. This felt like progress.

  Though she was still devastated about closing a door on her past with Tobias, calm settled over her heart. She’d taken the first, albeit small, step to finally connecting with her mother.

  Good job, she told herself. She smiled as she looked at the tea in her hand. Then, with a quick glance behind her to make sure her mom was gone, Carol dumped the bitter drink into the grass. After she entered the house through the kitchen, she put her dirty glass into the dishwasher and went to put her shoes on.

  “I brought this for you,” Ellen said, coming into the living room. She held out an absurdly large straw hat with a bright-pink bow that caused Carol to giggle. “Take it. You need more protection than that baseball cap provides.”

  Carol opened her mouth, wanting to reject the offer, but the sternness on her aunt’s face made her concede. “Thank you.” After slipping into her sandals, she pulled the hat onto her head and chuckled as she dropped her head back to peer from under the floppy brim. Ellen laughed and situated the hat on Carol’s head so she could see.

  “Did you steal this from Scarlett O’Hara?” Carol asked.

  Ellen gave her a conspiratorial grin as mischief lit in her eyes. With a wink, she whispered, “That bitch has enough, don’t you think?”

  “More than enough,” Carol agreed.

  Ellen’s face grew more serious. “Your mom told me the house is sold. I know that’s tough, but please remember you aren’t alone. We’ve both been through this. We know how hard it can be, and you can lean on us as much as you need.”

  “Thank you.” She let a smile curve her lips. “I’d hug you, but I’m afraid this hat might put your eye out.”

  “Oh, you think you’re so clever.” Ellen nabbed her keys off the wooden hanger by the door.

  As Judith came into the room, she frowned at the monstrosity of a hat Carol was wearing. “You look foolish.”

  “I agree.” Carol started to reach for the oversize brim, but her aunt caught her hand.

  “Leave it,” Ellen instructed. “I’d rather you look foolish than get skin cancer.”

  With her signature theatrical sigh, Judith removed the hat from Carol’s head and tossed it onto the sofa. “She’s not going to get skin cancer from one short walk.”

  Ellen exhaled with equal displeasure. “If you say so. She’s your daughter.”

  “She can wear sunscreen if you’re so concerned,” Judith countered.

  “We should all wear sunscreen, actually,” Ellen said, her voice distant as she scanned the room, likely trying
to spot a bottle of lotion nearby. “Where did I put it?”

  “It’s probably with the remote control you lost this morning,” Judith offered.

  “Why would you need sunscreen?” Carol asked.

  “We’re going with you.” Ellen turned her attention back on her niece.

  Carol immediately faced her mother, who didn’t seem nearly as interested. “You don’t have to.”

  “We’re going with you.” This time Ellen’s voice was firm, but she was looking at Judith, as if daring her to disagree.

  Carol knew better than to intervene with whatever had transpired between the sisters. Her mother didn’t seem pleased. Neither did Ellen. Carol wasn’t going to ask why. Pulling her baseball cap on her head, she followed the women out into the afternoon sun.

  “It’s too hot,” Judith said. “We should take the car.”

  “It’s not too hot,” Ellen insisted.

  “You can stay, Mom,” Carol offered. “We won’t be long.”

  Ellen dipped her chin and eyed Judith with one eyebrow quirked, as if to silently warn her against even considering the idea.

  Judith shook her head. “No, I’d like to come along.”

  Carol was quite certain she wouldn’t, but she appreciated the effort none the less. Even if it was made under the stern stare of her younger sister. The muggy air enveloped her as they left the shade of the townhouse porch. Carol glanced back at her mom, trying to get a read on her, but the woman was stoic as usual.

  As they walked the mile or so to the RV park, Ellen chatted about the clear sky, the flowers, and shared gossip about their neighbors. Carol responded at the right times, but she wasn’t really listening. As she tended to do when she was near her mother, she was tuned in to the vibrations radiating from Judith. Right now, she was picking up on the tension and frustration rolling off the woman beside her. In turn, that fed Carol’s tension and frustration, which were always churning right below the surface when they were together.

  Even though they’d been on the same page fifteen minutes ago, a fight was brewing. She didn’t know why or when, but one of them was sure to say the wrong thing and light the other’s fuse. That was how things went between them. That was the cycle Carol had come here to break.