Читать книгу: «Susannah's Garden», страница 2

“Okay.” Joe sighed heavily. “But after you convince her to move, you’ll have to make a decision about the house.”

Susannah hadn’t even thought of that. All at once the task seemed overwhelming.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Joe asked.

She didn’t meet his eyes while she contemplated spending time in Colville. “Three weeks should do it, I imagine. Possibly a month.”

“That long?”

“It isn’t going to be easy to talk my mother into leaving her home,” she said. “And there’s the matter of arranging assisted-living accommodation for her. And cleaning the house. Whether I decide to rent it or put it on the market, either way it’ll need to be cleared out.”

“I could help. Brian, too.”

“No, I can manage.” She appreciated the offer, but she wanted to spend time with her mother—just the two of them. Not only that, she had a private agenda concerning Jake, an agenda she couldn’t confide to her husband. She had to resolve that problem on her own. If Joe and Brian were there, she’d be torn between her present and her past. “Perhaps on the weekends, if you want.” As a dentist, Joe couldn’t change his appointment schedule at the last minute.

“Brian and I have our fishing trip scheduled for next weekend, but we can cancel that.”

“No, don’t,” she protested. It was hard enough for the two of them to find time together.

Joe nodded. “Then we’ll try to come one weekend after that.” He put down his coffee mug and glanced at her, a half smile on his face. “I have a feeling you’re going to learn a lot more than you expected from all of this.”

Susannah suspected he was right.

CHAPTER
3

Chrissie Nelson shoved the last of her clothes into her suitcase and looked anxiously out her dorm room window. Jason was late. He’d promised to be here by ten to take her to the airport. School was over and the dorm was mostly deserted. She’d be flying out of Eugene, where she attended the University of Oregon, to Seattle for the summer. The end of the school year didn’t thrill her, mostly because she’d be leaving Jason behind. She wasn’t like some of her friends, eager to return home. In fact, Chrissie dreaded the emptiness that lay ahead.

Pushing her long straight blond hair over her shoulder, she suppressed a deep sigh. Her roommate, Katie Robertson, had left the night before, and so had several of her other friends. Jason had driven Katie to the airport, but Chrissie’s flight wasn’t until today. He’d stopped by the dorm after he’d dropped Katie off; he and Chrissie had gone out for a farewell drink and he’d promised to meet her in plenty of time for her 11:30 flight. When he’d picked Katie up, he’d arrived with two hours to spare—and he’d waited with her at the airport. Chrissie had a niggling sensation that he’d been more solicitous than necessary….

That made it sound as if she was jealous and she wasn’t. Jason had never given Chrissie the slightest reason to doubt his devotion. He was simply thoughtful. Latching her suitcase closed, she grunted as she lifted it off the mattress with both hands and set it on the floor.

The problem with going home for the summer was that she didn’t have a job. And at this late date, the prospects of decent employment were slim to none.

She was almost twenty and still tied to her parents. Chrissie hated that. The idea of being at home for the next eight or ten weeks—and dependent on her parents for spending money—depressed her. She preferred to stay in Eugene, but her part-time job on campus had ended with the semester. Next year everything would be different; Chrissie intended to make sure of that. This would be her last summer in Seattle. She was an adult, and she wanted to live her own life.

As soon as she got home, she planned to tell her parents that she was moving out of the dorm. Two other girls had invited her to live off-campus with them in a small house. They’d divide the rent, and it would be much cheaper than living at the university for a third year. It would be a good experience, she’d tell her parents, plus it would save them money. She was perfectly capable of managing on her own. Her father would listen to reason, but she wasn’t sure she could count on her mother.

Jason’s Honda Civic pulled up to the curb. Chrissie leaned out the window and waved. He climbed out of his car, glanced up and smiled, then waved back. “I’ll be right there,” he called.

That was typical of Jason—always considerate. She felt fortunate to be with him. They’d met on a blind date and he’d impressed her the moment they began to talk. They had a lot in common, but that didn’t mean they were alike. Far from it. Jason, a law student specializing in accounting law, was about as conservative as they came. His grades were high and his work habits disciplined and methodical. Chrissie, on the other hand, was carefree and fun-loving, and something of a procrastinator. The problem, she’d decided, was that she worked best under pressure. Term papers were written the night before they were due. What other people failed to understand, she often explained righteously, was that she’d been thinking about the subject for weeks, gathering the needed data. Starting it early wouldn’t have improved the end product.

Jason never left anything to the last minute and her delay tactics exasperated him. Still, they were crazy about each other. He did occasionally try to change her ways—and vice versa. At least he didn’t constantly complain about her study habits like her parents did. Her grades weren’t any worse in college than they’d been in high school. Okay, they weren’t great but she never got less than a C. The major reason she’d decided on college was because all her friends were going. Everyone just expected her to continue her education, and she hadn’t come up with anything she’d rather do.

She stayed more because of the social life than the academics—the parties and the boys. Jason, with his wide muscular shoulders, could have been a football player, but sports were of little interest to him. He dressed for class as if he were going into an office, wearing sweaters and slacks in the winter and short-sleeve shirts and Dockers in the summer. His hair was conservatively cut, above the ear. Basically, he was every mother’s dream. Her dream, too, although she would never have expected to fall for a guy like him.

On that first date with Jason, she’d tried to find the beast within, striving to break through his proprieties, with limited success. She was convinced there was a bad boy inside him waiting to emerge and Chrissie wanted to find him. Jason certainly didn’t object, and while they were different they were also good together. He appreciated her spontaneity and lightheartedness. She liked the fact that he was reliable and thoughtful. And although they might argue about everything from politics to movies, they had an enjoyable time making up afterward.

Needless to say, her parents were thrilled with him, and who wouldn’t be? He was as close to perfect a boyfriend for their daughter as they could hope for. She and Jason hadn’t talked about marriage yet, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he gave her an engagement ring at Christmas.

Jason came into her room and heaved the heavy suitcase into his arms. Grunting and panting, he maneuvered it down the stairs—no elevator in her building—while she carried her backpack and purse.

When they reached the bottom, Chrissie cast him a woebegone look. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said without meeting her eyes. But that could’ve been because he was busy hoisting the suitcase into his trunk.

Still, his offhand remark startled her. “It will?” She found that hard to believe.

“I’ll miss you like crazy, but before we know it you’ll be back.”

His cavalier attitude was completely unexpected. She wanted him to feel as bereft as she did; obviously he didn’t. Eyeing him closely, she wondered if she was reading more into his comment than warranted. She didn’t want to sound like a whiny ten-year-old, but she was taken aback by his response.

She decided not to overreact. “You’re right, of course. Besides, I can come and visit you over the Fourth of July.”

“You can?”

“Sure, why not?” she asked.

“Don’t you want to save your money for school?”

She shrugged, as if financial concerns were of little significance. She’d assumed he’d leap at the suggestion. Apparently not. A moment later, Jason took Chrissie by the shoulders and astonished her by kissing her long and hard. Normally, he frowned on public displays of affection, but today nothing about him was the same. She reveled in his moist lips molding to hers as he held her close. “Next summer…” she whispered.

“Next summer?”

“I’ll find a way to stay in Oregon.”

“Good.” With that, he placed her backpack carefully beside the heavy bag and shut the trunk.

“First things first,” she said as Jason opened the passenger door.

He hesitated, looking puzzled.

“I have to convince my mother to let me move out of the dorm before I talk to her about staying in Eugene next summer,” she elaborated.

“You really have a thing about your mother, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Chrissie flared.

“You always seem worried about what she’s going to say.”

His observation irritated her. “That’s not true.” She didn’t want to argue, but he’d totally missed the point.

“You just said you had to get your mother to agree that you can rent with Joan and Katie,” he murmured. “For the last week, ever since final exams, you’ve been complaining about going home and having to deal with her. Not once did you mention your dad.”

“My father is the more reasonable of the two.” She was furious that Jason would even suggest she had a problem with her mother.

“From what I understand, it’s fairly common, you know? Mother-daughter conflict, I mean.”

“Really?” Chrissie said coldly as she climbed into the passenger seat and without waiting closed the door. She fastened the seat belt while Jason walked around to the other side of the vehicle.

“You and your mother seem to have these underlying issues,” he said when he got into the car. He inserted the key into the ignition.

She stared at him, annoyed that he was pursuing the subject. “Are you trying to start a fight?” she asked, refusing to be drawn into one.

Jason turned to her, then gradually smiled. “Not really. Are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He pulled away from the curb.

“You don’t act as if you’re going to miss me all that much,” she said, and immediately wanted to swallow her words. They made her seem insecure and she wasn’t.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head.

“Is it because I didn’t encourage you to fly down for the Fourth of July? If so, the reason—aside from not wanting you to spend the airfare—is that I already have plans.”

“You do?”

“My parents asked me to visit them and I said I would.”

It didn’t escape Chrissie’s notice that he didn’t invite her to join him and his family.

“Are you glad I’m leaving Eugene?” she asked. She knew he’d be staying; he was fortunate enough to have a full-time summer job with a big law firm. His family lived in Grants Pass, a couple of hours away.

Jason sighed as if she were behaving like a difficult child. “Forget I asked,” she snapped. “It was a stupid question.”

“Yes, it was,” Jason said. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Why are you being so sensitive?”

He was right; she was overreacting, even though she’d vowed not to. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to Seattle for the summer. Maybe I’d rather be here with you instead of trapped in a house with my mother for the next ten weeks.” The moment she mentioned her mother, Chrissie realized she’d said the wrong thing.

“Why don’t you talk to her, then?”

“About what? My relationship with her? My mother’s so caught up in her own world that she can’t be bothered with me.”

Jason stopped at a traffic signal. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“How would you know? You only met her once.” Chrissie had brought Jason home at Easter and he’d spent three days with her family. The visit had been a success on all counts.

As they’d pulled out of the family driveway, Chrissie had basked in her parents’ approval. Both of them had liked Jason immensely.

“You have wonderful parents, Chrissie,” he said now.

“Yes—but my mother’s going to make my life hell this summer. She’s upset with me for not having a job, although she’d never come right out and say so. Instead, she’ll find a hundred different things to criticize.”

“I thought you were going to look for a job over spring break,” Jason reminded her.

“I was, but I got busy—the time just slipped away. Don’t you start on me, too.”

“Chrissie…”

“You have no idea what this summer’s going to be like.”

“Oh, come on, Chrissie. It’s not—”

“Let me give you an example,” she broke in, “and this is based on experience. Mom will ask me to clean the bathroom and I will. Then she’ll come in after me and scrub the sink all over again. This is her way of letting me know that I didn’t meet her high standards.” The summer stretched before Chrissie like one long exercise in tolerance and patience. “If she didn’t like how I cleaned the sink, you’d think she’d just say so, but oh, no, not my mother.”

Jason muttered something noncommittal.

“Brian has a job,” she continued. “Mom’s already mentioned that fact about fifty times. He’s working for a construction company.”

“You’re making too much of this.”

“I don’t think so,” Chrissie muttered. “What she’s really saying is that if I’d looked for a job like she wanted me to over spring break, I’d have one waiting for me now.” She could imagine the constant barrage of digs that lay in store for her. Her mother couldn’t bear the thought of Chrissie being idle all summer, so she’d threaten to line up babysitting jobs for her. Babysitting at almost twenty? In Chrissie’s opinion, that was cruel and unusual punishment.

“She seems to believe that finding temporary employment is easy. I suppose I could get a job at a fast-food place, but even those aren’t as available as they used to be. Besides, I don’t want to spend my summer asking someone if they want fries with that.”

“Well…” He clearly wasn’t interested in arguing with her.

“As a last resort, my dad will leap to the rescue and offer me a pity job.”

“A what?”

“He’ll bring me to his office and I’ll be reduced to doing menial tasks, for which he’ll pay me minimum wage.” She sighed. “It’s going to be a dreadful summer. I can tell.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jason countered absently.

Chrissie doubted he’d even heard her. His mind certainly wasn’t on her; that much was apparent. She looked at him and frowned, unsure what to think. Something had changed between them. She could feel it—had felt it from the moment he arrived. Jason had never been late before.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, then added, “Between us, I mean.”

He glanced at her and shrugged. “Sure. Why shouldn’t it be?”

Instinct said otherwise. “You drove Katie to the airport last night, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.”

Chrissie noticed that his hand tightened around the steering wheel. What had happened between him and Katie the night before? She didn’t mention how long he’d spent at the airport. Originally she was supposed to tag along, but Katie had a lot of stuff and it would’ve been a tight fit in a small car, so she’d stayed behind. That, apparently, had been a mistake.

Nothing had happened, she told herself. Chrissie couldn’t believe Jason would do that to her. Besides, Katie was one of her best friends. They planned on renting a house together in a few months. The last thing Katie would do was steal Jason away from her.

No, neither of them would betray her, Chrissie thought firmly.

The rest of the drive was completed in an uncomfortable silence.

Jason drove up to the curb at the airport and Chrissie climbed out as soon as he came to a stop. Without a word, Jason jumped out and opened the trunk, heaving her suitcase onto the ground.

“The summer will go fast,” he said with false cheerfulness. “You’ll be back here in no time.”

“Right,” she agreed with the same fake exuberance. “No time at all.”

Jason nodded. “I’ll call you soon.”

She nodded, too, and dragged her bag onto the sidewalk. “I guess I’d better get inside.”

“Have a great summer.”

She tried to smile. “You, too.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, but it fell short of just about every other kiss they’d exchanged. She was afraid she was losing Jason and it broke her heart.

CHAPTER
4

Susannah wasn’t looking forward to this trip back to Colville. The eastern Washington community was like small towns all over the country. Her eyes went immediately to the town clock, which featured a statue of a frontiersman, as she drove through the city center. Colville with its JCPenney store on Main Street was the big city to many of the smaller communities surrounding it. There was a traffic roundabout now, but while she was growing up, Colville had the only traffic light in Stevens County.

It was small-town America at its best.

And its worst.

The drive took seven hours with a brief lunch break. As Susannah rolled into the outskirts of town, her tension grew. She turned the music up louder, trying to lose herself in the insistent beat of the Rolling Stones. The first building she passed was the Burger King restaurant, which had closed its doors. It was probably the only franchise in the entire chain to go out of business. The bowling alley came next. The sign out front listed the special of the day as a breakfast of two eggs, toast and coffee for $2.99—up from the $1.99 of her childhood. That had been the special for as long as Susannah could remember.

She drove past Colville Mortuary, which had once been owned by her uncle Henry, who was long dead now. Susannah had grown up with hordes of cousins, none of whom had settled in the area. They, too, had no reason to stay in Colville.

As she continued down Main Street, she felt a growing sense of dread. Getting her mother into an assisted-living complex wasn’t a prospect she relished. This anxiety, however, resulted from more than the difficult task that awaited her. When Susannah left Colville for college, she’d never looked back. Oh, she’d returned any number of times over the years, but whenever she did, the familiar depression returned, too. Part of that had to do with her brother’s death; he was killed in a car accident the year she turned eighteen. She was in a French boarding school at the time, and her father’s phone call had come in the middle of the day. A call from America was sure to be bad news. And it was. It’d been the worst news of her life. Her brother, older by three years, had died in a crash on a notoriously bad curve just outside Colville.

Susannah’s world changed forever that day. If her brother’s death wasn’t devastating enough, her father had refused to fly her home for the funeral. She never forgave him for that. He’d been the one who insisted on shipping her off to France in the first place. Then, while she was so far from home, her whole life had collapsed. Susannah was never the same afterward. Her parents had never recovered, either.

It seemed to her that whatever happiness her parents had shared vanished after Doug died. Joy fled from their lives, leaving their marriage stark and empty. That was Susannah’s perception, although her mother had a different version of events, a version Susannah considered a case of denial. But then, how could Vivian have stayed with her husband if she’d been honest about her unhappiness—and his role in it?

When Susannah had returned from her year away, she could barely tolerate living in the same house. After she left for college, she didn’t even consider moving back.

Doug’s death wasn’t the only reminder she brought with her. She couldn’t come here and not think about Jake Presley—especially now that he’d invaded her dreams on a nightly basis. Any number of times over the years she’d wondered about him, but never more than in the last few months. The sweet tenderness of her first love had been ruined by her father, too.

Susannah wanted to believe that Jake was happy, a husband and father, and successful in whatever field he’d chosen. It’d taken her a long time to get over him—but she had. Or so she’d thought.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Susannah slowed her car to the reduced thirty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit. She passed Benny’s Motel and the Safeway store where her mother had shopped for fifty years. The four-block-square City Park was behind the motel. Farther down the street was Ole King Cole’s restaurant. Every year on Mother’s Day, that was where her father took her mother for dinner. Either there or Acorn’s.

Refusing to be ambushed by the past, Susannah forced herself to stare straight ahead. When she reached the end of Main, she ventured up the hill toward ChestnutAvenue and her childhood home.

The light was on, although it was barely five o’clock in the afternoon and summer-bright. Susannah pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The screen door opened instantly, as if her mother had been standing on the other side waiting for her arrival.

The house, built in 1960, was constructed of brick. At the time it had been one of the new ranch-style homes, among the most elaborate in town. It had four bedrooms, one of which her mother used for crafts, plus a finished basement with rec room and laundry.

And the garden. Her mother’s beautiful garden. Vivian liked to sit there in the cool of the evening and read or knit. Her father had installed lighting on the back deck for that very reason.

“Susannah.” Vivian held out her arms as Susannah climbed from the car.

Bounding up the front steps, she was shocked to see how frail her mother had become, especially in such a short time. She appeared to have aged ten years since Susannah’s visit in March. Mrs. Henderson was right; Vivian had lost weight, so much that her clothes hung on her. The belted housedress bagged at the waist and her stockings were wrinkled and loose. Susannah wrapped her arms gently around her mother and felt immersed in guilt. She should’ve come sooner, should have realized how poorly her mother was doing.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Vivian said.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Susannah told her. Joe would be fine without her for a few weeks. The children, too. But Susannah’s mother needed her.

“Come inside,” Vivian urged. “I made iced tea.”

Susannah slipped her arm around her mother’s narrow waist and together they walked inside. She was surprised to see a few newspapers scattered on the steps, still in their protective plastic sleeves. This was unlike her meticulous mother.

The house was much as she remembered it from her last visit. The chair where her father had watched television every night sat empty. The crocheted doily pinned against the back was still in place.

Even in his retirement, the television wasn’t allowed on before the five o’clock news. The judge had decreed it and no one dared question his decisions, least of all her mother. Susannah wondered if Vivian watched daytime programs now that her husband was gone. She suspected not. Old habits die hard.

The kitchen table was set with dishes and silverware. “You didn’t make dinner, did you?” Susannah asked.

Her mother turned from the refrigerator and frowned. “You told me not to.”

“I was planning to take you out to eat, anyplace you want.”

“Oh, good. I was afraid I did something wrong.”

“No, Mom, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her smile seemed so fragile, so tentative. After all these years of marriage she was lost without George. Her dependence on him had been absolute, Susannah thought. She blamed her father for that more than she did her mother.

“Sit down and tell me about the children,” her mother said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table for Susannah. The round oak table was an antique now and the chairs along with it.

Stepping over to the counter, her mother filled tall glasses and brought them to the table. Then she sat down, looking expectantly at Susannah.

Susannah sipped her tea. “Brian has a summer job in construction. He’s thrilled and the money is excellent.”

Her mother smiled with approval. “And Christine?”

“Joe’s picking her up from the airport this afternoon.”

Her mother’s smile faded. “She was away?”

“At school, Mom. Chrissie’s coming home from college for the summer.”

“Oh, of course. Chrissie’s away at school now, isn’t she?”

“That’s right. She’s about to enter her junior year.”

“She has a summer job, too?”

Susannah should have anticipated the question. “No. Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll find one.” This was wishful thinking on her part.

Her mother nodded. “Yes, she will. She’s such a beautiful young girl.” Susannah’s gaze drifted into the dining room, where Vivian kept family photos on the buffet. Chrissie’s high school graduation picture stared back at her. Her daughter’s long blond hair, parted in the middle, flowed down over her shoulders as she smiled into the camera. Susannah’s own high school graduation photograph, taken after her return from France, was positioned next to that of her daughter. Her hair had been long and blond then, too, but curlier than Chrissie’s. It had darkened over the years and was now a light shade of brown. These days she kept it short and styled. In her graduation picture, Susannah wore a cap and gown and held her diploma, tilted at an angle as if it were a cherished scroll. It was all for show.

“Chrissie’s so much like you at that age.”

Susannah’s gaze flew back to the photographs. Frankly she didn’t see the resemblance. Her daughter was nothing like her in temperament or in looks. At almost twenty, Chrissie still had a lot of growing up to do.

“It’s in the eyes,” her mother continued.

Susannah looked again, partly, she supposed, in the hope that her mother was right. For the last year or so, Susannah and Chrissie had been at odds. Not for any particular reason, but over a succession of little things. Susannah felt that her daughter didn’t take life seriously enough. She didn’t put much effort into school and tended to waste time lounging in front of the TV, indulging in long conversations with her friends and sleeping in until noon. Chrissie should have summer employment, but instead of going on a job search, she’d frittered away her spring break, convinced she could charm herself into employment when it suited her.

“Your hair was that blond when you were young,” her mother said wistfully.

Susannah didn’t want to disillusion her mother, but Chrissie’s pure blond color came courtesy of an expensive salon.

“The minute Joe’s mother set eyes on the baby, she told us Chrissie looked exactly like her aunt Louise,” Susannah commented. Joe had rolled his eyes, but Susannah did see a resemblance. Not then, of course, but more recently.

“She’s still at school?”

“No, Mom, Chrissie’s flying home. Joe’s going to the airport to pick her up.”

“Oh, yes, you said that, didn’t you? I forget sometimes.”

“That’s all right, Mom, we all do.” She gave her mother’s hand a reassuring pat, then stood. “I’d better bring in my suitcase.”

“You’ll stay more than a day or two this time, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll stay.”

A smile brightened her mother’s dull eyes. “Good. I hoped you would. I’ve been so lost without your father. And now Martha’s left me, too!” She slipped her hand into the pocket of her dress and removed a tissue to dab her eyes.

Martha had quit! Susannah groaned inwardly as she walked out of the house and opened the trunk of her car. She brought in a large suitcase; assuming she’d be in town for a few weeks, she’d packed more than her usual overnight bag.

Susannah carried her suitcase down the hallway to her childhood bedroom, which remained exactly as it had when she’d lived at home. Her desk was still there; her chair, too. The heavy blue drapes were the same, although faded, and the lighter blue shag carpeting looked terribly dated now. She couldn’t imagine why her parents had never updated their home after she’d graduated from college. It was as if they’d been stuck in a time warp for the last thirty years. There’d certainly been money to make changes.

“I saw a friend of yours last week,” her mother said, coming to stand in the bedroom doorway, watching Susannah as she unpacked.

“Who?” Susannah had few friends in town. She’d attended her ten-year reunion, but had felt awkward and out of place. She’d been married to Joe for three years then, and the two of them had stayed at each other’s side. Susannah hadn’t returned for subsequent reunions. She didn’t know these people anymore. Because she’d been away for the last year of school, she hadn’t even graduated with them, not officially.

“Just a minute,” her mother said and closed her eyes, forehead creased in thought. “Carolyn!” she said triumphantly. “You remember Carolyn. Carolyn Bronson.” Her mother paused. “She said you should phone her sometime.”

“Carolyn Bronson?” Susannah couldn’t believe it. Carolyn had been her best friend and the richest girl in Colville. They’d gone to France together. Her father owned the mill that employed nearly forty percent of the town—or had at one time. With the changes in the lumber industry, Susannah didn’t know how the yard had fared.

“You were good friends with her, right?”

Susannah nodded. “But I haven’t seen Carolyn in years.” Carolyn had been the one friend from Colville she’d stayed in touch with for a while. Then they’d grown apart and their correspondence had dwindled down to an annual Christmas card. About twenty-five years ago, Susannah’s card had come back stamped: MOVED—NO FORWARDING ADDRESS. She hadn’t heard from Carolyn since. Her mother had read in the paper—she regularly studied the obituaries—that Carolyn’s parents were both gone. Susannah hadn’t realized Carolyn was back in Colville.