Beyond the Roses

by Mary Cantell

  “I asked Miss Rucker about it, like if she noticed anyone out of the ordinary come by, but—”

  “Hey, maybe it’s from Brian?”

  Deep down she hoped the rose was from him, but if it was, why didn’t he leave a note or card with it? No, something was odd about it.

  “I thought to call him but then—oh, I don’t know,” she said, feeling a strange uncertainty.

  “You’ll never know unless you ask him. Just call him, Liss.”

  She caressed one of the petals feeling the smooth, velvety texture. The light citrus scent was her favorite. How did he know she loved the smell of citrus? She never told him. No, this wasn’t from Brian.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “She said there’s been a Peeping Tom in the neighborhood,” Lissa explained to Brian, cradling the phone to her ear. “And it’s all kind of materializing now.”

  “What, exactly?” he asked, his voice mixed with concern and curiosity.

  “This creepiness.” Lissa peeked out between the blinds at the living room window. “It started in my landlady’s living room the day I signed the lease agreement. It wasn’t what she said but how she acted—or reacted—to something she saw in the window or heard outside, I don’t know. But when I asked her, she was mum about it. Then when the break-in occurred, she seemed so guilty of something. Like she knew who did it.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She just warned me that there was a Peeping Tom in the area. I always thought they were harmless…too timid to do anything but look.”

  Lissa remembered the report of one on Ingraham Street back in the 70s. She heard her mother and another woman talking about it. In the course of the conversation, Lissa picked up words like Peeping Tom and harmless both in the same sentence.

  “They could be harmless, but then again…” His voice trailed and then turned serious. “So what about the break-in? Anything stolen?”

  “That’s something else that’s weird. The police searched everywhere. There’s nothing missing and nothing out of place.” An uneasy feeling swept in again.

  “It’s good you reported it to the police. Now there’s a record.”

  “I’m just thinking about what my landlady said about the Peeping Tom.” She paused. “She made it sound like it could be one in the same person.”

  “Strange. Is she sure?”

  “I don’t know,” Lissa replied, her paranoia rising like a bad dream.

  “At least nothing was stolen, Liss. And you and Lacy are safe.”

  Although Brian underscored their safety, his words didn’t make a dent in her still raw, helpless feelings. Red flags waved. “Yeah… but—”

  “Don’t get yourself all worked up over this. Just have the lock changed. Get a deadbolt or a chain, something more secure. Insist to the landlady—um… Miss what’s her name? Miss Tucker—Trucker?”

  “Rucker,” Lissa offered.

  “Whatever. Have her do it immediately. Make sure to put a chair or something under the doorknob before you go to bed tonight.”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, and Liss.” He paused. “I can come over tonight if you want me to.”

  His words settled over her like a summer shower. Lissa’s heart soared. Come over…tonight? “Oh, Brian, that’s so sweet of you, really.”

  “So…you want me…”

  Oh, yes. If you only knew how much.

  “…to come over?”

  As much as she did want to see him, she didn’t feel it appropriate.

  “I’d love for you to come over, Bri, but maybe not tonight.” She wanted to kick herself, but she knew in her heart of hearts that it would be better to wait. “I’ll be okay…really.”

  “Well, how about later today. Can we meet for coffee…say in an hour?”

  She glanced at the clock. “Oh, sure, that would be fine.”

  “Our spot, okay?” he murmured.

  “Sounds perfect,” she cooed. “I’ll meet you there.”

  When she hung up with Brian, her thoughts raced. With everything on her mind, she forgot all about the rose. The pressing thoughts of the Peeping Tom usurped everything. She wondered what the intruder looked like and if he were young or old. She hoped the police would find him soon. A nagging question hung in her mind: If he didn’t come to steal anything, what did he come for?

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So the rose wasn’t from you?” Lissa held her breath waiting for Brian’s reply.

  “A rose?” he said curiously. “I—um, I haven’t given anyone flowers in a long time.” He signaled the waitress. “Not that I haven’t thought about it,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  Embarrassed, she tried to save face. “I was just making sure. You know, had to check all my bases.”

  “Now maybe if it was your birthday, but that’s not until May, right?” He spoke with a sensuality she hadn’t heard before and uncrossed his arms. She delighted in the tingle running through her body. He remembered.

  “Yes, May. The twenty-fourth.” She felt giddy for a brief moment before the pressing urgency of the situation came into focus once more.

  A waitress approached their table. “Hi, may I take your order?”

  “Yes, uh, we’ll have coffee—two coffees and…” he said and looked questioningly at Lissa. “You sure that’s all you want, Liss?”

  She nodded.

  “You got it,” the waitress said, grabbing the menus from the table before leaving.

  He reached for her hand and pulled away the napkin she’d been fiddling with. “Hey, this thing really has you worried, huh?” His concerned eyes shone like crystal blue lake water in the afternoon sun.

  “It’s just so—so odd, is all. Plus that SUV stalker…and the guy at the window. I thought coming to Pinewood would be more…I don’t know… peaceful.” She shook her head in mock disgust. “Seems like it’s one thing after the other.”

  A cloud came over his face. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to look after you better.” He winked. “And, it seems to me like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

  In her heart of hearts, Lissa hoped he was talking about himself. She shrugged coyly. “Do I?”

  He reached for her hand. “Maybe more than one.”

  She melted at his touch.

  “One is all I need,” she said, staring into his eyes.

  As they sat holding each other’s hand, the strangeness of the pink rose still hovered like an unwelcome shadow in the back of her mind.

  ****

  “Sergeant Matthews speaking.”

  Lissa cowered at the gruff, intimidating voice at the other end of the telephone.

  “Hello—hello, Sergeant, this is Lissa Logan. You sent one of your officers to my house the other night?”

  “Yeah, break-in. What about it? Someone break in again?” His voice boomed with testosterone. The sharp sound of gravel in his sonorous voice shook her for a moment until she realized it was just his defense.

  “Yes, sir, well… I mean, no, no break-in—”

  “You find something missing, ma’am?”

  “Oh, no. That’s not why I’m calling, sir. I wanted to ask you something. Now, it’s not an emergency or anything, but something strange happened this morning.”

  “Go on,” he barked.

  “I just wanted you to know that I got flowers sometime after you left. Actually, just one flower. Someone left it on my back porch. And, well, other than being weird, I just wanted to report it. To get it on record.”

  “A flower?” His voice rose with perplexity as well as annoyance.

  What was it with men and flowers?

  “Okay, ma’am, I’ll make a note of it,” he replied, flatly.

  “But I also want to report something my landlady told me—about a Peeping Tom in the neighborhood.”

  “Peeping Tom? In the park? Already know about it,” he declared, gruffly.

  “You do? Oh, good. So someone has reported it?”

  “It’s been checked
out. Didn’t find anything.”

  “Oh, okay, sir. Just wanted you to be aware of it. Thanks.”

  Lissa hung up the phone and stared at the flower, wondering whether to put it in water or throw it out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Calm down, honey. What happened?” She swept the hair away from Lacy’s eyes and held her by the shoulders.

  “This girl,” she panted. “I was trying to pass and she—”

  “Take a breath, Lace.” Lissa studied her daughter for a moment. She seemed all right, except for the hyperventilation. She quickly went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the drain rack, and filled it with water from the tap. “Here,” she said, handing the glass to Lacy. “Drink some water.”

  “This girl stopped me,” Lacy said, taking the glass in both hands before chugging a gulp, “on the way home.”

  “Who was she?” Lissa’s voice rose with concern.

  Lacy, still panting, shook her head. “She had long dark hair and a red sweater…bigger than me. There was another girl there with blonde hair. I don’t know them.”

  “Them? There was more than one girl?”

  “Two.” She took another gulp. “I think they’re older.”

  “Just two girls?”

  She nodded. “And Tommy’s brother.”

  “Tommy?”

  “You know him.”

  “The boy with the treasure?”

  “Uh, huh. She also said something about our family.”

  “Oh?” Her curiosity rose. “What did she say?”

  “She said we were troublemakers.” She took another gulp.

  “How does she know us?” Lissa asked, pointedly. She rested her hand on Lacy’s shoulder for emphasis.

  Lacy shrugged. “I don’t remember,” she said, before slurping down the rest of the liquid. “But she doesn’t like us much.”

  Lissa didn’t have a clue what the girl could have been talking about. What trouble could I have caused? Unless the girl meant Daddy? His only claim-to-fame in town was the Hellinger case. Was this related somehow?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hey, girl, it’s been a while.”

  “Robin, I was just thinking about you. Glad you called.” Lissa put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, shut the door, and turned the dial on.

  “Just wanted to check in.”

  “We’re doing okay. And you?”

  “Doing fine, thanks.”

  She moved to the living room and lay down on the sofa, glad to be off her feet.

  “Are you still seeing Brian?” Robin drawled.

  Just hearing his name made her into putty.

  “Yeeesss,” Lissa replied, giving the word two syllables.

  “Is someone in love?” she asked with a smile in her voice.

  “We’ll see,” Lissa replied cagily. “I don’t kiss and tell, ha ha.”

  “Oh, girrrrl, I hope so. It’s been a whole summer and now we’re into fall…sounds good from this end.”

  “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. All I can do is pray and wait.”

  “Yep, you got that right,” Robin said. “So what else is going on?”

  “Oh, not much. Lacy’s invited to a party. Her first social affair. A girl from school invited her—Becca Robson, her current BFF.”

  “Now aren’t we Logan girls running in prime social circles these days.” Robin’s voice lilted with light sarcasm.

  “Why, yes, we are,” she replied with a mock emphasis. “She’ll be going as a ghost. I tried to talk her into being a head on a platter but—”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A head—on a platter,” Lissa explained, describing the do-it-yourself Halloween idea she once saw on an early morning kid’s TV show where the costume featured a mock serving platter on a cardboard table designed to be worn on the shoulders.

  Earlier that morning when describing the costume to Lacy, the child curled her nose. “Yuck. No way, Mom.”

  To that, Lissa asked, “So what do you want to be for Halloween?”

  Lacy pushed a breath out of her mouth. “I don’t know.

  “What about a clown?”

  Lacy shook her head.

  “A hobo?”

  “Nope.”

  Lissa rummaged in her bureau drawer and found an old black scarf that once belonged to her mother. “I know you don’t want to be a witch.” She put it back and continued searching for something appropriate. “So what if you just went without a costume?”

  “Mom, the invitation says we’re supposed to wear costumes.”

  Later, Lissa found an old white bed sheet, took a pair of scissors and a black marker, and went to work. Voila, a ghost costume. Without spending a dime. She hated everything about Halloween. She thought back to when the day used to be fun, but by age ten, the novelty had worn off. Lissa’s phone indicated an incoming call. “Oh, Robin, it’s Brian calling,” she said, anxious with delight. “Talk later.” She hung up and picked up his call. “Hi,” she said warmly.

  “Hi.” His voice sounded sweet but leaden.

  “Aw, you sound down, Bri,” she said in a concerned tone.

  “Naw, I’m fine.”

  “You sure?” she questioned, sympathetically.

  He paused. “Actually, yeah, I am pretty down. Can you meet me somewhere?”

  “Of course,” she said, delighted at the invitation. “Our usual place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  ****

  Lissa stepped into the local café; the warm interior held a rich, espresso aroma. Brian sat in the same booth they normally shared. The diffused light from the glazed window cast his face in a warm glow, though after seeing his despondent expression, she wondered what was up. Was he breaking off their relationship that was just getting started? Did he have cold feet? A ripple of anxiety coursed through her loins.

  “Hi,” she said, sliding into the booth across from him. His expression opened up as she approached, giving her relief that this was not a verbal “Dear John” letter. “What’s up, Bri? You sounded so sad on the phone.”

  She wanted to reach across the table and pull his thoughts out of his head. There was an air of mystery about him; there always had been: reserved, detached, unreadable. Yet she’d seen his warm side. He didn’t show it often, but it was definitely there. Others she’d dated in the past had worn their hearts on their sleeves. Nothing turned her off faster than knowing a man’s intentions immediately. Brian stored his in a vault—but kept the key handy.

  His dour expression slowly softened. “I ordered your usual,” he said.

  “Chai tea latte with extra cream?” She smiled, happy he remembered how she liked her tea.

  He nodded.

  The waitress approached. “Chai latte,” she chirped, “with extra cream?” She flashed a polite smile as she placed the tea on the table.

  “Thank you,” Lissa said, eagerly placing her palms around the steaming hot mug to warm her frozen hands. As she held the mug, she hoped he’d soon break the ice on what was on his mind. The latte would be so much sweeter if she could only relax. “Are you okay?” she asked, tentatively.

  “Actually, I’m feeling a bit relieved.” He lent a quick, taut grin.

  Puzzled, she took a sip, careful not to burn her tongue.

  He smoothed down the back of his neck with his hand and rubbed his temple. “I’ve been tired of swimming upstream.”

  Okay, he keeps talking in riddles. Maybe it’s his way of delaying what he wants to say.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” She pressed the mug to her lips to warm them.

  He held his hands together on the table and looked down. “There’s only one thing that can come after a salmon swims upstream.”

  Fish? She pictured the silver-orange sleekness of migrating river salmon sluicing through the deep currents of cold water. After they spawn, they die. The thought hit her. Was something in his life about to die? Was this his clever wa
y… using imagery to poetically dump me? Her heart sank.

  The hot cup had turned warm and, in a few minutes, her tea would be cold. She held onto the mug to sustain the fading traces of warmth between her fingers as much as she needed to hold her own heart together from what Brian was about to unleash.

  “I’ve asked Angie for a divorce.”

  His words made a beeline for her heart. The healing balm already at work. The tension in her abdomen fell away in a silent whoosh. Her heart soared and her imagination flew.

  Lissa Pickering… Mrs. Brian Pickering… the names lit like a neon sign in her head before she had to tell herself to stop. She tried to remove herself from the thoughts peppering her head. Her supposing he’d ask her to marry him was premature, but it didn’t stop her from thinking them. One part of her head said, “Why wouldn’t he? Soon he’d be a free man,” and the other part said, “Slow down, woman. Put the brakes on.”

  “Oh, Brian,” she finally said once she got her mind in order. “The pain it must be causing you and your family. I’m sure it’s unsettling to say the least.”

  He leaned forward and shrugged. “I think I’ll be all right,” he said, settling his eyes on hers. “In due time.”

  A moment later, something shifted under the table. The touch of his legs gently wrapping around hers. The heat was unmistakable.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the still of the early evening, some trick-or-treaters made their way down the sidewalk. Among them, a little girl in a princess costume alongside an adult whom she recognized as Mike Hempstead. He waved from the sidewalk.

  “Hi, Mike,” she called from the open car window. “Nice weather for the kids.”

  “Sure is,” he called back.

  She slowed the car. “Hi, there,” Lissa said to Mike’s little girl who couldn’t have been more than three. “I like your costume.”

  The cute child held up her bag. “My candy.”

  “Yes, I see. Don’t eat it until Daddy and Mommy check it out first.” He signaled his agreement by giving her the thumbs up sign as she waved and pulled away.

  Traveling the main artery out of town, her mind flew to images of pins and razor blades and other sordid things people did to inflict harm on innocent children. Lissa wouldn’t let Lacy eat anything that didn’t go by her inspection first or accept anything from neighbors she didn’t know. Her thoughts fell back to Mike, who outwardly seemed like a decent neighbor. His presence spooked her once when he was working outside her bathroom window, and she couldn’t help thinking that anyone could pose as a repair man—the moniker just a convenient cover. How many would-be-ne’er-do-wells pose as general contractors or maintenance repair guys? Later, she realized it was just her own paranoia talking. Mike was a good guy and, apparently, an attentive, hands-on father as well. She turned on the radio, hoping to be distracted from her vivid imagination.