Susannah's Garden

by Debbie Macomber

  Susannah shook her head, dismissing the suggestion. Her relationship with her father had been difficult. Complicated. But she’d accepted that reality years ago. “This has nothing to do with him.”

  Joe looked as if he wanted to argue, but she didn’t let him. “Yes, his death was unexpected, but he was eighty-three and no one lives forever.” The truth of the matter was that while they weren’t completely estranged, they rarely spoke. That didn’t seem to bother him any. Over the years, Susannah had made occasional efforts to bridge the gap between them, but her father seemed incapable of deepening their relationship.

  Whenever she’d phoned or visited, Susannah talked to her mother. George Leary was a decent grandfather; she’d say that for him. Both Chrissie and Brian thought the world of her father. As for her—well, it was better to not think about the way he’d interfered with her life, especially during her teenage years. Yes, she was sorry he’d died, especially so suddenly, but she discounted the possibility that his death was the cause of this discontent she felt. If she was going to blame anyone, it would be Jake. But it wasn’t as though she could mention this to Joe, her husband, her wonderful husband. Hey, honey, I’ve been thinking about another man lately. That wouldn’t go over too well, no matter how understanding Joe was.

  Her husband continued to study her. “Even though you don’t agree,” he said slowly, “I suspect your father’s death had a strong impact on you. Don’t you remember what it was like when my parents died?”

  She did remember and was embarrassed to admit that she’d grieved for her father-in-law more than she had her own dad. When Joe’s mother died ten months later, they’d both been devastated. It had been a rough time for them as a family. Susannah had envied Joe’s close relationship with his parents when her own, particularly with her father, was so distant.

  “Of course it was a shock to lose my dad,” Susannah went on, “but I don’t think this mood—”

  “Depression,” Joe inserted. “Low-grade, garden variety depression.”

  “I am not depressed.” Even while she denied it, she knew Joe was right.

  Her husband raised his eyebrows. “If you aren’t depressed, then what is it?”

  Joe was a solid, strong, self-assured man. Honorable. After twenty-four years together they’d grown accustomed to each other, so alike that they often ordered the same thing from a menu, read the same books, voted for the same candidates. She didn’t understand how she could lie beside him in the same bed night after night and dream about another man. This wasn’t like her. Not once in her entire marriage had she even considered looking at another man.

  She’d be crazy to risk her marriage by searching for a high school fling. The episode with Jake was long over. She hadn’t seen or talked to him since she was seventeen, and that was…oh, more than thirty-three years ago now.

  Joe replaced his glasses after polishing the lenses on his shirt. “You’ve had a lot going on in the last six months. Your father’s death, your fiftieth birthday, a demanding year at work and everything else.”

  He wasn’t telling Susannah anything she didn’t know. Perhaps those were the reasons for this discontent, this need to find out about Jake, but she doubted it. Even gardening, her passion, didn’t soothe her—or distract her. While she was quick to deny that anything was wrong, Susannah felt certain it all went back to her high school boyfriend and the way their relationship had ended. What she needed was closure—that irritating, overused word. And yet nothing else quite explained it. Jake was an unfinished part of her life, a thread left hanging, a path not taken.

  In that sense, her father’s death had triggered her unease, her recurring memories of Jake, since George was the one responsible for breaking them up. As always, he’d been so sure he knew best. The problem was that he sat on his high and mighty judgment seat in court during the day and didn’t step down from it when he came home to his family at night.

  Susannah refused to dwell on thoughts of her father, refused to let herself nurture these negative feelings toward him. But tonight, for reasons she didn’t understand, her memories of Jake wouldn’t leave her alone.

  “It might be a good idea for you to spend a few weeks with your mother this summer. Perhaps then you’ll find some resolution concerning your father.”

  “Maybe,” Susannah agreed, although she didn’t really believe it. They’d already decided she should visit Vivian once the summer holidays started, to check up on her and assess the situation.

  The phone pealed in the distance, but neither Joe nor Susannah hurried to answer it. With a teenager in the house, there was no need.

  Brian stuck his head out his bedroom door and shouted her name at an ear-splitting decibel. “Mom!”

  Susannah wanted to ask him who it was, but he’d retreated into his bedroom so fast she didn’t have a chance. Walking over to the kitchen phone, she lifted the receiver and waited for him to hang up.

  “Hello.”

  “Susannah, is that you?”

  The female voice was familiar, but she couldn’t immediately place it.

  “It’s Martha West. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” Susannah tensed. Martha had been the family housekeeper for years. The only reason she’d be calling was to tell her something had happened to her mother. “Is everything all right with Mom?” The last time Martha phoned had been with the news that Susannah’s father had dropped dead of a heart attack.

  “She’s just fine,” Martha assured her. “I did want to talk to you, though, before you drove here. Vivian mentioned that you planned to visit soon and, well…” She hesitated. “There’s no easy way to say this.” Again she paused. “Susannah, your mother seems to think I’m…taking her things. I hope you know I’d never do anything like that. I swear I had nothing to do with those missing teaspoons.”

  “Teaspoons?”

  “Your mother accused me of taking four of her matching teaspoons when I was there to clean this afternoon.”

  “Martha, I know you’d never do anything like that.” The woman was completely trustworthy.

  “I would hope not,” she blurted. “And let me tell you that if I was going to steal, it wouldn’t be teaspoons.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Then she said I hid her purse. I searched for an hour and found it tucked behind the sofa cushions. When I showed it to her, she said I was the one who’d put it there.”

  Susannah groaned. “Oh, Martha, I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” the housekeeper said, sounding exasperated. “Nothing’s been the same since your father died. One day she’s her normal self and the next, well, I hardly know her anymore. She asked me why I’d take her things. I would never! You know that. Teaspoons? She believes I walked away with her teaspoons and God help me, even though I looked everywhere, I couldn’t find them. But I didn’t take them!”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. I’ll talk to her,” Susannah promised.

  “So she hasn’t said anything to you about me supposedly stealing her things?” Martha asked.

  “No.” This was a half truth. In their last conversation, her mother had said she wanted to have a talk about Martha once Susannah arrived. Susannah had assumed that the housekeeper was planning to retire. As it was, Martha cleaned the house only twice a week now. She was getting on in years, too.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Susannah said a second time—although she had no idea what she’d say.

  “Please do, and if you can’t convince her that I’m an honest and loyal employee then…then maybe I should look for work elsewhere.”

  “Don’t do that,” Susannah pleaded. “Give me a chance to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Good.” Martha seemed somewhat appeased.

  “I’ll be in touch when I get there,” Susannah said.

  After a few words of farewell, Martha ended the conversation and Susannah replaced the phone.

  “What was that all about?” Joe a
sked as he refolded the evening paper.

  Susannah sighed deeply and told him.

  “You did say your mother seems awfully forgetful these days.”

  Susannah nodded. “I talk to her almost daily, but there’s only so much information I can get over the phone.” She sighed again. “Mom keeps telling me the same things over and over, but I thought that was simply old age. Maybe it’s more than that.” Many of her friends faced similar concerns with their aging parents.

  “What about asking one of her friends?” Joe came into the kitchen and stood beside her. Gazing down at her, he clasped her shoulders, his eyes serious.

  She looked up at him with a resigned smile. “I’ll give Mrs. Henderson a call. She’s been Mom’s neighbor for years.”

  After finding the Hendersons’ phone number, Susannah reached for the phone again. When the initial greetings were dispensed with, she was quick to get to the reason for her call. “I’m worried about my mother, Mrs. Henderson. Have you talked to her lately?”

  “Oh, yes,” Rachel Henderson told her, “she’s often out puttering in her garden—not that she gets much done.”

  “How is she…mentally?” Susannah asked next.

  “Well, to be honest, she just hasn’t been herself since she lost George,” the neighbor said thoughtfully. “I can’t say exactly what’s going on…but I’m afraid something isn’t right with Vivian.”

  “How do you mean?” Susannah asked. Joe walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug while watching her.

  She knew. Deep down, Susannah had known for weeks that her mother was having problems. She’d sensed changes in Vivian even before her father’s death.

  “I realize you talk to your mother a lot and I don’t mean to be putting my nose in where it doesn’t belong. Al said I should mind my own business, but then this evening…”

  “What happened this evening?” Susannah asked, suddenly nervous.

  “I’m sure you’re aware that Vivian hasn’t adjusted well to losing your father.”

  “I know.” Her mother was often weepy and sad, talking endlessly about George and how desperately she missed him. Susannah had driven across the mountains to visit over spring break but had only been able to stay four days. Vivian had clung to her, pleaded with her to remain in Colville longer, but Susannah couldn’t. Driving there and back meant the better part of two days, and that left only one day to prepare for school.

  Susannah had tried to talk her mother into moving to Seattle, but Vivian had stubbornly refused to consider it. She didn’t want to leave Colville, where she’d been born and raised. Her surviving friends all lived in the small town sixty-three miles north of Spokane.

  “Something happened this evening?” Susannah repeated, wanting Rachel to get to the point.

  “I know this may shock you, but your mother asked me to help her find George.”

  “What?” Susannah’s eyes shot to Joe. “She thinks my dad’s alive?”

  “She claims she saw him.”

  “Oh, no,” Susannah muttered.

  “She was wandering down the street, looking confused. I got worried, so I went after her. Then she started talking all this nonsense about George—how he brought her home and then disappeared. When was the last time you saw her?”

  “March.” Susannah knew she needed to visit Colville more often, but she hadn’t been able to make it during the last few months. Between Brian’s sports, other commitments, including a teaching workshop, and social engagements, there hadn’t been a single free weekend. Guilt felt like a lead weight dragging her down. “I planned to drive over this weekend. School’s out for the summer and I’m going to spend a couple of weeks with Mom.”

  “That’s wise,” Mrs. Henderson said. “She’s lost weight, you know.”

  Her mother was barely a hundred and ten pounds when Susannah had seen her in March.

  “I don’t think she cooks anymore,” her neighbor went on.

  During her visit, Vivian had asked her to make dinner every night. Susannah hadn’t minded and the shelves certainly seemed to be well stocked. Although Susannah had noticed a number of gourmet items her mother had never purchased before. Like fancy mustards. And sun-dried tomatoes in pesto, which Susannah had used in a pasta sauce.

  “You mean she isn’t eating?” Susannah clarified.

  “Not much, as far as I can tell. I keep inviting her over for dinner, but she refuses every time. I’m not the only one she’s refused, either. She seems to be holed up in the house and barely comes out, except to work in her garden.”

  “But…why?” Her mother had always been social, enjoying the company of others, hosting parties for George and their friends.

  “You’ll have to ask her that.”

  “But on the phone she talks as if she sees you quite a bit,” Susannah said. It wasn’t like her mother to lie.

  “Oh, yes, we chat over the fence, but I swear…” Mrs. Henderson paused. “Sometimes I’m not sure your mother knows who I am.”

  “Oh, dear.” This was what Susannah feared most. Her mother was losing her memory, and it seemed due to more than the erosion of old age.

  “Another thing,” Mrs. Henderson said, hesitating again.

  “Go on,” Susannah urged.

  “The other day when I went to check on her, I found her sitting in the dark. Turns out she forgot to pay the electric bill. She felt embarrassed about it, and I don’t think she’d like me saying anything to you, but I felt you should know.”

  Susannah groaned inwardly. These were the very things she’d worried about. Bills unpaid, the stove left on, meals and appointments forgotten.

  “Not to worry,” Mrs. Henderson rushed to add. “I helped her get it straightened out and her lights are back on. Like I said, she told me you’d be visiting soon and I thought I’d talk to you then, but this business with her seeing George—now, that’s got me worried.”

  It worried Susannah, too. She wished Mrs. Henderson had contacted her earlier. “I tried to talk to Mom about moving into assisted living when I was there in the spring.”

  “Yes, she told me. It upset her something fierce that you were going to kick her out of her own house.”

  “She said that?” Susannah’s stomach tightened. She was hurt that her mother would even think such a thing, let alone voice it to a neighbor.

  “Yes, but quite honestly, Susannah, I don’t feel she should be on her own any longer.”

  Susannah should’ve insisted back in March, but she hadn’t felt she could take her mother out of her home so soon after a major loss. She’d had enough upheaval in her life. Evidently it’d been a mistake not to act sooner.

  Susannah ran one hand through the soft curls that had fallen onto her forehead.

  “It might be best if you came right away,” Mrs. Henderson suggested. “I would’ve phoned you myself, but Al said I should keep out of it. Seeing that you phoned me, well, I figured I’d better tell you what’s going on with your mother. I hope that’s okay?” she asked anxiously.

  “I’m grateful you told me,” Susannah said. “I’ll drive over as soon as I can make arrangements.”

  After a brief farewell, Susannah replaced the receiver. Joe leaned against the counter, still watching her, coffee mug in hand.

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than I thought,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “Apparently she’s wandering around the neighborhood looking for my father.”

  Joe released a low whistle. “You’re going over right away, then?” Originally Susannah had intended to wait for the weekend.

  “I guess that would be for the best.” Then, thinking out loud, she added, “I don’t have any choice but to put her in an assisted-living facility.”

  “I agree.”

  Susannah pinched the bridge of her nose, dreading the approaching confrontation. Her mother would fight her on this. She didn’t doubt that for a minute.

  “Do you want me to go with you? Perhaps the two of us will be able to talk some
sense into her.”

  Susannah shook her head.

  “You’re sure?” He frowned as though disappointed. “You were wonderful when my parents died, Suze. I want to be there for you.”

  For a moment Susannah was afraid she’d cry. “No…I need to do this on my own. I’ve decided,” she said, the idea taking shape in her mind as she spoke, “that I’ll stay in Colville for a while.” Although it was crazy to even consider the idea, she might be able to find out where Jake was living. She had to talk to him, had to find out what had happened and why. Susannah knew her father had something to do with the breakup; she just didn’t know the details. Maybe, once she learned the truth, she could put an end to this fantasizing about Jake.

  “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.”