Susannah's Garden

by Debbie Macomber

  Sobbing openly now, Vivian began to rock back and forth but found little solace. She closed her eyes again, and it was then that she heard a single word float past her, soft as a whisper.

  One word that would change her world. One word that told her what she had to do. One word from George. She’d asked and he’d answered.

  George told her to go.

  CHAPTER 8

  Chrissie Nelson stared at the silent telephone and cursed it for the umpteenth time that day. No one had phoned, not even her best friends. Everyone was either vacationing or working, and she was trapped at home and she hated it.

  Getting a job, any job now, was pointless and nearly impossible. She couldn’t even work at her father’s dental office, not that she really wanted to. She’d done that the previous summer and it hadn’t gone well. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as reliable as he thought she should be; apparently he was still annoyed about the days she’d disappeared after lunch, because he hadn’t offered her a part-time position this summer—not even as a last resort. Her job, he said, was cooking and cleaning, and he was supposedly paying her. He didn’t have enough money in his account to give her what she felt this was worth.

  Chrissie would much rather be with her grandmother. She’d always been close to her Grandma Vivian, and she hadn’t seen her since the funeral and everything had been so upsetting then. Grandma had been so brave when the family left. Chrissie remembered seeing tears running down her grandmother’s face as the family car pulled out of the driveway and then she’d started crying, too. It’d been so hard to leave her behind. Chrissie’s heart ached for her—and all at once she knew what she had to do. She had to go to her Grandma Vivian. That was where she wanted to be, where she needed to be. Somehow she’d find a way.

  Determined now, Chrissie reached for the phone and dialed her grandmother’s number in Colville. After four rings she assumed no one was home, but just as she began to hang up, her mother answered.

  “Hi, Mom, it’s Chrissie.” She forced a bright cheerful note into her voice.

  “Chrissie. You’re lucky to catch me. I was outside watering Grandma’s garden.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, wondering how to lead into the subject of joining her mother.

  Her mother seemed preoccupied. “Grandma and I just got back from visiting assisted-living places.”

  “Grandma went willingly?” So progress had been made.

  “Your grandmother was willing to listen to reason this morning.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Very good. This is difficult for her. I don’t know what made her change her mind but whatever it was, I’m grateful.”

  “Where’s Grandma now?” Chrissie asked.

  “She’s lying down at the moment, thinking everything over.”

  In other words, she was taking a nap.

  “I had a great idea I wanted to talk to you about, okay?” Chrissie hated sounding like a little kid afraid of being refused, but she sensed that her mother wasn’t going to like this idea.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Dad mentioned that you were planning to rent Grandma’s house or maybe sell it right away.”

  “Yes.” Her mother seemed reluctant. “It’s one of the nicer homes in town and I’m not sure it would be wise to bring in renters, especially since we won’t be able to keep an eye on the place.” She seemed to be thinking out loud, weighing her options.

  “Either way, you’re going to have to pack everything up, right?”

  “True.”

  “So you could use some help.”

  Her mother didn’t answer immediately, which probably meant she’d caught on to where Chrissie’s questions were leading. She might as well get directly to the point. “Can I come to Colville?” Her mother’s hesitation was long enough to raise Chrissie’s hackles.

  “You don’t want me there, do you?” she asked hotly.

  “That’s not it.”

  “I can help, you know.”

  “Yes…”

  “Then tell me why I can’t come. It’s boring around here and everyone I know either has a job or is on some fabulous vacation while I’m a prisoner in this house scrubbing toilets.” That wasn’t an exaggeration, either. “Don’t you think it’s time you hired a housekeeper?”

  “Your father did,” her mother reminded her in a mild voice. “You.”

  “Very funny,” Chrissie muttered. “Very funny.”

  “Your father needs you there.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Chrissie argued. “No one does. This summer is a complete waste. I want to be with you and Grandma.” Her throat started to tighten up and she made an effort to hide how miserable she was.

  “And do what?” her mother asked.

  Chrissie sighed. “I already told you. Help pack stuff and spend time with Grandma.”

  “But everything has to be sorted. I’ll have to decide what to keep, what to sell and what to give away. I don’t think my mother’s capable of doing any of that, so I’ll be the one making those decisions. I’ve got to get your grandmother moved, too.” Her mother sounded overwhelmed by it all.

  If that was the case, Chrissie couldn’t understand why she balked at her offer. “Well, then, I can be with you when you do it.”

  “This isn’t a vacation, Chrissie. This is hard work.”

  Sometimes her mother could insult her without realizing it. “I know that. I can help, Mom. What do you think—I’ll watch television all day? This is a difficult time for you and Grandma.”

  “It really is.” Her mother’s voice quavered a little. “I had no idea it would be so difficult.”

  “Moving Grandma?”

  “Yes…”

  “Then I can come?” The pleading tone was back, but Chrissie didn’t care. She felt it was her right to be with her grandmother.

  “Let me talk to your father first.”

  Chrissie clenched her teeth, not knowing what to expect from him. It would be just like her dad to insist she stay in Seattle. She couldn’t; she absolutely couldn’t do that. If she had to deal with her brother and father all summer, she’d go crazy. But that wasn’t even the issue. Her grandmother needed her and so did her mom, and she needed to be with them. No, the decision was made. Chrissie was going to Colville whether she had permission or not.

  CHAPTER 9

  The house was eerily quiet as Susannah settled in front of the television. After four very long days, the move was complete. Her mother was about to spend her first night at the assisted-living complex. This single day had felt like an entire month.

  The movers had arrived at eight that morning, eager to get the truck loaded. By the time everything had been set up in her tiny four-hundred-square-foot apartment, her mother was exhausted. So was Susannah.

  The staff at Altamira had been wonderful. The forms were all signed and delivered, financial arrangements made and Dr. Bethel had given his written instructions. Once her mother had agreed to the move, it was as if everything had fallen naturally into place. In fact, they were fortunate that there’d been a unit available. Another sign, in Susannah’s opinion, that this really was meant to be.

  It was dark now, after ten, and Susannah should be more than ready to collapse into bed, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. The house was a shambles. Drawers open, cupboards, too. The floors were littered with remnants of her mother’s life and, in many ways, Susannah’s own. Emotion was close to the surface and grew closer with every minute.

  Susannah realized she should phone her family and then go to bed, but sleep would be impossible. Nor did she feel like escaping into mindless television. She stood and wandered aimlessly from room to room, thinking she should sort through a few things, start packing what had been left. But her back hurt and her heart hurt and she’d never felt more alone.

  The whole situation was just so painful. Yes, she knew it was the right decision for all involved—but then why was she feeling this relentless guilt?

 
The phone rang and she glanced at it, not sure she was up to answering. Her father had believed caller ID was an unnecessary expense so she could only speculate who’d be phoning this late at night. It was probably her daughter, but Susannah didn’t have the energy to cope with more of Chrissie’s entreaties and complaints. Turning away, she decided not to answer. Then she changed her mind and impulsively grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello.” She kept her tone as level as possible.

  “Hi, it’s Carolyn. I’m sorry to call so late but—”

  “Carolyn.” Susannah didn’t bother to disguise her relief.

  “How’d the move go?”

  Susannah leaned against the kitchen wall and wrapped the long cord around her elbow. Her father hadn’t believed in cordless phones, either. “Pretty well—except that Mom hates it already. She put on a good front but I could see how unhappy she was.”

  “I tried phoning a couple of times, and I wondered when there wasn’t any answer.”

  “I stayed with Mom until she went to bed.” Susannah stared out the dark kitchen window as she tried to make sense of all the emotions churning inside her. “I couldn’t make myself leave. Mom seemed so small and broken—as if her life was over.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I was aware that the move would be difficult for her, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me.” She couldn’t restrain a low sob, and it embarrassed her. Susannah wasn’t the type of woman who gave in to tears easily and yet here she was, an emotional mess.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Carolyn asked.

  Susannah was grateful for her friend’s sympathy. “No…it’s just that I feel so awful about doing this to Mom, even though I know it was necessary.” She paused. “I don’t want to be the one making these decisions.”

  “I was on my own with my mother after Dad died,” Carolyn reminded her. “Trust me, I know how hard this is. I didn’t need to move Mom into a facility, thankfully, but sometimes I wonder if she might’ve done better with other women her age.” Abruptly changing the subject, she added, “The reason I phoned was to see if you could come for dinner one night next week. Thursday works best for everyone else.”

  “Everyone else?” Susannah repeated. “Who’s everyone?”

  “I ran into Sandy Giddings and she mentioned seeing you at Wal-Mart, so I invited her, along with Yvette Lawton and Lisa Mitchell. Is that okay?”

  “Of course!”

  Sandy, Lisa and Yvette had been Susannah’s best friends through high school. “I didn’t know you’d been friends with them, too.”

  “We’re acquaintances more than friends,” Carolyn explained, “but I want to connect with the community and this seemed a painless way to get reacquainted.”

  “It sounds great. Thanks for setting everything up.”

  “Girls’ night out,” Carolyn said.

  Susannah could use a night to relax with old friends. Although she’d lost touch with these women, she felt excited about seeing them again. Carolyn might need to reconnect with the community, but Susannah needed to connect with her past. That had become clear to her. Sandy, Yvette, Lisa and Carolyn were part of her personal history.

  She and Carolyn chatted a few minutes longer and afterward she felt much better. She sat in front of the television again, flicking through channels, but she still couldn’t concentrate. Then she went to bed, but it was a long time before she slept.

  Her dreams were filled with memories of her childhood, of her mother baking cookies and serving as her Camp Fire Leader. She dreamed of summer walks with her father, going for ice-cream cones—always strawberry for her, vanilla for him. As a judge, he was a community leader and to her, he’d seemed the most wonderful man in the world. Her opinion had changed when she entered high school and she’d discovered how dictatorial and unreasonable he was. She dreamed of the yearly Easter egg hunts she’d participated in as a kid and swimming in the local pool with her friends.

  The next morning, the sun shining in her bedroom window woke Susannah. It was a pleasant way to wake up, especially when the clear, bright sunshine was accompanied by the sound of birdsong. She showered and dressed, and made a pot of coffee, drinking her first cup outside. Before leaving to visit her mother, she watered the plants, lingering among the roses for a few minutes and marveling anew at her mother’s energy. Vivian might have let other things go, but she’d maintained her garden. Then she loaded the car with a few odds and ends for her mother’s new home and headed out.

  When she reached Elm Street, Susannah surprised herself by taking a left instead of a right and drove up the road that led to the cemetery. She hadn’t been to her father’s grave since the funeral. Why she felt the urge to go now, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it had to do with her dreams, with her need to revisit the past.

  She parked near the entrance—the only car there—and walked between the grave markers to where she’d stood almost seven months earlier. As she moved across the lawn to her father’s grave, she remembered his casket being lowered into the ground. The headstone was in place now, her mother’s name on the marble slab beside his, along with Vivian’s date of birth, followed by a blank space to note her mother’s death.

  Susannah stood, feeling stiff and uncomfortable, on the freshly watered lawn. “Hi, Dad,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “How’s it going?” She snickered at this weak attempt at conversation. From her early teenage years, she’d never really had much to say to him. It wasn’t any easier now that he was six feet under.

  “Mom says you’re the one who told her to go into assisted living.” Yesterday, her mother had made a point of letting Susannah know the reason for her sudden change of heart.

  Susannah slid her shoe over the grass, which was slick and moist beneath her feet. “I suppose I should thank you for that.”

  Biting her lower lip, she walked two grave markers away but didn’t read the names on them. She wanted to leave, to walk back to her car and drive off, but for some reason she couldn’t make herself do it.

  “You know, Dad, you weren’t the easiest man to live with. Mom went along with whatever you wanted, but not me. I know we would’ve had a better relationship if I’d given in to you, but…I couldn’t.”

  In many ways her father was a tough man, rigid and often uncompromising. He had to be, sitting on the bench, dealing with lawbreakers and…well, lowlifes. Not surprisingly, her father had become emotionally distant, more so after Doug’s death.

  As clichéd as it seemed, George Leary had favored his only son. After her brother died, it was as if the sun had permanently disappeared from her father’s world. Their relationship had been strained before her brother’s fatal car accident, but had deteriorated even further afterward. The truth was, her father hadn’t loved her as much as he had Doug.

  Susannah gasped at that realization, pain spiraling through her. She clenched her hands into tight fists. That was it, although she’d never acknowledged it before. Doug, his precious son, was dead and she’d been a damn poor replacement.

  With Doug’s death, this branch of the Leary family had died out. Her uncle Henry had never married; Uncle Steve died on D-Day. That left only Doug to carry on the family name and he was gone. Gone, too, were her father’s dreams.

  She was fifty years old and it had taken her this long to figure it out. In one of their recent conversations, Joe had suggested Susannah make an appointment with a counselor to help her deal with her father’s death. At the time she’d dismissed the suggestion. Today, however, she was beginning to think there might be some benefit to discussing her feelings.

  “When you died, I thought that if we’d had a chance to talk…to sort everything out,” Susannah whispered, “it would’ve been better for us both. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was and now…now I wonder if it would’ve done any good. You were so set in your ways, so self-righteous.”

  Tears streaked her cheeks and she brushed them aside, angry that her father still had the power to reduce her to this. “I wanted to talk to yo
u, but I know that was impossible.”

  She circled his grave site, years of anger and frustration building to a fever pitch. “Not once in all the time since I returned from Paris did we have a decent conversation. Didn’t that bother you? I was your only surviving child. Didn’t you want to know me?”

  Standing over the grave, she closed her eyes and waited for the ache in her heart to abate. “I wonder if you noticed how rarely Joe and I came to Colville. Did you ever wonder why? No, I don’t suppose you did.”

  Susannah had remained dry-eyed during her father’s funeral. Joe claimed her father had loved her deeply, but Susannah believed otherwise. She’d stayed strong for her mother, or so she’d told herself. Now she realized she hadn’t allowed herself to grieve, not for the father he’d become or the father he could have been—the father she remembered from early childhood. She couldn’t break down for fear that once she started, she might not be able to stop.

  As Susannah walked to her car, she was emotionally spent. She battled sorrow and tears, and regretted coming here.

  When she reached her parked car, she leaned against the passenger door, trying to compose herself before going to visit her mother. She wasn’t up to it this morning. Instead she’d tackle the house, packing what she could, and making some of the decisions that had to be made.

  As she got into the car, it occurred to Susannah that she hadn’t visited Doug’s grave in years. She almost began to cry again as she thought about her brother, who was just a week over twenty-one when he died.

  On the way to the cemetery, Susannah had driven around the very curve where his car had gone off the road. From what she’d subsequently learned, he’d been doing in excess of seventy miles an hour when he hit the guardrail and slammed into a tree. Her one wish was that he hadn’t suffered. She couldn’t bear it if he had.

  Susannah needed a few minutes to locate her brother’s grave. She wondered again why her father hadn’t been buried next to his son. Instead, Doug was five rows up. Presumably all the grave sites close by had been sold. That must have frustrated her father.