Menagerie

by Kristy Tate

  Lizbet noted the indecision battling in Josie’s expression. “Well...”

  “You know, it’s your home, too,” Elizabeth said, smiling as if an idea light bulb had suddenly been illuminated over her head.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the ranch,” Josie said, but her voice had lost her typical enthusiasm and confidence.

  Elizabeth batted her eyelashes. “What about the ranch?”

  “Oh, never mind, maybe this isn’t the best time, but I do think you should be open to...” Her voice faltered. “So you wouldn’t mind if I came and stayed with you just until I can be sure the exterminator is successful?” Her tone turned steely. “I had to hire him myself, because the manager refused.”

  Josie fell quiet when Pierre returned with a tray of food. She waited until he was gone to continue. “They can’t come out until next week. Next week!” She pierced a piece of her crepe with her fork and shook it at her mother. “I can’t stay there. I won’t stay there!”

  Elizabeth patted Josie’s knee. “Of course not, darling. You know you always l have a home on the ranch.”

  Josie sniffed, nibbled on her lunch, and tried to look brave while Elizabeth prattled on about the farm, her garden, and the horses who were expecting to foal.

  Lizbet smiled as she ate her excellent lunch of quiche Lorraine. She knew everything had gone exactly as she had planned when Josie muttered, “This is not how I thought this lunch would go.”

  “What do you mean, sweetie?” Elizabeth asked. “It was a lovely lunch.”

  Josie sighed, looked defeated, and took a long swallow of wine.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "There is no fundamental difference between man and the higher animals in their mental faculties... The lower animals, like man, manifestly feel pleasure and pain, happiness, and misery."

  —Charles Darwin

  From Declan’s Research

  An hour or so later, Lizbet sat beside her comatose mother, held her hand, and willed her to wake. “I don’t think I can do this anymore without you,” she said.

  Her mother didn’t move. Her whispered breath was nearly inaudible, her posture completely relaxed. The only thing that let Lizbet know her mother was alive was the bedside monitor’s beeping lights and steady hum. But Lizbet had to talk to someone.

  “Elizabeth wants me to go to school, but even the community college is expensive. Matías and Maria have walked me through the forms for financial aid, but it’s all so foreign.” Anger simmered inside Lizbet, but she pushed it down. Her mother must have had her reasons for keeping them isolated on Blackstone Island. Being angry with her mom wouldn’t help anyone.

  “I just can’t help wondering if Josie needs money. I mean, why else would she want to sell her mother’s ranch?” Lizbet leaned her head against the cold, smooth wall. On the island, everyday had a purpose. They had to tend the garden, or they wouldn’t eat. They had to gather wood, or they would be cold. Life had been simpler and yet, harder. And yes, there were still chores to do at Elizabeth’s ranch, but Elizabeth seemed much more concerned with Lizbet’s schooling, and Lizbet had yet to discover who she really was and what she wanted to do.

  Declan wanted to go to medical school. If the community college was expensive, a medical school had to be much more. Her thoughts went back to her mother’s use of medicinal herbs. Maybe she could study plants. Or animals. She loved them both and felt more like herself when she was around them.

  She glanced at the tubes hooked up to her mom. What ran through them? What were they feeding her? Her mom looked even more pale than usual. Her lips nearly gray. Her eyelids were so thin that Lizbet could see blue veins running through them.

  Something tickled in the back of her mind. She longed for her mom’s herb garden. She could see the plant bundles drying on the rack hanging in the kitchen. She could smell them. But for them to be of any use at all, she needed her mom to taste and touch them. They were there and she was here. Her thoughts skipped to Leonard. He could possibly take her, but since she and her mom were no longer living on Blackstone, he didn’t have a need to go there. She knew how long his route took and she couldn’t ask him to take her and lengthen it.

  Declan...As much as she wanted to ask him, she couldn’t. As long as she suspected they were siblings, she had to stay away from him. She didn’t trust herself not to. She knew that brothers and sisters shouldn’t feel the way she felt about him, but she’d spent so long being sure that John Lamb was her dad... And if he wasn’t, then who was? Even she knew enough about biology to understand that, as far as she knew, there had only been one Immaculate Conception.

  Elizabeth bustled into the room, looking both harried and relieved. “It’s all settled. Josie will move in this evening after work.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Lizbet asked.

  Elizabeth blew out a sigh. “Yes. She didn’t once mention turning my home into a dude ranch, and it seems unlikely that she’ll wish to do so as long as she’s living there. But I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that Josie and I don’t have the best relationship. I love her dearly, but she hasn’t been easy to live with since the day she was born. Her dad was much better with her than me...” Her voice softened. “I wish he were here now.”

  “What happened to him?” Lizbet asked.

  Elizabeth settled into the chair on Rose’s opposite side. “Losing Daugherty killed him. He loved both of his girls, but he doted on Daugherty. And then one day, she was just gone. He was frantic.” She gazed at her daughter, her expression soft and full of longing. “I wish she knew how much we loved her, how desperately we searched for her.”

  “I wish I had known him,” Lizbet said.

  “He would have loved you,” Elizabeth said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “And you would have loved him, too.”

  Suddenly, Lizbet saw her mother as selfish and cruel, a thing she’d never imagined before.

  “The years stretched on. I gave up, but Eddie never did. If anything, he became more frantic. It wore him out.”

  Could the strain of her mom’s health wear out Elizabeth, too? Lizbet couldn’t let that happen. She thought of the St. John’s wort her mom had used to boost her energy, and all the other herbs.

  “Elizabeth, I’d like to go back to the island. There are some things there that I need.”

  “Well, I’ll call Declan again—”

  “No!”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Not Declan!”

  “Oh, now.” Elizabeth’s voice filled with disappointment. “I thought the two of you had hit it off.”

  “We did...I just...I can’t.” She stumbled for something to say, gave up, and just sighed.

  Elizabeth seemed to understand. She stretched her arm across the bed and grabbed Lizbet’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You have enough to worry about without adding boy problems to the mix.”

  “Exactly,” Lizbet breathed out, although, she knew that wasn’t exactly it. Maybe she could find the herbs somewhere, somehow.

  #

  The next day after the morning chores had been completed and she’d finished her study session with Matías, Lizbet compiled list of herbs from her mother’s favorite herbology book and begged a ride into town from Matías.

  After depositing her at Neal’s Nursery, Matías stuck his head out the window. “Are you sure you don’t want me to swing by and pick you up?”

  Lizbet shook her head and tried not to worry about the storm clouds gathering over the hills. “I really don’t know how long I’ll be, and I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “It wouldn’t be a problem.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I don’t mind waiting for you.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, lacing her voice with what she hoped sounded like resolve, and turned her back on him. Her boots scrunched across the gravel parking lot, announcing her arrival to a small gathering of robins on a split-rail fence.

  Lizbet glanced around, making sure
they were alone before she addressed the birds. “Good afternoon. Are you familiar with this establishment?”

  “Of course!” The robins chattered and cocked their heads. A few puffed out their red breasts and strutted around.

  “Do you happen to know where to find the herbs?” Lizbet continued.

  “They’re this way,” a deep voice answered.

  Lizbet squealed in surprise and dropped her books when a middle-aged man stepped out from behind a honeysuckle covered lattice. Tall, gangly-thin, with hook-like nose, he looked like a friendly scarecrow.

  “Did I scare you?” he asked.

  Lizbet scrambled for an answer. She could say yes and admit to not seeing him, and he would wonder who she’d been speaking to. Or she could lie. Scooping up her books, she let her hair fall in front of her face, hoping to hide her confusion. Lizbet inspected her books for damage. They looked pretty much the same, despite their tumble on the gravel. They were old and beaten, and smelled of decay. When she did peek at the man, she caught his smile.

  He leaned against his shovel. “I talk to myself all the time. Well, in reality, I’m talking to my plants, but according to my wife, it amounts to pretty much the same thing.” His smile widened. “She said she won’t be concerned until the plants start talking back.”

  “And have they?” Lizbet asked.

  “I’ll never tell,” he said in a mock-serious tone.

  “I don’t blame you.” Lizbet didn’t have to hide her own seriousness.

  He nudged his head to the left. “Come on, I’ll show you my herbs.”

  She liked the way he said, my herbs, as if he had more than a commercial concern for them, as if he were invested in them emotionally as well.

  “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

  Lizbet read off her list.

  He lifted on eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re making a healing poultice.”

  “How did you know?” Lizbet asked.

  “I’m a botanist. Plants are my life.” He turned and headed down a path lined with trellises of English ivy.

  “So have you made a healing poultice before?” Lizbet followed him through the green tunnel.

  He nodded.

  “And did it work?” She wished she could see his face. As it was, all she could see was the broad set of his shoulders and the easy swing of his gait. This told her only that he considered himself an honest man.

  “I’ve done several. Sometimes it worked. Once it didn’t. But there’s no saying whether it was the work of the herb, the passing of time, or the inevitable.”

  They emerged from the tunnel to a sunny patch of concrete where hundreds of potted herbs lined backless wooden shelves. The sudden shift of light combined with the sharp, pungent odors of the plants made Lizbet feel faint for one brief but intense moment. She put her hand on her forehead, trying to gauge what was wrong with her.

  “You okay?” the man asked, squinting as if trying to read her.

  She nodded.

  He took her elbow and steered her toward a wooden bench. They sat side by side. “Sometimes when I’m alone here, I feel a spiritual energy from the plants.” He slid her a sideways glance. “Do you ever feel that way?”

  She blinked at him. “I do.”

  He nodded, as if he had known how she would answer his question. “The plants are so uncomplicated. They need only the basics of water, sun, and soil to grow and don’t ask for any more. They know that too much is too much. We humans can learn a lot from the plants.”

  “I love that,” Lizbet answered, thinking back to the simplicity of the island. Her heart ached for her mom, reminding her of her mission. Climbing to her feet, she inspected the herbs. It didn’t surprise her that all of Mr. Neal’s plants were healthy and vibrant.

  “Lizbet?”

  She whirled, immediately recognizing Declan’s voice. Sunlight kissed his hair. He wore the Neal’s Nursery apron, but on him, it looked very different. “Declan! Hi. You work here?”

  He grinned. “Nah, I’m all about fashion. Nothing says manly like an apron.”

  “It does look good on you.” She turned away from him, like she knew she had to do, even if she didn’t want to. Quickly, she filled a basket with the necessary herbs. Squaring her shoulders, she faced Mr. Neal. “I think I’m ready to check out.”

  He winked at her. “I’ll let Declan take care of you.” He said this as if he were doing her a favor instead of making things more complicated.

  With her lips pressed into a straight line, she followed Declan down a sawdust-strewn path to the checkout counter. Memories of their few kisses tingled in the back of her mind. She wanted to dismiss them, but she couldn’t. Part of her knew that kissing her brother shouldn’t have felt so good, but what did she know? Declan was the only one she’d ever kissed. She wondered if she could kiss anyone else—just as an experiment—but she knew that wouldn’t be fair. She didn’t want to kiss anyone else, and besides it wouldn’t be kind to kiss someone else when the one person she wanted to kiss was...her brother. She told herself to stop thinking about kissing.

  No more kissing.

  Ever?

  “Is that all?” Declan asked.

  Lizbet blinked at him and realized that he’d already rung up all her purchases. Her herbs were lined up in a green cardboard box. “Yes. That’s all.” She hoped she sounded firm.

  Declan watched her with an expectant look in his eyes.

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze.

  His lips twitched. “This is where you pay Mr. Neal for his plants. If it were up to me, I’d give them to you. But Mr. Neal has very firm ideas about receiving payment. Something to do with feeding his family.”

  Heat flushed up Lizbet’s neck. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking...” Or, rather, she had been thinking about kissing...too much. That had to stop. Right now. To hide her blushing cheeks, she buried her head in her bag, taking much more time than she needed to pull out a twenty-dollar bill.

  Declan glanced out at the empty parking lot. “I get off in a few minutes. If you don’t mind waiting, I can drive you home.”

  “No!” Lizbet gathered up the box holding the herbs.

  “Are you sure? It looks like it might rain.”

  “I’m waterproof,” Lizbet said.

  “But your box isn’t.”

  “Well, that’s silly, isn’t it?” Lizbet’s voice came out harsher than she intended. “Why hand out boxes that will fall apart in the rain when you live in the Pacific Northwest?”

  “Most people just take them to their car—which is what you’d be doing if you let me drive you home.”

  Just then, lightning flashed, thunder cracked, and a few fat raindrops began to fall. Lizbet’s shoulders hunched. She knew she’d have to talk to Declan at some point. It might as well be now. “All right.”

  “Wow. You don’t have to sound so sad about it.”

  “It’s just...” She shot the sky another dark look, feeling betrayed by the weather. She started over. “There are things you don’t know about me.”

  “And there are things you don’t know about me.”

  She blew out a sigh.

  “Do you want to wait in the car, or in here?” He nodded at the bench by the front door.

  The stone bench was cold and hard. While she waited, she watched the rain and rehearsed what she could say to Declan. I think your dad is my father. Was she ready to share that information? She really felt like she had to talk to her mom first. How else could she know for sure? And if John Lamb was her dad, wouldn’t that be something she should tell him before telling Declan? Declan, if he was like most, wouldn’t want to hear about his dad having an affair with anyone other than his mom—even if his parents were divorced. And if she and Declan were about the same age, wouldn’t John have been married to Declan’s mom around the time when Lizbet had been conceived? She shuddered. Thinking about her mom and John Lamb in that way gave her the willies.

&n
bsp; A few minutes later, before she had found the right words, Declan showed up. “Ready?” he asked, holding open the door and letting the rain and a cold breeze blow into the room.

  He held a rain slicker over her head as they dashed through the parking lot to his Honda. After clicking the lock, he pulled the door open and waited for her to climb in and settle the box of herbs on her lap before slogging through the rain to the driver’s side.

  “Now, what is there about you that you think will scare me away?” he asked before putting the key in the ignition and turning on the engine.

  The air from the vents blew cold, making Lizbet shiver. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

  “Interesting...so there’s a secret.”

  Knowing she’d piqued his interest, she decided she shouldn’t have used that word. Maybe she shouldn’t use any words. “Can you just drive me home?” she asked in a small voice.

  He braced his hands on the steering wheel, but didn’t put the car in gear. “No, I want to know the secret.”

  She opened her mouth, but when she couldn’t find the right thing to say, she closed it again and fumbled for the door handle.

  Declan reached out and put a hand on her wrist. “I’ll drive you home. You don’t have to share your secret...or anything else, if you don’t want to.”

  She saw the hurt in his expression. “Thank you.”

  He pressed his lips together, put the car in reverse, and eased out of the parking lot.

  After a few minutes, the heater kicked in and the air turned warm but the icy silence left Lizbet cold. She wanted to say something, anything, that would soften the look on Declan’s face or loosen the tension between them, but she didn’t know how so she said nothing until they pulled up to the ranch. “I think, in time, you’ll see I’m right about this,” she said while still hoping she was wrong.

  #

  Declan slammed through the door. He didn’t mean to. He could blame the door quivering in its frame on the wind. It had helped. Sort of.

  His dad looked up from his computer, registered Declan’s expression, and returned to the NBA playoffs.