by R. K. Ryals
“She’s beautiful,” I breathed.
“She’s happy,” Pops corrected me. “I’m not saying she wasn’t pretty. To me, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life, but her happiness had a lot to do with it. Happiness does that. It takes something simple and makes it extraordinary. The garden helped.”
“The garden?”
He took the picture away from me, perusing it. “Charlotte loved gardens. All gardens. I used to joke that she was obsessed with them. She used to read that book The Secret Garden to our children over and over again. Everyone should have something special, she’d say. Everyone should have a garden.”
“Some people don’t like to plant,” I pointed out.
“Yes,” he agreed, looking up at me, “but do you think she only meant gardens?”
No, I didn’t.
What are you trying to do, Mr. Lockston?
“Why did you show me this?” I asked aloud.
Carefully, he placed the photograph back where he’d gotten it from. “You remind me of her. The way you looked when you were gardening just now. The way you connect with it.”
“I just like flowers,” I argued.
He shook his head. “I think you may be more hardheaded than my grandson, Tansy.”
Footsteps sounded inside the house, and we glanced up just as Ivy Lockston swept into the room, a sundress covered in sunflowers swaying around her ankles. “Dad—” She looked up, caught sight of me, and frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had company. I was going to see if you minded much if I borrowed your car to go into town.”
“You remember Tansy Griffin, don’t you?” Pops asked.
Ivy grinned, the expression tight. “Eli’s girlfriend.”
“Friend,” I said, offering her my hand. Noticing the dirt, I dropped it again. “Sorry, I forgot. I’ve been doing some work outside.”
She waved off my words. “It’s fine, dear.” Her gaze swept over my head to Pops’ face. “The car, Daddy?”
He sighed. “To town and back.”
She clapped. “Oh, good! I found the cutest little coffee shop there the other day when Mandy and Lincoln were up from the coast, and I could use the caffeine.” She glanced at me. “Would you care to join me?”
I couldn’t help it. Every time I looked at the woman all I saw was a mother who’d forced medicine down her children’s throats. Maybe that was the problem with getting to know someone before you got to know their families—you saw them through their eyes, not your own.
“Thank you, but I better finish getting the mulch in the azalea beds. I’ll make a run to the garden center in town after that.”
“Can I bring you something back then?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Shrugging, she took the keys her father offered her and left, heeled sandals clicking on the wooden floors in the foyer.
“He’s told you then,” Pops said suddenly. “About his mother?”
My gaze swung to his face. “Yeah.”
Pops sighed, walked past me out of the room, and then paused so that I could precede him outside the house.
“She isn’t the monster you’re envisioning.” On the porch, Pops resumed his seat, rocking once more. “Eli’s mother suffers from many things. Bipolar disorder. Depression, but she also has something called Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It’s rare to get that diagnosis, especially in women, and there’s no medication to help it. There’s only medication to help her manage the bipolar issues, the depression, and anxiety, which she doesn’t like to take.”
“Narcissistic Personality Disorder?” I asked.
“It makes her act out in distressing ways. She comes off as conceited and superior. Often angry. She seems to have less regard for her family than they do for her. The only way to curb the disorder is to admit you have a problem and work on ways to manage it.”
“Is that what made her do it? Is that what made her drug her children?”
Pops winced. “He didn’t sugar coat it any, did he?” He rocked, the chair creaking, before he said, “No, that’s not what made her do it. I think she really thought she was helping her children … and herself. There’s no going back now and changing it. Ivy should have never had children, but she did, and I am grateful every day for my grandchildren.”
Climbing back down the stairs, I returned to the flower beds, to the remaining mulch, the list I’d laid on the porch rail in my hand once more. “Do you want Eli to forgive her? Is that why she’s here?”
Pops watched me. “No, I don’t want his forgiveness. I want him to let go of it, and I think maybe … just maybe, he’s starting to. My grandson has a strong head on his shoulders. He’s been angry, and rightly so. He’s got more than just his mother in his past. Out of all of my grandchildren, he’s lacked the most in the parental department. His father is in and out of prison and isn’t allowed contact with him at all.”
“But he had you,” I pointed out. “That’s something.”
“Yes, he had me, and his grandmother when she was alive. It doesn’t erase what his parents did, but I hope it helps. Eli is going to be great one day. He may not be rich or powerful, but he will be great. I’ve seen the way he is with his brother and with other people,” he nodded at me, “and he knows how to get to them. When he wants.”
Taking in a deep breath, I leveled a look at him. “That’s a far cry from the guy I met on a hospital roof, Mr. Lockston.”
“Pops,” he reminded me, winking, “and aren’t we all a far cry from what we seem at first glance? If he wasn’t good at getting under people’s skin, would you be here now?”
My gaze fell to my hands, to the mark on my palm. I had another one on my thigh, hidden from sight. “We’re never what we seem, and no, I guess I wouldn’t.”
Pops stood and swiped his brow. “It’s getting a little hot out for me, but you take your time. Take a walk in the orchard if you like. Pass me the list you’ve made, and I’ll call the garden center and place an order for pick up. I think I’m going to like watching this place come alive again. As for your pay, I’ll make sure you get that at the end of the week.”
I walked the list up to him, and then climbed back down. “My pay? You don’t have to pay me.”
He chuckled. “No worries, dear. You’ll get what you earn, and I’ve no doubt I’ll be quite pleased with it.”
He left, the screen door swinging shut behind him.
A car pulled down the drive, a red Porsche coming into view, and my stomach lurched only to fill with disappointment when Jonathan climbed out of it. Alone.
“Did I pass my mother coming in?” he asked, waving at me.
“She went to some,” I made air quotes, “cute little coffee shop in town.”
He shook his head. “For gossip, I’m sure.” Coming around his car, he perused the flower beds. Unlike Eli, who always seemed to dress in a hurry, all wrinkled and thrown together, Jonathan appeared fresh and organized. Swept back red hair, tucked in short-sleeve polo, a pair of ironed jeans, and tennis shoes that looked like they’d just come out of the box.
“This looks great,” Jonathan told me. “I think anyway.”
I smiled. “You don’t know much about gardening, do you?”
“Not a damn bit.”
My laugh filled the yard, and it felt good. “Want to ride into town with me? I need to pick up an order your grandfather is placing at the garden center. By the time we get there, it should be ready.”
Jonathan stared at me. “You want me to go with you? To a gardening center?”
“You have other plans?”
“In this town?” he asked, mock horror on his face. “I did meet a few guys the other day I’ve been hanging with while waiting on Eli, but otherwise, this place is dead. I mean, you’re obviously having to garden because of the lack of entertainment.”
“Something I happen to like to do,” I countered, amused.
Jonathan’s eyes crinkled. “After you, garden fairy. A gardening c
enter sounds more exciting than watching my grandfather drink tea.”
Walking past him to the van, I asked nonchalantly, “Where is Eli?”
Jonathan glanced at me, a knowing look in his eyes. “At the boxing club. He’s been there all day. He’s got a few hours yet before I’ve got to pick him up.”
Scooting into the driver’s seat, I turned to watch him climb in, grinning when his nose wrinkled. “It stinks, I know. Downside to a company vehicle for an animal clinic.” Starting the car, I backed up and turned into the drive. “Deena started at the boxing club today.”
“So I hear,” Jonathan replied. “I’ve got dibs on your sister.”
“Dibs?”
“On who’s going to survive.”
I snorted. “You have so little faith in your brother as a teacher?”
Jonathan leaned back in the seat, arms crossed. “I have plenty of faith in Eli, but your sister scares the shit out of me.”
“She’s fourteen.”
“I know! Imagine how she’s going to be in a few years.”
I laughed, sobering as silence fell between us.
“Do you like being here?” I asked. “In this town?”
He peered out the window. “I guess. I liked it more when I was a kid. Truth is, Pops is the only one who really comes here since Grams died … until now. He brought my sister here a few years back, but that’s it. There’s more to do at my dad’s. Less drama. But Dad’s been saving up forever to take his girlfriend to the Maldives for a few weeks, and so I’m here with Mom and Pops.”
“So,” I stared at the road, “that just opened up a bevy of questions. You and Eli have a sister?”
“Heather. My older sister, Eli’s younger. She was born two years after Eli. Mom’s second marriage. Heather has a place in California where she’s going to school. She comes home for holidays. That’s about it these days.”
“And you and your father? Where do y’all live?”
“In Washington, D.C. He teaches there.”
“Oh, wow. No wonder you’re bored here.”
Jonathan glanced at me and grinned. “Even people from here are bored. Now you. Ever lived anywhere other than Georgia?”
“Nope.” I shrugged. “You can ask me a hundred questions, and the only interesting thing you’re going to find out about me is that I have a tattoo on my ass.”
He blinked, glanced at the window, and then back at me. “Really?”
“No,” I answered, “but it made you think, right?”
It also distracted him from asking questions.
“You should prove it,” Jonathan pointed out. “You know, show me you’re lying?”
“Head out of the gutter, dude. You need to give up hanging with the guys in town and find the place with girls. I suggest any place with optimum tanning opportunities, pools, and places with good air conditioning at night.”
“I’ll have to ask around.”
We pulled up at the garden center, and I put the van in park before looking at him. “Thanks for helping.”
He reached for the door handle. “Hey, Tansy,” he said, capturing my gaze, “hang in there, okay?”
I stared at him. “What made you say that?”
“Because I think you’ve got a thing for my brother, and Eli takes patience.”
He was wrong. He had to be. I couldn’t have a thing for Eli.
Keep lying to yourself, Tansy. See how well that works out for you.
THIRTY
Eli
The moment I stepped into Rebel’s parking lot and saw Jonathan’s face, I knew there was trouble.
“We’ve got to stop at Mildred’s Bakery on the way home. Mom took Pops’ car into town earlier and still hasn’t made it back. When I ran by the coffee shop where she was supposed to be, they told me she went to Mildred’s.”
“Shit.” Pulling open the car door, I climbed inside. “Best case scenario, one of her new meds has given her a sweet tooth?”
“Most of the time she doesn’t take her meds,” Jonathan mumbled.
He pulled the car into the road.
“Why are we going after her? She’s been doing fine on her own for over a year.”
Jonathan glanced at me. “Because she’s been more depressed than usual, which means she’s apt to look for attention. Particularly male attention. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we need a bigger family.”
“If you’re talking about kids, Mom had her tubes tied after you, Jon.”
He blanched. “Gross.”
“You brought it up.”
He shrugged. “She’s also got me for the summer, and Pops doesn’t want her to screw that up.”
I snorted. “I think your dad knows how she is by now.”
“Okay, well maybe we just don’t want her to have a spell, you know? In public, especially.”
I had to quit fighting my brother. None of this was his fault, and I’d promised myself I was going to be less difficult.
Jonathan clicked on his blinker, squinted at the window, and then pulled off into a narrow parking lot. A tiny brick building, painted pink of all colors, was nestled between a laundromat and a flower shop.
“This is it?” I asked.
“Looks a little mundane for Mom, right?”
Pushing open the door, I climbed out and glanced into the car. “I’ve got this. You keep the car running.”
Jonathan eyed me, suspicious. “Maybe you should keep the car running. You’re just going to make it worse.”
“Trust me. I did this for years before I started pissing her off.”
He took his hands off of the steering wheel. “Fine, but stick with the pre-pissed off Eli and not the post-pissed off one, okay?”
Grinning, I slammed the door and sauntered toward the bakery.
Warm, sugar-scented air hit me as soon as I pulled open the door. Glassed-in shelves lined the interior. Donuts, cookies, cupcakes, and bonbons peeked at me from within. A ceiling fan whirred, wobbling with each circuit. A mix-matched assortment of tables were strewn over a scarred black and white tiled floor. If it weren’t for the floors, the bakery would have looked regrettably like treats swimming inside an inflated, pink antacid-filled stomach.
Sitting at one of the tables, her hand clasped inside of a middle-aged man’s palms was my mother.
“Catch you at a bad time?” I asked, approaching them slowly.
Mom looked up, her face beaming. “Eli! Where in earth did you come from?” She threw a smile at the man across from her. “Eli, this is Gary.”
I barely acknowledged the man. “Her son.”
Gary’s gaze shot up, his hands dropping away from Mom’s. “You didn’t say anything about children.”
From the oil-splattered button-up shirt he wore, his name stitched on the pocket, I took it he either worked with cars or the gas industry. Which would be admirable, except Mom liked her men a little rough around the edges. It didn’t matter what they did for a living, she always found the one most likely to succeed in prison. Hell, my father had started out in medicine. Jonathan’s dad, Dean, had been the only exception. Dean was decent, which meant Mom was in a slump when she found him. Or desperate.
Mom frowned. “Is that a problem?”
This promised to be an hour long debacle full of running mascara.
“Let me make this easy,” I said, taking Mom’s elbow gently in my hand. “She’s got three kids. Her youngest is sixteen. All different fathers. If you’re interested, I can write down a number where you can reach her. If not, then our best bet is to leave now.”
Gary pushed his chair back. “I’ve got to be at work early tomorrow,” he sputtered, edging away from the table.
Mom glared at me. “Was that necessary?”
The door to the bakery opened and closed, leaving us alone in the antacid whale, the fan above us in danger of falling with each rotation.
“How long have you known him?” I asked.
“Met him an hour ago,” she informed me. “Nice
guy, too. He was getting coffee, and I was chatting with someone who knew him when he came in.”
What I wanted to say was, “They’re all nice guys, Mom.”
What I really said was, “Only an hour? Good. Then we haven’t hit the commitment stage. Let’s go. I’m sure Pops is wondering where his car is.”
Mom looked like she was on the verge of arguing, glanced around the room, and then simply said, “Okay.”
It was too easy.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Her lips trembled, but she didn’t cry. “Of course, I am!” she snapped. “I was flirting a little. That’s all. I’m not looking for anything serious.”
Flirting sounded much better than admitting she was looking for a quick lay.
Tamping down all of the frustration I’d been feeling over the past year, I pulled Mom closer and nodded at the display cases. “Do you want anything?”
Two women watched us from behind the counter, half hidden by the back room, as if they couldn’t decide whether they should offer us help or leave us alone.
“We have amazing pecan pie,” one of the women, young with black hair and dark eyes, said carefully. She was pretty, her gaze taking me in, an interested smile on her face.
Mom shook her head, her eyes on me. “Why are you being so nice?” Suspicion clogged her voice.
I ushered her toward the door. “I’m trying, so don’t push it, okay?”
We broke out of the pink room into an afternoon full of deepening oranges and yellows.
A car door opened, and Jonathan stepped free of the Porsche. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Jon,” Mom assured impatiently. “I just lost track of time. Are you boys hungry? Do you want to go for food?”
Jon and I stared at each other over Mom’s head.
“Maybe we should just get something to go,” I suggested. “It’s been a long day.”