by Patti Berg
She nodded. “I wonder what it’s praying for.”
“I suppose if I were a praying mantis,” Cesar said, “I’d ask for lots of tasty insects to cross my path, especially the ones that are just the right size to eat.”
Izzy turned her head away from the mantis and looked up at her grandfather, a questioning frown on her face. “Do you ever pray, Tito? You know, not like when we all say grace before we eat, but when you go to bed at night?”
Where had that question come from? Had she asked because Cesar didn’t go to church with them? He did bow his head at the dinner table and he always joined in when they said amen out loud. But did he pray when he was alone, or when he went to bed?
He felt God had deserted him when his mother was dying from cancer; that He’d ignored Cesar’s prayers. He said he couldn’t believe in a God who’d leave a young boy motherless, especially a kid who didn’t have a father. But was his faith stronger than he let on?
Now, with Izzy asking that question, Cesar looked away, at the pumpkin vines spiraling around three sides of the playhouse. He was uncomfortable; maybe he didn’t know how to answer.
“Of course your grandfather prays,” Elena said, coming to his rescue, hoping that her response was true.
“Do you, Grandpa?” Izzy asked, not wanting to let the subject go. “You don’t fold your hands when we say grace. I’ve peeked at you at dinnertime and you don’t even close your eyes. And you don’t go to church, either.”
“You don’t have to fold your hands to pray to God. He hears you always, no matter what you’re doing when you talk with Him,” Elena explained. “You don’t even have to go to church.”
“But I like going to church, especially Sunday school,” Izzy said. “You’d like it too, Tito.”
Izzy’s head jerked away from her grandfather when the rumble of Rafael’s van sounded in the driveway. “Daddy’s home!”
Izzy ran to the edge of the lawn, knowing to stay away from the driveway. As Cesar and Elena followed, he looked at Elena. “In case you’re wondering, I suppose I do pray at times. And for all the good it’ll do, I’ve prayed a lot this week.” Cesar kissed her quickly. “Why don’t we just leave it at that?”
As soon as the van came to a halt and Rafael opened the driver’s door, Isabel ran to her dad. He swung her up in his arms, kissed her forehead and cheeks. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt combination. Today he was wearing a pair of navy slacks with a razor-sharp crease, a long-sleeved, pale blue shirt, and one of Cesar’s silk ties. He looked just like his dad did years and years ago.
Sarah circled around the van, and she too kissed Izzy who had a wide smile on her face.
Obviously something good had happened earlier.
“Not that there was ever any doubt, but I aced the polygraph test,” Rafael said, dropping down on one of the black wrought iron benches that they’d soon be storing in the garage, getting them out of the winter weather. Sarah sat right next to him, her arm linked through his, and Izzy snuggled between them. The little girl had to be in heaven, seeing her mom and dad together—almost all of the time lately, or so it seemed to Elena.
Cesar’s cell phone rang and Elena hoped and prayed he wasn’t getting called out on a case. She wanted him home with her that night. But he couldn’t ignore the ringing.
His face looked sober as he listened to the person on the other end; but Izzy, Rafael, and Sarah didn’t seem to notice. They were talking about going to the pumpkin patch tomorrow, about getting Izzy’s face painted with butterflies and bluebirds, and—
Cesar snapped the telephone closed.
“There’s not going to be a pumpkin patch tomorrow.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Scott Landscaping is on fire.”
“You’re sure you have the tickets?” James asked, when he and Fern were about an hour outside Deerford, stuck in Friday afternoon traffic with countless other people, honking and stomping on brakes and making a mess out of the drive into the city. There was no telling what the traffic would be like when they got close to the Bulls’ arena.
“I’ve checked twice already.” Fern laughed. “Would you really like me to check again?”
“Nah, I suppose not.” He reached across the console and held her hand, catching a quick glimpse of his wife, at the natural color in her cheeks and the glint in her eyes. “You look awfully pretty tonight. I know men aren’t supposed to notice these things, but is that sweater new?”
Fern nodded. “I went out with Elena and she helped me pick it out.”
“Did you ask her if she was okay? If she’d been sick?”
Fern hesitated, staring out the front window instead of looking him in the eye. That in itself was a pretty definitive answer. There had to be something wrong with Elena, something she didn’t want her friends to know, and Fern had been sworn to secrecy.
At long last, Fern answered his question. “She’s been a little under the weather, a little stressed too, but that’s it.”
A likely story. Still, he wouldn’t press the issue. That wouldn’t be fair to Fern; and if Elena wanted to keep something from him, well, he guessed she had a right to keep her health a secret.
Besides, this was their night; their weekend. It was all about Fern and James and a little romance. Nothing else was going to get in the way.
“I really had a great time with Elena, and we did talk about something besides her health and my wardrobe. Something I’ve been thinking about most of the day.”
Fern’s statement piqued his curiosity. “Which is?”
“Well,” she began, pausing as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him, but then she continued. “For nearly two weeks now I’ve tried to think of something to do to occupy my time. You don’t want me to go back to work, not yet anyway, and I’m okay with that…I suppose. But I need something to do, something besides volunteering for this cause or that cause.”
James kept his eyes on the heavy traffic, which was more stop than go now. He wanted to turn on the radio, to see if there was an accident up ahead, but he didn’t want to interrupt Fern or dampen her excitement.
“Sounds like you’ve figured out what you want to do.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see her nod. “I think I’m going to start a Deerford MS support group. I checked out some books at the library today, when I wasn’t running around with my mom getting things ready for Paint the Town Purple. It’s amazing all the information you can find about starting specialized groups. Elena’s going to help. And don’t go thinking this was her idea, since she’s always coming up with big plans,” she fibbed. “It was mine. Totally and completely.” She twisted around in the seat, the spark in her eyes even brighter. “What do you think?”
What he thought, which was he didn’t want her to overdo it, and what he said with a smile were two different things. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course. I’m behind you a hundred and fifty percent, if not more.”
James slammed on the brakes after going twenty feet. “Not that I don’t want to talk about your support group, but could you turn on the radio and see if you can find out what’s causing all this traffic?”
Fern reached for the radio and tuned in an all-news station. “That might be a Princeton station, not Chicago.”
“Keep it there for a second. They might give traffic reports for the Chicago area.”
Fern turned the sound up a notch and leaned back in her seat. “I hope we’re not late for the game. I know how much you’re looking forward to it, and I want to get a hotdog and a big soda and …”
He chuckled. “I’m thinking two hotdogs, a pretzel, and all the things we haven’t indulged in—”
“What was that?” Fern interrupted his comments and even his thoughts. She was frowning deeply and turning the radio up even louder.
“What was what?”
“Listen.”
“Traffic is advised to st
ay away from the corner of Chadwick and Ross due to a fire at Scott Landscaping. Three engines from Deerford are on the scene. We’ll update you as soon as we have more information.”
Fern angled her head toward him. Her excitement had turned to fear. “He did say Scott’s Landscaping, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” James felt sick, not just his stomach but also his heart. “The pumpkin patch is supposed to open tomorrow. It’s something Anabelle’s been talking about all week.”
“And the maze.” Fern’s voice was suddenly raw with emotion.
James jerked the steering wheel to the right, pulling out of traffic, taking the off-ramp they’d just about passed. “We’re going home.”
“But your game—”
“There’s no way I could cheer on the Bulls, not when I know something’s going on at home, something that’s probably going to tear Anabelle apart. I just wish—oh, hon, I wish I wasn’t ruining your weekend.”
Fern rested her hand on his thigh. “I’d rather be in Deerford too. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have something you love go up in flames. It was bad enough when we had to move because of the mold…but a fire.” She sighed heavily. “We might not be able to do anything tonight, but we can help clean up tomorrow. And we can offer them support. And pray. God knows our friends have done that often enough for us.”
Candace threw a load of jeans into the washer, a chore she usually saved for the weekend, but they were heading off toward Chicago tomorrow for a day of thrift store shopping. Brooke, all out-of-sorts teenager today, wasn’t the least bit thrilled about rummaging through someone’s discarded junk. Howie wanted to skip the thrift stores and go all the way to Chicago so they could visit the Field Museum and see Sue the T. rex and, as he so succinctly put it, “buy more Tyrannosaurus rex souvenirs to go with the ones in my bedroom.”
Candace had half a mind to leave them at home and make it a date with her husband instead. All she and Heath had wanted was a family day; now it appeared that every moment of tomorrow had the potential to be sheer misery for everyone.
Maybe they should just call the whole thing off.
“Hey there.”
Turning, she stood on tiptoes to give Heath a kiss and saw smudges on his face. She smelled smoke. She suddenly forgot all about fussy kids and thrift stores. “Please don’t tell me there was a fire at the hospital. You’re not hurt, are you?”
Heath shook his head. “I’m fine. Scott Landscaping isn’t.”
“Oh no. Please tell me no one was hurt.”
“No one was hurt, but I saw Anabelle running out of the hospital stairwell about three thirty, and she was so shaken up when she told me about the fire that I left work early and took her to the nursery.”
Candace slipped her arms around her husband. She didn’t care if he smelled like smoke or if he got soot all over her. She was simply glad that everyone was safe.
“Most of the maze is gone, but the garden center’s a mess,” he said, his heart beating heavily.
“Is something wrong?” Brooke asked. Her thirteen-going-on-thirty-year-old blonde daughter had a load of dirty clothes in her arms and looked as if she might have been ready to toss them on the pile and disappear back upstairs into her room, but she changed her mind when she saw the smudges on Heath’s face.
“There’s been a fire at Evan Scott’s landscaping business,” Candace said.
A sudden tear streaked down Brooke’s face. She was at the age when her emotions were right at the surface, and they burst out at a moment’s notice. “Was it bad?” she asked, a quiver in her voice. “Did they lose anything?”
“They probably won’t know the full extent until tomorrow,” Heath said. “But I think it’s pretty bad.”
Brooke just stood there, tears flowing freely. “Can we help?”
“I’m going back in the morning.”
“I want to go too,” Brooke said to Heath. “We can help clean up and—” She sighed heavily. “Oh, I forgot, we’re going thrift store shopping tomorrow.”
“I think we’ll be putting that on hold,” Candace said, no longer interested in their shopping trip. “I wouldn’t feel right going off to have a good time. Not now.”
“Maybe we can go next weekend,” Brooke said, surprising Candace, especially when just a half hour ago she hadn’t wanted to go at all. “Maybe we can find some stuff for the garden center, some gnomes, or something. You know, to replace some of the things they lost.”
“That’s a great idea, honey,” Candace said. She opened her arms to draw Brooke in, but Brooke stepped up close to Heath, as if she needed a man’s strength right now. The kind of strength she’d missed since her dad had died.
Candace had long ago realized that Brooke had accepted Heath in their lives. She loved him just as Heath loved her. But that love seemed a sure thing now—a bond that, amazingly enough, seemed to have been cemented firmly in place by the tragedy of a fire.
The last of the fire trucks pulled out of the nursery at 10:32 Friday night; but rubberneckers were still driving by slowly, everyone wanting to gawk at the disaster. Anabelle wanted them to disappear. She wanted them to go away and leave well enough alone. Couldn’t they understand that a tragedy had occurred here? That people were hurting? Especially her son. And Maureen.
She leaned against Elena’s car, one of Elena’s blankets thrown over her shoulders to keep her warm, Elena’s arm around her to offer comfort that she doubted would come tonight, in spite of her friend’s best efforts.
“It’s freezing out here,” Elena said to her. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”
Anabelle shook her head. “I can’t leave until I know Evan and Maureen are truly okay.”
“All right, but I’m staying with you.”
She’d tell Elena to go home, to rest up and just come back tomorrow, but she knew Elena wouldn’t leave. In truth, she didn’t want her friend to go. She wanted her right here beside her.
Off in the distance she saw Cam walking around with a flashlight, as if he were trying to survey the damage, even in the dark, with the moon half covered up with clouds. She wanted to swear at the clouds. Why had there just been lightning tonight? Why hadn’t the clouds opened up so the rain could fall and help put out the fire. It wasn’t fair. This shouldn’t have happened—not to her son.
Not the day before the pumpkin patch and maze were supposed to open for business.
When her cell phone rang, she answered it immediately, recognizing Ainslee’s Nutcracker Suite ring tone. “Olivia’s sound asleep in Lindsay Belle’s room. They played together for the longest time, then both conked out,” her oldest daughter said, “and Kirstie’s in the family room with Jacob, reading him a story, trying to take his mind off the fire.”
“Thanks for letting me know, hon.”
“And don’t worry, Mother. I’ll watch them all weekend and next week too. Whatever Maureen needs.”
They didn’t talk long. Of course, there wasn’t much more anyone could say tonight, but Ainslee did say all Anabelle had really wanted to hear. “I love you. Tell Pop and Evan that for me too. And Maureen.”
Anabelle had heard Ainslee’s tears mixed with her words, and not for the first time, she gave thanks for having such a wonderful family—and friends too.
For the past few hours, Fern and Sarah had been serving coffee and donuts to the firemen. James, Rafael, Cesar, and Ainslee’s husband Doug had been helping Evan, Cam, and Maureen save plants and pumpkins, getting whatever they could out of the way of the fire engines, hoses, and powerful spray of water.
But it was already obvious that a lot had been lost.
“How can they recover?” Anabelle asked Elena, knowing her voice was shaky, but then she laughed. “You know, just the other day I told Maureen that if the pumpkin patch and maze went belly-up—for some strange reason, and a fire had been the last thing either of us had considered—she and Evan would simply have to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and start all over again. It sound
ed so simple then. It doesn’t sound all that simple now.”
“But that’s what we do,” Elena said, her friend’s arm tugging her a bit closer. “We’ve been through a lot of tough times over the years. But we’ve always come out okay. Maureen and Evan will come out of this okay too. Just wait and see.”
Chapter Sixteen
THE DEVASTATION ANABELLE SAW THE NEXT MORNING brought tears to her eyes. The day had dawned bright and beautiful, but around Scott Landscaping everything looked bleak; so much of the nursery was in ruins.
“Do you think we can salvage any part of the maze?” Heath asked, standing with Brooke and Candace, just beyond the entryway to the nursery. Cesar was there too, and so were Rafael and a lot of their friends, all of them holding rakes and shovels, ready to work as soon as Evan let them know what he wanted done.
The wooden arch that had always been so beautiful in spring, summer, and fall, and even in winter when it was wrapped in evergreens and white lights twinkled all around, was now flat on the ground, the vines that had woven through and around it were crushed, as was the arch itself. There was no way it could have survived being driven over by three fire trucks.
“It’s gone,” Evan said flatly, looking all about him. “Gone in an instant, thanks to one lightning bolt.” Somehow he managed to laugh, although Anabelle didn’t think she’d ever heard a sound quite so cynical or seen a man who looked so defeated. Her son seemed lost. “Of all the places it could have hit, why did it have to be a pile of dry straw in our nursery?”
Maureen slipped her arm around Evan’s waist, offering him comfort. “We’ll get through this.”
“It’s not like we have any other choice.”
Anabelle hated to hear Evan’s bitterness, but she imagined she’d feel exactly the same.
“You know, you may get angry with me for saying this,” Maureen said, shooting a frown in Evan’s direction, “but you can stand around here feeling sorry for yourself, or you can get busy cleaning this mess up.”
“Why bother?”
“Because you love this place. I love this place, and it doesn’t even belong to me.”