Susannah's Garden

Her childhood friend sat down across from her in the booth, facing the door. “My goodness, when did they get a Wal-Mart in Colville?”

Carolyn couldn’t remember. There’d been news of it coming for a year or two before the store was actually built. “I came back five years ago, and it was already here.”

“That long? Really? Funny, neither Mom or Dad said anything about it.” She dragged in a deep breath. “You look fabulous. It’s great to see you.”

“You, too.” Carolyn meant it. She’d always regretted that they’d lost contact. “How’s your mother?”

Susannah set her purse on the bench beside her. “I’m afraid she’s worse than I realized.”

“I’m sorry,” Carolyn said sympathetically.

Susannah leaned back against the hard wooden booth and sighed. “I took her to dinner, and half the time she thought I was my aunt Jean, who’s been dead for fifteen years.”

“Oh, no.”

Susannah laughed softly. “I didn’t mean to start talking about Mom. She’s a sweetheart, but ever since my dad died she’s been confused and—” As if catching herself doing it again, Susannah shook her head. “First, I want to know how we missed seeing each other all these years.”

Carolyn shrugged, unwilling to tread through time and examine the might-have-beens, especially those of the last few years. “I don’t know. I was so caught up in what was happening to my family, it was all I could do to deal with that. I moved back just before my father died. He’d been sick for quite a while, and the business had gone downhill.”

“I wondered about that.”

“When I took over, the mill was on the brink of going under. It’s taken every minute of every day to get back on track, so I haven’t done much socializing.”

“In other words, you’ve had no life.”

Carolyn nodded. “That pretty much sums it up.”

“How’s the mill doing these days?” Susannah straightened, a smile on her face. “I have to tell you I’m very impressed that you’re running such an important business. I had no idea.”

“We’re solvent and growing.” Carolyn didn’t mean to brag, but the mill was thriving at a time when many others were shutting down. Investing wisely, making the most of foreign trade opportunities and her management skills had brought Bronson Mills from the verge of closing its doors to becoming a major player in the state.

“What about you?” Carolyn asked. “Were you in town a lot?”

Before her friend could answer, the waitress came for their order and they each asked for a Diet Coke.

Susannah waited until she’d left before answering. “I didn’t come to town very often—two or three times in the last five years. Until recently, Mom and Dad drove over to the coast to visit me. Dad died last November.”

Although Susannah mentioned her father’s passing without apparent emotion, Carolyn detected a small quaver in her friend’s voice. Her own father had been dead several years now, but she continued to feel his loss each and every day.

“You lost your mom, too, didn’t you?” Susannah asked.

“Mom died of cancer about two years ago,” Carolyn said, and while her death was equally painful, Carolyn felt that her mother was ready and, in fact, had welcomed death. Her life had been nothing like she’d dreamed, filled with disappointments and disillusionment. And without her husband, she lost whatever contentment she’d managed to find. Brigitte had not succeeded in making many friends or developing interests of her own; that was something Carolyn didn’t like to think about.

“Dad died of congestive heart failure,” she added. It was a horrible way to die. Carolyn was grateful she’d been with him those last months. They’d always been close, but they’d drawn even closer as the end of his life approached.

When Carolyn first returned to Colville, she’d assumed she’d be selling off the mill, but during the last months of her father’s life, she realized she couldn’t let go of her heritage. The mill had been in the family for three generations, and now it was hers. Owning Bronson Mills, she’d discovered, was even more of a responsibility than it was a privilege.

“I’m sorry,” Susannah murmured.

“Losing my dad was hard,” Carolyn admitted. “The two of us were tight. After I’d been here awhile, I began to feel that no matter where I lived, this town, this place, was my home.”

“Do you like it—running the mill, I mean?”

Carolyn smiled, embarrassed to admit the depth of her feelings about the family business. “I love it. I didn’t think I would. The only reason I got my MBA was to please Dad, but I promptly took a job in Oregon working with Techtronics. I enjoyed it and advanced to a management position. I’d just been offered another promotion when I got the call from Dad.”

“The call?”

Carolyn would never forget that phone conversation. “His whole life, Dad never asked a single thing of me.” Unlike her mother, who seemed to be consumed by demands, most of which Carolyn was incapable of fulfilling. “He asked me to come home. He needed me. I put in my notice the next day, packed up and headed for Colville.”

The waitress returned with their drinks and for a moment they were silent.

“I wish I knew how to help Mom,” Susannah said thoughtfully. “I know I’ll have to move her, but convincing her of that’s going to be hard.”

Carolyn didn’t envy her friend the task. “What are you planning to do with the house?”

“Once I know Mom’s comfortable, I’ll probably put it up for sale. Assisted living is expensive. I was shocked when I made a few phone calls and found out exactly how much it costs. Dad provided for Mom, but their largest asset is the equity they have in the house. There’s no question that I’ll have to sell it, and the sooner the better so I can invest the money.”

“What about taking her to Seattle, to a facility near you?” That seemed more logical to Carolyn.

“I wish I could get her to budge, but she refuses. Her friends are here—even though she hardly ever sees them—and things are familiar to her. Plus, the housing fees are more reasonable on this side of the mountains than in Seattle.”

“At least you still have your mother,” Carolyn reminded her. “When mine died, I had this gut-wrenching revelation that I was an orphan. All alone in the world. I was almost fifty years old and I kept thinking I wasn’t ready to be an adult. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Susannah said. “I feel the same way. I hate having to make decisions about my mother without Doug to talk to.” She swallowed visibly. “It’s not fair. My brother should be helping me with this. Doug should be here.”

Carolyn bent her head to hide her reaction to hearing his name. A twinge of pain passed through her. His death had hit her hard.

Susannah stared into the distance. “I miss him. My brother died thirty-two years ago, and I still miss him.” She lowered her eyes to her drink and swirled the straw around, clinking the ice cubes against the glass. “Doug and I should be dealing with this together.”

Carolyn didn’t want to talk about Doug. “You’re still married, aren’t you?” she asked. “That’s what your mother said when I ran into her.”

“Oh, yes…Joe and I have been together for almost twenty-five years. We have two kids, both nearly grown. Joe’s a dentist and I teach fifth grade.”

“I always thought you’d marry Jake.” As Carolyn recalled, her friend had pined for him the entire nine months she’d spent in France. She’d waited endlessly for his letters. In the beginning he’d written, but he’d stopped after the first few months. Then Doug had been killed and Susannah had gone into a deep depression.

A faraway look came over her friend. “I always believed I’d marry him, too….” She ended with a shrug. “He’d moved by the time I returned from France. I tried to find him but I never could. I wonder what happened to him—why he left and why he didn’t come back.”

Carolyn was furious with him for abandoning Susannah when she’d needed him most. She remembered how Susannah had asked around for him after their return. But he was gone; his family, too.

“My last time with Jake was horrible,” her friend continued, seemingly lost in her thoughts. “I sneaked out of the house, and we met in my mother’s garden. We sat on that stone bench, behind the trellis. It was always so romantic there, and it smelled so lovely.” She raised her eyes to meet Carolyn’s. “Jake wanted me to run away with him and I didn’t have the courage to do it. I was only seventeen. I said no. In the morning my parents drove me to Spokane to catch a flight to France.”

“And you never heard from him again?”

“Other than those few letters after I left, nothing.”

Carolyn leaned closer. “You did the right thing. Can you imagine how you’d feel if your daughter eloped at that age?”

Susannah smiled. “That certainly puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? My daughter is as headstrong as I was and more than a handful. She’s almost twenty and insists she’s an adult, but she acts more like a teenager.”

Susannah brought out pictures of her children and showed them to Carolyn. Chrissie and Brian were very attractive, and so was Joe, Susannah’s husband, in a solid, appealing way. Although she’d never met him, Carolyn had a positive feeling about Joe—about all of Susannah’s family. She rarely admitted it, but she would’ve liked a husband and children of her own. It hadn’t happened. The divorce had devastated her, and she’d buried herself in her work in an effort to forget. Before she knew it, she was forty and then her father got ill.

Still, most of the time she didn’t mind being alone. Better that than marriage to a man like her ex-husband, whose repeated infidelity had undermined the little confidence she’d had. In fact, she was shy and always had been. She’d learned to overcompensate in other areas and was an effective manager. Few would guess how difficult it was for her to communicate with a man socially.

Susannah slipped the photos back inside her purse. When she glanced up, she seemed to study Carolyn, then said, “You look happy.”

Her friend’s assessment surprised Carolyn. But Susannah was right. Only recently she’d found herself singing as she dressed for work. The sound of her own voice had caught her off guard and she’d stopped abruptly, wondering what there was to be so excited about. She’d realized then that it wasn’t anything in particular. She was content and had become secure in herself. Yes, every now and then she entertained regrets, but she suspected everyone did. The business was running at a profit and that would have pleased her father beyond any of her other accomplishments. The mill was once again Colville’s main employer and as the mill went, so did the town. She had reason to be proud. The family business had given her a sense of purpose; it was in salvaging Bronson Mills that she’d truly forged her identity.

“What about you?” Carolyn asked, wondering about her friend’s marriage. “Are you happy?”

“Of course,” Susannah answered quickly, perhaps too quickly. She reached for her Coke. After a moment, she said, “The truth is, I’ve been depressed and out of sorts for the last few months. Joe says this all goes back to losing my father, but I disagree.” She glanced up. “I…” She hesitated, looking mildly embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Jake.”

“Really?” Carolyn watched her friend closely.

“It started a little over three months ago. I haven’t told anyone—I can’t. Not even Joe…Out of the blue, Jake came to me in this…this stupid dream. I can’t even tell you what it was about. From that moment on, he’s been on my mind almost constantly, and now he shows up in my dreams practically every night.”

Carolyn didn’t know what to say. “He’s probably married, don’t you think?”

Susannah nodded. “It’s flirting with danger, but I want to find him.”

“And do what?”

Susannah frowned. “I don’t know yet. Ask him, I guess, why he never wrote me after Doug died. Ask him why he moved and didn’t tell me where he’d gone. I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d run away with him that night.”

Nothing good was Carolyn’s guess, but presumably Susannah knew that.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard if he’s living in the area?” Susannah asked, her eyes alight with hope.

Carolyn didn’t. “No, but then I don’t know everyone in town.”

Susannah pushed the hair away from her forehead. “Like I said, I haven’t told Joe about this. I feel so guilty, as though I’ve been unfaithful, but I haven’t done anything. I wouldn’t risk my marriage over this. I’m just curious, you know?” She looked nervously at Carolyn.

“And you want to find out what happened to Jake.”

Susannah slowly nodded. “Yes. I want him to be happy and to let him know that I am, too. I’m not interested in starting an affair.” She smiled. “As Erma Bombeck once said, I don’t have the underwear for it.”

Carolyn laughed.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I have to tell you it feels good to discuss this crazy idea.” She paused, staring into the distance. “All I want is five minutes with Jake. Even a phone conversation would satisfy my curiosity. Is that so terrible?”

“No.” Carolyn understood, but although she didn’t say it, she agreed with Joe. Susannah’s discontent—apparent in this sudden urge to find her high school boyfriend—was somehow connected to her father, to his death. She knew that the relationship between Susannah and her father had been a difficult one; this was a huge loss in Susannah’s life, whether she accepted that or not.

Once more her friend made a circular motion with her straw setting her ice cubes clinking. “You were always the kind of friend I could talk to. I would never have made it through those last five months in France without you.”

“We were good friends,” Carolyn said simply, thinking Maybe we can be again.

The waitress came by and they ordered fresh drinks. “I should head back to Mom,” Susannah said reluctantly, “but I don’t want to leave. Talking to you has really helped. I don’t feel nearly as guilty or alone as I did earlier. Thank you for that.”

“Do you know how long you’ll be in town?” Carolyn asked. Her friends were few, and she had little life outside of the mill. She gardened, fed the deer that ventured on to her property, did a bit of needlepoint and worked fifty-or sixty-hour weeks. That was the sum total of her activities.

“I’ll be here for two or three weeks,” Susannah told her. “It all depends on how things go with Mom.”

The waitress returned with their Diet Cokes.

Carolyn picked up her drink. “If you get a chance, stop by the mill and I’ll give you the grand tour.” It would be fun to show her friend the improvements she’d made, even if Susannah didn’t understand their importance.

They talked for another fifteen minutes, and Susannah tested her French, which after all these years was surprisingly good. Carolyn remained fluently bilingual. Toward the end, Carolyn’s mother had spoken exclusively in her mother tongue.

“I remember that my conversational French improved according to how much wine I drank,” Susannah said, laughing.

Carolyn grinned. “Mom made me learn French as a child. I grew up speaking both languages.” She rarely used it now, but she certainly didn’t regret having the ability.

“Have you gone back to Paris since high school?” Susannah asked.

“A few times. My grandparents died in the war and I only had one aunt, who never married. My mother didn’t want me to lose my heritage and I’m grateful for the time I had there, but my life is in Colville.” Carolyn knew why her mother had insisted she study in France. She’d been hoping her daughter would meet a nice French boy and fall in love with him. Unfortunately, Brigitte hadn’t realized how closely the nuns watched over their charges at the boarding school. Any chance of meeting boys inside—or outside—those convent walls had been virtually nonexistent.

Susannah checked the time. “It’s nine o’clock. I’d better go. Mom’s probably waiting up for me.” She took a deep breath, then said, “I’ve made arrangements to take her to visit a couple of assisted-living facilities tomorrow.”

“She doesn’t know yet?”

Susannah shook her head. “I thought I’d broach the subject over dinner, but I couldn’t do it. Mom was so pleased to have me with her and so excited about going out to a restaurant, I didn’t have the heart to upset her.”

“She misses your father, doesn’t she?”

“Dreadfully. Which is understandable—they knew each other their entire lives. Mom’s completely at loose ends without him, but that’s not the worst of it.” Susannah shook her head. “As we were driving back to the house, Mom got very quiet. She said she had something important to tell me. She claimed that my father had come to her earlier this week.” Susannah closed her eyes for a few seconds. “Her neighbor had already told me about this. But to hear Mom describe it…”

“She’s missing him so much that her mind must be conjuring him up,” Carolyn suggested.

“That was my reaction at first, too, but then Mom told me he walked her home. This wasn’t some momentary visit, some trick of the mind. Her hand nearly left bruises on my arm, she was so adamant. My mother says she spent at least half an hour with my father.”

Shocked, Carolyn couldn’t come up with anything to say. Except that Mrs. Leary was obviously in bad shape, and Susannah already knew that.

CHAPTER

6

The next morning, Susannah walked through her mother’s garden, seeking a moment of peace. It was something she often did at home during the summer, wandering through her own garden, assessing the state of her flowers, inhaling their fragrance, making plans for the day. She noticed that Vivian’s plants and flowerbeds were in reasonably good condition—better than she’d expected.

Afterward, she returned to the house for coffee, hoping there’d be some milk or cream. She opened her mother’s refrigerator and was appalled at what she found. The cheese had grown moldy. A tomato had shriveled up and shrunk to half its original size. Containers filled with leftovers crammed the shelves, most of them several days, if not weeks, old. Along with that, Susannah saw a number of small tinfoil packages; she assumed these were bits of meat. She had no intention of finding out. Almost everything should’ve been discarded long ago.

The coffee perked in the old-fashioned pot behind her. Of course she hadn’t discovered the carton of milk she’d wanted but the door of the fridge held many small bottles and jars, some of them unopened. Just how many types of mustard could one woman accumulate? Susannah counted twelve different varieties—at least eight more than she’d seen during her visit in March.

“I didn’t hear you get up,” Vivian said, coming into the kitchen. She tied the sash of her housecoat around her waist. Susannah noticed that her mother had taken to shuffling her feet, as if her slippers were too heavy for her. She took tiny steps and looked so much older than she had even a few months ago.

“Good morning, Mom,” Susannah said cheerfully.

Her mother brought down a cup and saucer from the cupboard and set them next to the coffeepot. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well.”

Her mother nodded. “Do you need something?”

Susannah glanced back inside the refrigerator and remembered her father shouting at her as a kid to close the refrigerator door. “I was looking for milk,” she said.

“I have lots of milk.” Vivian seemed surprised that Susannah hadn’t found it. “I’m positive I got some just the other day.”

Susannah moved a number of plastic containers onto the counter and sure enough, an unopened milk carton rested at the back of the top shelf. Bringing it out, she placed it on the table and reached for her cup. The smell alerted her the moment she opened the milk. When she saw that the expiry date was over a month ago, she dumped the thick, lumpy liquid down the drain, running water to lessen the foul odor.

“What’s wrong with it?” Vivian asked.

“It’s gone bad.”

Her mother’s face twisted with displeasure. The narrowed eyes and pinched mouth was an expression Susannah remembered well from her childhood. It was the same frown she got when she’d misbehaved.

“I think we should take that carton back to Safeway and demand a refund. They sold me spoiled milk.”

“Now, Mom…”

“It’s just like those big chain stores to take advantage of a widow. Well, I won’t stand for it.”

“Mom, it’s too early in the morning to get upset. Drink your coffee and we’ll talk about it later.” Susannah figured it was pointless to explain that Vivian had bought the milk six or seven weeks ago and then forgotten all about it.

As her mother poured coffee from the sterling silver coffeepot, her hand trembled. Susannah had to bite her lip to keep from stepping forward and taking over. When Vivian finished, she sat down at the kitchen table, seeming rather pleased with herself. Susannah could only suppose it was because she’d managed without spilling a drop.

“I had a nice visit with Carolyn Bronson,” Susannah commented, as she joined her mother at the table.

“Who, dear?”

“Carolyn Bronson. Remember, you saw her recently and she gave you her phone number? We met last night at the pub where the old A & W used to be.”

“Oh, yes, of course. How are her parents?”

Susannah found this sporadic forgetfulness frustrating—and sad. But if she reminded Vivian that both Mr. and Mrs. Bronson had died, she might upset her. In any event, she had more pressing subjects to discuss. She decided to be intentionally vague. “I’m not sure, Mom.”

“Mrs. Bronson is a funny one.” She leaned closer to Susannah and lowered her voice. “She’s always putting on airs because she’s French.”

“Carolyn was one of my best friends all through school,” Susannah said mildly.

“I tried to be friendly,” her mother continued, ignoring her remark. “Went out of my way, in fact, but apparently I wasn’t good enough for the likes of Brigitte Bronson.”

“Carolyn sent you her best.”

“She was a sweet girl.” Vivian sipped her coffee and again Susannah noticed how her mother’s hand trembled as she lifted the cup. “Unlike her mother…”

Susannah didn’t want to get involved in a mean-spirited conversation about Brigitte, but she knew what Vivian meant. Although nothing was ever said, Susannah had always had the impression that Carolyn’s mother didn’t approve of their friendship. As an adult, she was able to analyze those feelings, understanding that Mrs. Bronson was a woman whose unhappiness made her cold and resentful.

Susannah waited until her mother had finished her first cup of coffee before she brought up the subject of assisted living. “You must be rambling around this house all by yourself,” she began casually.

Her mother stared at her. “Not at all.”

“Are you lonely?”

A soft smile turned up the edges of Vivian’s mouth. “I was until your father came back to see me.”

“Mom—” Susannah bit off words of protest. She was afraid that her mother had lost her grip on reality and grown comfortable in her fantasy world.

Vivian studied her as though waiting for Susannah to comment on her father’s visits.

“Actually, Mom,” Susannah said, gathering her resolve. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

“What is it?” her mother asked.

“Mom,” Susannah said, praying for the right words. “I’m concerned about you being here all alone, especially now that Martha’s quit.”

“Don’t be,” she said, calmly dismissing Susannah’s apprehensions. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Would you consider moving to Seattle?” That would solve so many problems, but even as Susannah asked she knew it was futile.

“And leave Colville?” Her mother appeared to mull it over, then shook her head. “I can’t. Much as I’d love to be closer to you and the grandchildren, I won’t leave my home.”

Susannah knew that change of any kind terrified Vivian.

“Doug and your father are buried here,” her mother went on.

“Mom—”