Leota's Garden

  “Tonight? He wasn’t supposed to get here until tomorrow.”

  “Well, he’s here.” Annie plumped the pillows and tossed them onto the couch, gathered up some of Susan’s clothing, and quickly folded and stuffed the items into a dresser. Hurrying across to the kitchenette, she gathered glasses and plates and put them in the sink, squirting in liquid soap and running water over them. They’d have to soak for now. It was Susan’s turn to do them, and they were both on their way to work.

  Susan appeared from the bathroom, dressed in her straight, black skirt and white blouse. The doorbell buzzed as she frantically brushed her hair on the way to answer. “What are you doing here? It’s Friday. You said Saturday.”

  “Chill out, Suzie Q. I just came by to let you know I’m checked in . . .”

  Annie turned from the sink and felt his gaze fixed on her. Susan laughed, looking from him to her. She winked. “You remember Annie Gardner, don’t you, Sam?”

  “This is Annie? What happened to the Pippi Longstocking replication?”

  Annie blushed. “Nice to see you, too, Sam.” She was embarrassed at the reminder of how she had worn her carrot-red hair in pigtails. The red had faded some, along with the freckles that had once dotted her nose.

  His eyes warmed, and a wolfish smile spread across his handsome face. “All grown up . . .”

  “But she’s got someplace to go.”

  “Bad boys, bad boys,” Barnaby sang out loudly, and they all laughed.

  “We’re on our way to work, Sam, but you’re welcome to hang out here if you’d like.”

  “No way. I came to the city to have some fun.”

  “Whatcha gonna do . . . ? Whatcha gonna do . . . ?” Barnaby sang loudly, bobbing his head.

  “Sounds like the bird’d like to go with me.” Sam grinned.

  “You want him?” Susan said brightly. “You can have him with my blessings.”

  Sam laughed. “No way.”

  Annie took her jacket from the back of a chair. “I hate to break up the family reunion,” she said with a smile, “but we’d better go, Suzie. We’re going to be late.”

  “You know, I haven’t eaten yet,” Sam said, following them out. “Why don’t I come to the Smelly Clove?”

  “You hate garlic.”

  “Hate’s a strong word. Besides, it has medicinal value, I hear.”

  “It does.”

  “Well, I think I might be developing a cold. I need a little preventive medicine. What do you say?”

  Susan gave him the address and directions as they went down the stairs and out to Annie’s car.

  “See you there.” Sam lifted his hand in a casual wave, then crossed the street to his van.

  Susan slid into the bucket seat and snapped on the seat belt. “Well, well. I’ve got the feeling we’re going to see a lot more of my brother.” She looked at Annie and grinned.

  Annie figured Sam had changed his mind when he didn’t follow them to the restaurant. She was more relieved than disappointed. Though his obvious flirtation had been heady and a decided boost to her self-confidence, she knew he was dangerous in more ways than one.

  At fifteen, she had thought Samuel James Carter, rebellious and delinquent, was some kind of romantic hero. She had fantasized about being like the heroine in a Harlequin novel, whose love and purity would melt the arrogance and cynicism of the hero.

  But she had grown up over the last three years. She had learned how devastating and heartbreaking Sam’s rebellion had been to his family. They could joke about it now, but she remembered Suzie’s anger and Mrs. Carter’s tears. He’d had to crash and burn before his life turned around. Sam was deep water, and where the world was concerned, Annie didn’t know how to swim.

  “He must’ve tipped Hal,” Susan said in passing.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Sam. He’s being seated in your area.”

  Annie collected several dishes of food and delivered them to patrons, asking if there was anything else they needed. She saw Sam sitting at a small table in the corner, where he could watch everything going on in the room. The bar waitress had just left his table, and several young women seated nearby were looking at him. He didn’t appear to notice them. All his attention seemed fixed on her. His smile was roguish and challenging.

  She passed him by once. “I’ll be with you in just a moment, sir.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, ma’am.”

  She replenished coffee for several tables and then went back to his. “Have you decided what you’d like this evening, sir? Or would you like a little more time?”

  “I’ve decided.” His eyes twinkled in amusement.

  Taking the leather pad with pencil from the pocket of her short, black apron, Annie flipped it open.

  “Why don’t you tell me what the specials are anyway.” He leaned back, studying her at his leisure.

  There were six dishes posted on the chalkboard at the restaurant entrance. Part of her job was to memorize them. She described each with all the succulent adjectives the management provided, aware of Sam’s amused perusal throughout her recitation.

  He grinned. “Very nicely done.”

  “So, what’ll it be?” She spoke to him as though he were a perfect stranger who had just come into the restaurant for the first time.

  “The twenty-clove rabbit.”

  “A good choice,” she said, jotting down his order. “Soup or salad?”

  “What kind of soup?”

  “Gazpacho garlic.”

  “Salad. Ranch dressing. Plenty of pepper.”

  “I’ll bring you some bread.”

  “Bring plenty of water, too, please, while you’re about it.”

  She gave a soft laugh and flipped her order book closed and tucked it into her pocket.

  Friday was always busy. She was working eight tables and moving fast to make sure everyone had what they wanted. One table would no sooner empty and be bused than another party would be seated. After two hours she had made enough in tips to buy groceries for a week.

  And Sam was still there.

  Replenishing his water glass for the third time, Annie noticed his plate. “You don’t like the rabbit?”

  He grimaced. “Let’s just say I don’t think I’m going to have any trouble with vampires. I’m going to have garlic coming out my pores for the next week.”

  She managed to fight off a grin. “You won’t get a cold.”

  “No, but I’m getting the cold shoulder.” His brows lifted in a teasing question.

  “I don’t think you’ll have a problem about that. There are three ladies at the table just behind me who have been trying all evening to get your attention.”

  “Is that a brush-off, Annie? I’m wounded.”

  “You have the skin of an armadillo, Sam.”

  “And I thought you used to have a crush on me.”

  “Before I knew any better.”

  He grinned. “I’ll try anything at this point.” When she started to turn away, he said, “By the way, what’s your sign?”

  It was the oldest line in the book, and he knew it. Obviously it was time a few things were clarified. Perhaps when they were, he wouldn’t waste his time. “The fish.”

  “Pisces.” The roguish grin was back, along with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes. “Good sign.”

  “Yes, it is. But not Pisces.”

  He frowned. “No?”

  “Nope. Ichthus. Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.”

  The teasing demeanor evaporated, and he looked straight into her eyes with an intensity she hadn’t expected. “There’s a message for me in those words, I take it.”

  “I hope so.”

  His mouth curved ruefully. “Worried the lion wants to lie down with the lamb?”

  Heat surged into her cheeks. She expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. His expression grew serious, contemplative. She felt the pull of his charm, the stirring inside at his intense look. With slow deliberation, she placed his check on the tabl
e, closed her order pad, and tucked it in its place. “Have a nice evening, Sam. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  Nora sat in her family room, a white throw wrapped around herself. She stared at the television but could make no sense of the movie. Her mind kept drifting.

  It was ten o’clock, and Fred wasn’t home yet. He’d left a message on the answering machine that he was taking clients out to dinner. Surely it didn’t take this long, unless he’d gone to the city.

  Thinking about dinner in the city made her think about Anne working in a restaurant. Maybe Fred had taken his clients where she worked and would put in a word to her about the distress she was causing her mother. No, Fred wouldn’t do that. He had left Anne’s upbringing entirely to her. He had felt his position as stepfather left him out of the loop where Annie was concerned. As long as she didn’t interfere with his life, he would stay out of hers. They had a congenial relationship.

  Sometimes it bothered Nora that Fred refused to become more involved. “It’s up to you how you handle things,” he would say. “She’s your daughter, Nora, not mine.”

  She needed an ally this time. She needed someone strong to back her up.

  Why wouldn’t Anne listen to her anymore? Why was her daughter turning against her now and running to her grandmother?

  When eleven rolled around, Nora began to feel unease in the pit of her stomach. The past reared its ugly head once more, haunting her as it always had with people’s previous mistakes. She’d fallen in love with Bryan Taggart when she was sixteen. He was four years older, had a job, and was going to college. He was handsome, bright, and charming. She had been convinced he would fulfill all her hopes for a better life.

  What had started as a romantic adventure had quickly turned into a nightmare of fights, bills, sleepless nights, and broken dreams.

  She had been so desperate to make the marriage work and thought a baby would force Bryan to keep the job that seemed to offer the most promising future. However, her announcement that she was pregnant hadn’t held the marriage together; it had shattered it. Bryan had been furious, calling her deceitful and selfish. He’d said she had done everything to ruin his life and he was sick of her. He deserted her before Michael was born, leaving her with no other choice but to move back in with her mother and father.

  She still remembered what her mother had said to her the first evening she had come home. It had been the greatest cruelty of all after all she had been through in over two years of marriage. “You expected too much too soon.” Crushed and feeling dismissed, she’d sought solace from Grandma Helene, who had agreed with her about everything. Bryan Taggart hadn’t been good enough for her.

  At least she had finished high school during those torturous months.

  Her second marriage hadn’t been much better than the first. Dean Gardner had all the markings of her Prince Charming. A graduate of Berkeley and Stanford with degrees in business and accounting, he was already starting up the ladder in banking. As Dean’s wife, she would have security and the opportunities she had lacked before. And so would Michael. She registered for college classes during the hours that Michael was in school. She took her son to all kinds of cultural events. She poured everything she could into developing her son and herself into people who could mingle in the best of society.

  And all the while she was bettering herself, Dean was cheating on her. She hadn’t learned about his affair with one of the secretaries in his office until several years later. She had only known something was wrong, but when she became pregnant with Anne, Dean had once again become the doting husband he’d been in the beginning. He’d been an even more doting father when Anne was born.

  As soon as Anne was old enough, Nora resumed her efforts to see that Michael was given the best education possible. She began making plans for Anne as well. She played classical music during her daughter’s crib time to increase her intelligence. Even the games she played with Anne were designed to develop mental skills and physical abilities.

  Her children were going to have every opportunity she missed; their potential was going to be developed.

  Dean came to resent the attention she poured on the children. Most of all he resented her love for Michael. “You never discipline the boy!” She’d never been able to understand that accusation when it seemed Michael’s every moment was regulated. His life was one of discipline. Wasn’t she seeing to that?

  And yet, despite all her efforts, Michael had betrayed her too. He had searched for Bryan Taggart. Though they had met, no real relationship had grown from it. Yet it seemed something had broken between her and her son anyway. The more successful Michael became, the more distant he was. She had poured out so much love and effort on him, but he had no time for her.

  Dean had never understood how torn she was, how wounded. She’d taken him at his word to do whatever she needed to find what it was she wanted. Unlike her mother, she brought Anne everywhere, even to the college classes she took. When that became impossible, she gave up her own dreams to make sure Anne would have the opportunities she had missed. Wasn’t she doing as much for Michael?

  And then Dean stunned her by saying he was quitting a job that paid six figures a year and starting his own business. She saw all her security going up in flames. The fights had started then and hadn’t ended until he filed for divorce. Her lawyer had insisted that Dean was being more than generous, giving her the house and savings. Alimony would have been asking too much, especially since his only income then was the pittance he was making in his new business enterprise. The one good thing she could say about Dean Gardner was that he never quibbled about sending child support. The checks always arrived at the first of the month.

  The year they divorced, she heard from Anne—then six years old—that he had moved in with the woman who had been his secretary at the bank. When he relocated his business to Southern California, the woman had stayed behind. Anne told her after a holiday visit that they were still friends. Nora could make no sense of her ex-husband’s life, nor did she want to have anything to do with him, other than to receive her monthly checks. However, by court order, Nora had been forced to send Anne to spend the summer with Dean.

  When she returned, Nora learned that he was living with another woman. He lived with that woman for several years before she apparently accepted a lucrative job in New York and left. Amicably, again. Now Dean was living with yet another woman, younger this time.

  It had been fourteen years since their divorce, and still Nora would sometimes feel the hurt that he hadn’t loved her enough to make their marriage work. The things he had said were so cruel, so demeaning, so completely untrue. And still, even after all this time, she felt jealous every time she heard he was with someone else.

  What sense was there in that when she loved Fred?

  The third time is the charm, so they say. And thus far, she had thought her third marriage was perfect.

  Until tonight.

  Where was Fred? It was after two in the morning, and he still wasn’t home.

  Was he betraying her, too, just like everyone she loved had betrayed her?

  God, why do they do it? Why do they all turn away from me? I pour out my life on them, and they turn away. My mother didn’t love me enough to spend time with me. My father hardly ever said a word to me. Bryan deserted me. Dean cheated on me. Michael never has time for me. Anne wants to have everything her own way. And now Fred . . .

  The garage door hummed. Her heart thumped crazily, mingling relief with anger. How dare Fred stay out this late? She sat in the wing chair facing the hall. He would see the light was still on and come in to check on her. She heard the door from the garage open. He appeared, his suit coat still on, his raincoat draped over one shoulder, a briefcase in his hand. He looked tired.

  “Where have you been, Fred? I’ve been worried sick about you. It’s half past two.”

  “I’ve been at Scoma’s in San Francisco. The gentlemen from Japan arrived this morning. Remember?” His mouth was tight
with irritation.

  She frowned slightly, her anger seeping away. Something was wrong.

  “You don’t even remember, do you, Nora?” Fred said quietly. He just looked at her, waiting. She was at a complete loss for words. His smile was bleak. “You’re so caught up in Anne’s insurrection that everything else has gone bye-bye.” His eyes darkened slightly. “I told you a month ago these men were coming. I told you how important this contract could be to the business. They’ll be here through Saturday.”

  She saw accusation in his eyes. “Why are you angry with me? What did I do wrong?”

  “Yesterday morning I told you I’d call and let you know where we were having dinner tonight. You were supposed to meet me there, Nora.”

  She felt cold, suddenly remembering everything. How could she have forgotten?

  “Where were you, Nora?”

  “I was at my mother’s,” she said in a shaky voice, horrified that she had let him down so badly. It was Anne’s fault this had happened! If Anne hadn’t run off and put her through an emotional wringer, she would have done her duty by Fred.

  His expression altered. “Is your mother sick?”

  “She looks worse than I’ve ever seen her.” It was true. She had been shocked at how her mother had aged since the last time she saw her.

  “Did she call you?”

  “No. I just . . . I just had a feeling something was wrong.” Thinking about Anne’s betrayal, she put her hands over her face and started to cry. “I had to see her. Everything else just went out of my head. I’ve just had the worst day of my life. And now, to top it off, you’re angry with me.”

  In the past, Fred had always been quick to comfort her. Tonight he stayed where he was. With a sigh, he dropped his raincoat over the back of the sofa and set his briefcase down. “I need a drink.” He went behind the wet bar, took a bottle of scotch from the lower cabinet, and poured himself half a glass.

  Sniffling and dabbing her nose with a lace hankie, Nora couldn’t stop the twinge of resentment that Fred hadn’t even thought to offer her one.