The Novel Free

Susannah's Garden





“Dad doesn’t know about this, does he?” Chrissie said, accusing her with a look of righteous indignation.



“Ah…”



“I talked to him this afternoon, and he said he didn’t.”



Susannah scowled at her daughter, furious that she’d mentioned this to Joe. “Thank you very much,” she snapped.



Chrissie’s jaw sagged as though she’d been the victim of a great injustice. “I beg your pardon. I thought my parents communicated with each other. Guess I was wrong. I suppose this has to do with that old boyfriend of yours. That’s all you talk about, you know. Don’t think I can’t hear when you’re on the phone with your friend—it’s Jake this and Jake that. I even heard some of your phone calls to those other Jake guys. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re married.”



Susannah’s face burned with anger and guilt. “For crying out loud—”



“You’d better call Dad,” Chrissie cut in. “He wants to know what’s going on and frankly I don’t blame him.” Chrissie stormed out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway to her room.



Susannah grabbed the icy soda. Her hand shook as she brought the can to her mouth. Sooner or later, she’d have to tell Joe about the thousand-dollar fee to the private detective.



After taking a few minutes to let her pounding heart settle down, Susannah tried calling Joe at the office. Her one hope was that he was in the middle of a complicated root canal and couldn’t be disturbed. No such luck. He was between patients and eager to talk to her. He took the call in his office.



“What the hell is happening there?” he asked, clearly angry and worse than that, hurt.



Joe so rarely raised his voice that Susannah felt even guiltier. “Good afternoon to you, too,” she muttered.



“Susannah, I only have a few minutes. Tell me what you’re doing.”



“If you’re asking about the private investigator, I hired her to find Jake Presley.” There, it was out with no embellishments, no explanations and no excuses.



The silence between them seemed to shout at her, echoing Chrissie’s taunt. You’re married.



“It didn’t occur to you to talk this over with me first?” he finally asked. “How would you feel if I decided to look up Donna Terry? She was my first love, but you don’t see me paying good money to hire someone to find her.”



“This is different,” she insisted.



“I know you’re upset about what your father did,” he continued, “and I get that, but this is carrying things too far.”



“I want to talk to him.”



“Fine. Why go behind my back?”



“Because…because I knew you wouldn’t want me to and—well, okay, I knew how you’d feel. I don’t expect you to understand, but this is something I have to do.”



“So you went through with it even though you were well aware that I’d disapprove? My opinion doesn’t count?”



“Ah…”



“You can’t answer that, can you?”



“Joe, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should never have handled this the way I did, but I didn’t feel I had a choice. I was afraid you’d talk me out of it or make me feel guilty for wanting to track him down.”



It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “I would hope you’d trust me enough to discuss such an important matter with me.”



“I know….” Her words faded. She wanted to explain what had led to her hiring the detective, but Joe wasn’t listening. She certainly couldn’t tell him that the money might well have been wasted.



“Why is it so important for you to find him?”



“It just is—for all the reasons I’ve already mentioned.”



“He didn’t bother to find you. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”



It didn’t, because Jake had to honor his father’s agreement with hers. She was under no such obligation.



Another silence, filled with accusations.



“Did you talk to the detective?”



“Yes. She was on her way out the door so we didn’t have a chance to say much. I’ve got an appointment Tuesday afternoon.”



“You’re keeping the appointment?”



Susannah frowned, feeling helpless in the face of her own regrets and his unyielding bitterness. “I intend to, yes. Please, Joe, don’t be angry with me.”



“Keep your appointment,” he said, “but I don’t want to hear a word about it, understand?”



Before she could agree or disagree, the line was disconnected.



CHAPTER 25



Chrissie went outside and sat on the top step to think over what was happening to her family. Her hand curled around the ring. It seemed that her parents’ marriage was dissolving in front of her. The minute she’d arrived home from college, she’d sensed that things weren’t right between her mom and dad.



Now her mother was hung up on this guy she’d known as a teenager. Jake was on her mind 24/7. It was obvious. Hardly anything had gotten packed in the last couple of days because her mother was too busy doing her own investigative work, looking for her old high school boyfriend, talking about him constantly with Carolyn Somebody—whom Chrissie hadn’t even met.



She couldn’t worry about her parents, though; Chrissie had concerns of her own. Troy was exciting and fun and—she had to say it—dangerous. Almost every afternoon she made a run into Spokane with him. She didn’t ask what that was about, but she had her suspicions. He left her in the car while he went inside a “friend’s house.” These visits took all of five minutes and then they drove back to Colville. A couple of times they’d stopped at Loon Lake for a swim. Once he’d taken her for ice cream next to a video rental place.



They spent hours at his friends’ homes. These guys weren’t the type who attended college, either. If her mom knew about Troy’s friends, it would freak her out.



Chrissie brightened as the familiar sound of his truck came from the end of the block. She was off the porch and standing at the curb by the time he roared to a stop.



“Hi.” He leaned out the window, elbow on the edge, and sent her a ready smile. “What’s up?”



Chrissie shrugged. “Not much.”



“Want to go for a ride?” he asked, with the lazy certainty that she would.



“Sure.” She dashed around the front of the truck and climbed in.



“You don’t want to get your purse?”



“Will I need it?”



“No, but I’ve never seen a woman who didn’t drag her purse everywhere she went.”



The problem was, Chrissie didn’t want to go into the house. If her mother saw her with Troy, she’d ask where Chrissie was going and what time she’d be back. Chrissie could live without that particular form of harassment.



“I don’t need it. Let’s get out of here.”



Troy responded with a throaty laugh and grabbed her bare thigh, his fingers creeping under the hem of her shorts. She didn’t stop him.



“We going to Spokane?” she asked.



“Not today.”



“Then where?”



“Ever been to Northport?”



“Nope.” Chrissie had heard of the small town close to the Canadian border. Now she’d see it.



“It’ll be fun.”



Chrissie rested her head against his shoulder. “Everything with you is fun.”



Troy released her leg, shifted gears and they were off. Normally he racked up the volume on his sound system and let the music blare. This afternoon, he seemed to notice her mood and kept the screaming pitch down to a more moderate level.



“What’s wrong?” Troy asked as they pulled out of the city limits. “Is your mother on your case about me again?”



Chrissie shook her head. “What would you think if I moved to Colville?” she asked, testing the waters. She couldn’t imagine going back to school after this summer. Not with the Jason mess and her current indifference to academics. Moving here made a lot of sense. Her grandmother needed her, and that way they wouldn’t have to worry about packing up the entire house in a few weeks. She could live there and take care of everything.



Besides, she’d never had a relationship like this. With Troy, life was one big party and she was along for the ride and loving every minute of it.



“D’you want to live with me?” he asked.



That would definitely freak out both her parents. “I’ll think about it,” she said, but her parents weren’t going to let that happen.



He laughed. “Your daddy would probably have me arrested.”



“I told you I’m over twenty-one.” It was a lie, one that slipped easily off her lips. So she’d exaggerated a little.



Troy chuckled and gave her a knowing look. “You’re not twenty-one, are you.” He didn’t make it a question.



“I’m—”



“Just as long as you’re not under eighteen.”



“No way.” Indignation caused her to straighten. “I’m not a kid!”



He stroked her thigh again and laughed.



Then, because she was curious, she asked. “Have you had girls live with you before?”



“A few. They generally don’t last long.” His eyes momentarily left the road and connected with hers.



Chrissie lost herself in the sexual intensity of his gaze, and her breath caught in her throat.



“I have a feeling that if we got together it’d be different, though,” Troy murmured.



Chrissie felt as if her heart would melt at his words. “You make me so happy.”



He cocked his head to one side. “Baby, you do the same for me,” he rumbled in a low, sexy voice.



Chrissie ran her hand down his bare arm and smiled.



The highway curved, and Troy drove onto a little-used back road. “There’s something else on your mind,” he said, slowing the truck.



Chrissie stared out the window. “What makes you think that?”



Troy held her chin in one hand and turned her head so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “It’s in your eyes.”



She might as well tell him; he’d get it out of her sooner or later. “My mom and dad are fighting.”



“I thought your dad’s in Seattle.”



“He is. They were on the phone when you arrived. My mom lied to him.”



“They were yelling over the phone?”



“They don’t fight like that. It’s more these pauses when neither one of them’s willing to talk, you know?”



Troy grimaced. “That’s not how it was in my house. Fights meant throwing things. A couple of my so-called uncles got physical with Mom. More than once, Mom and I ran in the middle of the night so we wouldn’t get the crap beat out of us.”



Chrissie gasped with horror.



“Hey, I survived and I’m a better man for it.”



Chrissie wondered about that. Her respect for his mother, whom she had yet to meet, wasn’t high. She couldn’t fathom any mother putting her child in that kind of situation.
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