Susannah's Garden

“The algebra teacher?” Susannah recalled that he’d been strict and unbending. She’d barely pulled a B in his class her junior year. One good thing about living in France was that she hadn’t ended up in another of Fogleman’s algebra classes.



“I had the biggest crush on him.”



“Mr. Fogleman?” Lisa gasped. “Old Fogey Fogleman?” She thrust out her wineglass. “I need a refill.”



Carolyn grabbed the wine bottle to replenish her goblet.



“I used to leave notes on his windshield.”



“You didn’t?”



Sandy blushed. “Really risqué notes.”



“You signed them?” Yvette shrieked out the question.



“Not on your life.” She laughed. “He knew, though.”



“How?”



Sandy cupped her mouth with her hand to hide a smile. “He gave me an A—when I deserved a D.”



“Are you joking?”



“I’m not.” She took a big gulp of wine. “Mom said a man called and asked for me shortly after I graduated and deep down I feel it must’ve been Mr. Fogleman.”



“What makes you think that?” Susannah noticed that the others had leaned forward, listening intently.



“Mom said it was a rather strange phone call. It almost seemed as if he was happy I wasn’t home.”



“Whatever happened to Mr. Fogleman?” Lisa wanted to know.



“He transferred to Spokane High School after that one year in Colville.”



“You should look him up,” Lisa urged.



Sandy shook her head. “I’m a happily married woman, or at least I was until tonight.”



More giggles followed. “Good grief, here we are pining after the missed opportunities of our youth,” Carolyn said.



“We’re all around fifty and we’re still afraid,” Lisa added.



Only she wasn’t, Susannah realized. “I don’t know why I didn’t look harder for Jake,” she said, angry with herself.



“Your dad would’ve had a conniption,” Carolyn reminded her.



“True, but by then I wouldn’t have cared. I was eighteen and I could stand up to him.”



“What about now?” Yvette asked. “What would you do if you ran into Jake now?”



That gave her pause. “I…I don’t know.”



“I know,” Carolyn insisted. “I’d march right up to him and ask why he stopped writing to you!”



Susannah laughed with her friends, but she had to wonder what she’d do if she did meet Jake again after all these years.



CHAPTER 13



Susannah arrived home from Carolyn’s house at close to midnight. The evening had given her exactly the infusion of energy she needed. The discontent she’d been feeling for months was affecting her marriage—and that might be one of the reasons she’d started to dream about Jake.



Susannah sincerely hoped this time apart would revive her relationship with her husband. But right now, pleasantly tired and with her spirits high, she didn’t want to think about her mother or Joe or anything else. She unlocked the front door and stepped into the dark house. Even before she turned on the light, she froze, instinct taking over. Flipping the switch, she quickly surveyed the room. Someone had been in the house. The first thing she noticed was that the pillows on the sofa weren’t the way they’d been left. Her mother had always propped them against the sofa’s arms. Before she’d gone to Carolyn’s, Susannah had moved them to the top of the sofa. Both were back where her mother used to keep them.



She felt the same eerie sensation she’d experienced the day she discovered Doug’s high school track ribbons were missing. With absolute certainty, Susannah knew that once again someone had been inside the house. Every cell in her body relayed that message.



Susannah remained motionless, studying the immediate area for additional signs of an intruder. Her relaxed mood evaporated as her senses went on high alert. Her ears strained for any sound, but she heard nothing.



Other than the sofa pillows, nothing appeared to be out of place. Perhaps she was being unnecessarily suspicious or overdramatic, but she distinctly remembered moving those pillows. It’d been a small act of defiance, foolish really. And yet it provided evidence that there’d been an intruder. While Susannah was with Carolyn and her friends, reminiscing and sipping wine, a stranger had entered the house. Another thought suddenly occurred to her.



Whoever it was might still be inside.



The faintest of sounds—the creak of a floorboard—came from the direction of the hallway. Susannah’s heart began a staccato beat that slammed against her chest. Her mouth went instantly dry.



Whoever had broken into the house was still there.



Hands shaking almost uncontrollably, she searched her purse for her cell phone and nearly groaned aloud when she remembered she’d kept it in the car to recharge the battery.



Before she could decide on the best course of action, the bedroom door opened.



Terror gripped her. Dashing to the door, Susannah had her hand on the knob, ready to bolt, when a sleepy voice called out from behind her.



“Mom?”



Susannah whirled around. “Chrissie?”



It was her daughter!



“Where were you?” Chrissie rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”



Susannah hurried over to hug her daughter but had more than a few questions herself. “What are you doing here?”



“I came to help you with Grandma,” her daughter said, covering her mouth in an attempt to hold back a wide yawn. “What time is it, anyway?”



“Midnight.”



“Where were you so long?”



“With friends.” Setting down her purse, Susannah walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. The message signal on the answering machine was flashing. “I think we both need to sit down and talk about this.”



“I tried to let you know I was coming,” Chrissie said.



The flashing light was proof enough of that.



“You didn’t answer your cell phone, either.”



“It’s charging in the car.”



“You didn’t even look at the phone when you got in?”



Susannah shook her head. It hadn’t occurred to her to check. Since she’d spoken to Joe earlier in the day, she hadn’t expected to hear from him again.



“How’d you get to Colville, anyway?” Susannah had one car, Joe another and Brian drove a clunker to and from work.



Chrissie’s smile wasn’t as confident now. “Carley Lyons phoned this morning and said she was driving to Spokane. I figured if I was that close, there had to be a way to Colville. Carley said I could get a ride with her if I paid half the gas and I did.”



“Then how did you get from Spokane to Colville?” Susannah had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.



Chrissie’s shoulders heaved. “It wasn’t easy. Carley dropped me off at the bus depot. There are some really creepy-looking people there, you know. Besides, the next bus to Colville wasn’t until the weekend.”



Susannah nodded, waiting for the rest of the story.



“Then I thought of John Mussetter. He moved to Spokane a little while ago. You remember him, don’t you? Really, how many Mussetters could there be in the phone book? I called him and he said he’d drive me to Colville if I paid for his gas and time. I agreed to give him all the money I had with me, which wasn’t as much as he wanted, so I told him you’d pay him the rest and then you weren’t here, so I owe him fifty dollars.”



The story just got worse. Susannah resisted the urge to scold her daughter. She had other concerns. “How’d you get into the house?” After that episode with Doug’s missing ribbons, Susannah never left without double-checking the doors and windows.



Chrissie grinned. “I know where Grandma hides the spare key in case anyone needs to get in.”



Susannah frowned. As far as she could recall, her parents had never hidden a key for easy access.



“Years ago Grandma showed me the place.” She smiled at Susannah. “I was praying like crazy that the key would still be there behind the brick and it was,” she said triumphantly.



As youngsters, Susannah and her brother had found a loose brick in the back of the house. The key fit behind it perfectly. Looking at the bricks, no one would suspect anything was hidden there. Susannah had completely forgotten about it and was surprised to realize their hiding place might still exist.



“I put it back,” Chrissie assured her.



Deciding she needed a cup of tea, Susannah stood and filled the kettle, putting it on the stove to boil. “Your father knows you’re here?”



Chrissie didn’t answer right away. “He found out when he came home from work. I left him a note.”



“Chrissie!”



“Mom, it was awful without you. Besides, I wanted to be here in the worst way. I love Grandma and I want to be with her. And you, too,” she added as if in afterthought. “All Dad and Brian cared about was having me cook and clean for them. I was their slave. Even when I tried to make interesting dinners they complained. Okay, so the chicken curry didn’t turn out like the one on the Food Channel, but at least I tried.”



Susannah remembered her husband’s reaction to the recipe, but Chrissie was right; she was making an effort and clearly it wasn’t appreciated. She was right, too, about being close to her grandmother. It might be a real help to have her daughter here, if for no other reason than the closeness Vivian shared with her granddaughter.



Chrissie sat back in the chair and braced her bare feet against the edge so that her chin rested on her knees. Her hair fell forward, obscuring her face. “I phoned Jason this morning.”



“Oh?” Considering how adamantly Chrissie had insisted she didn’t want anything more to do with him, this was no small concession. “How’d it go?”



“Bad. He said he wasn’t seeing Katie, but I don’t believe him. He also said he thought it’d be best if we broke up. That’s fine by me—all he had to do was be honest.” She sounded nonchalant but Susannah suspected that was merely a pose.



Susannah patted her daughter’s forearm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”



Chrissie shrugged as if it wasn’t important, but Susannah could tell that she was hurt.



“Don’t be mad at me for coming. Please, Mom, I just had to get away. I needed to talk to you and it isn’t the same over the phone. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”



After the last few days of frustration and backbreaking work, Susannah welcomed the help—and the company.



“Actually, I’m glad you’re here.”



“You are?” Chrissie sounded so relieved. She tried to hide the fact that she had tears in her eyes. “How’s Grandma doing? I’m really worried about her without Grandpa.”



Susannah struggled with her own emotions. “She’s not adjusting as well as I’d hoped.”



“How do you mean?”



“Mom’s doing everything she can to make sure she’s miserable.” Every conversation involved a litany of complaints. The food tasted terrible, the people were unfriendly, the rooms were too cold, and so on. Susannah had stopped listening.