Susannah's Garden

Susannah smiled, and they exchanged a warm handshake. “Thank you.” It was difficult to accept condolences even now; Susannah was never quite sure what to say. They exchanged pleasantries, and Mrs. Dalton invited her into the house.



“Would it be all right if I asked Mr. Dalton a few questions?” she asked.



“Questions?” the older woman repeated.



“I’ve recently come across some information regarding my brother. You remember Doug, don’t you?”



“Oh, yes, of course. I don’t think your dear parents ever recovered from losing him.”



Susannah swallowed hard.



Mrs. Dalton frowned. “Susannah, I’m afraid my husband’s been ill for some time—a heart condition. I don’t want to overstress him.”



Susannah nodded. “I’ll do my best not to.”



Mrs. Dalton hesitated, as if gauging how much to trust her. Then she said, “Greg’s sitting out back, enjoying the sunshine. If you’d care to join him, I’ll bring us all something cool to drink.”



Susannah followed her into the kitchen, slid open the glass door and stepped onto the patio. Greg Dalton sat with his shoulders slumped forward and his hands on his lap, facing the creek. He appeared to be napping.



Susannah didn’t want to interfere with his rest, but when she reached for a chair, it made a slight scraping sound against the concrete. The old man’s eyes opened and he glared at her accusingly.



“I’m sorry,” she said softly.



“Who the hell are you?”



Susannah told him. His eyes widened when she mentioned Doug’s name.



“You remember my parents, don’t you?” she asked. “My dad was Judge Leary.”



“’Course I do.”



“And my brother? Doug died in a car accident many years ago.”



Mrs. Dalton came outside carrying a tray with three glasses of pink lemonade. Susannah stood, taking the tray from her and setting it on the table.



“Who was it you were asking about again?” Mr. Dalton demanded.



“Doug Leary,” his wife returned. “You remember Doug, Judge Leary’s boy?”



“I wish you people would stop repeating yourselves. Yes, I remember Doug. He died—what?—thirty-some years ago.”



Susannah caught Mrs. Dalton’s grimace. “Would you like some lemonade, Greg?”



Her husband shook his head and closed his eyes, apparently resuming his nap.



“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Dalton said, “but I was afraid this would happen. Greg naps much of the day. Perhaps I can help you.”



Susannah wished she hadn’t come. She should’ve left this alone. “I moved Mom into an assisted-living complex,” she explained, without discussing her mother’s problems. She briefly described what she’d unearthed that had led her to believe her brother might have been in some kind of legal trouble. Although it didn’t seem possible, she explained, she wanted to check it out to be sure—if she could. “As you’ve probably guessed, all of this comes as a shock.”



“That was so long ago,” Mrs. Dalton said uncertainly.



Susannah agreed. “You might remember I was in France that year. I’m hoping to find out what I can about Doug and another friend I knew in high school by the name of Jake Presley.”



Mrs. Dalton frowned sadly as she sat down next to Susannah. “I don’t remember much, but I do recall something about Doug. My goodness, my memory’s bad. It just isn’t what it used to be.”



“I understand,” Susannah said. “Any information you have would be appreciated.”



The old sheriff woke suddenly. “It was a crying shame,” he mumbled.



“You remember what happened, Greg?” his wife asked.



“Huh.” He scoffed at his wife. “I’m not likely to forget. Crying shame, that’s what it was. I tried to help, but there wasn’t a thing I could do. Those two young men stepped into a hornet’s nest of trouble.”



Susannah leaned closer, afraid any question she asked would break his train of thought.



“Doug wasn’t a bad boy. The other one, either. They got in over their heads and couldn’t get out. They were in the wrong game—hell, the wrong league—for a couple of small-town boys. One of the players was an undercover agent. The two of ’em were in Idaho at the time and managed to get away. Problem is, they ran back to Colville and in the process crossed state lines. Once they did that, it became a federal crime.”



Susannah wasn’t clear on all the legalities. “You mean the local authorities—”



“I mean,” Mr. Dalton said, cutting her off, “that they’d be tried in a federal court with federal prosecutors. George was upset, very upset, and we talked it over. There was nothing I could do—or him, either, for that matter.”



Susannah shifted toward him. “You remember all this?”



“Like it was yesterday,” the older man concurred. “Your brother made a foolish mistake. His friend, too. Trouble like this wasn’t just going to disappear. With the federal government involved, there wasn’t much chance he’d escape prosecution, despite his father being a judge.”



Greg Dalton stared into the distance. “I was the first one at the accident scene. He was already dead. Rammed into the tree. Smoke and steam coming from the engine. I pried open the driver’s door and the boy slumped out, into my arms.” The old man shook his head as if to say he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.



“Greg went to plenty of accident scenes over the years,” Mrs. Dalton said in a low voice. “But Doug was the son of a good friend. He phoned me. In all his years of working as sheriff, that was the only time I’ve seen my husband that distraught. He asked me to go and sit with Vivian while George identified the body.”



A lump formed in Susannah’s throat.



“I think it nearly killed George to bury his only son,” Mrs. Dalton added.



“I know,” Susannah whispered. She stared down at her drink. She hadn’t taken so much as a sip and doubted she could swallow if she did.



“Out of respect for George and his position in the community, my husband did what he could to keep the federal charges out of the paper. The entire matter was as hush-hush as possible. Only a few people were aware of it.”



“Do you know what happened to Jake Presley?”



Mrs. Dalton shook her head. “Sorry, no.”



The sheriff cleared his throat and answered without opening his eyes. “He got away. Got clean away,” he muttered.



This was what Susannah had suspected all along. She set down her glass.



“Did I help you get the answers you need?” the sheriff asked.



“Yes, you were most helpful.”



“Good.” He dropped his chin against his chest, eyes still closed.



“Thank you for your time,” Susannah said and got to her feet. “If I have any other questions, can I phone you?”



Mrs. Dalton nodded. “We’ll do whatever we can.”



“Thank you.” Susannah walked out to her car, surprised to find tears gathering in her eyes. She had the answers she needed, but they certainly weren’t the ones she wanted.



CHAPTER 34



Chrissie wasn’t home when Susannah arrived, which was just as well. Her head was full of what she’d learned and the idea of dealing with Chrissie right now overwhelmed her.



Although it’d been hard to keep quiet, Susannah hadn’t mentioned that she’d seen Troy with another woman. It was doubtful that her daughter would believe her, anyway—and definitely not without proof. Chrissie made her feel a sense of powerlessness that bordered on desperation.



The house was warm. After opening the front and back doors to create a breeze, she sat down in a garden chair and closed her eyes, trying to think everything through carefully.



She found herself drifting off to sleep under the shade of a pine. It was little wonder, considering that she was functioning on less than four hours from the night before and even less the night before that. Her mind was clouded with worries. What was wrong with her, anyway? She’d always been levelheaded and sensible. It’d all started last year, after her father died, but she’d refused to believe Joe’s theory that her depression was connected to his death. She was no longer sure of anything. Once she was home again, she hoped her life would return to normal.



Normal.



Normal meant that the way things seemed to be was also the way they were. No massive deceptions, no ugly secrets.



Normal would be a relief, despite her listlessness and her loss of enthusiasm.



Head back, eyes closed, Susannah could so easily picture the Jake of thirty years ago, dressed in his black leather jacket. Her heart sped up at that memory alone. As a girl, she’d risked everything to be with him. Her parents would’ve grounded her for life had they known how often she slipped out in the middle of the night. The garden was their favorite spot, hers and Jake’s, especially the small rose arbor with its bench, hidden as it was from the house. He’d called it Susannah’s garden.



As sure as she drew breath, she’d believed he loved her as deeply as she loved him. What he felt for her had been fleeting, however; she knew that now, and it stung. She’d believed in him and the power of their love, which had felt invincible, especially that last night before she’d flown to France.



Susannah had pleaded with her father, begged him not to send her away. She’d wept and shrieked, but he’d turned a deaf ear and insisted that one day she’d thank him.



He’d been wrong. She’d never forgiven him for what he’d done.



A car door slammed, and Susannah opened her eyes, her tranquility destroyed. She went to the front door as her daughter pranced toward the house, wearing tight blue jeans and a tighter top. Defiance flashed from her eyes. “You aren’t stopping me, Mom.”



“From what?” Susannah asked wearily, rubbing a hand across her eyes.



“From moving to Colville. I already talked it over with Grandma and she wants me here. She said she’d pay for my expenses until I can find a job. She needs me and I want to be here for her.”



“Were we still discussing that?”



Her daughter cast her a furious look. “You talked to Dad, didn’t you? That’s why he’s on my case now.”



“Yes. Did you want to tell him yourself? I hope I didn’t ruin the surprise.” She could be as sarcastic as her daughter when the occasion called for it.



Chrissie placed one hand on her hip and scowled. “Nothing’s changed.”



Susannah sighed audibly. “I didn’t expect it would. So you’re determined to do this, despite…” She let her voice trail off.



“Despite what?”



“The fact that you aren’t the only woman in Troy Nance’s life.” She was unable to stop herself. And once she started, she had to continue. “I saw Troy in the park with someone else.”



Chrissie’s eyes narrowed. “That is so lame.”



Susannah raised her shoulders in an elaborate shrug. “Think what you want, but I know what I saw.”