More and more often, her mother had been calling Susannah by her aunt’s name. Her dead aunt’s name.
“Mom, it’s Susannah.”
Her mother frowned. “I know that.”
“Are you up to talking for a few minutes?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and patient.
Vivian picked up the remote control and muted the television. Sitting back in her chair, she tilted her head to one side in anticipation. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Mom, can I ask you a few questions about Doug?” This was hard.
Her mother blinked as if she didn’t recognize the name. Then everything seemed to fall into place. Her eyes went liquid with grief, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Susannah came to stand by her mother, bending to wrap one arm around her shoulders. “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
She shook her head. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t know how much I remember anymore.”
“Just answer what you can, all right?”
“You want to know about Dad?”
“No, Doug.” Her mother’s short-term memory seemed to be declining, too. “Was Doug in trouble when he died?”
“Trouble?” her mother repeated. “With whom?”
“The law.” She kept her voice devoid of emotion, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the use of sea salt in a particular recipe.
“Doug was a good boy. Everyone loved him.”
Knowing her father’s penchant for keeping things from her mother, Susannah wondered how much she’d known at the time, let alone what she recalled now.
“No mother should ever have to bury her son.” Vivian grew quiet. She stared into the distance as if lost in memory. “Oh, Jean, I’m so grateful you came to visit after Doug’s funeral. Having you with me was all that kept me sane.”
Again her mother had confused her with her aunt. Perhaps she resembled Jean more than she’d realized. She patted her mother’s hand. It would be impossible to get any information from her; it’d been a mistake to try.
“Who were Doug’s friends?” Susannah asked, making one last attempt. She crouched at her mother’s side.
“There was Ronny Pedderson.”
Ron and Doug had been in Boy Scouts together, Susannah remembered.
“Ronny lives in Portland now. His mother told me all about him and his family. Doug never had a chance to marry.” Fresh tears brimmed in her tired eyes.
“Yes, Mom, I know.”
“He and Scotty were good friends, too.”
“Don’t think about it anymore,” Susannah murmured. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Why did you ask about Doug?” Vivian was sobbing openly now. “George never let me talk about him, you know. Every time I brought up his name, he’d get angry with me.” She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her dress. “I couldn’t pretend we never had our son, but that was what George wanted. It was like everything gentle and good inside him died with Doug.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“You were my only joy.” Vivian lifted her hands to Susannah’s face. “I know you didn’t get along with your father. I tried to make him see that his attitude hurt you both, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Mom, please, let’s not talk about it.” Vivian was suddenly recalling things clearly, and that seemed even worse than her forgetfulness, because her memories brought pain.
Her mother nodded, sniffing a little.
Susannah left ten minutes later, filled with regrets. Every decision she’d made this summer had created disastrous consequences. Restlessness had led her on this quest to find Jake; her need had become a foolish obsession. Now she was paying the price, and it was far too high. For everyone.
Sitting in her car, Susannah got out her cell phone and after the briefest of hesitations, called Joe at his office. He was with a patient, but Miranda, the receptionist, said he’d contact her in about ten minutes.
Susannah parked in the shade at Colville City Park. The pool was at one end, with lawn and trees at the other. She sat and waited for Joe’s call, watching mothers and young children at play, teenagers on bicycles, elderly couples strolling and holding hands.
Although she’d been expecting the phone to ring, she was startled when it did.
Call display told her it was Joe’s office. “Hi,” she said, knowing this would be a difficult conversation.
“I got your message.” From his tone she could tell he was still upset with her.
Her nervousness made her stomach jumpy. “I saw the private investigator this morning.”
He didn’t ask for the results. He’d said he didn’t want to know.
“She didn’t track down Jake and, frankly, I don’t care anymore. I’ve been such an idiot. Joe, I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve made a terrible mess of everything, and…and now Chrissie—” She couldn’t finish.
“What’s wrong with Chrissie?” he asked.
Susannah swallowed her tears and blurted out the ultimatum their daughter had given her. “Chrissie insists she’s moving to Colville to take care of her grandmother and if we don’t let her live in the house, then she’ll move in with Troy Nance.”
“What?” Joe exploded.
“I’m worried sick about this.”
“You told her absolutely not, didn’t you?” The anger in Joe’s voice was so unlike him, so out of character for her normally even-tempered husband. “What the hell is going on over there?”
“I told her I’d talk to you about it. She’s blackmailing us, Joe, and any argument I give her at this point will drive her straight into Troy’s arms.”
Joe was silent for a moment; he seemed to be mentally reviewing their options.
“Joe, I don’t know what to do.” She hadn’t intended to tell him this way, but once she’d heard her husband’s voice, she couldn’t stop herself.
“How should we handle the situation?” she asked after a minute or so of silence.
“I know Chrissie’s close to your mother,” he murmured. “Maybe she really feels she can help.”
“I’m sure that’s part of it, but I don’t want her around Troy. It’s not a good relationship.” She bit her lower lip hard to keep from telling him that Troy was almost certainly Jake’s son. No need to add fuel to that fire. “He doesn’t have any visible means of support.”
“Which means he’s probably doing something illegal.”
Susannah didn’t disagree. “You could talk to Chrissie, reason with her. She might listen to you,” she told Joe.
“She stopped listening to me a long time ago,” Joe said tersely.
“We can’t let her quit college. Not only that, Troy Nance is completely wrong for her. This relationship could ruin her life.” It didn’t take much imagination to recognize trouble brewing. If Troy was a drug dealer, which everyone in town seemed to suspect, he could be arrested at any time, and Chrissie would be guilty by association.
“Well, what do you suggest?” Joe asked.
“I should’ve sent her home when she first showed up,” Susannah muttered. “I’m the one to blame,” she said wretchedly.
“We don’t need to cast blame,” Joe said. “Right now, we’ve got to concentrate our efforts on Chrissie.”
Susannah pressed her palm against her forehead, thrusting her fingers through her hair. She heard voices in the background. Joe said something she couldn’t understand.
“Suze, listen, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, but Joe—”
“I have to get back to my patient. I’ll call you later, all right?”
“Of course.”
The phone buzzed in her ear and Susannah shut it off. When she looked up, she noticed a couple in the park. She frowned as the man pushed the woman up against a tree and began to kiss her. His hands roved her body in what she could only describe as an X-rated manner; this display was completely out of place in public.
All of a sudden she recognized the man. Well, well, well. Darned if it wasn’t Troy Nance—with another woman. Susannah strained her eyes to be sure.
This was the perfect opportunity to show her daughter that Troy wasn’t to be trusted. If Chrissie wasn’t with him, which she most certainly was not, she was probably still at the house. All Susannah had to do was get her daughter, bring her to the park and let her see with her own eyes what kind of man Troy really was. Telling her would never work, since Chrissie wouldn’t believe a word she said.
Starting the engine, Susannah barreled out of her parking spot and headed for the house, praying all the while that Chrissie was home.
Of course she wasn’t.
CHAPTER 32
Carolyn had dropped Susannah off at her mother’s place after the trip to Spokane. From there, she’d returned to the mill, where she called Kettle Falls Landscaping and left a message for Dave Langevin to get in touch. She wanted to ask him to come for dinner.
He’d been to her house that one night, just that once, and it’d been the sweetest, most romantic night of her life. She hadn’t told Susannah much about their evening together. Carolyn didn’t know how to explain that she’d never felt more cherished. Yet Dave had hardly touched her.
Not for lack of wanting on either his part or hers. The attraction between them was explosive, and she knew his guardedness was no match for the pull he felt toward her.
Carolyn still had her own misgivings about an affair. By his own admission, Dave was a drifter. He’d never said why he moved around as much as he did or the reason he’d come to this area. Intensely private, he asked nothing of her, nor did he offer anything personal about himself. Nevertheless, she was drawn to him in a way she hadn’t been drawn to any other man in years.
At the end of the workday, the whistle blew and the sound jolted Carolyn from her thoughts. Within minutes the men started out of the gates, their lunch buckets in their hands. Dave, too, would be getting off work and when he got back to the office he’d receive her message. He didn’t have a cell phone, otherwise she would’ve contacted him directly.
But even if he did get the message, there was no way of knowing whether he’d accept her invitation. She waited at the office for an extra half hour, wondering if he’d get in touch with her there. When no call came, she decided to go home.
As she drove, Carolyn felt depressed. Needing a man in her life—a particular man—was an uncomfortable feeling. Dave had said that in the end he’d hurt her, although that seemed to worry him more than it did Carolyn. She felt a sudden and unaccountable conviction that he wouldn’t show. That he’d already made his decision.
By seven she knew she was right. Barefoot and wearing red cotton capris and a sleeveless red-checkered shirt, she watered her garden, trying to focus on the sensual feel of the grass against her feet, the sun on her arms, the heavy scent of the old roses.