Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(59)

“Actually, Tom’s the one with the green thumb in the family,” Patricia explained, breaking into Susannah’s thoughts. She sat next to her and poured them each a glass of lemonade. Handing Susannah hers, she said, “I heard about your father. I’m sorry.”

Susannah lowered her eyes and nodded. “It was very sudden.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

“About as well as can be expected. I just moved her into assisted living—she’s having a bit of a problem adjusting. But I’m sure that eventually she will.”

“Help yourself.” Patricia leaned forward, pointing to the plate of cookies; Susannah smiled but shook her head.

“I take it this visit is more than for old times’ sake?” Patricia asked.

Susannah appreciated not having to make small talk before she ventured onto the subject of her brother. “As I recall, you and Doug were dating at the time of my brother’s death.”

A sad, faraway look came over Patricia’s face. “Your brother was my first love,” she said softly. “It broke my heart when he was killed.”

“I was out at Doug’s grave recently.” Susannah set her lemonade down on the pinewood table and studied Patricia. “There were fresh flowers on his grave.” She eyed the flower garden, paying particular attention to the roses and peonies. “Would you know anything about that?”

“No,” Patricia told her. “The only time I go to Calvary Cemetery is on Memorial Day. Tom and I put flowers on our parents’ graves.”

“So you weren’t the one who put flowers on my brother’s grave?”

Patricia shook her head. “Other than the day of his funeral, I’ve never visited Doug’s grave.”

This was discouraging news. Susannah had assumed it must be Patricia, who had once loved her brother. If so, it might explain who’d broken into the house, as well. “I thought for sure it was you.”

Patricia shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help you. Make no mistake, I loved Doug, but that was many years ago.” She stared into the distance, as if caught up in her memories. “Life goes on. I married Tom after I graduated from nursing school. Doug was dead, but I wasn’t.”

“I know.” The tragedy had touched so many lives. In her heart Susannah believed Doug and Patricia would’ve been happy together. “I’m grateful you weren’t with him that night,” she murmured.

“Me, too,” she said, sighing. “Actually, I might’ve been, but he called and broke our date at the last minute. I was plenty peeved with him at the time because I’d come home especially to be with him.”

“Home?”

“I was at nursing school in Spokane by then.”

“Oh, right.” Susannah nodded.

“Doug and I were supposed to get together—it’d been planned for weeks—and then at the last possible second, he called and cancelled. Later, when I learned he’d been killed, I was devastated. Devastated,” she said again. “And I felt so bad for arguing with him.”

“I can imagine.” As long as she lived, Susannah would never forget the phone call telling her that her brother was dead. Her father had tried to calm her. That day had been the most horrible of her life; being so far from home had made it even worse. Her parents had never understood how desperately she’d wanted to come home. Her father hadn’t allowed it. In a few months, she’d be finished with her studies, he’d said, and it was too impractical and expensive for her to fly home twice in that short period. No matter how many years passed, Susannah could never forgive her father for being so heartless.

“My mother kept saying I could’ve been killed that night, too,” Patricia continued, “and she was right. If Doug hadn’t called, I would’ve been with him.”

“Life takes some odd twists and turns, doesn’t it?” Susannah murmured, sipping her lemonade.

Patricia nodded, then grew still for a moment. “Afterward, I thought I’d die, too. I’d never suffered that kind of loss and I wasn’t sure I could go on. I’d always assumed Doug and I would get married.”

“I always thought you would, too.”

She hesitated, and Susannah had the distinct impression that there was something the other woman wasn’t telling her. She waited, hoping Patricia would reveal whatever it was.

“I was planning to talk to Doug that weekend,” Patricia finally said.

“You were?” she asked softly, encouraging the other woman. “What about?”

“Well, when I first left for nursing school, Doug called me every night and drove up to see me at least twice a week. After a while, he started phoning every other night, and then just once the week before he died. I asked my friends who were still in Colville, and they assured me he wasn’t cheating on me. According to them, he wasn’t seeing anyone else. I didn’t understand what was happening between us. Something was. I could feel it. Unfortunately, I never found out what. And I still wonder….”

Susannah wondered, too.

“All I know is that after I went to Spokane, nothing was quite the same.”

“In what way?”

“I think there was someone else,” she said softly. “I was young and foolish, and I realize I’d romanticized the relationship, but that’s the truth. If he was seeing another woman, then my guess is she’s the person who’s leaving flowers on your brother’s grave.” She sipped her lemonade and added, “Because it isn’t me, Susannah. It simply isn’t me.”