Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(80)

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.”

“You’d do just about anything to keep me from seeing Troy, but I didn’t realize you’d lie.”

“Ask him yourself,” Susannah suggested, gesturing toward the kitchen phone.

Chrissie hesitated for a moment. “Fine, I will.” She marched off with a righteousness fueled by certainty—or at least the pretense of certainty.

Susannah followed her, curious to hear what Jake’s son would say. And yes, she’d reconciled herself to the truth of Sharon’s claim that Jake was her son’s father.

Her back to the wall, Chrissie sat on the linoleum floor. She rested her face against her knees as she held the receiver to her ear. When Susannah entered the room, Chrissie raised her eyes, sparking with indignation.