Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(92)

“Hello, George,” Susannah said. “Have we met?”

“No, but your mother’s mentioned you many times.”

“I see.” Susannah set the flowers down on the bedside stand and leaned close to kiss Vivian on the cheek.

“George isn’t my boyfriend or anything,” Vivian said firmly. She wanted that understood right away. Boyfriend was such a silly word. In her day it would’ve been suitor. Or maybe gentleman caller.

“I’m not?” George said, and to her delight he sounded downright disappointed.

“We’re friends.”

“Right,” George concurred. “Friends.”

Susannah seemed to be in a good mood if that smile on her face was any indication.

“I suppose I’d best be getting back to Altamira,” George muttered, reaching for his crutches.

“Please don’t leave on my account,” Susannah said.

“The shuttle driver’s waiting. I told him I wouldn’t be staying long.” He patted Vivian’s hand one last time. “You take care, you hear.”

“I will,” she promised and then because she wanted to be sure he wouldn’t disappear the way her George sometimes did, she stretched out one hand and touched his face.

Surprise filled George’s eyes. “Hurry back home,” he whispered. “I miss you.” Then, expertly wielding his crutches, he swung out the door.

“Mother,” Susannah said. “You do have a boyfriend.”

“I most certainly don’t,” Vivian denied hotly. She rolled her head to the side to examine the flowers. “It’s very thoughtful of you to bring me roses.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

Vivian sighed. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

Susannah stepped closer to the bed. “Why would I be upset?”

Lowering her lashes, Vivian felt it was time she told the truth. “You were so angry with your father not long ago, although I don’t remember what it was about….”

“I’m beginning to think I might have misjudged Daddy,” Susannah said in a low voice.

It gladdened Vivian’s heart to hear that. “I told you I’d ask your father, but he didn’t come. I waited up half the night, and then I was afraid he didn’t know I’d moved.” She spoke quickly in her eagerness to confess what she’d done. “I wanted to talk to him so badly and he didn’t come.” She dared to glance up and to her astonishment, Susannah had tears in her eyes. This was what she’d feared most, that Susannah would be upset with her again.

“I’m so sorry,” Vivian murmured.

“Sorry about what, Mom?”

“I told George—the George you just met—that you were angry with your father and that I was waiting for him to visit. When your father didn’t show up, he suggested I tell you I’d spoken to George, which I had, of course, only it was a different George, and that anything your father did was because he loved you.”

“He did love me, Mom.” The tears in her daughter’s eyes glistened. “I don’t know why it took me so long to understand that.”

“Do you understand now?”

Susannah nodded. “I’ve learned a lot in the last few days….”

“It wasn’t a real lie. I did talk to George,” she said, returning to the subject of her small deception. “It wasn’t George, your father, but George my friend.”

Susannah offered her a gentle smile. “It’s all right, Mom. I’m not angry.”

“Good.” Vivian was tired then, really tired. After waiting most of the day, she had to assume her husband wasn’t coming. Maybe tonight, but she wasn’t holding out much hope.

“I think I’ll close my eyes,” she whispered.

“You go right ahead, Mom.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Maybe,” Susannah said. “But if I’m not, it’s because I have an errand to run.”

“That’s fine, dear. Go ahead and do your errand.”

“I love you, Mom.”

Vivian smiled, glad she’d told the truth. She felt so much better now that Susannah knew.

She must have drifted off then, because when she woke, the room was dark and silent. The night-light shone from the bathroom.

She sensed she wasn’t alone and turning her head, she realized she was right. George stood beside the bed.

Her George. Defying death, he’d come when she needed him most.

CHAPTER 41

Araucous country-and-western song was booming from the Roadside Inn when Susannah drove into the gravel parking lot. She’d left her mother, who appeared to be resting comfortably; now she was about to meet Troy. She had the money to pay him off. It was with more than a little trepidation that she’d decided to play his game.

As before, the tavern was filled with truckers. The smoke was thick and the odor of booze and stale perspiration permeated the place. Troy sat at a table with the same blonde Susannah had seen earlier. He’d told Chrissie this “old friend” was named Jenny something. The woman looked adoringly up at Troy, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist. She wore a skimpy halter top and her br**sts threatened to spill out.