Page 32 of First Surrender

“I’m not sure. He’s never, ever called off sick before. I’m afraid it’s bad if he’s needed to be off this many days.” Her sorrowful eyes tell me that she is genuine in her concern. She probably loves the man like a son. “Is there something I can help you with?” She asks, eyeballing the envelope in my hand.

“No, I need to give him this directly. Thank you, though. I’ll try tomorrow.”

The next morning I called the office number on the business card he had given me weeks ago and spoke to Roberta directly. She informed me that he called off for the third day. I assured her I’d check on him and she thanked me profusely. I didn’t have the heart to tell her my reasons are mostly selfish.

I want to drop the money off and get the burden off my shoulders one block at a time. Making sure he is okay is only a ruse. If he’s passed out, dehydrated on the floor, then I’ll let someone know but only because I wouldn’t want Roberta to have a heart attack if something happened to her precious Sheriff.

When I pull in, crossing over a small creek that separates his property from the road, the sun is shining down on the pristine white driveway. The house is no different, a modern cottage with a black roof and doors, the white siding looks brand new. It couldn’t have been built more than a year ago. Everything’s clean and perfect, but simple, boring even.

Huge, winding garden beds are the only outlier. Taking up a lot of the front lawn, they’re all freshly mulched and beautiful, giving character to the yard. The trees are spread out enough that I imagine when the flowers bloom fully in the summer they’re visible from the road.

Between the creek in the front and the mountainside behind the house, I can see why he said his house was safe. It’d be hard to sneak up on him here. Which is why I cringe slightly as my noisy Honda Civic makes its presence known.

An older woman with a short gray bob meets me in the driveway. She removes her gardening gloves to shield her eyes from the sun and watches as I approach.

“Hi, I am looking for the Sheriff,” I tell her, kindly. She’s older and thin, wearing a faded jean blouse and a gardening apron.

“Sheriff?” She asks, confusion marring her features. “I’m so sorry, you must have the wrong house.”

“Oh, um.” I check the picture I have of his ID, and the house numbers by the door match. Maybe she is the gardener and she’s mistaken about who lives here.

“Do you like to garden?” She asks, not at all put off by my current predicament.

“Well, I’ve never had one to practice in, but I’ve always wanted to learn.” I shrug and she smiles warmly, making me smile.

“What are you doing here?” My head snaps up when I hear his voice. He’s striding down the driveway toward us, only wearing tennis shoes and athletic shorts that hit a few inches above his knee. His chest is bare, coated with a sheen of sweat. The garage door is open behind him and full of gym equipment.

He doesn’t look sick. He’s looking at me with guarded eyes, setting my defenses high. Is he offended that I would show up here? Is it supposed to be a secret that we know each other?

“Oh, Jacks. She’s here to garden with me,” the older woman says, grasping my hand. She must have been reluctant to admit who lived here. I’m sure he doesn’t want random people to know where he resides.

“Mom, no, I don’t-”

“Yep, I’m here to garden with your mom,Jacks.” I let her tug me along and I stick my tongue out at him as I’m guided into the yard. He looks at me with utter confusion. Even as his mother gets me settled in front of a garden bed and I glance back at him, he’s still standing in the same spot staring at us.

“He looks scared.”

“Who dear?”

“Jackson. He looks afraid that you’ll tell me embarrassing things about him.”

She laughs softly but doesn’t say anything as she starts pulling weeds from the dirt and pruning stems. Instead, she starts explaining the types of flowers she is growing, when their peak bloom is, and how to take care of them.

She speaks with such eloquent detail that I’m awestruck. I’ve always wanted to learn this stuff but I didn’t have a mom who cared to try. She would have killed anything green before it even had a chance.

I don’t even realize how much time has passed until Jackson comes over to us, shading me suddenly from the sun. “Mom, your ride is going to be here soon.” He’s wearing a t-shirt now and holding a water bottle.

His mom looks at me and tilts her head. “I’m sorry, dear, what’s your name?”

“Natalie.”

“Oh, how beautiful. You were meant to be a florist,” she declares, happily.

“Mom,” Jackson says again to get her attention. She ignores him.

“Are you one of Jacks’ teachers?” Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she asks. She’s looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.

“No, Mom. She’s my… acquaintance. Come on we have to hurry.” He helps her up to her feet by her forearms, removing her gloves and apron and tossing them into a basket nearby.

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