Page 10 of Suzanna's Surrender
“I plant those, too.” Giving up, she took out a bandanna and wiped at her neck. “The hole needs to be wider, not deeper.”
He shifted to accommodate her. Maybe he needed to do a little reevaluating. “How come you don’t have anybody doing the heavy work for you?”
“Because I can do it myself.”
Yes, there was stubbornness in the tone, and just a touch of nastiness. He liked her better for it. “Looks like a two-man job to me.”
“It is a two-man job—the other man quit yesterday to be a rock star. His band got a gig down in Brighton Beach.”
“Big time.”
“Hmm. That’s fine,” she said, and turned to heft the three-foot tree by its balled roots. As Holt frowned at her, she lifted it then set it carefully in the hole.
“Now I guess I fill it back in.”
“You’ve got the shovel,” she pointed out. As he worked, she dragged a bag of peat moss closer and began to mix it with the soil.
Her nails were short and rounded, he noted as she dug her already grimed fingers into the soil. There was no wedding ring on her finger. In fact, she wore no jewelry at all, though she had hands that were meant to wear beautiful things.
She worked patiently, her head down, her cap shielding her eyes. He could see the nape of her neck and wondered what it would be like to press his lips there. Her skin would be hot now, and damp. Then she rose, switching on the garden hose to drench the dirt.
“You do this every day?”
“I try to take a day or two in the shop. I can bring the kids in with me.” With her feet, she tamped down the damp earth. When the tree was secure, she spread a thick layer of mulch, her moves competent and practiced. “Next spring, this will be covered with blooms.” She wiped the back of her wrist over her brow. The little tank top she wore had a line of sweat down the front and back that only emphasized her fragile build. “I really am on a schedule, Holt. I’ve got some aspens and white pine to plant out in back, so if you need to talk to me, you’re going to have to come along.”
He glanced around the yard. “Did you do all this today?”
“Yes. What do you think?”
“I think you’re courting sunstroke.”
A compliment, she supposed, would have been too much to ask. “I appreciate the medical evaluation.” She put a hand on the shovel, but he held on. “I need this.”
“I’ll carry it.”
“Fine.” She loaded the bags of peat and mulch into a wheelbarrow. He swore at her, tossed the shovel on top then nudged her away to push the wheelbarrow himself.
“Where out back?”
“By the stakes near the rear fence.”
She frowned after him when he started off, then followed him. He began digging without consulting her so she emptied the wheelbarrow and headed back to her truck. When he glanced up, she was pushing out two more trees. They planted the first one together, in silence.
He hadn’t realized that putting a tree in the ground could be soothing, even rewarding work. But when it stood, young and straight in the dazzling sunlight, he felt soothed. And rewarded.
“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” he began when they set the second tree in its new home.
“And?”
He wanted to swear. There was such patience in the single word, as if she’d known all along he would bring it up. “And I still don’t think there’s anything I can do, or want to do, but you may be right about the connection.”
“I know I’m right about the connection.” She brushed mulch from her hands to her jeans. “If you came out here just to tell me that, you’ve wasted a trip.”
She rolled the empty wheelbarrow to the truck. She was about to muscle the next two trees out of the bed when he jumped up beside her.
“I’ll get the damn things out.” Muttering, he filled the wheelbarrow and rolled it back to the rear of the yard. “He never mentioned her to me. Maybe he knew her, maybe they had an affair, but I don’t see how that helps you.”
“He loved her,” Suzanna said quietly as she picked up the shovel to dig. “That means he knew how she felt, how she thought. He might have had an idea where she would have hidden the emeralds.”
