Page 40 of Suzanna's Surrender
“I’m putting in flowers.” She packed down the soil. “Anyone with an ounce of imagination can see that this place is crying for flowers.”
So she wanted to fight, he noted, rocking back on his heels. Well, he could oblige her. “You could have asked before you dug up the yard.”
“Why? You’d just sneer and make some nasty macho remark.”
He came down another step. “It’s my yard, babe.”
“And I’m planting flowers in it.Babe.” She tossed her head up. Yeah, she was mad enough to spit nails, he noted. And she was also miserable. “If you don’t want to bother to give them any water or care, then I will. Why don’t you go back inside and leave me to it?”
Without waiting for a response, she went back to work. Holt took a seat while she added lavender and larkspur, dahlias and violas. He smoked lazily, noting that her hands were as sure and graceful as usual.
“Planting posies doesn’t seem to be improving your mood today.”
“My mood is just fine. In fact, it’s dandy.” She snapped a sprig off some freesia and swore. “Why shouldn’t it be, just because I had to watch Jenny get in that damn car with tears running down her cheeks? Just because I had to stand there and smile when Alex looked back at me, his little mouth quivering and his eyes begging me not to make him go.”
When her eyes filled, she shook the tears away. “And I had to stand there and take it when Bax accused me of being an overprotective, smothering mother who was turning his children,hischildren into timid weaklings.”
She hacked her spade into the dirt. “They’re not timid or weak,” she said viciously. “They’re just children. Why shouldn’t they be afraid to go with him, when they hardly know him? And with his wife who stood there in her silk suit and Italian heels looking distressed and helpless. She won’t have a clue what to do if Jenny has a bad dream or Alex gets a stomachache. And I just let them go. I just stood there and let them get in that awful car with two strangers. So I’m feeling just fine. I’m feeling terrific.”
She sprang up to shove the wheelbarrow back to the truck. When she came back to do the mulching, he was gone. She forced herself to do the work carefully, reminding herself that at least here, over this one thing, she had control.
Holt came back, dragging the hose from around the other side of the house and holding two beers. “I’ll water them. Have a beer.”
Swiping a hand over her brow, she frowned at the bottles. “I don’t drink beer.”
“That’s all I’ve got.” He shoved one into her hand then pushed the lever for the sprayer. “I think I can handle this part by now,” he said dryly. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Suzanna walked to the steps and sat. Because she was thirsty she took one long sip then rested her chin on her hand and watched him. He’d learned not to drown the plants or pound them with a heavy spray. She let out a little sigh then sipped again.
No words of sympathy, she thought. No comforting pats or claims to understand just how she felt. Instead, he’d given her exactly what she’d needed, a silent wall to hurl her misery and anger against. Did he know he’d helped her? She couldn’t be sure. But she knew she had come here, to him, not only to plant flowers, not only to get out of the house, but because she loved him.
She hadn’t given herself time to think about that, not since the feeling had opened and bloomed inside of her. Nor had she given herself a chance to wonder what it would mean to either of them.
It wasn’t something she wanted. She wanted never to love again, never to risk hurt and humiliation at a man’s hands again. But it had happened.
She hadn’t looked for it. She had looked only for peace of mind, for security for her children, for simple contentment for herself. Yet she had found it.
And what would his reaction be if she told him. Would it please his ego? Would it shock or appall or amuse? It didn’t matter, Suzanna told herself as she slipped an arm around the dog who had come to join her. For now, perhaps for always, the love was hers. She no longer expected emotions to be shared.
Holt shut off the spray. The colorful bed added charm to the simple wooden cottage. It even pleased him that he recognized some of the blooms by name. He wasn’t going to ask her about the ones that were unfamiliar. But he’d look them up.
“It looks pretty good.”
“They’re mostly perennials,” she said in the same casual tone. “I thought you might find it rewarding to see them come back year after year.”
He might, but he also thought he would remember, much too vividly, how hurt and unhappy she’d looked when she’d planted them. He didn’t dare dwell on how much it upset him to picture Alex and Jenny climbing tearfully into a car and driving away.
“They smell okay.”
“That’s the lavender.” She took a deep breath of it herself before rising. “I’ll go around and turn off the hose.” She’d nearly turned the corner when he called her name.
“Suzanna. They’ll be all right.”
Not trusting her voice, she nodded and continued around back. She was crouched down, the dog’s face in hers when he joined her.
“You know, if you put some day lilies and some sedum on that bank, you’d solve most of the erosion problem.”
He cupped a hand under her elbow to pull her to her feet. “Is working the only thing you use to take your mind off things?”
