Scent of Roses (33 page)

“That's pretty much it.”

“What about this other thing? The paper said a second body was found in the same location two days later. That's incredible.”

“Yeah. Weirder yet, they were murdered more than thirty years apart. Of course, after spending a night in that house, it isn't that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean? You think the house itself had something to do with it?”

“A month ago I would have laughed at the notion. Now? I tell you, Gwen, that place is downright evil.”

Gwen shivered. “I never believed in ghosts, but what do I know, anyway?”

“They haven't identified the second body. Whoever it is doesn't fit the description of anyone who's been reported missing in the area over the past few years. Sheriff Morgan says there's a chance they'll never find out who it is.”

“Sounds like he's been keeping you pretty well informed.”

“I'm sure he isn't telling me everything, but I guess he figures Zach and I have a right to know.”

“You don't think he suspects Zach, do you? I mean he does have a criminal record and he was raised out there on the farm.”

“Zach was living in L.A. when the man was killed. And I doubt that if he really had murdered the man, he would lead the police to the place he had buried the body.”

“Good point. Carson's been making all kinds of statements. His picture's all over the front page of the paper.”

“Carson's a guy who could turn rotten lemons into lemonade. He's actually making political hay out of this.”

Gwen gave her a reassuring smile, reached over and squeezed her hand. “You'll get past this Zach thing. It'll just take a little time.”

“I know. I'll recover. I got over Brian and now I'm glad to be rid of him.” Only she didn't think she would ever feel that way about Zach. She didn't think she would ever find a man who suited her the way he did, a man who just felt so right.

“Well, I gotta run. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I'm fine. Mostly it's just a reaction to all the stuff that's been happening. Thanks for stopping by. You're a good friend, Gwen.”

Gwen waved away the words, though they were completely true. “Call me if you get to feeling depressed.”

“I will.”

“Take care of yourself, Liz.”

She nodded, knowing she would. She would get over Zachary Harcourt. Someday.

Just not all that soon.

F
letcher Harcourt was released from the UCLA Medical Center ten days after his surgery. They were the longest days of Zach's life. Though his father was improving daily, Zach was becoming more and more depressed.

Whenever he was in his apartment—the place he had loved and considered his own personal retreat—it now felt empty and cold. He thought of the day he had brought Liz home with him, remembered how she had looked standing in front of the living room window, how he loved having her sleeping next to him in his king-size bed.

Every night he slept alone, aching to have her beside him. In the mornings, he looked for her as he walked into the kitchen, though he knew she couldn't possibly be there. Even in his office, he thought of her, had to forcibly make himself refrain from picking up the phone.

I'm in love with her. Desperate, crazy in love.

And he was coming to believe it was the kind of love that didn't happen to a man more than once.

As the days crept past and as his life resumed its same familiar patterns, he found himself more and more dissatisfied. The women who flirted with him in Mickey's Sports Bar after work held no appeal. He took his new sailboat,
Devil May Care,
out into the harbor, hoping it would help, but the warm, sunny day only made him wish he had someone to share it with, and not just anyone would do.

Even his work didn't seem as interesting as it had before.

In the days after his return to L.A., he replayed over and over all that had happened in San Pico. He thought of little Carrie Ann Whitt, dead at nine years old, thought of the man who had been murdered and buried under the house, and it occurred to him how very short life could be.

He found himself asking,
Do you really want to live the years ahead alone?
Before he'd met Liz, the answer would have been yes. He'd been comfortable in his aloneness.

Now he knew what he had been missing.

The thought nagged him, wouldn't leave him be.

Still, the question remained, if he pursued a different sort of life, if he made the one hundred percent commitment it would take, could he keep it?

Searching for an answer, he drove absently around the city, the black BMW eventually turning with almost a mind of its own, onto the off-ramp that would take him to his mother's apartment in Culver City.

He was halfway up the stairs to her second floor apartment when he realized he hadn't brought her a present, as was his routine. Still, he knocked on the door and surprisingly found her there.

“Zachary! Come on in!” Wearing tight black ankle-length stretch pants and a low-cut blouse, clothes that did nothing for her robust figure, she led him into the kitchen where she had a cigarette burning in the ashtray, and they both sat down at the table.

“So how's your father doing?” She frowned. “You're not here because something's happened? He's okay, isn't he?”

“Dad's doing great. He's going to be released in a couple of days.”

She reached for her half-burned cigarette, dotted the ashes and took a long drag. “I wasn't all that worried. The old bird's too tough to croak.” Zach had called to tell her about the surgery, then kept her posted during the recovery period.

She flicked him a speculative glance. “You didn't bring me any coffee? Not even a box of chocolates? Okay, tell your mama what's wrong.”

Zach leaned back heavily in his chair. “You want to know what's wrong? I'm in love, that's what's wrong. I'm in love and it's killing me.”

Teresa's black eyebrows shot up, then she laughed, a raspy, deep, cigarette smoker's rumble in her very substantial chest.

“Who's the lucky girl?” she asked. “And why aren't you happy? It's taken you years to find someone.” Her dark eyes widened. “Don't tell me she doesn't love you? No woman with half a brain would—”

“I don't know if she loves me or not. I haven't asked. I'm tying to end our relationship.”

“What? She cheat on you? If she did—”

“She didn't cheat. She's not that kind of girl. Liz is special. She's smart and fun to be with. She's loyal and brave. She's sexy as hell and I'm crazy about her. But I…”

“You what, Zach?”

“She's the kind of girl you marry and I don't think I can do that.”

“Why not?” Teresa asked gently, reaching over to take hold of his hand. “You know, Zach, you've been a loner all your life and I've never really understood why. You get along with people. You seem to like them and they like you. But in the end, you always pull away. You were a lonely little boy, Zach. There's no reason for you to spend your whole life that way.”

He glanced out the window, saw only the wall of the building next door. “Maybe not. I don't know.”

“You need to ask yourself what it is you really want out of life and if the answer is that you want to be with this girl, then go for it. You're not like your father—or me, for that matter. If you give your heart to a woman, you won't betray her. That's one thing I know for sure.”

A corner of his mouth edged up. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I'm your mother. I never was much of a one, but I know if you make a promise, you keep it. And I think you would make some woman a damned fine husband.”

Zach looked at her hard, seeing something in her eyes he had only begun to notice. In her own strange way, Teresa loved him.

He shoved back his chair and stood up. “Sometimes you amaze me…Mother.” Catching her chin, he bent and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “I'll think about what you said.”

But he didn't really have to think anymore. He'd been back in L.A. for two weeks, fourteen long, restless nights, searching for the answer that suddenly seemed so clear. He knew what he wanted, had known for sometime but was afraid to admit it.

Unfortunately, before he had come to that conclusion, he had made a miserable mess of things.

Now the question was,
What the hell should he do?

 

The office was just about to close for the day. Elizabeth still sat working behind her desk when a phone call came through from Miguel. He sounded frantic, yet more like his old self than he'd been in some time.

“Elizabeth. It is Miguel Santiago. I am calling from the hospital. Maria…she is having the baby!”

Elizabeth grinned. “That's wonderful, Miguel! I'm just leaving work. I'll be there as quickly as I can.”

“Oh, no, you do not have to come. You have done enough already. And Señora Garcia, she is here with me.”

“I'm coming. I'll be there as soon as I can get there.”

She didn't miss the relief in his voice. “
Gracias.
That would be very good. I know Maria will be happy to know you are coming.”

She hung up the phone and grabbed her purse. Terry was on the phone when she walked up to the desk. She ended the call and looked up. “You're smiling. What's up?”

“I'm off to the County Hospital in Mason. Maria Santiago is having her baby.”

Dr. James emerged from his office just then. “So the big day has finally arrived.”

Elizabeth grinned, excited and wildly relieved. “Looks that way.”

“I guess I owe her an apology…though I still have a tough time believing in ghosts. I'm glad you stuck with her through all of this.”

“I have to say, there were times I thought I was going a little crazy myself.”

“By the way, Babs and I are finally getting married. Funny thing is, after all the indecision, I'm really excited about it.”

Elizabeth thought of Zach and ignored a stab of pain. “Congratulations. I guess when you finally figure out what you want, everything falls into place.”

“Yes, I think it does.”

Pasting a smile on her face, pushing thoughts of Zach away, Elizabeth waved a quick goodbye and dashed out the back door to her car.

The roads were a little bit busy this time of day, but she made the trip to the Mason hospital in record time. Once inside, she headed for the maternity ward and found Miguel pacing the floor of the waiting room. The man looked completely different from the last time she had seen him, his dark hair neatly trimmed, shirt and trousers spotlessly clean.

“Elizabeth! Thank you so much for coming.”

“I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Where is she?”

“She is in the labor room.”

“Aren't you going in with her?”

Miguel's dark face turned pale. “I would rather wait out here.”

Elizabeth bit back a smile. In Miguel's mind, having a baby was a woman's job. It was the man's job to wait and worry.

“This is Señora Garcia,” he said, introducing her to a heavyset woman sitting in one of the chairs.

“Con mucho gusto, Señora,”
Elizabeth said.

“It is good to meet you, too. Maria has spoken of you often.” She had snow-white hair and very dark, very weathered skin. She wore a flowered housedress and serviceable brown leather shoes with the stockings rolled down around her ankles.

“How is she doing?” Elizabeth asked.

“She is a little nervous, but then this is her first.”

For the next three hours, they waited, drinking cups of thick black coffee.

Then a green-gowned nurse appeared in the door of the waiting room. “Mr. Santiago?”

Miguel shot to his feet. “
Sí,
that is me.”

A grin spread across the nurse's face. “It's a boy! You have a son, Mr. Santiago. A seven pound, twelve ounce baby boy.”

Miguel let out a whoop of glee.

“Congratulations,” Elizabeth said, grinning nearly as wide as the nurse.

“When can I see her?” Miguel asked.

“Give us a few minutes to get her cleaned up and I'll come get you.”

By the time visitors were allowed into the room, Maria was propped up in the bed, proudly holding her bundled-up son in her arms. Everyone
oohed
and
aahed
over the tiny black-haired infant and said what a beautiful child he was—which indeed he was.

Then Maria fixed her attention on Elizabeth and her wide smile softened. “I owe my son's life to you. To you and to Mr. Zach.”

“I'm glad we were able to help.”

“No one believed me. No one but the two of you.” Maria's dark eyes welled with tears. “My son might not be here if it hadn't been for you. I will never forget what you did for all of us.”

Elizabeth reached out and caught her hand. “The important thing is that you have a fine, healthy boy.”

Maria nodded and wiped at the wetness, turned back to her husband before more tears could form.

Elizabeth stayed a few minutes more, then the nurse returned and the group was asked to leave so the new mother and child could get some sleep.

As she left the hospital, Elizabeth remembered Maria's words,
my son might not be here if it hadn't been for you.
She thought of the evil force that dwelled inside the house and couldn't help wondering if Maria's grim words might not be true.

 

Zach drove up to San Pico late in the afternoon of the following day. His father had arrived back in town the week before, released into the care of Dr. Marvin, Dr. Kenner and the nursing staff at Willow Glen. According to the daily reports Zach had been receiving, Fletcher Harcourt was doing very well, but Zach wanted to see for himself the progress his father was making.

And he wanted to talk to Liz.

His stomach tightened. He'd had days to think about her, consider his future, a future he was now certain he wanted to share with the woman he loved. He wanted to marry her, have kids with her. Be a husband and father.

He wanted the family that he had never had.

He was in love with Liz, but was Liz in love with him? And even if she were, after her disastrous marriage and the way he had ignored her for the past two weeks, would she have the courage to take a chance on a guy like him?

It was early evening when he pulled the BMW into the parking lot at Willow Glen and turned off the engine. Tomorrow—if he could work up the nerve—he'd go see Liz. By then, maybe he could figure out what to say, find the words that would convince her to forgive him for running away.

At the time, it had seemed the best way.

In the old days, it would have been.

But Zach wasn't the same man he had been before. The trick was to convince Liz of that. How could he make her believe, if she agreed to marry him, she would never regret it?

Tomorrow, he told himself. A little more time was what he needed. In the meantime, he had his father to think of, and so he pushed through the front doors of Willow Glen, into the reception area, signed in with Renee, the young woman on duty at the desk, and headed down the hall.