The Confession (4 page)

Stunned, Aimee looked up and realized all eyes were focused on her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know who it could possibly be. Excuse me.”

She rose from the table and followed Mimsey to the sitting room. She picked up the phone with a confused “Hello?”

“Aimee, where are you? What are you doing? You should be here taking care of mother. She is beside herself with worry. You just took off … ”

“Joan … ?”

Her sister continued to rant into the phone. “How could you do this to her or to me? What is wrong with you?”

“It’s complicated, but — ”

“What are you doing in California? You need to come home immediately.”

She wondered how Joan knew where she was. It was evident that her mother hadn’t told her the situation. She waited until she was sure her sister was finished before she said, “Is mother okay? Health-wise, I mean?”

Joan raised her voice. “No, she’s not okay. She’s dying, and you just ran out of here like the house was on fire, and we haven’t heard a word from you since. You won’t return my phone calls. I had to find out where you were from Luther. What’s going on with you? I swear you are the most selfish — ”

“That’s enough with the insults. You have no idea what’s going on, so don’t presume that my actions are selfish. I can’t come home right now. I
won’t
come home right now. Don’t call me here again. If you need to reach me for anything other than insulting me, you can leave a message on my cell phone and I’ll call you back.”

“Tell me what’s going on — ”

Aimee hung up the phone without letting her sister finish her sentence. She leaned her head onto the palm of her hand trying to get her emotions under control.

“Is everything okay?”

She whipped her head around and found Mark standing inside the doorway. He was leaning up against the door-frame, his arms crossed and his face expressionless.

“Everything’s fine. I’m sorry for the interruption.”

“Everything didn’t sound fine,” he replied.

“My sister has a tendency toward the dramatic, and our mother’s been sick,” she finally managed to say, her voice cracking over the word
mother
.

Walking further into the room, he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked down at the floor before he spoke. “I’m sorry your mother’s sick. Is she going to be okay?”

She answered him honestly. “Actually, I don’t think so. She’s been sick for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied, his voice sincere. He walked over to her, and awkwardly placed his hand on her shoulder in an obvious attempt to console her.

Her skin sizzled beneath his touch. Recognizing his discomfort and uneasy about her own reaction, she stood, and walked slowly from the room. They met Emily in the hallway.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Aimee replied. “I’m so sorry about the interruption and the personal phone call to your home.”

“Don’t worry about that. Are you still hungry?”

“I don’t think I could eat another bite, but thank you.”

“Mark, are you still willing to give us a tour of the work completed today? I would love to see it.” Emily placed her arm through his and led him toward the back door.

Aimee followed behind them into the backyard. The sun was still shining, illuminating the vivid flowers surrounding them on all sides. They walked deeper onto the property, past the pool and away from the cottages. They approached the newly installed sandstone patio. Emily slid her arm away from Mark’s, clapping her hands together in glee.

“It’s so beautiful,” she sang, spinning in a circle.

The patio was surrounded on one side by multiple rose bushes, their blossoms bursting open in an array of colors. The opposite side of the patio was still just a dirt-filled flowerbed awaiting the next day’s planting. Wrought iron furniture with bright yellow cushions sat in a circle, inviting long conversations.

“Don’t they smell marvelous?” Emily asked, leaning her head back and inhaling deeply.

“They do,” Aimee replied, taking a moment to enjoy their scent. “Roses have always been my favorite flower.”

“Mine, too,” Emily responded, sitting down in one of the chairs and tucking her legs under her.

Aimee noticed the look of peace on Emily’s face as her eyes scanned the rose garden. She realized Emily’s expression mirrored her own feelings as she curled up in the chair across from her. Roses had always made her happy, and it felt right that she and Emily would share that.

After speaking to her sister, Aimee desperately needed to shake the turmoil she felt. Even after sharing a brief moment with Emily, she found herself mentally debating her decision to come here. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of weeping. She watched Emily remove something from her sleeve, place it on a rose bud, and with a mumbled “excuse me” walk quickly from the rose garden, tears running unchecked down her face.

“What happened?” she asked Mark. “What’s wrong with Emily?”

She could see Mark fighting back tears of his own before he finally answered, “She saw a ladybug.”

“A ladybug? I don’t understand.”

“Ladybugs are very symbolic for Emily.” He paused, as if carefully choosing his words. “Ladybugs are protectors. They eat the insects that will harm her roses. She calls them the protectors of the beautiful.”

“If they are good for her roses and protectors, why does seeing one reduce her to tears?”

He looked at her for a long moment, crinkling his brow in thought. “Sometimes, even the protectors fail to protect what’s most precious, what’s most beautiful.” He bowed his head and inhaled deeply, before slowly rising from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do back at the cottage. Goodnight Aimee, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sitting alone, surrounded by thousands of beautiful roses, she suddenly understood.

Walking into the kitchen the following morning, Aimee was surprised to find the room empty. Emily and Mark weren’t laughing and sipping coffee at the table in the corner, and Mimsey wasn’t cooking eggs at the stove. Today was different from the day before, and in the silence was sadness. She poured herself a cup of coffee, and taking it with her, headed out of the kitchen toward the office.

She found Emily seated behind her desk, her head bent forward concentrating on the computer screen. Aimee said “good morning” and walked around to her own desk.

Emily smiled at her. “Good morning, Aimee. I apologize for my behavior last night. I think I was a bit over-tired and somewhat overwhelmed.”

“No apologies necessary.”

“It was just a silly ladybug,” Emily continued. “I seem to have a love-hate relationship with them.”

“There is no need to apologize or explain.”

“Was Mark okay? He worries about me more than he should.”

“He seemed fine. He obviously loves you very much.”

“Too much, I’m afraid.” Emily’s eyes lit up as she leaned back in her chair. “You would think he were my son and not McKenzie’s on most days.”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing. Having someone love you like he does should be seen as a blessing, don’t you think?”

“He is that … a blessing. I like that word, makes me feel cherished.”

“Well, it’s clear that you are,” Aimee said. “So you haven’t seen Mark this morning?”

“No. He didn’t come over for breakfast.” She was silent for a moment. “He’s an amazing young man, don’t you think? I only wish he’d settle down and find a nice girl to fuss over. He’ll make some lucky girl very happy one day.” Emily smiled directly at Aimee.

Aimee shook her head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t think he’s very happy I’m here.”

“Just give him time. He seems to see a hidden agenda in everyone.”

“Why is that?”

“Mainly due to past experiences. Mark doesn’t do well with secrets or lies, and tends to believe that everyone in my life, with the exception of him, is living both.”

Aimee looked down at her desk, her stomach clenching and her heart pounding.
Tell her!
her mind screamed. “Does he really believe all secrets and lies are bad? Isn’t it possible that sometimes people keep secrets, or tell a lie, to protect someone from being hurt?”

“Wow, that’s a big question for only one cup of coffee.” Emily folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t think secrets and lies are ever justifiable, and I believe Mark feels the same. If you really look at the reason why someone tells a lie, even if they believe they’re doing it for the right reason, there are a million other pieces of evidence that prove it’s actually just a selfish decision.”

The tears welled up in Aimee’s eyes and she took a deep breath. “Emily, I have to tell you … ”

“Peter. What a nice surprise,” Emily chirped as she suddenly rose from behind her desk.

Aimee leapt in surprise and inhaled sharply. She pasted a smile on her face and looked over at Peter, walking purposefully into the office. His legs were long, his shoulders broad, and his sandy hair was cut in a classic style, flattering his slightly heart shaped face. She wasn’t sure how a man could appear elegant and rugged at the same time. His brown eyes appeared to watch her intently as she rose to greet him.

“We’ve acquired a couple of new items for the auction and I wanted to get your approval to add them to the catalog before it goes to the printers.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket, placed his briefcase on the table and clicked it open.

They each took a seat on the couch and Peter handed them the new item listing.

“Wow. An original Andy Warhol painting, that’s fantastic,” Emily said with excitement. “What a wonderful donation.”

They spent the remainder of the morning going through the list, while Aimee made notes of phone calls she needed to make, and deliveries she needed to finalize. They were still in need of a few items for the main auction, as well as items for the silent auction that would be held during the dinner reception.

“I hate to cut this short, but I have a lunch appointment this afternoon, and I’ll be late if I don’t get going. Will you two be able to handle this without me?” Emily said, rising from the couch.

“Of course, I believe I’m in extremely capable hands.” Peter smiled at Aimee and stood up as well. “Aimee, would you like to continue our meeting over lunch? There’s a fantastic little bistro downtown that serves the best coq au vin you’ve ever tasted.”

“I … ”

“You should go.” Emily smiled at her. “He’s not exaggerating about the coq au vin, and you can get yourself better acquainted with Peter as well as the auction items. I won’t be back before three, so enjoy yourselves.” She walked around the small table preparing to leave. “Aimee, did you have something you wanted to tell me earlier?”

Her heart sank. “It was nothing. Enjoy your lunch.”

Emily grabbed her purse from the hook by the door, and with a final wave, said to Peter, “Just leave the updated list with Aimee after you two have gone through it, and we’ll talk again this week.”

“I will.” He placed the papers back into his briefcase, closed the lid with a snap, and held out his hand. “So will you join me?”

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up from the couch. “Of course, I just need a minute to grab my purse.” She looked into his handsome face and returned his smile.

“I’ll wait for you in the foyer then.”

She headed downstairs and out the back door. Approaching her cottage, she spotted Mark walking toward her on the path.

“Aimee,” he said nodding his head in greeting, his mouth in a straight line. He quickened his pace.

She returned his greeting and opened the door to walk inside.

She heard him speak again and turned around to see him stopped on the pathway, his back toward her, his head bent down. He slowly turned to her and lifted his head. He looked at her for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes clouded with unreadable emotion.

“Would you like to join me for lunch? Mimsey is fixing chicken salad,” he finally muttered, as if the invitation was painful to ask.

Confused by her own feeling of disappointment, she frowned. “Thank you for the invitation, but I was just running out to a business lunch.”

He didn’t say anything, only tipped his head toward her again, turned, and continued walking down the path.

She shook her head in confusion, picked up her purse off the counter, and headed back to the house.

Peter stood patiently in the foyer as she came down the hall.

“All set?” He smiled, holding the front door for her.

He opened the passenger door of his deep blue Jaguar and with his hand resting on the small of her back, assisted her inside. She felt someone watching her and, looking up at the house, she could see Mark standing in the window, peering down at them. Unable to read his expression through the glare from the sun, she lifted her hand in a short wave.

Goosebumps rose on her arms when he quickly stepped back from the window. Wishing she had the ability to read minds, she shook her head in confusion, and turned her attention back to Peter.

Mark pounded the shovel into the dirt, swaying it back and forth to loosen the soil. He paused, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. He glanced up at the smoldering sun. He realized he’d been attacking the flowerbeds for close to three hours but no amount of physical exertion could chase the vision of Peter’s hand on Aimee’s lower back from his mind, or squelch his overwhelming anger at seeing them together.

Shaking his head in self-disgust, he hoisted the shovel up and brought it down, embedding it deep into the dirt. He pulled his drenched T-shirt over his head and placed it over the shovel’s handle. Lifting the hose, he twisted the nozzle, allowing the water to trickle out. He placed it against his lips and took a long swallow before lifting it above his head.

He stood for a moment under the cold flowing water, allowing it to cool his skin as well as his temper. His turned at the soft purr of a car motor followed by the closing of a car door. He twisted off the nozzle. Running his hands through his wet hair, he began to walk briskly toward the main house.

He marched through the back door and hurried down the hallway leaving muddy footprints in his wake. He stopped before he reached the foyer and watched Aimee as she stood in the front hallway laughing at something Peter said and thanking him for lunch. Jealousy coursed through him as Peter grasped Aimee’s hand and lifted it to his lips.