The Island of Heavenly Daze (16 page)

As they neared the house, she saw Caleb puttering around the front porch, trying to appear as though he wasn't watching for their return. He didn't fool her. He was waiting to make sure that she and Aunt Olympia made it home safely, or at least without coming to blows. Annie smiled, rather liking the thought that someone cared enough to watch for her. It wasn't a feeling she was used to.

Pausing at the bottom of the porch steps, Olympia eased closer to whisper, “Let's not mention anything to Caleb about those hamburgers, shall we?”

Annie met her gaze. “Why not?”

“It would only upset him. He's fixed pork chops—or maybe even chicken—for supper. We'll have to play a little game and eat something to keep him happy. You don't mind, do you?”

“I'm sorry, I didn't think about him fixing supper. We could have waited—”

“That's all right.” Olympia's tight expression relaxed into a small smile. “If you were hungry for hamburgers, I wanted you to have one.”

“Aunt Olympia!” Annie leaned close to her aunt's ear. “What if he can smell them on our clothes?”

Olympia's eyes widened. Lifting her arm to her nose, she sniffed her sleeve. “You don't think he can, can he?”

Annie burst out laughing, and a moment later Olympia chuckled. “I asked for that. Maybe I am a doddering fool.”

At the sound of giggles, Caleb turned and lifted his brow in surprise. “Did you girls have a nice afternoon?”

“As nice as you can have giving your money away.” Olympia winked at Annie. “Is supper ready yet? The trip has worn me out.”

“Coming up, my ladies.” Caleb disappeared into the house, shaking his head.

As the women paused at the foot of the stairs, Olympia reached out and closed Annie's hand around the yellow rose. Meeting her gaze, she said softly. “I want you to have this. It's just a flower, mind you, but . . . thank you for coming with me, Annie.”

The unexpected and uncharacteristic show of sentimentality caught Annie off guard. Aunt Olympia had enjoyed herself.

“Sure. It was . . . interesting.”

“Well, then. We're agreed? Not a word about the hamburgers or the salt or the butter. I didn't use much, just a dab.”

“Not a word,” Annie promised.

Dusk settled peacefully over the island. The last mellow rays of daylight bathed the scrawny tomato patch. Annie knelt, studying the plants. Their heads hung close to the ground this evening. Heavy with the pork chop and two helpings of potatoes and gravy that her aunt insisted she eat to keep up appearances, her stomach nearly joined them.

Frowning, she crawled along the rows, coaching the plants' growth. “Come on, ladies. Perk up! You want to grow up and make somebody's salad an absolute work of art, don't you? What about all that salsa and spaghetti sauce you'll flavor? You want to be pickled, sliced, crushed, diced, and stewed, don't you?” She dipped a cup into a pail of water and carefully watered the droopy vegetation. “I'll be leaving in two days, but you don't have to worry your tender little heads. I'll ask Caleb to look after you. You know Caleb? He's a nice man, and he'll help you grow and thrive and bloom and make the most delicious tomatoes the world has ever seen.”

The plants drooped in response, and Annie sat back and regarded their spindly stalks.

Until this moment, she hadn't realized how badly she wanted this experiment to work. So much of her life had been spent trying to prove herself, first to her aunt and uncle and later to professors and colleagues. She longed to be free of the overwhelming ache to mean something to someone.

“There,” she whispered, carefully tucking dirt around the base of a leaning plant. “You'll be fine. The sun will warm you, the ocean breeze will ruffle your blooming head, and you'll grow and produce. And you, little one,” she kissed her fingers and briefly touched the fragile leaves, “will be loved by everyone. I envy you.”

Sitting back on her heels, she watched the last remaining rays of daylight fade into an opaque sky, wondering what it would be like to be unconditionally loved. Rationally, she knew that wasn't possible, but a girl could always dream . . .

Her parents were nothing but a dream now, dimly remembered shadows who had held her, and laughed, and loved her . . . with no strings attached. They expected nothing from her but love. They wanted her to be happy . . . and she had been, for seven too-short years.

Sighing, she stood. Not even Tallulah had ventured out into the yard with her, so for the first time all day she was truly alone. The threatening headache she'd felt earlier never developed, so she allowed her mind to wander back over the day's events. Aunt Olympia could be infuriating at times, but all in all, they had had a good day. Annie smiled into the fading sunset.

The sun smiled back, shining its promise over her and the weak tomatoes before saying good night and slipping into a soft blanket of clouds.

With a heavy heart, Caleb watched Annie from the kitchen window.

She's so lonely, Father. She feels unloved—well, of course
you understand.

“It seemed they made progress today,” he whispered as he wiped the counter. “Olympia doesn't realize the hurt her tongue causes the girl. She longs for a closer relationship, as Annie does, but they both struggle against pride, Father.”

The counter clean, Caleb slipped to his knees in the silent kitchen and bowed his head.

“Father God,” Caleb prayed, “please give these two women the wisdom to see through their pride and love each other. And give me, your humble servant, the knowledge of how to help them see the truth. Amen.”

As he finished praying, the screen door opened. Annie quietly entered the house.

“Caleb! I thought you might still be in the kitchen.”

“Where else would I be?” he said, standing and moving to the stove. “I thought I'd make you a cup of hot chocolate, or maybe some tea.”

Annie smiled. “Thanks, but no thanks. After that dinner, I couldn't eat another thing.” Her eyes softened. “You were on your knees when I came in—were you praying?”

He nodded.

“For me?”

“For you and Missy.” He shot her a quick glance. “And for me—I need wisdom to help you find each other.”

“Oh, Caleb.” Weariness echoed in her voice. “We had a nice day together, but I'm exhausted. And if this is as good as it gets, I don't know if I have the energy to do more.” She glanced toward the parlor, where a single lamp burned. “Is Aunt Olympia around?”

“She's with Edmund. She usually reads to him before she goes to bed. I know he hears her, but I think the reading is more for her sake than his.”

Tears swelled in Annie's eyes. “I won't disturb them.”

Caleb rested his hands on the back of a kitchen chair. “You haven't spent much time with your uncle. I know it's painful, but maybe tomorrow you can find a few moments to spend with him. I think it would be good for the both of you.”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yes, of course you're right.” Then, with a sad smile, she excused herself and tiptoed up the stairs.

Caleb shuffled slowly across the kitchen to prepare the house for bed.

During the night, the clouds that had seemed so comforting from a distance tore into the island. Lightning split the sky and claps of thunder seemed to shake the very foundation of Frenchman's Fairest.

Lying in her upstairs bedroom, Annie hugged Rocky Bear closer and stirred in her sleep. The angels are bowling, she thought drowsily, recalling her mother's silly explanation of thunder when she was a child.

Storm!
Annie threw back the blankets and bolted to her feet.
The tomato plants!

Grabbing her housecoat, she dashed into the hallway, her feet flying across the worn carpet.

Flashes of lightning framed the elongated windows as she descended the stairway, her slippers flopping loosely on her bare feet.

The old house shook and rattled as she raced through the kitchen. She yelped as she stubbed her toe on a utility stool Caleb kept near the pantry. Babying the injured toe, she hopped on one foot to the back door. Outside, she shielded her eyes against the heavy downpour before making a mad dash for the patch of newly turned dirt.

In the garden, the tender plants were bent to the ground.

Pots
, Annie thought.
I need pots!

Limping toward the shed, she jerked out the piece of wood serving to secure the hasp and threw open the double doors. Lightning forked across the sky, followed by a clap of thunder that should have awakened the dead. Her eyes searched the darkness, trying to locate the plastic containers Olympia kept on a top shelf.

Bright flashes lit the shed's interior, and she cried out with relief when she spotted the nested flowerpots. Pulling them off the shelf, she ran back outside and dropped to her knees in the tomato patch, fumbling to separate the pots. Ignoring the soupy soil, she carefully placed a pot over each cowering plant.

“It's all right,” she yelled above the thunder and pelting rain. “You're safe now!”

Olympia's voice suddenly shrilled from the open doorway. “Annie Cuvier! Have you lost your mind? Leave those silly plants alone and get yourself back into this house before you're hit by lightning!”

Ignoring the demand, Annie hurriedly worked to cover plants. Ankle deep in muck, she inched along the patch, praying she wasn't too late. Her hybrid was designed to stand up to harsh weather, but these were only seedlings, mere babies . . .

“You have to be brave, little ones,” she shouted above the wind. “It's just a little rain.”

“Are you talking to those tomato plants?” Olympia screeched. “I'm going to have your head examined. Get in this house, young lady! Now!”

When the last plant was shielded, Annie slowly rose to her feet, wiping rain out of her eyes. There wasn't a dry thread on her. The hem of her housecoat dripped rivulets of muddy water. Her dainty pink slippers were ruined. Water streamed from her hair in murky sheets, but the plants were snugly nestled beneath the army green pots. Her babies were safe.

Her enthusiasm flagged somewhat when she climbed the back steps and confronted a fuming Olympia. Glancing down at her soaked housecoat, she realized that she looked like a drowned rat.

Olympia was livid. “Are you crazy?” She pointed an accusing finger. “You could have been killed! You're just like Ruth Ann, without a lick of common sense.”

Annie squished past her and stopped in the middle of the kitchen floor, dripping muddy water on Olympia's faded linoleum. She wanted to explain that the plants represented something real. They were the one thing in life she'd done right, and she wasn't going to stand idly by and watch her work be destroyed in a storm. And her mother had been one smart woman . . . she'd refused to have anything to do with Olympia and Heavenly Daze.

Olympia must have seen something in her eyes, for she turned away. “Go on,” she said, “take a hot shower, but don't use all the water. Gas costs money, you know.” She shuffled off, grumbling under her breath. “Young people today, they have no concept of money. Spend, spend, spend. Using towels like they were going out of style, running hot water, taking two baths a day. Parading around in electrical storms like they didn't have good sense . . .”