The garden, p.15
The Garden, page 15
An hour and a half later, Tom pulled up to the curb in front of Olivia's dark condo. He turned off the ignition and wrapped his arms around her. His kiss was hard. Demanding. "Are you going to invite me in?" He spoke into her hair.
Olivia froze. She couldn't. This wasn't just her home. It was Brian's too. He would see Tom spending the night as an invasion. "I don't think Brian would—"
"Isn't it Davy's weekend?"
"It is."
Tom pulled away from her. "Then what's the problem?"
"He wouldn't be comfortable..." her words trailed off.
"He's not here." Frustration punctuated Tom's words.
"I know, but this is his home. Home has to be a safe place."
Tom pulled as far away from her as he could get in the front seat of his car. "What are you saying? Do you think I pose a threat to your son?"
"No. No, of course not. It's just he may see you that way."
Tom's jaw tightened. "I'm starting to feel like Brian's an excuse."
"Excuse for what?" Olivia's voice rose.
"For not getting close. He's like a shield you hold up to keep me away from you."
"That's not true."
Tom sat and stared out the window without speaking, but waves of tension flowed from him.
"Listen." Olivia pivoted in her seat so she could face him. "When I was a child my mother dated around a lot. It didn't work out well for me. I promised myself if I ever became a mother my children wouldn't have to deal with my boyfriends." What she'd really promised herself was that her children would be raised with a father. Their father. But Davy had screwed that up.
"So how does this end?" Tom said. Olivia didn't answer. "If Brian never has to deal with his mom's boyfriends, how can I ever become more than that?"
A mix of emotions flooded through Olivia: warmth, hope, excitement, despair, and fear. She knew Tom wanted more than a casual relationship, but it was the first time he'd said it. The thought of having a solid, reliable presence in her home was something she'd longed for her whole life. She'd never had a father to protect her.
When she'd married Davy, and inherited Mike as a father-in-law, she'd thought that dream had been realized. She had not one, but two strong men in her life. But it hadn't lasted long. She'd barely begun to settle into the whole family thing when financial trials came, and Davy failed the test. He'd hidden in a bottle when things got tough.
Tom wouldn't do that. She knew it. Strength emanated from him. "Let's take it slow," she said.
"I thought that's what we were doing."
"You've been wooing me. It's time to woo Brian."
"I've been trying, Olivia. He's not interested. He has a father. The most I'll ever be to him is the man who's in love with his mother."
In love with his mother. That was anything but slow. She said, "Nobody will ever replace Davy in Brian's heart. I know that. But there are other kinds of relationships. You two could become friends."
"It's not easy to make friends with an eleven-year-old when you're thirty-seven. Especially if the eleven-year-old isn't interested."
"Tutoring is a great idea. If he sees you want to help him, I think it could make a difference."
Tom shrugged. A small, resigned gesture. "Right. Well, we'll give it a go."
She got out of the car and watched him drive away. Even though it had been her decision for him to leave, her throat constricted. Brian came first. He was her priority. But tonight, she felt as empty as her house behind her.
2.5.5
The studio was quiet on Monday. Thursday was Thanksgiving, and most of their students were taking the week off. Fiona and Karen had been the only instructors that morning, and they'd left after lunch. Olivia was wrapping up some paperwork, then planned to head home. Brian had a short week at school, and she had things to do so she'd be free to enjoy their time together.
It was a vacation week, and the Idaho and Arizona schools Fiona called were short staffed and unhelpful. Her plan to check up on Tom was a wash. She'd had to postpone it until after the holiday. Olivia wasn't worried about it. By tonight, the situation would most likely be resolved. Mike and her mother were meeting with Proctor today. Sarah said she'd call as soon as it was over.
Sunlight streamed through the large picture window by the desk, wrapping Olivia in its warmth. She yawned and pivoted her laptop out of its rays so she could read the screen. Her eyes were tired. She'd been at the computer for over an hour.
Her cell phone vibrated across the desktop. Fatigue fled. Her nerves jangled as she read her mother's name on the screen.
"He's gone," her mother said as soon as Olivia picked up.
"What happened?"
"Mike told him about Mark, about the picture. He denied it. He said it was an image from his imagination, that it wasn't Mark or anybody else. But Mike said, 'I guess we can see if a jury would buy that.' And he backed right off."
"Did you get the pictures he had of you?"
"Yes, but I don't think that means much. I'm sure he's got copies."
"Well, it's over anyway."
"For now."
"What do you mean for now?"
"It kind of depends on Mark. If he somehow intimates he won't prosecute, all bets are off. It's the only thing I have over Proctor."
There was a long silence on the phone. An uncomfortable idea struck Olivia. "You're not saying you want me to—"
"Maybe it's time," Sarah said.
Rage bubbled in a stagnant place in Olivia's heart. "All these years, you've kept silent about what happened and now, when it suits your purposes, you want me to dig up the bones?"
"I kept silent for your sake."
"For my sake?" Olivia was incredulous. "How did keeping silent help me?"
"What if I'd have gone to the police?" Sarah's voice raised in anger. "How do you think those conservative New England cops felt about the farm? We were leftovers from the hippie days. They were sure we were all perverts and drug addicts. They'd have taken you away from me so fast it would have made your head spin. No. I wasn't taking that chance.”
Olivia was silent. She couldn't see past her own anger to her mother's point of view.
“I took you three thousand miles away,” her mother continued. “I took you to the safest place I knew, my parents’ house. And I changed our lives. I've been trying to make it up to you ever since."
“I know, Mom.” Olivia had heard this all before.
"Just think about it, Livvie. Not just for me. For us. The past has caught up with us. Maybe we have to deal with it."
“I’ll think about it.” Olivia hung up, leaned back in her chair, into the sunlight and closed her eyes. Could she go there? Could she take the stand and relive that time in her life? That time she'd tried so hard to forget?
Proctor had lain in wait for her all that winter, playing the part of Sarah's attentive boyfriend. He'd lulled Olivia into letting down her guard by making her think she was winning the battle of the stare-downs. He waited until the weather grew warm and struck in the spring.
Lambing season had begun, and Olivia had gone into the barn to see the newborns. Adorable twin cotton bundles wobbled on pencil-thin legs beside their mother. Olivia was so entranced; she didn't hear him enter. She didn't notice him until he stood beside her.
"Cute, huh?" he said.
She couldn't answer. Her heart took up too much room in her throat for words to edge past it.
"Asked you a question, didn't I?" He chewed on a bit of straw.
An incoherent sound eked from her lips, and she moved toward the big barn doors. He grabbed her arm. "Where're you off to?"
"Mom." She meant to tell him her mother knew she was in the barn, that she was waiting for her, that she'd be there any minute if Olivia didn't show up at the house. But the only thing that came out was Mom.
"Your mother left for town. I saw her get into the car with Rainy." He spat the straw from his mouth and yanked her close. His flannel shirt smelled of pastel chalk and old sweat.
"I'm supposed to go with her." Olivia couldn’t move. Fear had turned her to stone. ”I need to leave." She stared with more defiance than she felt, but he didn't look away this time. Her heart knocked hard against her rib cage.
Proctor moved closer. Panic and bile bubbled into her throat. She didn't fully understand what he wanted, but she knew it wasn't something she wanted to give him.
Mom. Where are you? Unspoken words screamed through her brain. An image of her mother's face flickered to life behind her eyes. Olivia willed her to come to the barn.
Proctor put a hand on her shoulder, drew his chin back and examined her. A smile crawled across the stubble on his face. She was confused, but like the restless sheep nearby she smelled danger.
The ewe bleated again. The sound jarred Olivia into action. She bolted for the barn door, but before she reached the sunlight, she slammed into a blue t-shirt. Her fists came up and battered the obstacle.
Gentle hands held her wrists. "Olivia. What's wrong, honey?" A soft voice swam upstream against her terror. "Shh. Shh. It's okay. I'm here."
Teach. Here. Help. Realization came in stutters.
She threw herself into Teach's comforting arms and breathed in the clean cotton smell of him. "Explain yourself." His comforting tone was gone. It was angry and held a threat, but he wasn't addressing Olivia.
"Don't know what's her problem. She was watching the lambs one minute, screaming like a banshee the next. Musta’ startled her," Proctor said.
"Is that what happened, Livvie?"
She shook her head, burying it deeper into his wide chest.
"I think you'd better leave," Teach said.
"I was just about to, but I wanted to make sure the girl was okay first."
"I mean leave. Leave the farm. Leave before I call the cops."
Proctor didn't say any more, but she felt his scent move past her and heard his footfalls fade away on the gravel drive outside.
The memory was so strong, she smelled his smell again, faint but defined—sweat and chalk and tobacco. "Well, look at you." She heard his voice.
Olivia's eyes snapped open. Adrenaline surged. Heart thudded.
Proctor stood in the doorway of the Fishbowl; washed-out denim eyes focused on her.
2.5.6
"All grown up." He took three steps toward Olivia before she leaped to her feet. "Grown up real pretty, just like your mama."
Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. She was like a fish on a dock, gasping for oxygen.
"So happy to see me you're speechless?" He came into the sunlit space, walking with a slight limp. The light revealed a frayed and faded version of the man of her memories, a ghost of the past. Revulsion, more than fear, coursed through Olivia. She backed up until her hands rested on the windowsill.
"I understand you're one of the proud owners of this establishment. Congratulations, darlin'." She wondered how he knew that but didn't ask. He went on. "You're probably wondering why I'm stopping by, after all these years. Other than the fact that I wished to see your lovely face again and satisfy my curiosity as to the kind of adult you've become, I'm also here to deliver a message. Do you mind if I sit?"
He didn't wait for her to answer but pulled a stool out from the sales counter and perched on it. He was so close, every sag and wrinkle stood out in clear relief. He looked old, older than his sixty-odd years, and he wore the road map of his life on his face. The lines etched there told a story. Proctor had leered instead of smiled, lusted instead of loved, taken instead of given.
"You're probably aware I've just come from your mama's home, where I met with her and your ex-father-in-law. Mike, I believe, is his name. Oh, on a side note, I'm sorry you've had to live through a divorce. I hear it's painful. It's one reason I never married. Although I did think about marrying your mama at one time. But I'm still available if you're interested."
He smirked. For a moment he looked like the Proctor of her childhood, and she shuddered.
"No? Well, I'll say my piece then. I couldn't get in a word edgewise with that father-in-law of yours beating on his chest like some kind of senior citizen King Kong. I think he's got a thing for your mama." He winked a reptilian eye.
"Livvie, darlin', if you love that woman, you need to help her understand that generosity is in her best interest. I'm leaving town now, but I'll be back. I don't give up easy, especially not when I'm angry. And that Mike makes me angry."
"I'm not your errand girl." Olivia found her voice.
"She speaks." He threw up his hands as if amazed. "If you won't help me for your mama's sake, think of your son. Scandal won't help your case with Child Protective Services, and I have the means to start a scandal."
A muscle in Olivia's eyelid twitched. Scandal. His life was a scandal. He didn't have a record. That was the first thing Mike had checked. Apparently, Proctor had lived below the radar, using his reputation in the art world to cover his perverted behavior. Over the past five to ten years, his work had lost popularity, however. Whether it was because he'd angered one too many people, or tastes and opinions had changed, Olivia didn't know. What she did know was, he'd started digging up old dirt to start a new career—as a blackmailer.
He knew about CPS. Which proved her assumption correct. He'd dug around, found out everything he could about her. The idea of him following her, following Brian, leaving her messages, made her skin crawl.
He stepped off the stool, winced as he straightened his back, and walked toward the door with arthritic bravado.
"Wait." Olivia couldn't let him leave without being sure. He stopped and turned. "What do those boys have to do with me?"
Proctor raised his eyebrows in question.
"The boys in the articles," she said. "Did you hurt them? Did you want me to know what you were capable of?"
He stared at her with pale eyes that didn't deny the accusation. A sudden anger surged through her. "You need to stop it. Stop your threats and innuendos. You don't scare me. Not anymore."
As she said the words, she realized they were true. "You're a pathetic old man who preys on children because he's afraid of adults. You couldn't stand up to Mike and my mother, so you came here thinking I'm the same frightened girl I once was. I'm not."
Olivia stepped away from the window toward him. "And I have a message for you, Proctor." She almost growled his name. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my family and me. I could put you away for a long time."
"My, my. She's a little spitfire." He attempted a leer, but it died on his face. He turned and limped from the studio.
MOLLY: Go Olivia! I was so proud of her when she told me the way she reacted to that man. He’s vermin, and she crushed him.
I’d love to leave you on that high note, but we still have a diary entry to read. Sage has an ah-ha moment here, as well. But, unlike Olivia, it’s not something she can walk away from or throw out of her Pilates studio. Her revelation is about the depth of the damage that’s been done to Doug’s brain.
Let’s hear from Sage.
Saturday, July 11th, 1992
I hummed to myself as I washed up the breakfast dishes. It was a sunny Saturday morning, and Doug had woken up in such a good mood and seemed so much like his old self, I'd made pancakes to celebrate. I even let him take the kids to the petting zoo across from the train station without me.
His doctor had adjusted his medications after his fight with Paul two weeks ago. I'd increased the strength of the tea I'd been making him. He was doing better, and I was encouraged.
The tea was an old recipe of Abuela Maria's. She'd used it to treat depression, senility, nerves, what today would be called ADHD, and any other malady of the brain or mood. Every few days, I would send Tomas up the ginkgo biloba tree in the garden to bring me the brightest green leaves he could find. I washed them well, placed a handful with sprigs of rosemary into a bowl, covered them with three cups of boiling water and let them steep for at least ten minutes. After I strained the mixture, I would add in ten to twelve drops of the St. John's Wort tincture Lily and I made whenever the small yellow flowers were in bloom.
My children had grown up knowing the ways of the garden. Although many of the plants were used to flavor food or had medicinal properties, some were deadly. To my way of thinking, having a garden was like having a swimming pool. It was a pleasure and a blessing, as long as one taught children to respect it.
Just as I placed the last dish into the dishwasher, there was a knock on the front door. I dried my hands on a towel and headed there. Paul Travers stood on the front porch.
As soon as I saw his face, tight and drawn, I knew something bad had happened. My thoughts ran ahead to the petting zoo, to Doug and the children. Had I trusted him too soon?
Paul spoke in a formal tone, not at all like our usual friendly way with one another. "Is your husband home?"
Relief cooled some of my worry. If he was asking for Doug, he wasn't bringing news of my family. Yet. I could see something was wrong. "No. He's taken the kids to the petting zoo. I'm sure they'll be home soon. Can I help?" I said.
"Little late for that."
I didn't respond.
Paul continued in a weary, emotionless voice. "It's Pepe. He's been poisoned. The vet says he'll make it, but it'll cost a small fortune. Just wanted to let Doug know, although I'm sure he already does."
"Oh, Paul. I'm so sorry. But you can't believe Doug would have..." Paul gave me a hard smile, a smile that said that's exactly what he believed. "Did the vet know what kind of poison? Maybe Pepe got into someone's rat traps. I know the city was talking about putting something down to get rid of the rabbits in the parks."
"He thought it might be sago palm. The symptoms fit, and he found seeds in Pepe's vomit along with half-digested beef. We don't have sago palm in our yard, and we don't feed our dog steak." He and I locked eyes. I had sago in mine. "Sage, I'm going to have to file a report. I know it's not Doug's fault, but he's dangerous. If he'd do this—"
