Susannah's Garden
Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisIt was the year that changed everything. . .When Susannah Nelson turned eighteen, she said goodbye to her boyfriend, Jake–and never saw him again. She never saw her brother, Doug, again, either. He died unexpectedly that same year. Now, at fifty, Susannah finds herself regretting the paths not taken. Long married, a mother and a teacher, she should be happy. But she feels there's something missing in her life. Not only that, she's balancing the demands of an aging mother and a temperamental twenty-year-old daughter.Her mother, Vivian, a recent widow, is having difficulty coping and living alone, so Susannah goes home to Colville, Washington. In returning to her parents' house, her girlhood friends and the garden she's always loved, she also returns to the past–and the choices she made back then. What she discovers is that things are not always as they once seemed. Some paths are dead ends. But some gardens remain beautiful. . . .
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Susannahâs Garden
DEBBIE MACOMBER
For my friends all through school, as we remember the paths we took, and didnât take.
Jane Berghoff McMahon, Judy St. George Senecal, Cindy Thoma DeBerry, Diane DeGooyer Harmon, Cheryl Keller Farr, Kathy Faith Harris, Bev Gamache Regimbal, Yvette Dwinell Lundy
and
Carol Brulotte
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Coming Next Month
CHAPTER
1
Vivian Leary stood motionless at the corner of the street, her eyes darting from side to side. She had no idea where she was or how sheâd gotten lost. After all, sheâd lived in Colville her entire life. She should knowâdid knowâevery square inch of this town. But the last thing she remembered was going out to collect the mail and that must have been hours ago.
The street didnât look familiar and the houses werenât any she recognized. The Henderson house at the corner of Chestnut and Elm had been her marker, but it was nowhere in sight. She remembered that the Hendersons had painted their place white with green shutters. Where was it? she wondered, starting to feel frantic. Where was it? George would be upset with her for taking so long. Oh no, how could she have forgotten? George was dead.
The weight of grief settled over her, heavy and oppressive. George, her beloved husband, was goneâtaken from her just two months short of their sixtieth anniversary. It had all happened so fastâ¦.
Last November, her husband had gone outside to warm up the car before church, and a few minutes later he lay dead in the carport. Heâd had a massive heart attack. The nice young man whoâd come with the ambulance had told her George was dead before he even hit the pavement. He sounded as if this was supposed to comfort her. But nothing could have eased the shock, the horror, of that dreadful morning.
Vivian blinked hard, and despite the May warmth of eastern Washington, a chill raced up her bare arms. She tried to extinguish her growing panic. How was she going to find her way home?
Susannah would know what to doâbut then she remembered that her daughter didnât live in Colville anymore. Of course Susannah wasnât at home. She had her own house. In Seattle, wasnât it? Yes, in Seattle. She was married with two precious children. Susannah and Joeâs children. Good grief, why couldnât she think of their names? Her grandchildren were her joy and her pride. She could picture their faces as clearly as if she was looking at a photograph, but she couldnât recall their names.
Chrissie. The relief was instantaneous. Her granddaughterâs name was Chrissie. She was born first and then Brian was born three years later. Or was it four years? It didnât matter, Vivian decided. She had their names now.
What she needed to do was concentrate on where she wasâand where she should go from here. It was already starting to get dark and she didnât want to wander aimlessly from street to street. But she couldnât figure out what to do next.
If thereâd been any other pedestrians around, she couldâve stopped and asked for directions to Woods Road.
Noâ¦Woods Road had been her childhood address. She hadnât lived there since she was a schoolgirl, and that was before the war. For heavenâs sake, she should be able to remember her own address! What was wrong with her?
The place she was looking for was the house she and George had bought almost forty-five years ago, when the children were still at home. She felt a mixture of fearâ¦and shame. A woman of eighty should know where she lived. George would be so frustrated and impatient if he ever found out about thisâ¦. Only heâd never know. That didnât make her feel any better, though. She needed him, and he wasnât there to help her, and that filled her with anxiety so intense, she wrung her hands.
Vivian started walking again, although she wasnât sure where she was headed. Maybe if she kept moving, if she concentrated hard enough, the memory would eventually return to her.
Her legs tired quickly, and she sighed with relief when she saw a bench by the side of the road. Vivian couldnât understand why the city would place a nice wooden bench thereânot even near a bus stop. It was a waste of taxpayersâ money. If George knew about this, heâd be fuming. Heâd been a public servant all those years, a superior court judge. A fine one, too, a man of principle and character. How proud Vivian was of him.
Still, she was so grateful for somewhere to sit, she wasnât about to complain. George had freely voiced his opinions about matters of civic responsibility and what he called city hallâs squandering of resources. While she listened to her husbandâs views, she didnât always share them. She had her own thoughts when it came to politics and things like that, but she usually didnât discuss them with George. That was something sheâd learned early in her marriage. George always wanted to convince everyone of the superiority of his ideas and heâd argue until he wore people down. So when her views differed from his, she kept them to herself.
