The House on Sugar Plum Lane (7 page)

Once inside Ellie's bedroom, with its pale pink walls and white eyelet curtains, Amy scanned the furnishings. She wondered if they'd be considered antiques by anyone's standards. Some of them had to be at least forty to fifty years old.

The double bed had been covered haphazardly with a pink and white chenille spread. One edge hung noticeably lower than the other, as though it had been made by a child—someone Callie's age.

There was an indention on one of the pillows, as if Ellie might have lain down to take a rest before being taken away. Had she been feeling ill? Tired?

Had she only dreamed of hippies piping marijuana through the vents? Or had it been a full-blown hallucination?

She supposed it didn't matter.

A cedar chest sat at the foot of the bed, its varnish darkened and cracked with age. An old-style quilt with heart-shaped pieces had been folded carefully and draped over the top.

Interesting, Amy thought. The hearts were all the same size and stitched onto brown squares and quilted to a calico backing, but they had been made from a hodgepodge of fabric: satin, cotton, nylon, and flannel. Some of the material, like the pale yellow and white flannel with a baby duck print and the red gingham, appeared to have been washed many times, while the white satin hadn't.

She couldn't help running her fingers over the quilt, noting that the stitches were slightly uneven, the kind made by hand and not a machine. She wondered who'd made it. An older relative? A dear friend?

Ellie Rucker herself?

But enough woolgathering. She would never get anything done if she didn't stop dawdling. So she released the quilt and went to the closet. As she slid back the door, she spotted a gap between the hangers. Some of the woman's clothing appeared to be missing, but that would make sense if someone had moved her to a rest home.

After removing the remaining dresses, sweaters, and pants, she laid the clothing across the bed, then folded each item and placed it in a box. Next she emptied the drawers in the bureau, which was quick work. She suspected whoever had packed Ellie's essentials for her move to the home also had taken undergarments and nightgowns.

In the top drawer of the nightstand, she found a daily devotional, a white handkerchief with H.E.R. monogrammed near the edge, a booklet about angels, and a travel brochure for a cruise to Hawaii, among other things.

As Amy carefully emptied the drawer, she scanned each object before placing it in a second box. But when she withdrew a bundle of old letters, she paused. A white satin ribbon that had been tied and untied many times over held the missives together, as well as a small box of some kind. Still, she couldn't help noting the address on the top envelope, which had been sketched in a bold, cursive script.

It was from Private Harold Rucker.

Amy took a seat on the edge of the bed, untied the satin, and set everything but the top envelope next to her. Then she removed the letter, unfolded the aged parchmentlike pages, and read the words.

So Ellie hadn't wanted children? Did she not like them? That certainly could be one reason there weren't any pictures of grandchildren in the house. At least none that were displayed.

According to the research, Eleanor Rucker was Barbara Davila's mother, so she'd at least had one child.

Amy continued to read.

That part didn't sound as though Ellie hadn't wanted children. Maybe it was just a matter of timing. After all, when this letter was written, Ellie was young and newly married. There was also a war raging in both Europe and the Pacific.

Amy fingered the age-worn stationery that the young soldier had once held, that Ellie had cherished enough to keep near her bed. Letters that hadn't been meant for anyone's eyes but the man and his wife.

Still, she couldn't help reading the next dozen or so, which were just as touching and heartfelt as the first. But the last letter wasn't from Ellie's husband. It was from the War Department.

 

We regret to inform you that Private Harold E. Rucker was killed in action on June 10, 1942…

 

The letter was as cold as it was official, and Amy couldn't imagine how Ellie must have felt when she'd received it. Had it been hand delivered, like it was often done in the movies?

But even then, it would have been a terrible blow.

Amy glanced at the box. She suspected it held a medal of some kind, and she'd been right. When she lifted the lid, she found a Purple Heart.

She ought to feel proud, patriotic, she supposed. After all, her great-grandfather had died for his country. But instead, she felt as though she'd lost someone, too.

As tears welled in her eyes and an ache settled in her heart, she sat on Ellie's bed for the longest time, grieving for the young bride who'd lost the love of her life.

Gonzales Landscaping had been given the green light to start work for Mrs. Davila, so around lunchtime, Eddie drove to Sugar Plum Lane.

Earlier that morning, he'd hooked up a small trailer to his pickup so he could haul away the green waste. He figured after trimming all the trees and plants in the yard, he would end up with a couple of substantial loads.

Mrs. Davila had also decided to replace the sprinkler system, which meant there was plenty of work for him to do—at least a week's worth, if not more.

Since the landscaping company was busier than ever and his brother was shorthanded, Eddie would be handling this project by himself, but that was okay. It was easier when he didn't have to deal with a lot of empty chatter. Besides, sometimes he preferred to be alone, a preference that had developed in prison and had continued after his parole.

He walked up the sidewalk to the blue house in which the attractive brunette lived with her kids. Her name, he'd been told, was Maria, but he supposed he ought to ask to speak to her husband, if he was home.

When he reached the door, he rang the bell. Moments later, a boy who was about ten or eleven answered.

“I'm Eddie with Gonzales Landscaping,” he told the kid. “Are your parents home?”

“My mom is. My dad doesn't live here.”

Eddie's first instinct was to tell the boy he shouldn't provide that kind of information to a virtual stranger, but he didn't think it was his place.

The kid turned his back to Eddie and called into the house, “Mom! Some guy wants to talk to you.”

Moments later, footsteps sounded as Maria approached the front door. Several strands of her hair, which had been pulled back into a single braid hanging down her back, had come loose. And even though she was wearing an old pair of jeans and an oversized pink T-shirt, she was just as pretty as Eddie had remembered.

More so, actually.

When she reached the entry and their gazes met, her eyes, a soft caramel shade, locked on his. “Yes?”

Eddie introduced himself, since her son had only called her to the door.

“I'm doing some landscaping work at the Davila place,” he added, “and the limb of the pepper tree in your backyard is weighing down on the fence. If we don't cut it back, it could mean a bigger, more expensive problem for you down the road.”

As she nibbled on her lower lip, a V formed on her brow. “How much will that cost?”

A lot of guys might have tried to charge both neighbors, but Gonzales Landscaping didn't stoop to doing business like that, which was one of several reasons they were so busy. “It won't cost you anything. I'll just cut the branch back, but I need your permission. I'd also like to come into your yard to do it, if that's all right.”

She seemed to ponder the situation.

“Do you want me to show you the tree?” he asked.

“Maybe you'd better.”

As he stepped off the porch and circled the house, Maria and her son followed him. Another little boy about the age of three also tagged along, his pudgy little legs hustling to keep up.

Before they reached the backyard, a girl in pigtails joined them. Eddie tried not to look at her, but he couldn't help sneaking a glance or two. Nor could he help noting that she had expressive brown eyes like her mommy's.

If his and Cecilia's baby had lived, she would have been about that age. But he shut out the thought, along with the grief and guilt.

“Mommy?” the girl asked. “When are we going to finish making the cookies?”

“In a few minutes,” Maria said.

Once in the backyard, Eddie led the pretty mother and her pint-sized entourage to the tree and pointed out the limb that had created the problem.

“I can't believe I didn't notice this,” Maria said.

“I'm sure you've got plenty to keep you busy.”

The petite brunette glanced at him, and when their eyes met again, she smiled wryly, as if saying, “You have no idea just how busy I am.”

It was weird, he thought, how they'd managed to communicate without saying any words. His parents had been able to do that, and it had always amazed him.

“I'm sure cutting back the branches will help,” Maria said. “But won't we have to repair the fence? I mean, look at it. It's already leaning to the right. I don't want it to collapse.”

“Once the weight is removed, it should be okay. But to be on the safe side, you can ask a handyman to check it out. He might want to shore up the post. If so, it shouldn't be too expensive to fix.”

Again, she shot him a look, this one saying, “There isn't much money to spare.” Then she returned her focus to the fence.

As they continued to stand in the yard, he caught a whiff of her scent. Something floral, he guessed, but it was so faint, it was hard to say. Still, he liked it.

The two little ones spotted a butterfly and chased after it, but the older boy remained.

Eddie couldn't help wondering if Maria was a day-care provider or whether she just had a bunch of kids. Not that it mattered.

Either way, she clearly had her hands full—and, apparently, no husband around to help her out. He wondered why, then shook off the curiosity. He didn't like people asking him questions about certain details of his life. Maria probably wasn't any different.

“So,” he said, getting back on track, “do I have your permission to come into your yard and cut these limbs back?”

“Yes, of course.” She stepped closer to the fence, checking out the way it bowed toward the Davilas' yard.

“Then if you don't mind, I'll go ahead and do it now.” He figured it would be best to get the tree trimming out of the way before he tackled the job he came to do. He glanced at her roof and spotted a chimney. “I can haul it all away, if you want me to. Or I can cut it up into firewood and leave it for you to use. It's your call.”

“I'd hate to make you go to any extra trouble….”

He tossed her a crooked grin and shrugged. “It'll take me all of five minutes to cut the branch and to stack the wood. Don't give it another thought.”

She let loose with a full-on smile, showing him an even prettier side of her. “I really appreciate this.”

“No problem,” he said, feeling a bit awkward and not quite sure why or what he ought to do about it.

“I'm going in to get the kids some lemonade,” she said. “It's fresh squeezed. Can I bring you a glass, too?”

He really wasn't thirsty, but for some crazy reason, didn't want to decline. “Sure. That'd be nice. Thanks.”

Again, the awkwardness seemed to wrap around them.

“Well…” She took a step back. “I guess I'll leave you to your work. If there's anything you need, let me know.” But instead of going back to the house, she crossed the yard to where an old man sat in a rocking chair in the shade of an umbrella tree.

Eddie hadn't noticed him before, which was unusual, since he always tried to be alert and aware of his surroundings. But Maria's presence had thrown him off stride.

She said something to the man, whose craggy face lit up. Then she patted him on the forearm before heading toward the back porch.

As the old man's gaze connected with Eddie's, they nodded in a silent greeting.

“Is that your grandfather?” he asked the boy.

“Nope. He lives with us, though. And he's kind of like family. I don't know what his real name is, but we call him Captain.”

Eddie waited for the kid to explain, but he didn't offer up anything else.

“Captain?” Eddie asked. “Is he retired from the military?”

“Yeah, he used to be in the Army, but not the regular one.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie stepped away from the tree and started back for the truck, his mind on his work and not so much on the chatter.

But the boy continued to move with him, as if the two had become friends. “He was in the Salvation Army. You ever hear of that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said while walking. “But it's not the same kind of army you're probably thinking about.”

“I know. But I think he was still a hero.”

Their feet crunched on dried leaves and twigs, and while something told Eddie to let the subject drop, he couldn't help adding, “The Salvation Army doesn't fight wars.”

“Captain said something about spiritual battles, but I don't know what he meant by that. Sometimes he gets a little mixed up.”

This time, Eddie let the subject drop completely. And, thankfully, so did the kid.

As they walked along the side of the house the boy asked, “Where are you going? Are you leaving?”

“I need to get the chain saw from the truck.”

“Need some help?”

Not from a kid. Ramon always stressed about workmen's comp issues and safety procedures, and he'd probably be quick to point out the child labor law, even though the two Gonzales brothers had grown up on the Rensfield estate and had worked alongside their old man for years. It's where they'd both learned the ins and outs of landscaping. And where they'd also learned how to become responsible members of the family.

But for some reason, he felt sorry for the kid and softened. “Sure, you can do something for me. But once I start up the chain saw, you'll need to stand back.”

“Okay. I'll hang out with Captain and watch, if that's okay. I don't have anything else to do.”

“What about your friends?” Eddie asked, thinking they'd both be better off if the kid went off to play. “Do any of them live near you?”

“Yeah, a couple of them do. But one guy, Jason, has strep throat and my mom won't let me play with him. And Bobby, the other one, is on vacation with his dad.”

They walked in silence for a beat, until Eddie's curiosity won out.

“Do you ever go on vacation with your father?” Eddie asked, kicking himself the moment he did.

“Nope. Never.”

So Maria's ex was completely out of the picture.

Eddie returned to the pickup, reached in back for the canvas drop cloth he used to carry the green waste from the yard to the truck and trailer, and handed it to the boy.

As they made their way back to the tree, Eddie spotted a beat-up hardball under a scraggly bush that grew near the fence. He stopped to pick it up, noticing that its once-red stitching was coming apart, and handed it to the kid. “Do you play baseball?”

“Nope. I thought about it a couple of times, but my mom can't take me to practices.”

Ramon worked with kids on a special league, one that catered to kids at risk. Eddie helped him once in a while, when he had time, and he'd seen how sports could help a kid stay on the straight and narrow. And how a good man could provide a boy with a positive role model.

“My brother's a coach,” Eddie said, “and sometimes he has to go pick kids up and take them home. In fact, he's happy to help out whenever he can.”

“Yeah, well, my mom doesn't like to ask people to do her favors. You know what I mean?”

Eddie nodded. His parents had been like that, too—not wanting to put anyone out.

“Some of the moms find it easier to carpool,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, well, I don't think baseball would work out for me all that much anyway.”

“Why not?”

“My mom needs me to help out around here.”

“Why?” Eddie wasn't sure why he bothered to ask. He and Ramon had both done more than their share of family chores when they'd been kids.

“You know, with the little kids and the old people and all.”

“Old people?” Eddie shot a glance at Captain, who was seated all alone.

“Yeah. The Captain and Ellie.”

“Who's Ellie? His wife?”

“Nope. She used to live next door before she got funny.”

“Funny?”

“Well, not in a way that makes you laugh. But in a weird way that's kind of sad. It's also kind of a pain because we have to tell her everything, like when to get up and go to bed, when to go to the bathroom. You know.”

No, he didn't know. And the boy seemed to read it in his expression.

“It's like when my mom took in other people's kids to watch. Now she's babysitting old people. But Captain's kind of cool. You should meet him.”

Not today. Eddie had done enough talking. It was time to get busy. Yet he couldn't help tossing another glance at the old man, and then at the back door of Maria's house, where she'd slipped inside.

It seemed that she did indeed have her hands full.

And he had the strangest compulsion to offer to help her in any way he could.

 

At a quarter after two, Brandon looked up from his work and slowly shook his head. He'd nearly skipped lunch again, a habit he was trying to kick.

Six months ago, working overtime wouldn't have bothered him a bit. In fact, he used to keep snacks in his desk drawer to keep him going until the end of the day. But ever since Amy moved out, he'd been trying to turn over a new leaf.

So he logged off the computer, snatched his jacket from the hanger in the closet, and headed out of the high-rise office building to get a bite to eat.

He told Kara Grayson, his secretary, that he'd be back in a half hour or so. Then he walked out the glass doorway and made his way to the elevator. There, while he waited for one of the cars to stop on the twenty-third floor and for the doors to open, he glanced out the window that provided a view of downtown San Diego, as well as a glimpse of the harbor.

A cruise ship was docked at the Embarcadero, where it waited for passengers to board for a trip to who-knew-where.

Amy had wanted to plan a cruise for their seventh anniversary, but Brandon had put her off, saying he was too busy for a vacation.

“Maybe next year,” he'd told her.

But now it looked as though they wouldn't be doing anything special to celebrate this time around, either. Amy had been adamant that their marriage was over.

How was that for luck?