Trouble Don’t Last Always (17 page)

Shreveport, Louisiana, with its old red-brick buildings and streets in the downtown area, reminded Lilly a little of Little Elm. But there the similarities ended. In Little Elm there were no freeways to get lost on, no riverboats a short distance away to lure modern-day gamblers, no giant malls or billboards everywhere you looked.

And although Texas and Louisiana connected, there was a laziness about Shreveport that she hadn’t found in Little Elm. It was easily distinguishable in the slow, almost thoughtful way people talked and moved. There was an open friendliness, with men tipping their caps and hats and women nodding and smiling.

Perhaps, she reasoned, that was because there she had been prejudged. In Shreveport, she was an employee of an important doctor, not the daughter of a woman who went through men like Kleenex.

“You need to go anyplace else, Miss Lilly?” Samuel asked, walking with Lilly to her car.

He’d already taken her to the bank to cash the check Mrs. Wakefield had given her. Her hands had trembled as the teller counted $1,500 into her hand. She’d almost cried when she had to pay $900.63 to the mechanic.

“No. I’ve spent enough money for today.”

“Yes’m.” He opened her car door. “But I always figure it’s better to have it to spend than not have it.”

Pausing, she looked back up at his lined leathery face. “You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.”

“You follow me closely now. The freeway can be tricky.”

She pulled the door closed, then rolled down the window. “That’s how I got lost.”

“Not this time. Dr. Wakefield called down to the kitchen and told Odette to tell me to see you got back safely.”

“He did?”

“Yes’m. Dr. Wakefield takes care of his own, always has. You follow close now.” With that last warning, he went to his car.

Lilly started the car. The engine ignited immediately and she pulled out behind Samuel’s black Buick. The scent of strawberries filled the air. Lilly sniffed, noticing the high shine in the faded dashboard, the windshield free of the carcasses of bugs. They’d detailed the car. Then she noticed something else.

Cool air gushed from the vents and bathed her face. The air-conditioning worked for the first time in five years. Rolling up the windows, she eased to a stop behind Samuel. Maybe, just maybe, things were turning in her favor.

As soon as Lilly walked into the kitchen, Odette looked up and rushed toward her. “Is he all right?” Lilly asked anxiously.

“Dr. Wakefield’s fine, but some man’s been calling you since you left.” She tried to swallow the dread clawing at her throat and couldn’t. “Did–

did he give a name?” “Kenneth Powell.”

Lilly sagged in relief. The phone rang again.

Odette’s and Lilly’s gaze met; then Lilly rushed to the phone. “Hello.”

“Mrs. Crawford?”

“Mr. Powell, what is it?” she asked, recognizing the Southern drawl in his voice immediately.

“We got trouble. Your husband has decided to contest the divorce and the grounds of your petition.”

Lilly glanced at Odette’s watchful face. “I’ll call back.” Hanging up the phone, she started out of the kitchen.

“You remember, child, if you got troubles you got folks who care about you,” the older woman said.

Nodding, Lilly rushed out of the kitchen. In her room she quickly called her lawyer’s office. “This is Lilly Crawford. Tell me again.”

“I met with your husband and his lawyer this morning. He’s willing to give you the divorce if you’ll agree to remove the original language in your petition. If you do, the divorce will automatically go through in about thirty days.”

“If I don’t?” Myron wouldn’t do anything unless it was for his benefit.

“This possibly could drag on for months,” he answered simply.

“Change to what?”

“ ‘Irreconcilable differences.’ His lawyer pointed out your husband has his reputation to consider.”

Rage swept through her. “He should have thought of his reputation before he hit me, treated me like dirt.”

“What is your answer?”

“No,” she said tightly. She knew she was being unreasonable, but she wasn’t giving in to Myron ever again. For the first time in her life, she had the means and the courage to stand up for herself. Pure stubbornness or not, she had no intention of backing down.

“The burden of proof will be on us, and that will take investigation, which will take money.”

Why did it always come down to money? “How much?”

“Five hundred dollars to begin with. I’ll place it in an open account and draw out of that as needed.”

Briefly she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll wire the money this afternoon.”

“You must have gotten a pretty good job,” he said.

“Yes, I did. Anything else?”

“No.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Powell.”

“Where is she?” Adam asked, the phone clutched in his hand. It was past one.

“She had to go back into town, Dr. Wakefield,” Odette told him. “She said she had business to take care of.”

“What kind of business?”

“I’m not sure. She just asked what the address was here and left.”

“Tell her I want to see her as soon as she returns.”

Adam hung up the phone and went to the window. He’d been on edge since Lilly left that morning. He shouldn’t have snapped at her, but he had enough of people trying to get him out of his room. He was comfortable here. He knew where everything was, and it was safe.

But what if she had kept going? Samuel had reluctantly admitted he’d taken her to the bank and she’d cashed her paycheck.

Where the hell was she?

“Dr. Wakefield,” came the soft voice followed by two knocks.

Lilly.
He whirled. “Come in.”

“You wanted—”

“Where have you been?” Silence. “Well?”

“I had some business to take care of. I told Odette.”

He heard the shakiness in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

“I…nothing. Odette said you wanted to wait for your lunch. Are you ready now?”

“Come here.” He thought she wasn’t going to comply until he felt her presence, smelled the fragrance of roses. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

Not willing to take her word, he lifted his hand and unerringly found her face. Her skin was smooth beneath his fingertips. “You aren’t going to tell me what’s going on, are you?”

“No.” Her voice trembled.

“Are you in trouble with the police?”

“No.”

He sighed in exasperation. “Can you say any other word?”

“Sorry.”

His hand fell. “Lilly, you could definitely drive me insane.”

The deep grooves running across his forehead clearly said he was annoyed, but he had also gone out of his way to help her and ensure that she was safe. “I appreciate you looking after me. My mother—” She bit back the words
in-law,
quickly correcting the mistake she’d almost made. “My mother was the only one who ever did that before.”

“What about your father?”

“Left when I was a baby.”

“That must have been hard,” he said, hearing the flat inflection of her voice. “My father was busy, but he was a big part of my life.”

“Your mother told me he was a wonderful man.”

“He was. He had a thriving practice, but he was there when it counted. My father, Jonathan, and Mother were in medical school together.”

“Your mother?”

“Top of her class until she decided to marry my father and drop out.”

“She gave up her career for him?”

He shook his head. “People used to say that all the time, but Mother always said she hadn’t given up anything, that she’d gained and she never regretted her decision for a moment.” His face saddened. “Losing him was hard on her.”

“But she has you and your sister, and memories linger.”

“Yes, they do.”

Lilly realized that they were having a conversation like two normal people, not adversaries. “I was going to fix chicken salad for lunch. You want me to bring you a tray?”

“Thanks, and while we eat you can tell me about what they did to your car.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “You want us to have lunch together?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“If I do, you aren’t going to be perturbed with me if I don’t know everything, are you?”

Heavy eyebrows lifted over his shades. “I promise to try.”

“Good enough.”

Dr. Wakefield kept his word. They talked more than they ate. Lilly wasn’t sure if that was because he was still nervous about eating in front of people or because he simply wasn’t hungry. Having carried his usually empty plates back to the kitchen, she felt it was more of the former.

Telling him she had to help Odette with supper and that she’d pick up his tray later, she left. She knew she had been right when she went back and only fragments of the potato chips and bits of bread remained.

Lying in bed that night, she stared up at the ceiling of the moonlit room. Life was a mystery. You never knew if misery or happiness was waiting around the corner. You just had to be ready. She hadn’t been ready today when her lawyer called. She’d almost crumpled. Dr. Wakefield didn’t know it, but he had helped her not to. His intervention was all the more profound when she knew he was fighting his own misery, his own demons.

She vowed again to help him fight and win his battle, if possible, just as he had helped her today.

The day was beautiful. Blue skies stretched forever, swept by a gentle easterly wind. Lilly breathed in the fresh-scented air and stepped off the back porch. It was quiet and peaceful here and filled with a calm beauty.

Immediately her thoughts went to Dr. Wakefield shut in his room. Not wanting a repeat of last week she hadn’t dared mention going out again. However, if he wouldn’t go out, she’d take the outside inside to him.

Seeing Samuel pruning, she walked over to him. “Samuel, would it be all right if I cut some flowers for Dr. Wakefield’s room?”

Stopping, he rubbed the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt across his perspiration-dampened forehead. “Yes’m.”

“Good. Which ones do you suggest?”

“The roses, lilies, and tulips might make a nice arrangement.” He nodded toward the front of the property. “The doctor and I had talked about adding a couple more beds of flowers to the front yard. Maybe some hydrangeas or tulips in all colors of the rainbow in a winding trail along the fence line. Guess it’ll have to wait now.”

“Why?”

“He’s bl—” Samuel stopped himself and looked away.

Lilly realized he hadn’t meant the words spitefully. Dr. Wakefield was more than an employer to Samuel. He was a respected friend. “I thought we agreed not to treat him any differently?” she said.

“He can’t walk the grounds with me, tell me how wide or how far from the fence he wants the beds,” Samuel said logically.

Before answering, Lilly glanced around the beautiful yard. It was the first week of May. Color was everywhere, drawing one’s eyes and soothing the senses. She couldn’t name all the flowers and trees, but some she knew: daffodils, pansies, geraniums, azaleas, dogwood, and redbud trees.

“Odette says you’ve been here over thirty years. How much of this design is your idea?”

“Most of it,” he said, then caught her meaning, already shaking his head. “But I never do anything without discussing it with the owner first.”

“Has Dr. Wakefield ever not liked anything you suggested?”

“No,” Samuel said slowly. “But there’s always a first time.”

“Why don’t we go see?”

Adam felt restless, bored, and trapped. He’d tried to listen to the new tape Lilly had given him that morning, but the dull monotone of the person reading the book almost made him want to commit murder. The baseball games also had ceased to amuse and entertain.

“Dr. Wakefield.”

Adam whirled from the balcony and started toward his door, unconsciously anticipating matching wits with Lilly. “What are you going to badger me about this time?”

“We can come back,” Samuel said hesitantly.

“Samuel?” Adam said, surprise in his voice. “I thought you were Lilly.”

“I’m here,” she said. “I brought you a surprise and Samuel came along to talk with you.”

He smelled the fragrance. “Flowers.”

“Red and yellow roses, creamy magnolia and gardenia blossoms. Your room will smell wonderful,” she said, going past him. “I brought you two vases. One to go to the far right of your nightstand. The other in the middle of the vanity. Samuel, why don’t you tell Dr. Wakefield your ideas for the flower beds in the front?”

“I, er ...” Samuel faltered.

“Dr. Wakefield, Samuel said you had thought of increasing the beauty of Wakefield Manor with additional seasonal flower beds along the fence line,” Lilly intervened.

Adam had wanted to develop a flower garden showcase similar to those he had seen in Europe, but that had been before his blindness. “That will have to wait.”

“Yes, sir. Whenever you’re ready,” Samuel quickly said.

“What did you want to plant?” Lilly asked, coming to stand by Adam.

“Geraniums, irises, pansies, tulips, camellias.”

“That’s what Samuel thought. How far back and how wide did you want the beds?” she questioned.

Adam sighed impatiently and ran his hand over his head. “I don’t know.”

“Would it be as far back at this room? Would the bed be as wide as yours?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” She was rapidly pushing him into snapping at her again.

“Samuel, what do you think?” Lilly asked. “I’m sure Dr. Wakefield values your opinion.”

“I’ve always been very pleased with Samuel’s work, unlike some people,” Adam said before Samuel could answer, hoping she’d get the point.

“Thank you, Dr. Wakefield. Hearing you say that means a lot,” Samuel said.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Adam said, meaning it. He never had to worry about Wakefield Manor or unnecessary withdrawals against the household account.

Encouraged, Samuel said, “Maybe the beds in the front could be a couple hundred feet back, twice the length of the hall, and half as wide as that wide bed you sleep in. I could border everything with monkey grass if we just did the tulips. The camellias as a backdrop for daffodils, snapdragons, and begonias for March and April. Then in the summer I could switch to begonias, impatiens, and snapdragons.”