The Island of Heavenly Daze (23 page)

Frowning, Annie leaned closer. “What is that you have on your whiskers?”

Well, it wasn't a doughnut; she could bank on that.

Raking her fingernails over Tallulah's whiskers, Annie turned a tiny piece of green over in her hand. Her eyes widened, then she shrieked and bolted to her feet. “My tomato plants!”

Bowled backwards, Tallulah caught herself inches before she landed in the lilac bush. Annie took off running down the drive, screeching like a banshee, waving her arms and yelling.

Stunned, Tallulah righted herself, shaking her head to clear the sudden blurriness.

For heaven's sake! What'd she do wrong?

Annie covered the short distance to the tomato patch in sprinter's time. Her heart crowded the back of her throat and she felt sick.
Please, God, not my tomato plants. I've
worked so hard, so very hard . . .

She spotted the carnage before she rounded the carriage shed. Plants uprooted, dirt flung about the area.

Sinking to her knees, Annie scooped up a half-dozen mangled plants, cradling the uprooted vegetation to her breast, fighting back tears.

Tallulah had completely destroyed the garden.

Remnants of discarded bones lay to the side, the apparent objects of the dog's search.

Overwhelmed, Annie buried her face in her hands and bawled. One year's work and thousands of dollars down the drain. Gone.

Tallulah ventured up, her eyes searching Annie's. The dog looked at the plants, then back to Annie, her tail wagging tentatively.

“Bad dog!” Annie sobbed. “Bad, bad dog!”

Tucking her tail between her legs, Tallulah slunk off, turning once to look back over her shoulder before she trudged on.

Annie struggled to regain her composure. This was all Olympia's fault. She had deliberately put Tallulah out in the backyard, knowing full well the dog would search for a bone.

Shoving herself upward, she strode toward the house, her muddy hands angrily swiping at tears. Olympia had always resented her experiments and thrived on watching her fail. This time she wasn't going to get away with it. This time Annie was giving her a piece of her mind. No more Miss Nice Niece. She couldn't bond with Olympia if she immersed herself in Super Glue.

Olympia glanced up from her breakfast plate when Annie burst through the back door and slammed it shut. The curtains above the window danced erratically.

Caleb whirled from the stove, a strip of bacon dangling from a fork.

Marching to Olympia, Annie leveled her finger inches beneath her aunt's nose. “How dare you,” she said.

Olympia's gaze flew to Caleb. “How dare I what?”

Dissolving in tears, Annie started blubbering, her words tumbling all over each other in an effort to get out. “You-let-Tullulah-out-and-she-dug-up-all-my-tomatoes-and-they're-lying-all-over-the-yard-and-I-hope-that-makes-you-happy-because-I'm-leaving-and-I'm-never-coming-back.” She stomped her foot. “You-hear-me-Aunt-Olympia? I'm-never-coming-back-because-you-NEVER-loved-me-NEVER-not-from-the-moment-I-came-here.”

She paused, drawing in a ragged breath, then launched into another tirade.

“I've-never-done-anything-right-in-your-eyes. I-don't-know-why-you-ever-wanted-me-in-the-first-place.You're-the-happiest-when-my-life-is-falling-apart—''

Dropping his fork, Caleb came over to take her by the shoulders. “Annie. Stop this. Whatever has happened, we can discuss this rationally.”

Jerking free, Annie glared at him. “You always take up for her. Why can't anyone in this house ever take up for me?”

“Annie,” Olympia shoved back from the table, “what has gotten into you? What are you babbling about? For goodness sakes, you're acting like a wild woman.”

Whirling, Annie pointed to the back door. “Tallulah dug up my tomato plants!”

“She . . . what?”

“Oh, don't act so innocent. You know full well that you deliberately left that door open so the dog could get out and dig for bones!”

“But that door is always open for the dog—''

“You did it on purpose, Aunt Olympia! You can't bear to think that stupid little Annie might do something right for a change.” Annie fought for breath. “For once, I might actually do something good.”

Stiffening, Olympia threw her napkin on the table. “Oh for goodness sake, Annie. Stop this hysteria and eat your breakfast. If Tallulah hurt those silly plants, it isn't the end of the world. You can grow more, can't you?”

Annie was speechless. For a full second her mind stuttered in astonishment, then she yelled, “Grow more, Aunt Olympia? I can if I want to spend another year living, eating, sleeping, and devoting my whole miserable life to tomatoes!”

Olympia refused to meet her gaze. “In all likelihood they would have died anyway. Who ever heard of a tomato plant producing fruit in the fall? You're such a dreamer, Annie. Just like your uppity mother was. Always off in another world.”

“Well, at least it's my world, Aunt Olympia.” A sob caught in Annie's throat. Her aunt had never understood, and she never would. “And the day I stop dreaming is the day I'll know that I've become a bitter, lonely old woman like you. God help me, I hope I never see that day.”

“Annie,” Olympia said, anger blossoming in her lined face, “mind your elders.”

“Why?” Annie snorted in derision. “You don't care about me. I couldn't find one single piece of my life until I dug around in that old dresser. You stuffed my things in that musty old bottom drawer.” She gasped for breath. “Mr. Rocky Bear was squished in the corner like some kind of garbage.” Her shoulders quivered. “How could you? I loved that old thing, it was the only thing I brought from Boston.”

Olympia's face went pale. “That ratty thing? Edmund told me to throw it out; he said it had fleas. But I saved it for you!”

Annie's gaze flew to Caleb. “I fumigated it,” he said, his voice quiet. “And your aunt slept with it for a year after you left.”

“That's enough, Caleb,” Olympia snapped. “She doesn't want to hear that. She doesn't want to hear anything. Just let her go.”

Wheeling, Annie slammed out the door, rattling the windows.

Pale and shaking, Olympia sank to her chair, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Something in Caleb twisted at the sight. He drew a glass of water and carried it to the table. “She's upset, Missy. She didn't mean what she was saying.”

Olympia motioned him away. Face crumpling, she buried her hands in her face and wept. “She hates me, Caleb. She always has.”

Patting her arm, Caleb inwardly wept with her. In the heat of an argument, words were nuclear bombs, sharper and more destructive than a thousand swords. The stab of a knife would heal. The wounds left by words could fester for eternity.

Olympia struggled to speak through her despair. “Tallulah has always had a doggy door, Caleb. Annie knows that.”

“When Annie cools down, she'll realize her mistake. She's hurting right now, searching for something . . . and I hope she finds it soon.”

Since both women were entrusted to his care, Caleb knew their needs, but he couldn't fulfill them. Only Olympia and Annie could decide to put aside their differences and allow God to free them from the bitterness and resentment that twisted their souls and prevented them from being witnesses of the Lord's love. If they continued to fight and refused to listen to each other, one day one or the other would stand before an open grave and weep for what might have been.

The words of an anonymous wise man rose to Caleb's memory: Sow a thought and you reap an act; sow an act and you reap a habit; sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a destiny.

The old saying had never seemed truer than today. If Olympia and Annie did not come to their senses, their habit of always assuming the worst would result in permanent separation.

Caleb reached for a tissue, then tenderly wiped Olympia's tears.

“Now, there,” he soothed. “There's still hope for the girl, Missy. And there's still time.”

Olympia's shoulders heaved with emotion. “She thinks I hate her. She thinks I'm a horrible old lady. Maybe I am.” The river of tears overflowed its banks, liquid hurt streaming down her rouged cheeks.

“God doesn't think so,” he said quietly.

Helping her out of the chair, he led her up the stairway, supporting her frailness with his preternatural strength.

“You're so good to me, Caleb. I don't know what I would do without you.”

Later, he eased the door to her bedroom shut. Olympia had allowed him to give her a mild sedative, something she rarely did, and now she was resting.

But why did this have to happen when they were so close to a breakthrough? Though Annie's visit had been a stormy one, she had decided to come home every weekend.

Now this.

Caleb felt the grief of each woman tearing at him from opposite directions: one in the room right behind him, and the other a few blocks and a whole world away.

Laying his head against the smooth wooden doorframe, he wept.

Gasping for breath, Annie sagged against the ferry railing as the engines revved and the ship eased slowly away from dock. Drenched in sweat, she realized that the three fast laps around the island had done their job. Her anger was gone, replaced by exhaustion . . . and humility.

Deeply ashamed of the way she'd allowed her bitterness to spill over, she stared at the churning water, wondering how Olympia consistently managed to bring out the worst in her. The memory of her aunt's stunned expression seared her soul. She had acted like an ogre— yelling at an old woman and screaming at a dog.

The memory of Caleb's words shivered her skin like the touch of a ghost. Olympia had slept with Rocky Bear? Annie couldn't have been more surprised if he'd said that her aunt won first prize in the state yodeling contest.

She closed her eyes, trying to figure out what it meant. Filled with the brash confidence of youth, she'd left Heavenly Daze in a hurry. Eager to escape the confines of Frenchman's Fairest and Olympia's ironclad rules, she'd packed a bag and taken little more than a few clothes, her diary, and her dreams. Rocky Bear had been left on the bed . . . because she didn't think she'd need the comfort of his hugs.

Little did she know that she would . . . and the thought of Olympia curled up in bed with the toy brought a crooked smile to her face. Why would she do that—unless she missed the girl who'd left it behind? Why would she do that—unless she loved Annie?

More rational now, Annie realized that the vegetable garden had always been Tallulah's favorite hiding place. The newly turned dirt was an irresistible bone yard. Tallulah was merely following her natural instincts, digging where she shouldn't. Unfortunately for Annie, the tomato plants were in the direct path of destruction and had suffered the consequences.

Sighing, she accepted the blame.

She shouldn't have come back; she should have remained in Portland and avoided the inevitable clash that occurred every time she and Olympia were forced together.