Chapter 29—The Roses

An hour later, Susan was on a plane to Columbus, Ohio. She felt scrunched sitting in the middle seat between an overweight middle-aged man, who smelled of garlic, and a teenager wearing a UNLV sweatshirt who was constantly in and out of his bag—getting his computer, iPad, and earphones. It was the only seat left on the plane, and Susan had to run to make the flight. It didn’t matter; she would have sat between two orangutans to get back to Ohio. She had accepted that her days of flying in a luxurious Gulf Stream jet were over.

The attendant served beverages, and she had a ginger ale. Then closed her eyes and lay her head back, trying to relax. She felt a pang of guilt—running away. All she knew was that the scary scene of Blaine lying dead kept replaying in her mind. The bright red blood was like a river flowing all around her.

A little scream came from someplace deep inside of her. She jolted awake in a cold sweat.

“Are you okay, Miss?” the man asked, his breath reeking of garlic.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry.”

The teenager hadn’t noticed. He had his earphones on.

Susan shut her eyes, wondering what had happened to Jenny. It couldn’t have been good. His family alone was enough to make anyone want to leave.

She felt his eyes on her—the man with the garlic breath. She looked at him with a question in her gray eyes.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. “It might help.”

“No,” she said with a weak smile. “It wouldn’t help.

The man was nosy. “Do you live in Columbus?”

“No, I live in Brier Hill County.”

“What do you do? Are you a model?”

“No,” Susan said. “I used to be a librarian.” But even as the words tumbled out of her mouth, she knew she would never be able to go back to such a mundane job. At one time, she had loved her career, but she had changed—more than she wanted to admit.

The man shook his head. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous and high class. Your Hermes Birkin handbag tells me that you’re more than a librarian.”

“The handbag was a gift,” she said. “Isn’t everyone more than their job? A job is just a way to make a living.”

Susan could tell he wasn’t listening. Instead, he was staring at her diamond ring.

“Your fiancé must love you very much to buy you a ring like that.”

“He’s a wonderful man,” Susan said. “He’s the best person I’ve ever known.” It tugged on her heart that she would have to return the ring. But she couldn’t keep it. It wouldn’t be right. She would miss him, and she knew it.

As soon as the plane landed, Susan turned on her phone, and there was a text from Derrick. Call me. After she put her luggage in the trunk of the rental car, she called.

“I’m in Ohio,” she said. “I just got a rental car, and I’m going home.”

His voice sounded panicked. “Honey, relationships are about working things through. You can’t run away when things get tough. Please come home.”

“I can’t come back, at least—not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve murdered a man. I’m still trying to figure it all out. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I’ve changed over the past few months. I know this sounds crazy, but I have to find Susan. I have to find the girl I once was.”

“Everyone changes. No one stays the same. You’re not going to find that girl, Susan, because she doesn’t exist anymore.”

“I disagree. If I go home—I think she’ll come back.”

“Who do you think you are, Susan?”

“Jenny. Jenny killed Blaine. Somehow—I don’t know how.”

“You’re not Jenny, honey. You’re Susan. But you're not the same woman that you used to be. That’s what happens when you have new experiences. It’s not a good time to leave. We’re getting married in a couple of days. When are you coming back?”

“Never,” she said, exasperated. “How can I make you understand that it’s over?”

Susan heard a click. It wasn’t what Derrick wanted to hear.

Maybe it was heartless, but their relationship wasn’t working out, and she needed to go it alone.

Susan had to resolve this thing about Jenny. The changes in her had been subtle—she had never liked spicy foods, but now she craved them. Her libido was more than usual, but then again, Derrick was the sexiest man alive. And there was that attraction she had to Daren. She would never act on it but had libidinous thoughts at times, especially when she had been drinking too much. And she had recently bought an expensive piece of art, something she’d never done before. She always shopped for sales and bargains. It weighed on her that she had become like Jenny.

Susan stopped for groceries and bought a pizza to take home for dinner.

It was freeing to step across the threshold. It felt like home.

Her neighbor, Dan, saw her car and brought over the mail. They talked for a while, and he told her he’d married the lady from England that he’d met online.

“How long are you going to stay? I’d like for you to come over for dinner and meet my wife.”

“I’m not sure.” Then she told Dan what happened—about how Blaine had kidnapped her and that she’d killed him in self-defense.

“Thank God, he can’t hurt you anymore,” Dan said.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” she said. “The scene keeps replaying in my head.”

“Well, you mustn’t dwell on it. Where’s that nice FBI man you liked so much? Derrick was his name—wasn’t it? Why didn’t he come with you?”

“I wanted to be alone. I have some things I have to work through. It’s hard knowing I took a life. I still can’t believe I did it.”

“You had to do it, Susan. Blaine wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kept coming back. You need to go on with your life. And being alone is not the answer. I was so lonely after Shelly died. What are you going to do here all by yourself? Derrick is a good man. I saw how he looked after you. You need someone to look after you, Susan.”

“I’ll be fine. I need to be here to think things through.”

“You’ve been through a lot of traumas, and your parents are dead. Go back, Susan. There’s nothing here anymore. What are you going to do here?”

“Try to figure it all out. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“I’ll be at home if you need me. Just call.”

Susan smiled. “Thank you. You’re a great friend and neighbor.”

Susan opened up a bottle of wine and had two glasses while she ate pizza and went through the mail. There was a card from her Aunt Clare. Susan opened it expectantly, hoping everything was all right.

Dear Susan, I miss you so much, but I have many friends who visit, and I’m not lonely.

I met a nice man at Bingo, and we have a lot in common. We sit together at dinner every day. His name is Andy, and he’s the sweetest man. I’m feeling so much better since I met him. Yesterday, he shared his pralines with me that his daughter brought. They were delicious!

I’m eighty-two, and in the winter of my life. Summer was over a long time ago, and I had time to think things through in the autumn. Life is over before you know it. My words of wisdom to you would be—always trust yourself. That little voice inside of us knows what is best. And people are more important than anything else. You can be happy almost anyplace if you’re surrounded by the right people.

Remember that little song I used to sing to you: Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold. It is true, my dear. Some of my dearest friends have passed away, but I think I will see them again.

I don’t think I ever told you this, but—I died once. Your mother and I had gone on vacation to the beach and got too much sun. I had a sunstroke and died. It was all sort of up in the air as to whether I could stay or not—and a man’s voice said, “She must go back. It isn’t her time.”

You have been the light of my life, Susan. I’ve left my entire estate to you, and I hope you will enjoy that big old rambling house as much as I did. I’ve been praying that Blaine is out of your life and you’ve met someone. Someone who will be good to you. Someone like my Andy.

Love, Aunt Clare Susan sat in awe of the letter. She remembered her mother telling her about her Aunt Clare’s sunstroke and how she’d thought her sister was dead. Susan smiled. The letter had come at a good time. She reread the part about being with the right people. You can be happy wherever you are if the right people surround you. Susan chuckled. Her Aunt Clare had a boyfriend. Who would have thought?

Aunt Clare was right; she did need to be with the people she loved. But she also needed to be alone to think things out.

Susan jumped when her cell phone rang. It was Derrick.

“I can’t eat, and I’m restless,” Derrick said. “It hurts like hell.”

“I’m so sorry. I just need time to figure this all out.”

“Please don’t give me that ‘I’m so confused’ bull shit. What is there to figure out?”

“I killed a man, Derrick. I’ve changed.”

“You have changed, honey. You took self-defense classes and became more self-confident. You started taking care of yourself. If you’re looking for Susan, the librarian, I don’t think you’re going to find her. She’s gone. And I wouldn’t give up the woman you’ve become for anything in the world. I love who you are.”

“Well, there are parts of Susan that I miss. I have to find her.”

“Don’t do this to me, Susan. You have the best therapist in the world across the street.”

“This house is my therapy. It’s my haven. I feel safe here.”

“No one is there. Everyone who loves you is here.”

“You don’t understand,” Susan said, tears streaming down her cheek. “My roses are here.”

“Honey, I’ll plant all the roses you want. Come home, please.”

“There’s a story about my roses. In Shakespeare’s Tempest, Miranda is the daughter of the protagonist, Prospero, Duke of Milan. Miranda means ‘worthy of admiration.’ My mother told me that my grandmother had planted the rose for her and that she planted the rose for me to remind me that we should always be ‘worthy of admiration.’

Susan began to sob. “I had to come home to my roses, Derrick. I had to remind myself of the woman I once was—I don’t like who I am. I killed Blaine, and I don’t know that I can ever forgive myself.”

“I’m starting to understand,” Derrick said with a gentle voice. “But you need more than the roses, Susan. You need to be home with the people who love you and me.”

“I have to go,” she said. “I have to check the house.”

“I love you,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured.

She had more pizza and another glass of wine and went through the mail. Then she trudged up the steps with a glass of wine. The house looked spotless. Dan had the house cleaned, and there wasn’t any indication of the horror that had occurred here months ago.

Susan went into her bedroom, and everything looked perfect. There was a stack of towels on the sink. She picked one up and buried her nose in it. It smelled fresh and clean, like laundry soap and softener. She was looking forward to a long soak in the tub tonight.

And then she did what she had been dreading. She walked down the hall to Blaine’s room. She could still detect the faint smell of his cologne, even after all this time. She opened the closet door and was relieved to find it empty. She’d always had to be so careful to make sure his clothes hung two inches apart. She looked up at the shelves, and there was a shoebox that hadn’t been there before.

Susan’s palms were sweaty as she reached up for the shoe box.

She sat down in an overstuffed chair and slowly opened the box.

There was a pair of her silky underwear, their wedding picture, and a letter. Her heart thundered. It was her shoebox, just like the one Blaine had made for Carol.

She opened the letter cautiously, barely breathing.

Dear Susan, I don’t know what’s going to happen, and whether you’ll get this letter. I just want you to know that I genuinely love you. That’s why I can never let you go. The voices in my head get stronger every day.

I have a mission to carry out. You have to die, Susan. You can never win. I’ll find you wherever you go. I won’t be happy until I see you take your last breath.

You are mine forever, Blaine Susan’s hands were shaking so badly that she dropped the letter. Then she ran into the bathroom and vomited. She wet a cloth with cold water and put it over her face as she tried to revive herself. Even in death, Blaine had still managed to frighten her out of her wits. The feeling was repulsive. Had she not killed Blaine, she would have been reduced to a shoebox—like Carol.

Something was pulling her to the rose garden. She surrendered to this energy—whatever it was, grabbed a flashlight out of the pantry, went out the door into the darkness, even though she was afraid. By the light of the full moon and the flashlight beam, she found her unique rose, The Miranda. She touched it gently—the color was an intense pink, and it had 120 petals. She’d known that from the time she was a little girl. She sniffed its delicate fragrance, and it calmed her.

Susan remembered her mother’s words as if it were yesterday: A lady must always be worthy of admiration. Beautiful like this rose. You must always be patient, kind, and loving. You must be like the rose, darling.”

“Mother,” she said. “I’ve killed Blaine. I’m sorry that I couldn’t live up to your expectations. I didn’t want to harm him, but I had to, and I’m carrying a lot of guilt. The rose is gorgeous, but sometimes a woman has to be like a strong oak. She has to be both. Do you understand what I’m saying? It takes a strong woman to survive in this world. There’s evil, and sometimes you have to fight the demons.”

Susan looked up at the moon and felt a shroud of peace encompass her. That feeling that she’d done something wrong was gone.

Then Susan did what she knew she had to do. She went inside and called Derrick. He answered right away.

“I’m coming home, Susan said with a lilt to her voice. “I know where I need to be.”

“What’s happened?”

“I was checking the house and looked in Blaine’s closet. There was a shoebox in the closet, just like the one he’d done for Carol. He left a letter for me. He said he was on a mission to kill me. I know now that if I hadn’t killed him, he would have just kept coming back. I would have lived in terror for the rest of my life.”

“We’ll turn the letter over to the police,” Derrick said. “When are you leaving?”

“I’ll be on the next plane to Vegas. I think it’s the red-eye.”

After Susan hung up, she realized how much she missed Derrick. Her hands were trembling when she put the teapot on to boil. The letter that Blaine had written was proof that she’d done the right thing. She sipped the tea, trying to calm down. Then she called Dan and told him what happened.

“I’m going back, Dan. I can’t let what I did ruin my life. I know I’m going to need therapy. It isn’t easy knowing that I’ve taken a life.”

“You have to forgive yourself, Susan. You’re alive. You have another chance at life. Derrick is a great guy.”

“I know. We’re getting married in two days. So, I’ve got to run. I’m catching the red-eye back to Vegas.” She paused. “And Dan—will you please hire a gardener to take care of my rose garden. There are weeds. I can’t have weeds in my rose garden. I’ll leave some money on the kitchen table for you.”

“Of course,” Dan said. “Go, and don’t worry about a thing.”

Susan tried to sleep on the airplane but was restless. She lay with her eyes closed and thought about the girl she once was and who she knew was still there. Susan James, a girl who had been shielded and protected by her family until she’d married Blaine. He’d abused her, and she was scarred, but that part of her life was over. Now she must move forward with a man who loved her. And she loved him more than anything in the world.

She had not resolved her feelings about Jenny. She was sure that at the moment she’d pulled the trigger—Jenny had been there. It helped with the guilt. She looked out the window into the inky night and reflected on that horrible night: You killed Blaine, Jenny. I know you were there. Maybe there was a little vixen in you that caused mischief when I drank or gambled too much. And that pull that I have towards Daren—that’s you—wanting me to give in. And when I was facing off with Blaine, I felt a superhuman strength that could not have come from just me. You were there, and I know it. You pulled the trigger, Jenny. Admit it.

Jenny didn’t answer, and Susan couldn’t dwell on it. She refused to let her misery take flight in the cabin of the airplane. Susan told herself that she had to be strong like the generations of women who had come before her. In the face of tragedy, they had carried on, and she would, too. She wouldn’t always be kind and patient and loving, and there was satisfaction in knowing that she’d fought the biggest battle of her life and survived.

Maybe history would be kind to her and say that she had done the right thing. Maybe what she’d done would help other women to fight back from abusive husbands. Perhaps it would save lives.

One thing Susan knew, a woman couldn’t always be like a beautiful, sweet rose. God knows the stench of death is horrible. In the face of adversity, a woman must be strong, she told herself. Her lips curled in a smile. Sometimes a woman must be a lion, an angry lion. If she has to take a bite out of someone’s ass—she has to do it.

A calm came over Susan as the wheels of the plane touched down. She gazed out the window at the bright lights that Vegas is famous for, and her future no longer looked murky—it looked bright and promising.

Derrick was waiting for her when she walked off the plane. She threw herself in his arms and kissed him passionately. Her feelings were strong, deep, and burning. She couldn’t remember ever feeling that much passion.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “I was so worried you wouldn’t come back, Susan.”

“I fought my demons,” she said. “And now I know where I belong. I had to go home to figure it out. And I promise never to run away again.”

They made out like teenagers in the limo on the way home. It was exhilarating knowing that she’d found the girl inside of her—the girl who wasn’t afraid to love.

When she walked in the door, Ruffy came to greet her. It was a great feeling to be home, and she was glad that Derrick didn’t want to talk about why she’d left. All he wanted was her. They made love until dawn, and Susan did not wake up until Derrick brought her a breakfast tray at noon. There was a rose from the trellis on the tray.

“You’ve had three calls from the wedding planner,” Derrick said. “It’s going to be a busy day. Think you can handle it?”

Susan picked up the rose and sniffed the fragrance. “I can handle anything,” she murmured.