The bird flapped around in its bowl and garbage bag prison as Tammy drove to John Parker’s house, and she worried it would somehow get out and fly around her car. Halfway there, she stopped by the side of the road and took the whole contraption outside. She stared at it, scared to open the bag, but then she knelt down, leaning her body as far away as she could, and did it. The bird fluttered, unable to free itself, and she suddenly teared up.
That was me
, she thought, and the realization made her heart hurt in her chest.
All her remaining threads of fear unstitched themselves, and she inched closer, opening the bag fully and taking out the posterboard and bowl.
“Come on, little one,” she said softly as the bird stared at her with its beady black eyes. “You can do it.”
The trembling creature ruffled its gray wings and finally hopped out of the garbage bag. It took three tries, but it finally took off, flying haphazardly into one of the nearby trees for safety, needing a place for its wounds to heal. Tears were streaming down Tammy’s face by the time it disappeared into a thatch of green leaves, and she had to take a second to breathe through her emotions.
“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered to the robin, and then she picked up everything and put it back in the car.
By the time she arrived at John Parker’s, she’d cleaned up her makeup only to discover dirty paw prints on her navy Capri pants as she exited the car.
She should just go home and try to start the whole day over again.
But she couldn’t. Scrubbing with her dry hands didn’t diminish the marks much. Frowning, she grabbed her satchel and headed to the front door. After she rang the bell, the door swung open.
“Hi there,” John Parker said. “Whoa! What happened to you?”
There was no way she was going to tell him about bawling on the side of the road because a wounded robin had reminded her of herself. “Bullet and Banjo, that’s what. They’ve gone plumb crazy with Rye gone, and this morning they brought a dead robin into my kitchen…except the poor bird wasn’t really dead.”
“Uh-oh. What did you do?”
The whole sorry tale started to pour forth, minus her bawling, and finally she paused, realizing her Mama Drama was about the furthest thing from professional. “Sorry. I shouldn’t talk out of turn.”
He laughed. “You can always tell me how things are going. And look, I’ll come take Bullet and Banjo off your hands after we finish here. They usually stay at my place when Rye’s on tour anyway. We didn’t talk about it this year because you were there. Not very nice of us, leaving you alone with four dogs.”
No, it wasn’t
, she almost said, but it was the stress of the morning talking.
“Are you sure?” she asked, following him into the kitchen, praying he was.
“Tammy, I insist. I know they’re a handful. Rye has always loved that about them. I prefer Charleston, but we all have different taste in dogs.”
“Thank you truly. I have to say it will be a relief.”
“You’re welcome.”
A reluctant laugh squeaked out of her and then another. “I must sound demented.”
“No, just like a mama having a bad day. So, to make up for your dog and bird trauma, I’ll take Rory on a bike ride and make sand castles in the sandbox with Annabelle while you have a glass of wine and take some time for yourself. I meant to follow you home today anyway to see the kids.”
Oh, she could use that time to send some design ideas over to Tallulah Parsons, another connection from Rye’s wedding, who’d asked her to plant some containers around her patio.
“Thank you, then. You’re a lifesaver.”
“So, let’s get you some sweet tea and a tranquilizer, and then you can show me what you have in mind.” He rubbed his hands together. “I have to tell you, I’m pretty excited to see your ideas.”
The tranquilizer comment made her smile as he poured her sweet tea.
“You sure you don’t want something stronger?” he joked.
“If ever there was a day…”
More settled after they were comfortably seated at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea and eating more of his special chocolate, this time dark-chocolate-covered figs, she reached for her satchel for the designs. Butterflies danced in her stomach in anticipation of his reaction. She’d burned the midnight oil, scouring books, rifling through magazines, and reading dozens of gardening blogs. With one of Rory’s number two pencils, she’d drawn and re-drawn his gardens until the eraser had worn down to a nub.
His soulful music had played in the background as she’d worked. Rye had been right. John Parker was one of the good boys. The lyrics on his one eponymous album were pure poetry. They painted pictures of loss and love, family and forgiveness, and the continued pursuit of the important things in life—even when the chips were down.
Some of the songs he’d written for other artists were wildly different, though, like “There’s No Use Shooting Him” or “That Girl Needs a Real Man,” and she realized there were sides of his personality that were still a mystery to her.
She extended her notebook so John Parker could see her final draft. “Well, this first design is more about the shape of the garden. Once we agree on that, I can move forward in selecting the appropriate plants to fill the space. I already have some ideas on that score, which we can talk about later. Let’s go outside so I can show you exactly where they’ll be. It’ll be easier that way. Men are pretty visual.”
His mouth twitched. “We are indeed.”
He gestured to the back door, opened it for her, and followed her outside. The air was stifling, and the hot sun immediately raised sweat on her skin. She felt it gather in her cleavage and prayed he wouldn’t notice.
“Tell me what you have in mind, Tammy.”
Taking a breath, she gestured to the sweeping line of the woods on the right and pointed to her drawing. “My recommendation is to put a pond here, nestled against the tree line. We’ll plant tall grasses that will sway in the breeze and bold wildflowers along the path to the woods. And if you like the idea, I think we should add a one-story brick structure resembling a small mill with a water wheel.” She tucked her chin nervously. “Reminiscent of the Old Mill from
Gone with the Wind
.”
His mouth dropped open, and he blinked.
“You said you didn’t have a budget, so these are high-concept designs,” she rushed to say. “If it’s not what you’re thinking, we could take it down a level. Your shed looked like it needed some…ah, repairs, so I thought the mill might replace it and look nicer.”
He chewed on his lip like he was fighting a smile. “Are you saying my shed sucks?”
Yes
, she almost said, but that would be unprofessional. “I’m sure it’s quite lovely, but you asked me to add a new look to your property, and the shed doesn’t exactly fit in with it.”
“That was pretty diplomatic. When I threw up that shed, all I cared about was having a place to store my lawnmower and tools. Okay, let me think about it. Tell me more.”
They walked around his vibrant green lawn, their skin misting in the heat. She talked him through a stone water feature on the edge of a redecorated patio with an open fireplace for parties. By the time she mentioned adding some waist-high fences to give the smaller gardens definition, John Parker was gazing at her intently.
“My mama will love this,” he said, but his comment didn’t give her relief.
He hadn’t said
he
liked her ideas yet.
When she mentioned having to recast some parts of his sprinkler system, he laughed. “You’re going to bankrupt me with the water bill.”
“Gardens need water, especially since we’re putting them in late and in this heat.” It still concerned her, but she’d read enough blogs to know they should be okay if they watered the plants with special care.
Because he looked so good and sweaty, her newfound flirtatious streak rose up. “Unless you’re planning to haul water buckets yourself, being a big strapping man and all.”
John Parker’s lips twitched. “Very funny.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around at his property. “It’s going to look incredible when you finish it.”
Her gaze flew to his blue eyes. “So, you like it?”
“I love it. I could never in a million years have come up with these ideas on my own. My family will want to come over here more to have barbecues and get-togethers. I might even have to buy a set of fine china to go along with your dramatic outdoor dining area.”
Inside her arose a desire to punch her fist in the air and cry,
yes, I did it.
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not quite done. I wanted to wait until the end to tell you about my idea for the premier garden. It will be in the middle of the lawn so your property doesn’t look…well, so much like a rectangle.”
“A rectangle, huh?” he asked. “Or maybe a driving range? You can be sure I knock golf balls down it.”
His teasing was most welcome. “This garden is going to define your property, and I want you to give me carte blanche on this.”
“Sounds important. What’s so special about it?”
Joy rose up inside her like it did when she caught sight of a rare rainbow after a rainstorm. “I’m going to plant a chocolate garden for you, John Parker.”
He’d been kicking at a small hole in his yard that she would need to fill, but he stopped to give her his full attention. “A
what?”
Even to her it sounded delicious and decadent. “You heard me.
A chocolate garden.
It’s a really hot concept right now in gardening. They’ve developed incredible varieties. New plants that are chocolate in color, sometimes alone or with other colors woven in, like pink or chartreuse. Some of the plants even smell like chocolate.”
She could already see Chocolate Sundae dahlias and Hot Chocolate calla lilies standing tall in the breeze, their elegant, glossy blossoms and foliage accented by Chocolate Ruffles coral bells. The chocolate vine would trail along the pergola in the center where she planned to install a seating area with a fountain and two Adirondack chairs. The air would be lightly scented with irresistible fragrance, accented by the cocoa bean mulch she was going to cart in by the truckful.
He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, making her laugh. “Imagine that! Chocolate plants. That’s the most incredible thing I think I’ve ever heard, and I know diddly about plants. I’m going to have to tell my mama and sisters. They’re gonna love it.”
She wanted to raise her hands to the heavens and turn in a circle. “I’m glad you like it. I thought you would.”
“Tammy, you have a gift, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. A chocolate garden!” He grabbed her hand then and raised it to his lips. “I’m overwhelmed, Tammy.”
Her hand jerked when his lips pressed against her skin. Before she could process the fire and heat spreading up her arm, he stepped back and dropped his grip on her.
She turned away to give herself time to force the trembling aside. No one had ever touched her quite like that. “I’m glad you’re pleased, John Parker. I love doing it. And I hope you’ll recommend me to others, if you’re happy with the final product, and let me take some pictures to use on the website I’ve commissioned for Visionary Gardening.” Oh, how she loved saying the name of her business. It made everything feel so official.
“Once everyone sees what you created here, you’ll have more clients than you can handle. How about I hold a barbecue and invite all the tony people in Dare River and Nashville to show off my new digs? You’ll have to come, of course.”
“That would be just lovely of you.” And she wanted to bake him cookies on the spot.
John Parker leaned down and pulled a sunshine-yellow dandelion from his otherwise immaculate lawn. “It’ll be fun. We’ll have to do it when Rye and Tory are on a break in the tour.”
“Yes, and maybe my daddy could drive up as well if that would be all right.” How exciting it would be to share more of her work with her family.
“Growing your own business must be exciting,” he said. And oh, there was his dimple.
“Yes, I can’t wait. With Annabelle headed to kindergarten in the fall, I’ll have more time to dedicate to it without needing a sitter.”
“You’re going to be fine.”
She nudged the ground with her sandal, reminding herself to gather a soil sample so she could take a pH reading.
“I’m hoping Visionary Gardening will soon be financially established enough that I can rent a place for me and the kids. I think it’s time now that Rye’s married.” It was something she’d thought about a lot, though she hadn’t verbalized it to anyone yet. The kids wouldn’t like moving, but it was the right thing to do.
“I’m sure they don’t expect you to do that, honey.”
Of course she knew that, but it didn’t change what she knew she had to do, for herself and for the kids. Her plan was to find a few houses she liked and could afford with her own money—that was important to her—and then show them to the kids. Once they settled on one, she would tell her brother. Otherwise, she feared he would try and talk her out of it, and she might backslide into agreeing to let another man take care of her, even if he was family.
Turning away again, she watched a turkey vulture fly overhead. “I need to do this, John Parker.”
He dusted off his hands by rubbing them on his tan shorts. “Do you ever think of remarrying?”
His words had her back going ramrod straight. “Marry? I…ah, no…I don’t know.” The idea terrified her as much as the thought of dying alone. “My first marriage…”
John Parker edged closer, shielding her from the hot sun. “What?” he said softly.
“Well…I’m not sure I’m cut out for marriage.”
The glow inside her dulled and faded. A vulnerable feeling took root, angering her. Even now, she had to wonder if there was something she’d done wrong to make Sterling treat her the way he had.
“From what Rye says, your ex is a first-class bastard who didn’t deserve you or the kids. I don’t want you thinking that you’re not cut out for marriage.” He gestured widely. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a wonderful woman. You’d make an excellent wife. God knows, you’re an excellent mother.”
Praise hadn’t been doled out to her much while she was growing up, and she soaked it up like parched earth during a rain shower. “I don’t know what to say to that.”