Garden Spells Part 5

"Something like that."

CHAPTER 4.

That night, across town, Emma Clark had no idea her world was about to turn upside down as she got ready for the fund-raiser ball. She was, in fact, looking forward to the evening because of the attention she always received.

Clark women craved the spotlight. They loved attention from men, particularly. And it wasn't hard to get, considering their legendary s.e.xual prowess. They always always married well. married well.

Emma Clark's husband, Hunter John Matteson, was the biggest catch in town and everyone knew it. He was outgoing, handsome, athletic, and heir to his family's manufactured-housing empire. Emma's mother, shrewd woman that she was, had positioned Emma to be his wife since Emma and Hunter John were toddlers. Their families mingled and traveled in the same circles, so it wasn't hard to plant suggestions and nudge them together. Their families had even spent a month together on Cape May one summer when Emma and Hunter John were ten years old. "Look how cute they are together," her mother said every chance she got.

The only problem was, despite her mother's maneuvering, despite Emma's beauty and social position, despite the fact that she had been amazing boys behind the bleachers since she was fifteen and that any sane man would want her, all throughout high school Hunter John had been hopelessly in love with Sydney Waverley.

Oh, he knew he shouldn't have anything to do with her. People of their caliber didn't socialize with Waverleys. But it was no secret to his friends how he felt about her. They knew by the way he looked at her and the tragic teenage way he would act sometimes, like life without love was not worth living.

When he turned sixteen, in his one and only act of rebellion, he finally asked Sydney out. To everyone's surprise, his parents let him go. "Let the boy have some fun," his father had said. "She's the pretty Waverley, and she doesn't seem to have their touch, so she's harmless. My boy knows what's expected of him when he leaves school. I diddled around too, before I knew I had to settle down."

It was the second worst day of Emma's life.

For the next two years, Hunter John's clique in school had no choice but to accept Sydney into their fold, because she and Hunter John were inseparable. Emma's mother said to keep her mouth shut and her enemies close, so even though it killed her, Emma made friends with Sydney. She frequently invited her to spend the night. They had plenty of rooms, but Emma always told Sydney that she had to sleep on the floor. Sydney didn't mind, because she hated it at the Waverley house and anything was better than that. But more often than not, Emma ended up on her bedroom floor with Sydney, talking and doing homework. Sydney was just a Waverley, but she was smart and fun and had the best taste in hairstyles. Emma would never forget when she let Sydney style her hair once, and then everything went right that day, like magic. Hunter John had even commented on how pretty she looked. Emma could never replicate it herself. There was a time when Emma actually liked Sydney.

But then, on their sleeping bags on the floor one night, Sydney said that she and Hunter John were going to do it for the first time. Emma had almost been in tears. It was more than she could bear. She'd spent years watching the boy she knew she was supposed to be with in love with someone else. Then she'd been forced to befriend the girl who had distracted him from her. Now Sydney was going to sleep with him? It was the one thing Emma knew she was better at than anyone else, and Sydney Sydney was going to get to him first. It had taken every bit of strength she had to wait until Sydney fell asleep before running to tell her mother. was going to get to him first. It had taken every bit of strength she had to wait until Sydney fell asleep before running to tell her mother.

She remembered how her mother held her and stroked her hair. Ariel was in bed, on her white silk sheets. Her room always smelled of candles, and the crystals on the chandelier sent sparkles of light around the room. Her mother was everything Emma wanted to be: a living, breathing fantasy.

"Now, Emma," Ariel said easily, "you have been doing it and doing it well for over a year. All Clark women are good in bed. Why do you think we marry so well? Stop worrying. So she has him right now. You'll have him for the rest of your life. It's just a matter of time. You'll always be better, and it's good when men have a basis for comparison. That's not to say you can't spread a little false information. As hard as it is to believe, a lot of women are afraid of that first time."

That made Emma laugh. Clark women were never afraid of s.e.x.

Her mother kissed her forehead, her lips cool and soft. Then she stretched back in her bed and said, "Now, go on. Your father will be home soon."

The next day Emma told Sydney all sorts of false and scary things about how it hurt, and she told her all the wrong ways to do it. She never pressed Sydney into giving her details after it happened, but the satisfied look on Hunter John's face the first time he and Emma had s.e.x had been all she needed to know.

Sydney left town after Hunter John broke up with her at graduation. She'd been devastated to know that school was just a bubble, that she and Hunter John couldn't be together in real life, that the friends she'd made couldn't be her friends after they all graduated. They had to step out into Bascom society and do what their parents expected of them, become their family names. And Sydney was, in the end, just a Waverley. She'd been so hurt and angry. No one realized that she hadn't known the rules. She'd been in love with Hunter John. She thought it would be forever.

Emma would have felt sorry for her if it hadn't been obvious that Hunter John was hurting just as much. It took so much effort that summer to get him to come around. Even after they had s.e.x and he'd been blown away, he still talked of leaving for college, sometimes even saying that Sydney had the right idea by leaving. He didn't need this town.

So Emma did the only thing she thought she could.

She stopped taking the pill without telling Hunter John, and she got pregnant.

Hunter John stayed home and married her, and he never complained. They even decided, together this time, that they should have a second child a few years later. He worked for his father, then took over the family manufactured-home construction plants when his father retired. When his parents moved to Florida, Emma and Hunter John moved into his family's mansion. Everything seemed perfect, but she was never really sure where Hunter John's heart was, and that always bothered her.

Which brings us to the worst day in Emma Clark's life.

That Friday night, Emma still didn't realize something big was about to happen, even though all the clues were there. Her hair wouldn't curl. Then a pimple popped up on her chin. Then the white dress she'd planned to wear to the black-and-white hospital-fund-raiser ball mysteriously developed a stain on it that the housekeeper couldn't get out, so Emma had to settle for a black dress. It was a stunning dress-all her dresses were-but it wasn't what she wanted, what she had planned on, and she felt uncomfortable in it.

When she and Hunter John arrived at the ball, everything seemed fine. Perfect, in fact. The hospital ball was always held at Harold Manor, a Civil War-era home on the national historic registry and the the place for social gatherings. She'd been there countless times. It was a wonderful, fantasylike setting, like something out of time. Men wore suits so starched they couldn't bend at the waist, and women had handshakes as soft as tea cakes. Clark women were at home in such a setting, and Emma was immediately the center of attention, as she always was. But it felt different, like people were talking about her, wanting to be near her, for all the wrong reasons. place for social gatherings. She'd been there countless times. It was a wonderful, fantasylike setting, like something out of time. Men wore suits so starched they couldn't bend at the waist, and women had handshakes as soft as tea cakes. Clark women were at home in such a setting, and Emma was immediately the center of attention, as she always was. But it felt different, like people were talking about her, wanting to be near her, for all the wrong reasons.

Hunter John didn't notice, but then he never did, so she looked immediately for her mother. Her mother would tell her she was beautiful and that everything was all right. Hunter John kissed her cheek, then made a beeline to the bar, where his buddies were gathered. Young men at gatherings like this were like dust skittering to corners, trying to get away from the movement of skirts and the breath of ladies' laughter.

She ran into Eliza Beaufort while searching for her mother. Eliza had been one of her best friends in high school. "Keep the Beauforts as friends," Emma's mother always said, "and you'll know what people are saying about you."

"Oh, my Lord, I couldn't wait for you to get here," Eliza said. Her lipstick was smudged and lopsided from talking out of the side of her mouth. "I want to know all about how you heard."

Emma smiled slightly, distracted. "How I heard what?" she asked, looking over Eliza's shoulder.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Sydney Waverley is back in town." She almost hissed the words, like a curse. She almost hissed the words, like a curse.

Emma's eyes darted to meet Eliza's, but she didn't move a muscle. Was that why everyone was acting strangely tonight? Because Sydney was back and everyone here couldn't wait for Emma to arrive in order to get her reaction? That disturbed her for many reasons, the most important of which was that people thought she would even have have a reaction, that this warranted some kind of concern on her part. a reaction, that this warranted some kind of concern on her part.

"She came back Wednesday and she's staying with her sister," Eliza continued. "She even helped Claire on a job in Hickory this afternoon. You really didn't know?"

"No. So she's back. So what?"

Eliza raised her brows. "I didn't think you'd take it this well."

"She was never anything to us, anyway. And Hunter John is very happy. I have no worries. I need to find my mother. We'll do lunch next week, yes? Kiss, kiss."

She finally found her mother seated at one of the tables, sipping champagne and entertaining people who stopped by to see her. Ariel looked queenly and elegant and ten years younger than her real age. Like Emma, her hair was blond and her b.o.o.bs were big. She drove a convertible, wore diamonds with denim, and she never missed a homecoming game. She was so Southern that she cried tears that came straight from the Mississippi, and she always smelled faintly of cottonwood and peaches.

Her mother looked up as Emma approached, and Emma knew right away that she knew. Not only did she know, she wasn't happy about it. No, no, no No, no, no, Emma thought. There's nothing wrong. Don't make this wrong, Mama There's nothing wrong. Don't make this wrong, Mama. Ariel stood and left Emma's father with a provocative smile that would have him waiting eagerly for her return.

"Let's take a stroll out to the veranda," Ariel said, hooking her arm in Emma's and firmly leading her outside. They smiled as they pa.s.sed some small groups of people who had come out to smoke, because smiling meant everything was okay. Once in a far corner, Ariel said, "No doubt you've heard about Sydney Waverley. Don't worry. Everything will be all right."

"I'm not worried, Mama."

Ariel ignored her. "Here's what I want you to do. First, treat Hunter John extra special. Call more attention to yourself. I'm going to throw you a party at your house next weekend. Invite all your closest friends. Everyone will see how wonderful you are, how special. Hunter John will see how envied you are. We'll go shopping on Monday and buy you a dress. Red is your best color, and Hunter John loves you in red. Speaking of dresses, why did you wear black? You look better in white."

"Mama, I'm not worried about Sydney being back."

Ariel cupped Emma's face with both her hands. "Oh, sugar, you should should be worried. First loves are powerful loves. But if you keep reminding your husband why he chose you, you won't have a problem." be worried. First loves are powerful loves. But if you keep reminding your husband why he chose you, you won't have a problem."

Late that night, Emma couldn't wait to get Hunter John in bed, with a fervency she a.s.sured herself had nothing nothing to do with Sydney being back. Once they arrived home, she checked on their boys, asleep in their rooms, and said a distracted good night to the nanny. She started undressing the moment she entered the master suite, then stood naked except for her heels and the pearl necklace Hunter John had given her for her twenty-seventh birthday last year. to do with Sydney being back. Once they arrived home, she checked on their boys, asleep in their rooms, and said a distracted good night to the nanny. She started undressing the moment she entered the master suite, then stood naked except for her heels and the pearl necklace Hunter John had given her for her twenty-seventh birthday last year.

Hunter John entered a few minutes later with a sandwich and a beer. "Ball food," as he called it, always left him hungry. He did this every time they came home from a function, and while Emma didn't particularly care for the habit, it wasn't worth arguing over. He did, after all, come up to bed to be with her and eat instead of doing it alone in the kitchen.

He didn't seem surprised to find her naked. Emma wondered when that had happened, when he'd begun to expect it instead of desire it. But he smiled as she sauntered up to him and took the beer bottle and the sandwich plate out of his hands. She put them on the table by the door and pulled him toward the bed, tugging at his dinner jacket and s.h.i.+rt as they went.

He laughed and let her push him onto the mattress.

"So what brought this on?" he asked as she pulled down his zipper.

She straddled him, looking down at his face. She paused for a moment, not meaning to incite his antic.i.p.ation. But he expected such skill from her that he naturally a.s.sumed it was for his pleasure, and that excited him. His hands tried to coax her hips down and he began to move under her, but she remained motionless.

She enjoyed s.e.x, and she knew she had a gift, a skill in bed. But was her mother right? Was this all she had? If she didn't have this, would he still be here? Should Should she be worried that Sydney was back? "Hunter John," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, "do you love me?" she be worried that Sydney was back? "Hunter John," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, "do you love me?"

His laugh ended in a groan as he got himself worked up by what he thought was foreplay. "Okay, what did you do?"

"What?"

"Did you buy something?" he asked indulgently. "Something expensive? Is that what this is all about?"

He a.s.sumed this was because she wanted something from him. And to be fair, it was. It always was. She always got what she wanted from him through this. All except one thing. It didn't escape her that Hunter John hadn't answered her question. He didn't tell her he loved her.

But he had loved Sydney, which meant she had to do what her mother said. Work harder to keep what she had.

"I want to buy a red dress," she said, feeling like a bird caught in a briar bush-p.r.i.c.kly, scared, mad mad. "A beautiful red dress."

"I can't wait to see you in it."

"You will. And then you'll see me out of it."

"That's what I like to hear."

Monday afternoon, Claire hung up the phone at her work desk in the storeroom, but she kept her hand resting on the receiver.

When you know something's wrong, but you don't know exactly what it is, the air around you changes. Claire felt it. The plastic of the phone was too warm. The walls were sweating slightly. If she went out to the garden, she knew she'd find the morning glory blooming in the middle of the day.

"Claire?"

Claire turned to find Sydney in the doorway to the storeroom. "Oh, hi," Claire said. "When did you get back?" Sydney and Bay had been to visit Tyler again, the fourth day in a row.

"A few minutes ago. What's wrong?"

"I don't know." Claire took her hand off the warm phone. "I just got a call to cater a party at Mr. and Mrs. Matteson's house this weekend."

Sydney crossed her arms over her chest. Then she dropped her arms to her sides. She hesitated before asking, "The Mattesons who live in that large Tudor home on Willow Springs Road?"

"Yes."

"Short notice," Sydney said cautiously, curiously.

"Yes. And she said she'd double my normal fee because of it, but only if I had enough help for the night."

"I always liked Mrs. Matteson," Sydney said, a spark of something popping in her words, like static. Something, something like hope, was trying to make itself clear. "Are you taking the job? I'll help you."

"Are you sure?" Claire asked, because things still seemed wrong. Sydney used to have a relations.h.i.+p with Hunter John, and she used to be friends with Emma. If she'd wanted to see them again, she would have gone before now instead of spending all her time cloistered in the house or hiding over at Tyler's.

"Of course I'm sure."

Claire shrugged. She must be reading too much into things. "Okay, then. Thank you."

Sydney smiled and turned on her heel. "No problem."

Claire followed her into the kitchen. There were some things that hadn't changed about Sydney, like her light-brown hair that had just enough natural curl to make it look like waves of caramel icing on a cake. And her beautiful lightly tanned skin. And the freckles across her nose. She'd lost weight but still had a stunning figure, pet.i.te in a way that always made Claire, who was four inches taller, feel heavy and clumsy.

Those were the familiar things.

The rest of Sydney was a mystery. She'd been here almost a week now and Claire was still trying to figure her out. She was a terrific mother, that much was clear. Lorelei hadn't been a great example, and their grandmother had tried, but they were nothing like Sydney. She was loving and attentive, knew where Bay was at all times but still let her have her s.p.a.ce, let her dream and play. It was an emotional thing to watch her little sister be such a great parent. Where did she learn it?

And where had she been? Sydney was jumpy, and she never used to be jumpy. Just last night, when Claire couldn't sleep and went out to the garden, she found herself locked out, because Sydney would get up several times every night to make sure everything downstairs was locked up tight. What was she running from? It did no good to ask her questions; Sydney only changed the subject when asked about the last ten years. She left and went to New York. That was all Claire knew. What happened after that was anyone's guess. And Bay wasn't giving up any secrets. According to her, she was born on a Greyhound bus and she and her mother never lived anywhere. No, they lived everywhere everywhere.

Claire watched Sydney walk to the pot of soup steaming on the stove. "Oh, I forgot what I came in here to tell you. I invited Tyler over for dinner," Sydney said, taking a whiff of the chamomile chicken soup.

Claire gaped at her. "You did what?"

"I invited Tyler over for dinner. That's okay, isn't it?"

Claire didn't answer and made a beeline to the bread keeper, not meeting Sydney's eyes. She took out a loaf of wheat bread and started slicing it for sandwiches.

"Claire, come on," Sydney said, laughing. "Give the man a break. He's thin. He has these notes all over his house, reminding him to eat. He told me he forgets. He showed me some of his artwork yesterday, and it's phenomenal. But, I swear to G.o.d, if he asks me one more question about you I'm going to suggest therapy. Tyler's nice. If you don't want him, tell him so he'll stop mooning over you and I'll have a chance."

Claire looked up immediately. "Is that why you're spending so much time over there? You want Tyler?"

"No. But why don't you?" Claire was saved from answering by a knock at the front door. "It's for you," Sydney said.

"He's your your guest." guest."

Sydney smiled and went to the door.

Claire set the bread knife down and strained to hear Tyler's voice. "Thanks for the invitation," she heard him say. "Great house."

"Want a tour?" Sydney asked, which made Claire anxious. She didn't want Sydney showing Tyler the house. She didn't want Tyler knowing her secrets.

"Sure."

Claire closed her eyes for a moment. Think, think, think Think, think, think. What would make Tyler forget her, make him less interested? What dish would turn his attention elsewhere? She didn't have time to make something specific.

She didn't need this. It was all she could do to deal with Sydney and Bay in her life, trying to ease them into her routine. And she did this knowing they were still going to leave. Sydney had hated everything about this house and this town. Even now she was trying to protect Bay from unnecessary strangeness, not explaining the garden or the apple tree to her, not telling her what being a Waverley meant in Bascom. It was only going to take one comment, one snub from someone, and Sydney would disappear again like smoke.

But Tyler was definitely something she could control in her life. She had to try to dissuade him in any way she could. Vehemently, rudely if necessary. There just wasn't any room for him. She was letting too many people in as it was.

Bay ran into the kitchen ahead of Sydney and Tyler. She hugged Claire, like it was the most natural thing in the world to give a hug for no discernible reason, and Claire held her tightly for a moment. Bay pulled away and ran to the kitchen table and sat.

Sydney walked in and Tyler followed. She noticed right away that he'd had his hair cut. It suited him, made him seem more focused. That, she decided when his eyes focused on her, was not a good thing. You can't lose what you don't have You can't lose what you don't have, she thought, and turned away.

"It must have been amazing, growing up in this house," Tyler said.