The Wicked Garden Read online

  She replaced the gray wedge, picked up a black heel, examined it, and then threw it across the small room. She was a barefoot kind of gal, a woman who could run over rocks without the slightest cringe of pain. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the feeling of grass between her toes.

  “Strange place for a nap. Or are you in trouble again?”

  Gretchel jumped at the voice of her teenage daughter.

  “Ame, you scared me! What are you doing here?

  Ame looked at her strangely before saying, “Uh… I live here?”

  “I thought you were staying with Holly until it was time to go back to school.”

  “I came back to get some clean clothes. Is that a problem?” Ame didn’t wait for an answer before she sat down next to her mother. “Have you been crying? Why didn’t he lock the door?”

  “I’m not crying. Please be quiet,” Gretchel begged.

  “What’s wrong? Did he beat you again?” Ame asked, suddenly furious.

  Gretchel shook her head. Her daughter carried enough burdens without having to deal with rumors of the affair.

  “You found out about Michelle, didn’t you?” she asked. Gretchel looked up, stunned. It wasn’t the first time Ame had been able to read her mind.

  “How did you know?” Gretchel asked.

  “Zach told me when I got back from Champaign last week. That’s why I’ve been staying with Holly. I was afraid I’d lose it and accidentally knock Dad down the stairs, proceeding to stomp on his face until his skull cracked open, allowing blood and what I think might be a brain to ooze onto our lovely wool carpet. But it would be an accident, of course, just like it has been when I’ve explained my black and blues all my life,” Ame said. Gretchel looked down in shame. “Mom, why are we still here?” Ame’s voice rose and cracked, making her sound more like a little girl than an angry teen.

  “I just don’t have everything figured out yet,” Gretchel whispered.

  “We need to get out for real this time,” Ame said. Gretchel looked deeply into her daughter’s eyes. They were wise eyes, and gray like her own.

  “Teddy and I are going to come up with a plan. The best thing you can do right now is to just carry on. Keep saving your money. We may need it,” she said, trying to smile.

  “Like I’d take a penny from Dad anyway,” Ame said. “I can’t believe he’s banging Michelle Brown, of all people. The neediest soldier wouldn’t ride that nag into battle.”

  Gretchel tried, and failed, to stifle a bark of laughter. “Where on earth did you hear that expression?”

  Ame grinned, “Miss Poni, of course.”

  “Well, stop it. You’re just making things worse.”

  Ame’s grin faded as she looked at the fraternity paddle, and then back to her mother. “I don’t think things could get any worse.”

  She left the closet, slamming the door. Gretchel turned back to her shoes. Her blood was boiling now. Troy hadn’t destroyed her family; she had. Teddy was right. She knew that whatever circumstance she was in was a result of a choice that she had made, but she wanted to be mad at Troy. She wanted to blame him. If only for a few minutes, she needed to blame him.

  She pulled out her ritual box, held the old rag doll and began to pray.

  Troy suddenly pounded on the closet door, and she jumped. “I told you to be ready at six,” he shouted.

  She instinctively glanced above her full-length mirror to the paddle.

  ∞

  Troy was putting his coat on in the living room, when Gretchel carefully walked down the stairs in an ungodly pair of black stiletto boots. They were dripping with confidence, and she at least needed to appear as though she had some. Troy looked her over longer than normal.

  She steeled herself as she walked past Zach and Ben, who were playing a video game in the living room. She headed straight for the kitchen. She didn’t want to look into the eyes of the child who had broken the news. It would be too much. Just seeing the two boys together was almost more than she could handle in her current state.

  “Where’s Ame?” Troy demanded.

  “She’s getting ready to go out,” Zach answered.

  Troy looked to the boys. “Hey, Ben,” he said. “I left my briefcase in the car. Would you run out and grab it for me?”

  Ben looked at Zach, and then toward Gretchel in the kitchen. The boy had grown up around this family. He was familiar with the code. He grabbed Troy’s car keys, and quickly moved toward the back door.

  Troy walked to the steps. “Giant, get your ass down here.”

  Ame came bouncing down the stairs. Troy was six foot tall, and Ame towered three inches above him, which Troy found absolutely infuriating,

  “What’s up, Shorty?” Ame asked her father.

  Troy’s face flamed, but he decided to let that one pass. “Another bottle of Scotch is missing. Don’t think for a second I don’t know what you’re up to, Giant. No booze tonight. If I smell it on you when you get home, you’re grounded indefinitely. You can kiss your job goodbye, the car, everything. I’ll make sure you’re kicked off the volleyball team, too. Do we have an understanding?” he barked.

  Gretchel watched the showdown from the kitchen. She prayed for Ame to just keep her mouth shut.

  “I don’t drink little man, so quit accusing me of things I don’t do.”

  “You’re a liar. I know that’s why you were staying at Holly’s. You two little witches have been getting hammered on my booze again,” he spat.

  “I can’t wait to get out of this house and away from you,” Ame muttered.

  “No booze or I’ll take your college money and buy a fucking boat,” he threatened.

  “If I don’t get a scholarship, I’ll pay for college myself,” Ame rebutted.

  Troy laughed. “Right, and you’ll end up a whore like your mother.”

  Gretchel slapped a hand over her mouth, and tried like mad to stop the tears from falling freely down her face.

  “I think I’d rather be a whore than take a dime from you. Somehow it seems more respectable,” Ame said.

  Troy smacked her across the face, and then shoved her hard. “Don’t underestimate me, you colossal waste of sperm,” he threatened.

  Ame shoved him back, and he nearly fell into the wall. She raised her fist, and Gretchel screamed from the kitchen. “Stop it!”

  Troy, Ame, and Zach all looked her way, shocked into stillness. Gretchel had not screamed in many, many years. Ame dropped her fist, and Troy straightened himself.

  “Zach, if she comes home drunk, you tell me.”

  Zach looked at Ame apologetically, as she rubbed the red mark on her face. Then he turned to his father and gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “You’ll always be a little coward,” Ame hissed at her brother. As she ran back up the stairs, she stopped midway and looked back at Troy. “Your moment’s coming little man. You’re not long for this world.”

  ∞

  She knows. That was all Troy could think when he got in the car, and saw Gretchel’s face. She looked like she’d been crying, and he couldn’t remember the last time she’d shed a tear.

  He tipped his head and looked at her sweetly.

  “What?” she asked sharply. She found it unnerving how he changed moods so quickly. It was too easy for him to put on whatever face suited his needs or his audience.

  “What would it take to make you happy? Whatever you want,” he said.

  She looked down at the Tiffany watch he had given her on their last wedding anniversary. He’d given her nothing for her most recent birthday, and nothing was exactly what she wanted from him. She turned her head away, and looked out the passenger side window. She glanced at the garage door, and then at the huge house. It was too big for them—too big for her, with too many white walls that left her feeling cold and empty. Tears began welling up in her eyes.

  The voices were stirring. She could hear their mumbling, but within the background noise of her psyche, she also heard–or was it felt?—a clear whis
per, The tree. A sob caught in her throat as she glanced up at the sky. The full moon was illuminating the white trash bag that was still caught in the oak tree’s branches. Then Gretchel’s eye was drawn by a shadow, moving. She felt butterflies in her stomach, but tried to dismiss them, Just a raccoon, probably.

  She turned to her husband. “You should get that trash bag out of the tree.”

  Troy leaned over her, and looked through the window. “I don’t know if I have a ladder tall enough. Can’t maintenance do it?” he asked.

  “Would it kill you? You asked me what would make me happy. That would make me happy. It’s been there for over a week.” Her mouth filled with the taste of venom.

  He sat back shocked by her outburst. “It’s really in your best interest not to talk to me that way,” he threatened. He tried to intimidate her with his stare, but instead her eyes were scaring him. They were the wild gray eyes of the witch he once knew.

  She glared at him bitterly. “Would it kill you, Troy?”

  He took a deep breath, mulling over the consequences if he didn’t comply. If she knew about the affair, she appeared to be deciding whether or not to make it an issue. He needed her to keep her mouth shut and let it go, because he was very close to sealing a deal that would make him a very rich man. He shook his head.

  “Thank you,” she said, and turned away.

  He glanced back at her as he pulled out of the driveway. She was still so smoking hot it made him sick, but he would never, ever tell her. Maybe she would let him touch her tonight, just for old time’s sake; it was their anniversary, after all. Surely she’d healed by now; his guilt surely had. Michelle was nothing compared to Gretchel. Maybe Gretchel was just jealous. Maybe they needed to be intimate. Maybe she’d do him like she used to, when a keg and a couple hundred dollars was all he needed to get her to do the crazy stuff.

  She’d been out of her damn mind in college, with the psychotic babbling and screaming in the night. Troy was convinced he was the one that cured her shortly after the hippy left town.

  He rubbed the inside of Gretchel’s skinny leg, and she jerked. “Don’t pull away from me sweetheart. I own you.”

  She turned on him with a look of pure contempt. “You’re not good enough to own me,” she spat. No! What have I done? Gretchel wished for a moment that she could take back her words, but she willed herself not to show Troy how scared she was.

  Troy’s eyebrows turned up. The crazy had returned. He bit his tongue, pulled his hand back and had to force himself not to hit her. His patience was wearing thin. He didn’t need to save the best ammunition for the divorce. He had his own ace in the hole, but apparently Michelle had so much dirt on Gretchel they could bury her twice and still have leftovers for that garden she always wanted.

  “Gretchel, do I need to pull out the VCR?”

  All the rage left her face, leaving it a rumpled mess of despair. Only he could debase her in such a way.

  “You wouldn’t,” she whispered.

  “Try me.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Irvine, 2010s

  The country club was right around the corner—it was just like Troy to drive instead of walk—but, by the time they reached the parking lot, Gretchel could swear steam was shooting out her ears. Her outrage sounded like surf crashing inside her head. The voices mumbled above its steady throb.

  The windaelicker’s bluffin’

  Aye, he’s jus lookin’ for a nasty shag, love.

  Troy parked behind the building, and tried to make it to the other side of the car to open the door for Gretchel just in case anyone was watching, pretenses being of utmost importance. Gretchel was still fuming. She swung the door open, just grazing his testicles.

  “Knock it off,” he growled nervously, and then shot an anxious wave to some acquaintances that were walking past. “Evening. How’s that new SUV suiting you in this weather, Jim?” Gretchel could not have been less interested in the response.

  They rounded the corner, and Gretchel noticed a figure sitting on the stone bench just outside the country club door. She fell to her knees.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Troy hissed as he grabbed her elbow. Gretchel was shaking uncontrollably. Troy looked in the direction of her fixed gaze, and then turned to survey the pristine, snow-covered grass surrounding them. “What the fuck are you looking at? Get up, you crazy bitch.” Troy’s low, angry voice was barely audible above the noises inside Gretchel’s head.

  He dug his fingers into her arm, reaching through coat and clothes to crush the flesh beneath. Troy pulled Gretchel from the ground. “Careful now. It’s slick,” he told a couple walking toward them.

  Gretchel kept staring at the bench, shaking, and clutching at her throat, while the Woman in Wool eyed her eagerly.

  As Troy opened the door to the country club, Gretchel pushed passed him and ran for the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong with Gretchel?” Cody Brown—Troy’s best friend and Michelle's husband—asked.

  Troy rolled his eyes, and motioned for the bartender to get him his usual Scotch. “On her period.”

  Cody knew that couldn't be true. Gretchel hadn’t had a cycle in three years.

  ∞

  “No. Oh, no.” Staring into the ladies’ room mirror, Gretchel panicked as discreetly as she could. She felt like she was going to vomit. She opened a stall door and knelt down, waiting for something to come rushing out. Nothing came. She turned herself around and sat on the floor, her back against the toilet.

  She reached into her purse and fished around for her cell. She started talking as soon as she heard the click on the other end. “Teddy, she’s back!”

  “Where did you see her?”

  “Outside the country club.”

  Teddy was quiet for a moment. “I’m coming to get you,” he said.

  “No. You can’t,” she cried.

  Teddy sighed. “Gretchel, you’re dealing with a pretty major trauma, and you’re still adjusting to life without the amethyst. You’re in a state of shock. If you insist upon enduring this evening, my advice is: Breathe mindfully, eat something, and think pleasant thoughts.”

  “Why is she here? Why do they keep punishing me?” she cried.

  “Gretchel, enough! If you’re going to spend the evening with Troy and Michelle, you need to pull yourself together. I’ll come to your place first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes. Please. I’m freaking."

  You should be, he thought.

  ∞

  Gretchel sat down at the table. Michelle grabbed the chair across from her. Gretchel avoided eye contact by pretending to take an interest in her husband, who was bantering with several couples at the bar.

  She thought about how easy it had been for Troy to make friends when he had moved here to her hometown. He fit right in to the country club set. She did, too—at least on the outside. Everything she despised about the town, she had become a part of.

  When they moved to Irvine from Carbondale, she had assumed that Troy, being from a posh suburb of Chicago, would hate it, but it was quite the opposite. He had become a big fish in a little pond. He quickly found a job at Sunset Automotive. Michelle’s father owned the dealership, and while Gretchel hated the fact that he was working there, they were broke, about to have a baby, and needed the money.

  As the world’s greatest liar and a practiced charmer, Troy was able to surround himself with an adoring clique in no time. They all treated him like a god. Even Cody—who Gretchel knew to be so much smarter than the rest of them—had fallen for Troy's nauseating charisma.

  She sat quietly, sipping a glass of water and trying to push back the resentment. She was afraid if Michelle said the wrong thing she would reach across the table and stab her with a butter knife.

  “You look tense. Why don’t you order a Scotch,” Michelle smiled. She flipped back her naturally blonde, spiral-curled hair. Gretchel twitched. She detested this woman. Loathed her. It was so much easier to ignore her when she had the co
mforting weight of her talisman against her throat. Now the intense feelings of abhorrence were bubbling up to the surface.

  “I’m fine,” Gretchel said flatly.

  “Oh come on, Gretch. Lighten up a little. One drink won’t hurt you,” Michelle chuckled, and sipped at a glass of wine.

  Gretchel raised her hand to her neck by instinct, clutching at the amethyst that wasn’t there.

  “You know, don’t you?” Michelle asked. “I can tell. It’s about time you figured it out. Looks like the ball’s in your court yet again… Gretch.”

  Gretchel clawed at her own legs to keep herself from committing murder. She took a deep breath, and stared the woman down. “It’s not over yet… Chelle,” she whispered.

  “It wouldn’t be any fun if it were,” Michelle smiled, and then turned to welcome her husband and Troy back to their table.

  “Next shotgun season I’m hunting at the cottage, are you in?” Troy asked Cody. Gretchel’s eyes grew wide at the realization of what he’d said. He wasn’t just going to destroy her; he was going to try to take away the one and only home she had left in the world.

  Cody furrowed his brow. “I thought you weren’t welcome at Snyder Farms.”

  “The old hag’s out of her mind. I’ve heard she never leaves her rocking chair these days,” Troy said.

  Cody glanced at Gretchel. He noticed her trembling lips and the tears quivering at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s in the will, Troy. If you hunt there, Gretchel loses the cottage. Miss Poni was dead serious,” Cody said.

  “To hell with her and the broomstick she flew in on,” Troy growled.