Suzanna's Surrender

Her quote of the line from Cool Hand Luke made him grin, but only for an instant. “Stark, raving mad,” he continued, watching her swing the pick. “What the hell do you think's going to grow in that rock?”

“You'd be surprised.” She took a moment to wipe at the sweat that was dripping in her eyes. “See those lilies on the bank there?” She gave a little grunt as she dislodged a rock. “I planted them two years ago in September.”

He glanced at the profusion of tall, colorful flowers with grudging admiration. He had to admit that they were an improvement over the rough, rocky soil, but was it worth it?

“The Snyders gave me my first real job.” She hefted a rock and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. Stretching her back, she listened to the fat bees buzzing in the gaillardia. “A sympathy job, seeing as they were friends of the family and poor Suzanna needed a break.” Her breath whooshed out as she struck soil, and she blinked away the little red dots in front of her eyes. “Surprised them that I knew what I was doing, and I've been working here on and off ever since.”

“Great. Would you put that damn thing down a minute?” “Almost done.”

“You won't be done until you keel over. Who's going to see a few posies wilting all the way up here?”

“The Snyders will see them, their guests will see them.” She shook her head to clear a haze brought on by the heat. “The photographer from New England Gardens will see them.” Lord, the bees were loud, she thought as the buzzing filled her head. “And nothing's going to wilt. I'm putting in pinks and campanula and some coreopsis, some lavender for scent and monarda for the hummingbirds.” She pressed a hand to her head, ran it over her eyes. “In September we'll plant some bulbs. Dwarf irises and windflowers. Some tuberoses and...” She staggered under a hot wave of dizziness. Holt made the dash from shade to sun as the pick slid out of her hands. When he grabbed her she seemed to melt into his arms.

Cursing her helped relieve the fright as he carried her over and laid her down under the tree. Her body was like hot wax he could all but pour onto the cool grass. “That's it.” He plunged his hand into the cooler then rubbed icy water over her face. “You're finished, do you understand? If I see a pick in your hands again. I'll murder you.”

“I'm all right” Her voice was weak, but the irritation was clear enough. “Just a little too much sun.” The water on her face felt heavenly, even if his hands were a bit rough. She took the ginger ale from him and drank carefully.

“Too much sun,” he was ranting, “too much work. And not enough food or sleep from the look of you. You're a mess, Suzanna, and I'm tired of it.”

“Thank you very much.” She pushed his hands away and leaned back against the tree. She needed a minute, she'd admit. But she didn't need a lecture. “I should have taken a break,” she said in disgust “I know better, but I've got things on my mind.”

“I don't care what you've got on your mind.” God, she was white as a sheet He wanted to hold her until the color came back into her cheeks, to stroke her hair until she was strong and rested again. But the concern came out in fury. “I'm taking you home and you're going to bed.”

Steadier, she set the bottle aside. “I think you're forgetting who works for whom.”

“When you pass out on me, I take over.”

“I didn't pass out,” she said irritably. “I got dizzy. And nobody takes over for me, not now, not ever again. Stop splashing water in my face, you're going to drown me.”

She was recovering fast enough, he thought, but it didn't cool his temper. “You're stubborn, hardheaded and just plain stupid.”

“Fine. If you've finished yelling at me, I'm going to take my lunch break.” She knew she had to eat, She didn't mind being stubborn or hardheaded, but she did mind being stupid. Which, she thought as she snatched a sandwich out of the cooler, was exactly what she had been to skip breakfast.

“Maybe I haven't finished yelling.”

She shrugged as she unwrapped the sandwich. “Then you can yell while I eat. Or you can stop wasting time and have some lunch.”

He considered dragging her to the truck. He liked the idea, but the benefits would only be short-term. Short of tying her up and locking her in a room, he couldn't stop her from working herself into the ground.

At least she was eating, he reflected. And the color had seeped back into her cheeks. Maybe there was another tack to getting his way. Casually he took out a sandwich.

“I've been thinking about the emeralds.”

The change in topic and attitude surprised her. “Oh?”

“I read the transcript Max put together from the interview with Mrs. Tobias, the maid. And I listened to the tape.”

“What do you think?”