Scent Of Roses

She wondered again what he was doing out at Teen Vision and vowed to ask Carson about it the next time they were together.

It was Friday, the end of Raul’s first week at Teen Vision. Elizabeth wanted to check on him and today she finally had time to take Sam up on his offer of a tour.

Parking her shiny, nearly new Acura in the dusty lot, she climbed out of the vehicle and started toward the main office building next to the dormitory. Sam must have seen her drive in. She had called ahead, so maybe he had been watching for her. He was grinning as he walked out the door, joining her before she’d gotten halfway to the office.

“I’m so glad you could come.” He caught one of her hands between both of his and squeezed warmly.

“So am I. I should have come out a lot sooner.”

“You didn’t have a reason to be here. Not until Raul.” He guided her back into the office and showed her around. “We have six full-time counselors. There are always at least two people on duty at any given time.”

He showed her the desk each counselor was assigned, pointed out the tiny bathroom in case she should need it, showed her the small conference room with its faux wood, Formica-topped table and dark-blue padded chairs, a place the counselors could have private discussions with the boys. Then he led her outside.

“Raul is out in the pasture. He’s got a nice way with the animals.”

“He has a very gentle side, though he does his best not to show it.”

He took her into the dormitory building, showed her the TV lounge, and one of the shared rooms upstairs. “Each boy has a certain amount of privacy, but we don’t allow any locked doors and we have random room inspections a couple of times a day.”

The third building housed the dining hall, the main gathering place for the group. The kitchen was all stainless steel, immaculately clean, and she saw two of the boys in there working.

“We have a full-time cook, but the boys do the cleanup and help with food preparation. We rotate the tasks, so each boy spends an equal amount of time and doesn’t get too bored.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job here, Sam.”

He smiled, seemed pleased. They headed out to where the new barn was being constructed and as she looked at the group of boys pounding nails, framing the third wall of the barn, her steps unconsciously began to slow.

“What’s Zachary Harcourt doing out here? I can’t believe it’s a good idea to have a man like that around impressionable young boys.” Her gaze locked on his tall frame, shirtless today, his body sinewy and hard, muscles rippling as he pounded in another nail.

Sam followed her gaze and started to laugh.

“Why is that funny? Zachary Harcourt spent two years in state prison for manslaughter. He was drunk and high and he killed a man. From the look of his expensive clothes, he’s still involved in something illegal.”

Sam was still grinning. “I take it you aren’t too fond of Zach.”

She thought about the day he had embarrassed her in front of the patrons in the café. How he had shoved her up against the wall outside and tried to kiss her. How he had run his hand up her leg, trying to get under her silly little pink uniform skirt. “Zachary Harcourt was never any good. I doubt that has changed.”

The smile slid off Sam’s face. “Why don’t we walk over there in the shade? There are a few things about Teen Vision that you ought to know.”

He led her in that direction, into the shade of a thick-trunked sycamore not far from the barn. “The Zachary Harcourt you knew years ago no longer exists. He died during those years he spent in prison. By the time he got out, another man had taken his place. That is the man you see working over there.”

Her gaze swung in that direction. Zach’s lean body glistened with sweat, outlining muscular ridges and valleys. He had amazingly wide shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips and covered long legs undoubtedly as sinewy as the rest of him. She might not like Zach Harcourt, but she had to admit he had an incredibly beautiful body.

“Zach’s been working here at least two weekends a month since the farm first started. He’s dedicated to building Teen Vision. You see, Zachary is the man who founded it.”

“What?”

“That’s right. It’s mostly supported now by donations, but in the beginning, Zach put up a great deal of his own money.”

“But I thought Carson—”

“That’s the way Zach wants it. Carson is a highly respected, very important man in San Pico. With his backing, Teen Vision has grown faster than it ever would have without his help.”

She looked back at Zach, who had turned and seemed to be staring directly at her. For an instant, her breath caught. She quickly looked away. “How did Zachary Harcourt come up with that kind of money?”

“Not the way you’re thinking. When Zach was in prison, he began to study law. He’ll be the first to admit he did it in the hope of beating the system. But he discovered it intrigued him and he was good at it and it got him to thinking. By the time he got out of jail, he had made up his mind to change his life. He went to work, got his law degree from Hastings, and passed the bar exam. His father used his influence to help him get his conviction set aside. Zach’s now a partner in Noble, Goldman and Harcourt in Westwood, a very prestigious law firm.”

Elizabeth mulled over the information, barely able to believe it. She glanced back toward the barn and saw Zach Harcourt walking toward them with those same long-legged strides she had noticed before. His eyes were fixed on her face and she felt that same oddly breathless sensation she had felt before.

Zach paused in front of them and a slow smile appeared on his lean, dark face. “Ms. Conners. Welcome to Teen Vision.”

She tried to keep her gaze on his but it drifted down to his sweat-covered chest. A wide thatch of curly dark hair stretched across it, arrowing down into the waistband of his faded jeans. He was powerfully built, lean and hard-muscled. She forced herself to ignore an unwanted tingle of awareness.

“Sorry,” Zach said, following the line of her gaze. “I didn’t realize we were going to have company. I’ll go get my shirt.”

Elizabeth fixed her eyes on his face. “Don’t bother on my account. I’ve got to get going shortly. I just came by for a tour and to say hello to Raul.”

Zach turned and looked out toward the pasture. “I’ll go get him.”

“I’ll go,” Sam said. “I want to talk to Pete for a minute and the two of them are together.”

“Pete?” she repeated as Sam walked away.

“Pedro Ortega. He prefers to be called by his American name. He and Raul have struck up a tentative friendship.”

“He’s a good boy…Raul, I mean.”

“Kind of surly. A little bit rough around the edges, but they all are when they first get here.”

“Raul is different. He’s special.”

One of his dark eyebrows arched. “If he’s won you over, he must be.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you were always smart and even back in high school you had a way of seeing people for what they really were. I know that from personal experience.”

She felt the heat creeping into her face. “That was a long time ago.”

“I owe you an apology for the way I behaved that day at the café. I wasn’t a very nice person back then.”

“But you are now?”

He smiled, a flash of white in his handsome face. “I like to think so.”

“I like what you’re doing for these boys.”

“I was one of them once.”

Her gaze lit on the tattoo on his left arm, a coiled snake with the words Born To Be Wild tattooed in red below the image.

“I thought about having it removed,” he said. “But I left it there to remind myself how different my life might have turned out.”

Elizabeth eyed him with suspicion. Zach talked a good game, but Carson didn’t seem to trust him and she wasn’t about to leap to conclusions.

“Here comes Raul,” she said, relieved to see the boy walking toward them, thick-chested and broad-shouldered, as tall as Sam but weighing a good deal more. “It’s been nice talking to you.”

“I still owe you for that day at the café. Maybe sometime you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Not likely. “Sorry, I’m afraid my schedule is really full, but thanks for the offer.”

Zach’s mouth inched up at the corner. “I remember now what it was I liked about you, Elizabeth Conners. You’re not afraid to tell it like it is.”

Elizabeth made no reply. She’d been cautious in high school. After Brian, she was far more cautious now. Turning to Raul, she led him over to a picnic table in the shade of another tree and they sat down and started talking.

She was glad to see the boy, glad to hear the enthusiasm that remained in his voice. Only once did her mind stray from the conversation to the dark, mysterious man who had returned to his work on the barn.

Five

The results of Maria’s CAT scan came in on Monday. A phone call from Dr. Zumwalt’s office relayed the news that there was no sign of lesions, hemorrhaging, a tumor or any other abnormality. They could do more testing, of course, but the doctor strongly believed the problem was mental, not physical.

“So you’ll call Mrs. Santiago with the news?” Elizabeth asked the office nurse. A perk of her job as a family counselor was cooperation from the medical community. She had wanted to know if there was a problem so that she could be there with Elizabeth if the results came back positive.

“I’ll call her right away.” The woman hung up the phone and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling was short-lived. Whatever was wrong with Maria had not gone away. At least it appeared to be psychological, not physical. She hoped Dr. James would be able to help.

As soon as Michael’s patient left the office, Elizabeth went in to see him. “No brain tumor,” she said simply, having kept the doctor up to date on the Santiago girl’s progress and gaining his agreement to help if necessary.

“I’ve got a cancellation this afternoon. See if she can come in around three o’clock.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

He raked a hand through his sandy hair. “I like the Santiagos. They’re hardworking, really good people. I know it hasn’t been easy for them.”

Not for Maria, married at fifteen, or Raul, who’d been in and out of trouble for years. “No, it hasn’t. I’ll see if she can come in.”

Driving her husband’s battered old blue Ford pickup, Maria arrived that afternoon right on time. Elizabeth walked into the reception room to greet her and they sat down on the dark brown leather sofa. The area was small but cozy, with an overstuffed chair that matched the sofa, an oak coffee table and an end table with a shiny brass lamp. A stack of magazines sat on the coffee table: Redbook, Better Homes and Gardens and a couple of tattered issues of Family Circle.

“How are you feeling?” Elizabeth asked Maria, who sat with her hand cupped protectively over her belly.

“I am fine, a little tired, is all.” She looked pretty today, in pink slacks and a pink-striped maternity blouse, her black hair drawn back into a single long braid.

“Sleeping any better?”

Maria sighed. “If you are asking if I have heard any more voices, no, I have not. Besides, Miguel has been home in the evenings before it is time for bed.”

“Well, at least you’ve been able to sleep. Let’s see what Dr. James has to say about what’s been going on.”

Maria stood up from the sofa. “Will you…will you come in with me?”

“I think the doctor would rather talk to you alone.”

“Please?”

Elizabeth looked up to see Michael James standing in the doorway.

“It’s all right, Maria. If Ms. Conners is free, she is welcome to sit in for a while.”

Maria cast a hopeful glance at Elizabeth, who nodded, and all three of them went into the doctor’s office. The women sat down in front of his desk and Michael took a seat in the leather chair on the opposite side. He slid a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses up on his nose and scanned the information in the manila folder on the desktop.

When he finished, he took the glasses off and set them down on his desk. “Let me start by saying that Ms. Conners has told me a little about what you’ve been experiencing, Maria. I’m sure it’s been very disconcerting.”

Maria glanced at Elizabeth and the doctor realized she didn’t understand the word.

“I’m sure it’s been extremely upsetting,” he said. “Having an experience like that is bound to be difficult.”

Maria nodded. “Sí. I have been very frightened.” She gripped her hands tightly in front of her.

“Before we get into a more serious discussion, let’s start with something simple. I have two brief tests I’d like to give you. Just answer each question honestly, yes or no, then we’ll see where we are.”

She nodded, seemed to brace herself. For the next fifteen minutes, the doctor asked questions from the first sheet of paper he picked up, questions that would reveal symptoms of depression.

“All right, Maria, here we go. For the past few weeks or months, have you been excessively worried about work, family or finances?”

Maria shook her head. “No. Miguel is doing very well at his job, and Raul, he is doing very good, too.”

“Have you lost interest in the things you usually like to do?”

“No. I am very busy at home getting ready for the baby.”

“Have you been feeling sad or hopeless?”

“No.”

“Have you lost interest in sex?”

Soft color rose beneath the dark skin over her cheeks. “My husband, he is a very virile man, but with the baby coming…” She glanced away. “Still, I feel desire for him.”

Elizabeth bit back a smile and Michael looked down at the paper. “Do you cry often?”

“A few times lately, but only because I am afraid.”

Michael made notes on the paper. “Are you irritable and out of sorts with other people?”

“No, I do not think so.”

“Do you spend time thinking about death or dying?”

Maria shook her head. “I think mostly about having my baby. The doctor says it is going to be a little boy.”

Flicking a glance at Elizabeth, Dr. James set the questionnaire aside and picked up a second sheet of paper. “This is a test for Anxiety Disorder. Answer each question just as you did before.”

Maria nodded, sat up a little straighter in her chair.

“Do you sometimes feel that things around you are strange, unreal, foggy or detached from you?”

“Sí…at night…when I am alone.”

“Do you have a fear that you are dying or that something terrible is about to happen?”

“Sí, and I am very afraid.”

“Do you have difficulty breathing? Or feel as if you are smothering?”

“That has happened to me…yes.”

He made notes on the paper. “Do you suffer chest pains, light-headedness or dizzy spells, shaking or trembling?”

“Sí, but only when the fear comes.”

“Have you experienced the sensation of your legs being rubbery or jellylike?”

“It was not quite that way. The last time the voices came, I could not move my legs. I could not move from the bed. I could not get away.”

Dr. James frowned. “Have you experienced a skipping or racing heart?”

“Oh, sí. My heart, it goes so fast I think it will beat right through my chest.”

The doctor set the paper aside and pulled off his reading glasses. “From the answers you’ve given, Mrs. Santiago, you have the classic symptoms of anxiety. What you’re feeling isn’t really happening. But stress is making it seem as if it is.”

“Then the voices, they are not real?”

“No. But you mustn’t be afraid. Once we discover what is causing the anxiety, the voices will go away.”

Dr. James glanced at Elizabeth, who took her cue and rose from her chair. “Dr. James is going to help you, Maria. All you have to do is talk to him, tell him your fears, be honest about yourself and your past.” Elizabeth squeezed the young woman’s shoulder. “If you do that, it won’t be long before you’ll start to feel better.”

Elizabeth left the doctor’s office, closing the door softly behind her. It looked like Maria was definitely suffering from anxiety. Michael James was good. In time, he would discover the cause. Once the problem was out in the open, the symptoms would likely disappear.

Elizabeth returned to her office, relieved yet wondering what had set off the young woman’s recent attacks.

Her marriage, perhaps. Miguel Santiago was twenty-nine, ten years older than his wife.

He wasn’t abusive, just domineering, and up until now, Maria hadn’t seemed to mind. She had been raised to believe the husband was master of the household and it seemed their mutual understanding was working to make a successful marriage.

Now, based on what Elizabeth had heard in Michael’s office, she was beginning to have her doubts.

“So what do you think I should wear?” The week was over. It was Saturday afternoon, hot, as usual in San Pico, the sun beating down through the bedroom windows in Elizabeth’s Cherry Street apartment.

“The black cocktail dress,” Gwen Petersen said, plopping down on the edge of the bed in front of the mirrored closet. “Definitely.” The room was simply furnished, with an inexpensive walnut queen-size bedroom set she had purchased right after college, and not much on the walls.

Elizabeth had never planned to return to San Pico and in the two years she had been back, she’d done little to make the apartment feel like home.

“Carson’s house is very elegant,” Gwen continued, “and he’ll have the dinner professionally catered. Jim and I attended a function there not too long ago. You’ll definitely need to wear something nice.”

Gwen studied the dresses laid out on the bed, a red chiffon with a full, flowing skirt, and a light blue silk sheath with a modest neckline and small cap sleeves, and a simple black silk sheath. “The black is perfect, classic yet sexy.”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking. I’ve always felt good when I wear it. I usually wear my mother’s pearls with it.”

“Perfect.” Gwen got up from the bed, picking up the hanger with the black sheath on it, holding it up in front of Elizabeth. “It’s a good thing you still fit into the clothes you brought with you from L.A. You sure couldn’t find anything like this in San Pico.”

The above-the-knee sheath dress was made of black silk crepe, with a draped neckline that dipped down low in back.

“I don’t suppose you could, but you really don’t need clothes like these very often here, either.”

“True enough, but if you seriously start dating Carson Harcourt, you’re going to need everything you’ve got and a whole lot more.”

“I’m not seriously dating Carson. I hardly know the man.”

“It’d be nice, though, wouldn’t it? If you two got together? Carson has plenty of money and he’s well respected in the community. Around these parts, the man is considered quite a catch.”

“Well, I’m not trying to catch Carson or any other man. I’ve had one husband. As far as I’m concerned, one was more than enough.”

Gwen held the dress up in front of her and looked at herself in the mirror. The skirt was too long for Gwen’s petite frame, but the black did wonders for her fair complexion and short red hair. “Not all men are like your ex, you know. Jim’s a terrific husband.”

“Yes, he is. Jim’s one in ten thousand. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to plough through another nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine to find one like him.”

Gwen laughed. “It isn’t that bad. There are a lot of nice men out there.”

“Maybe.” Elizabeth walked over and took down a shoebox that held a pair of black fabric high heels. “I just haven’t had much luck spotting them. Besides, not everyone needs a man in order to be happy. I’ve got my career. I’ve got friends like you and Jim. I have a perfectly acceptable life and that’s the way I intend to keep it.”

“What about kids? Surely you want children. Having babies is a very good reason to find a husband. Unless of course, you’re one of those modern women who wants to get pregnant and raise a kid on her own.”

“I’m not that modern, believe me.”

And when she had first married her college sweetheart, Brian Logan, she had wanted children very badly. But Brian always said it was too soon. They needed to get their careers established. There wasn’t enough money. He just wasn’t ready to be a father.

In the end, they had divorced before she’d had a chance to get pregnant. Now at thirty, her biological clock rapidly ticking, she had returned to using her maiden name and immensely disliked the idea of falling under any man’s thumb again. Which meant there was a very good chance she would never have a baby.

“I’d love to have children,” Elizabeth said, “but not unless I stumble across the kind of man who is committed to the long haul. No more divorces. Not for me. And we both know men like that are few and far between. It just isn’t worth the risk.”

Gwen didn’t argue. She knew Elizabeth’s views on marriage and no amount of discussion was going to change them.

“Listen, I’ve got to run.” Gwen snagged her purse off the walnut dresser. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went.” She grinned. “I’m still holding out hope for you, Liz, whether you like it or not.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I’ll call. I promise. But don’t get too excited. It’s just a date, nothing more.”

“Yeah, right. See ya.” Gwen disappeared through the bedroom door and Elizabeth heard the front door close as she left the apartment. The women had known each other since high school. Since Elizabeth’s return to San Pico, they had become even closer friends.

It was the only thing she really liked about the ugly little town. Nice people. Gwen Petersen was one of them. An image of Carson Harcourt, tall, blond and handsome, rose into her head. Carson seemed nice, too. She wasn’t completely immune to the notion of having a man in her life. Tonight might prove interesting.

Six

Elizabeth crossed the living room to answer the knock at her door. Carson stood on the small front porch, looking casually elegant in a pair of summer-weight tan slacks and light blue shirt, a navy blue jacket draped over one arm.

“Ready?”

“Let me get my purse.” She grabbed the black fabric bag that matched her high heels, locked the front door as they walked out, and Carson guided her down the walk to his silver Mercedes.

“You look terrific, by the way,” he said as he opened the door and waited for her to slide into the passenger seat. “Great dress.”

“I wasn’t quite sure what to wear. Fortunately, I had a very nice wardrobe by the time I left L.A. My ex-husband was a stockbroker with big aspirations. He wanted his wife to project the right image.”

“Most of the women from here drive down to L.A. to go shopping.”

Most of the women married to men with money, he meant. Elizabeth no longer cared about playing the role she had played as Brian’s wife, though she had to admit she was glad she had the appropriate clothes to wear tonight.

The drive out of town to the farm didn’t take long. Carson parked his car in an immaculate four-car garage, but took her around to the front door to go into the house. The big, white, wood-framed structure with its wide porch across the front looked impressive and well cared for from the highway. Now she saw that the interior had recently been remodeled: new paint, new drapes, new furniture, which was a comfortable mix of overstuffed sofas and Victorian antiques, the oak floors adding a sense of elegance and charm. The molded ceilings were high, and an antique chandelier hung from the ceiling in the entry.

The decorating had been professionally done, she was sure, probably a designer from L.A.

“It’s lovely, Carson. Like something out of Better Homes and Gardens only more inviting.”

“Thank you. I wanted a place that looked good but didn’t put people off.”