undisturbed by the demands of others. So many, many demands. She took a deep breath and leaned back against the neck rest.
It was nine-thirty, a quiet hour in this neighborhood of suburban professionals. Couples had left for work, the kids were packed off to school or day care, and houses stood empty, awaiting the arrival of domestics who would vacuum and scrub and then vanish, leaving behind their telltale scent of lemon wax. It was a safe neighborhood of well-tended homes, not the most elegant section of Newton, but it satisfied After the unpredictability of a shift in the ERa manicured lawn had its attractions.
Down the street, a leaf blower suddenly roared to life. Her moment of silence had ended. The yard service trucks had begun their daily invasion of the neighborhood.
Reluctantly she stepped out of the Mercedes and climbed the porch steps.
Bryan, her mother's hired companion, was already waiting at the front door, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in reproval. He was jockey size, a trim young man in miniature, but he presented an imposing barrier.
"Your mama's been bouncing off the walls this morning," he said. "You shouldn't do this to her."
"Didn't you tell her I'd be late getting home?"
"Doesn't do any good. You know she can't understand. She expects you home early, and when you don't get here, she does her thing at the windows. You know, back and forth, back and forth, watching for your car."
"I'm sorry, Bryan. It couldn't be helped." Toby walked past him, into the house and set her purse down on the hall table. She took her time hanging up her jacket, thinking, Don't get annoyed. Don't lose your temper. You need him. Mom needs him.
"It doesn't matter to me if you're two hours late," he said. "I get paid. I get paid a lot, thank you very much. But your mama, poor thing, she doesn't get it."
"We had some problems at work."
"She wouldn't touch her breakfast. So now she's got a plate of cold eggs."
Toby shut the closet door, hard. "I will make her another breakfast. " There was a silence.
She stood with her back to him, her hand still pressed to the closet, thinking, I didn't mean to sound so angry. But I'm tired. I'm so very tired.
"Well," said Bryan, and in that one word he communicated everything.
Hurt. Withdrawal.
She turned to face him. They had known each other for two years now, yet they had never gone beyond the relationship of employer-employee, had never crossed that barrier into real friendship.
She'd never visited his house, had never met Noel, the man with whom he lived. Yet she realized, at that moment, that she had come to depend on Bryan more than she depended on anyone else. He was the one who kept her life sane, and she couldn't afford to lose him.
She said, "I'm sorry. I just can't handle another crisis right now.
I've had a really shitty night."
"What happened?"
"We lost two patients. In one hour. And I'm feeling pretty awful about it. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
He gave a slight nod, a grudging acceptance of her apology.
"And how was your night?" she asked.
"She slept all the way through. I just took her out to the garden. That always seems to quiet her down."
"I hope she hasn't picked all the lettuce."
"I hate to break this to you, but your lettuce went to seed a month ago."
All right, so I'm a failure as a gardener too, thought Toby as she headed through the kitchen to the back door. Every year, with high hopes, she started a vegetable patch. She would plant rows of lettuce and zucchini and green beans, would successfully nurture them along to seedling stage. Then, inevitably, her life would get too busy and she'd neglect the garden. The lettuce would bolt, and the beans would hang yellow and woody from the vines. In disgust she'd yank it all out and promise herself a better garden next year, knowing that the next year would produce only another crop of zucchinis as inedible as baseball bats.
She stepped outside into the yard. At first she didn't see her
It was nine-thirty, a quiet hour in this neighborhood of suburban professionals. Couples had left for work, the kids were packed off to school or day care, and houses stood empty, awaiting the arrival of domestics who would vacuum and scrub and then vanish, leaving behind their telltale scent of lemon wax. It was a safe neighborhood of well-tended homes, not the most elegant section of Newton, but it satisfied After the unpredictability of a shift in the ERa manicured lawn had its attractions.
Down the street, a leaf blower suddenly roared to life. Her moment of silence had ended. The yard service trucks had begun their daily invasion of the neighborhood.
Reluctantly she stepped out of the Mercedes and climbed the porch steps.
Bryan, her mother's hired companion, was already waiting at the front door, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in reproval. He was jockey size, a trim young man in miniature, but he presented an imposing barrier.
"Your mama's been bouncing off the walls this morning," he said. "You shouldn't do this to her."
"Didn't you tell her I'd be late getting home?"
"Doesn't do any good. You know she can't understand. She expects you home early, and when you don't get here, she does her thing at the windows. You know, back and forth, back and forth, watching for your car."
"I'm sorry, Bryan. It couldn't be helped." Toby walked past him, into the house and set her purse down on the hall table. She took her time hanging up her jacket, thinking, Don't get annoyed. Don't lose your temper. You need him. Mom needs him.
"It doesn't matter to me if you're two hours late," he said. "I get paid. I get paid a lot, thank you very much. But your mama, poor thing, she doesn't get it."
"We had some problems at work."
"She wouldn't touch her breakfast. So now she's got a plate of cold eggs."
Toby shut the closet door, hard. "I will make her another breakfast. " There was a silence.
She stood with her back to him, her hand still pressed to the closet, thinking, I didn't mean to sound so angry. But I'm tired. I'm so very tired.
"Well," said Bryan, and in that one word he communicated everything.
Hurt. Withdrawal.
She turned to face him. They had known each other for two years now, yet they had never gone beyond the relationship of employer-employee, had never crossed that barrier into real friendship.
She'd never visited his house, had never met Noel, the man with whom he lived. Yet she realized, at that moment, that she had come to depend on Bryan more than she depended on anyone else. He was the one who kept her life sane, and she couldn't afford to lose him.
She said, "I'm sorry. I just can't handle another crisis right now.
I've had a really shitty night."
"What happened?"
"We lost two patients. In one hour. And I'm feeling pretty awful about it. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
He gave a slight nod, a grudging acceptance of her apology.
"And how was your night?" she asked.
"She slept all the way through. I just took her out to the garden. That always seems to quiet her down."
"I hope she hasn't picked all the lettuce."
"I hate to break this to you, but your lettuce went to seed a month ago."
All right, so I'm a failure as a gardener too, thought Toby as she headed through the kitchen to the back door. Every year, with high hopes, she started a vegetable patch. She would plant rows of lettuce and zucchini and green beans, would successfully nurture them along to seedling stage. Then, inevitably, her life would get too busy and she'd neglect the garden. The lettuce would bolt, and the beans would hang yellow and woody from the vines. In disgust she'd yank it all out and promise herself a better garden next year, knowing that the next year would produce only another crop of zucchinis as inedible as baseball bats.
She stepped outside into the yard. At first she didn't see her
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