Page 177 of Her Wicked Plan

With a nod of approval, Ruby withdraws from her place in the garden.

I stand there for another minute before deciding I’ve had enough fresh air. Heading back inside, my phone rings in my pocket. When I take it out, I see my mother calling me.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, honey.” She tries to sound upbeat, but the exhaustion is slipping through her façade. “I saw the picture of the garden you sent me. How beautiful is that!”

Making my way down the hall, I keep my voice quieter, not wanting patients who hang out in the halls to eavesdrop on my conversation. It’s not like it would be anything interesting for them, anyway. “I knew you’d like it. I only learned about it today, which is a shame.”

“That it is. It’s wonderful that the facility has a garden for the patients to stroll through.”

“Some patients did the gardening themselves.” I repeat the information Ruby provided me.

“How smart! Gardening can be such a stress reliever. That’s why I donated all that stuff to those children. To keep their hands busy and stay off the streets.” She breathes in heavily. “That’s also why I started when I was younger. Getting your hands dirty to plant something and having the reward of watching it come to life? It was always very fulfilling.”

I’ve always loved listening to her speak about her passions. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come this weekend, and before you tell me you understand, please don’t. I wanted to be with you, Dad, and Chloe, but there was an altercation at work.”

“Leo, sweetheart, do not be hard on yourself.” Another way she says she understands the circumstances but still not use words. “You didn’t miss much. I slept all weekend.”

“That doesn’t matter, Mom.” As I round the corner, Veronica comes into view with something tucked into her side. A book she is reading, or maybe it’s her journal, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her writing in it lately. “I should be there, regardless.”

“You can come home this weekend,” she suggests. I could almost picture the soft smile on her face. “Other than the tiredness, I’ve been feeling better.”

“That’s good to hear.” Veronica approaches, halting her steps when she is in front of me. I keep my eyes on hers as I continue the conversation with my mother. “I really am sorry. Not only for not being around right now but also in the past. I should have made time for you guys.”

“No more of the nonsense apologies. I love you, Leo. I love your work ethic, and I’ll be damned if you keep apologizing for working hard. You were around enough, and when you couldn’t be here, you made it a point to call or text. I am not angry with you if that’s what you think. You are my son. I could never be angry with you.”

A sad smile forms on my face. Veronica’s brows furrow, and she inclines her head to the side. “I love you too, Mom.”

I hear a sigh of relief from the other end of the phone. “I’m going to eat some lunch, and I’ll see you next weekend.”

“Yes, you will,” I assure her before we end the phone call.

“How is she?” Veronica asks as soon as I hang up.

“She says she is feeling better but still tired.”

“That’s good though, right? That she is feeling somewhat better?”

“It is a very good thing.” I drop my eyes to the object cradled against her body. It’s a book. “I haven’t seen you with your journal.”

Veronica untucks the book from under her arm and stares at it before meeting my gaze. “Ever since I’ve opened up to you, I haven’t really found a need to write anything down. Normally, all the issues I held would be poured into my journal, but now? I don’t really need to.”

“So I got you a new one for nothing?”

Her eyes quickly dart to mine. “What? No! I used it, and I’m thankful you got me one. It’s just... shit. I didn’t mean...”

“Calm down, Vee. I’m just messing with you.” Her shoulders relax. “I’m happy you don’t feel the need to write all the emotions and issues you suppressed. Maybe now, instead of all the bad things, you can use the journal to write about the good things you feel.”

She raises an eyebrow and lowers her voice. “Are you suggesting I write about the sex we have?”

My eyes dance between hers, watching that mischievous glow light them up. “I would suggest that you should not do that in case your journal gets into the wrong hands.”

A dramatic sigh falls from her mouth. “Then maybe I should lie and tell you I have written nothing about us in there. I have a hiding place for it, anyway.”

“People are good at snooping around where they don’t belong.”

“And if they do, I’ll deal with it,” she states matter-of-factly. “But no one will touch it.”