The Night Gardener Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 E.D. Parr

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-202-8

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Melissa Hosack

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE NIGHT GARDENER

  E.D. Parr

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  “Here are the keys, Mr. Lovell. Once I leave tomorrow morning you’ll have the estate to yourself. I’ll lock and shutter the big house, but the grounds are yours to enjoy. There’s a decent fishing rod in the cottage garden shed, if you fish. The river is famous for trout.” Jackson Montgomery placed a sizeable bunch of keys in Dane’s palm with a smile. “You still have my phone number, just in case, eh? Janice stocked the larder and fridge for you?” He glanced around the big kitchen as if he could see into the larder and fridge to assess the contents. Cottage was a misnomer for the place Dane Lovell had rented for the next eight weeks. With two floors and a cellar, plus the fact it stretched the length of just about three ordinary family houses, Dane considered the old place a mansion.

  “Yes, thanks. She showed me everything and it’ll probably take me my whole stay to get through the supplies.” He smiled as he followed the caretaker out of the back door and onto the patio.

  Jackson turned to him and held out his hand.

  Dane shook his hand in goodbye. “Thanks for everything.”

  The caretaker gave a nod and was gone, marching along the short, crazy-paved path to the side gate, where with another glance over his shoulder at Dane, he went through it to the neighboring and smaller cottage that was his home.

  Dane pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and wandered to the bottom of the garden that adjoined the cottage. He breathed in the cool, reinvigorating air emitted by a thicket of evergreen trees as he took the path that wove through them and led him to the bend in the river rushing past.

  His cell phone buzzed in the pocket of his denim gilet.

  “Lovell.” He stopped walking to answer.

  “Dane, where the hell are you? What happened to our meeting?” His brother’s voice held both annoyance and anxiety.

  “Sorry, Emmet, I took off earlier than I expected. I did leave you a message, at your office. Didn’t you get it?”

  “Rosie strikes again. I swear I’ll never have another temp from that agency. Okay, well, have a good break. Keep in touch. I guess planning a new project can wait until you’ve recharged your batteries for a few weeks. I wish you’d not gone quite so far away, though, Dane—New England…”

  Dane caught the change in his brother’s tone and knew he must be smiling.

  “I needed a total change after the incident with Jeremy. It’s been months and I’m still not over it, but thanks, Emmet, I’ll try to have a good break.” He ended the call as he gazed into the flow of water where the weak sun threw its light. Square sparkles dashed by on the water looking like little windows into the river. Dane walked closer to the edge of the bank and watched for a few moments. Immediately below, long slender reeds swayed in huge tangled bunches. Dane turned and walked back to the cottage, hunger forcing him away from the mesmerizing sight.

  He’d not eaten since the day before. Dane never ate before late afternoon. In fact, he was never usually out and about until midafternoon. He worked far into the night and usually fell into bed around dawn. Somehow, over the years, this had become his normal pattern of living—Dane was nocturnal. Meetings, such as the one he was to have with Emmet, posed a problem. Although his brother always accommodated him, other people usually wanted them in the morning. On those occasions, Dane forced himself out of slumber and took a cab to the venue, not trusting his sleepy head to drive. Sometimes Dane tried to change this nocturnal pattern, but it never worked. The blanket of night offered him comfort.

  He entered the kitchen and made straight for the fridge. Janice, the caretaker’s wife, had left a large roasted chicken for him. He brought it to the table and pulled a loaf of crusty bread from the breadbox on the counter. Dane hummed as he made a sandwich. The complete change of scenery already soothed his soul. Cocooned in stands of trees and circled by sparkling water, Dane breathed a sigh of relief. There were no reminders of Jeremy here.

  ****

  Janice Montgomery handed her husband, Jackson, a beer.

  He took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He sat heavily in his armchair and brought his feet up onto the footstool. “It’ll be great to get away. Have you packed?”

  She came to sit on the arm of the chair and ran her fingers into his hair, taking it back from his forehead. She planted a kiss there. “I have. Have you finished work? Can we make an early start?”

  Jackson caught her hand and kissed her palm. “All done. Let’s leave around six. We’ll miss the business traffic if we get out the other side of town before seven.”

  A small frown put a crease between her eyes. “Jackson … have you mentioned Zachary to the guy leasing the cottage?”

  Jackson pursed his lips. “Dane Lovell’s the guy’s name, and no I, er, I forgot.”

  Janice stood. “I don’t think you forgot. I think you chickened out. Dinner’s ready. I’ll dish up.”

  Jackson gazed after her. He heaved a sigh. Zachary…

  ****

  A TV sat on a shelf in a breakfast nook at the end of the kitchen. Dane ate his sandwich as he caught the evening news. He made coffee as he listened to the weather report, and then he brought his laptop to the big pine table in the main part of the kitchen, and booted it.

  Dane opened the folder on the desktop marked Emmet and clicked on the file. His architectural design software opened it. He scrutinized the drawing for a few moments.

  The design was finished. He could email it to Emmet. That way he could concentrate on his other project, his secret passion. He closed the file and opened his email program. Wi-Fi included was one of the attractions listed for the cottage. He emailed the file with a short note for Emmet to go ahead and take over the deal.

  Dane loved designing buildings, but although architecture was his first love, it wasn’t his only love. Dane wrote. He wrote mystery novels under a pen name. A few months ago, Dane’s ideas dried up. At first, he didn’t worry, thinking the break-up was to blame, and then as time galloped by with not a word written, he admitted to himself that he had a real problem. He figured a total change of scenery might help both his melancholy and his writers’ block.

  The email sent, Dane closed the mail application and sat back in the chair to stare at the screen. He waited for words to perform magic in his head the way they used to, but it didn’t happen. Instead, lovely houses built in his imagination. He pushed away from the table. The chair scraped on the flagstone floor. A sigh escaped him as he stood to get another cup of coffee.

  He shivered in the cool evening breeze that entered through the open window over the kitchen sink. With a fresh cup of coffee on the table, he went to the bedroom he’d chosen to sleep in and found a sweater. He picked up his favorite sketchbook and pencils as the need to draw filled him…

  Dawn filtered through the slim gaps at the sides of the blinds. Birds sang their morning song. Dane stretched and considered the drawings he’d worked on all night.

  “Time to snatch a little sleep,” he
told himself. He stripped off the sweater and left it on a chair as he passed on his way to take a shower.

  Chapter Two

  Dane surfaced from a dream about gables. A light scraping and tapping at the bedroom window near his head brought him fully awake. He struggled out of bed and looked out. Trees swayed in a strong wind. The branches that earlier hadn’t reached the glass now slid along it, feathering pine needles and slapping fat twigs there at regular intervals. The leaden sky beyond the immediate trees looked ready to burst and drench the extensive gardens. Dane smiled. Nothing piqued his imagination like a stormy day.

  He pulled on jeans and a sweater, ran his hands through his hair, and padded downstairs. He’d left his smartphone on the kitchen table that morning and as the kettle boiled for instant coffee, he checked it. Emmet had sent a thank you for the email with a wow emoticon. Dane slipped the phone in his back pocket and made coffee. He pushed his feet into his boots that stood by the back door and went out into the moisture-laden air. Dane sipped his coffee and gulped down the atmosphere. He’d never considered leaving the sundrenched climes of San Diego before, but now the idea seeded in his head.

  Rain pattered on the overhanging roof of the patio and splattered on the leaves of the nearby bushes. Dane took a step out into its path and raised his face to the sky. Cold and surprisingly hard, the domed drops hit his skin and slid along. Dane grinned as one smacked him on the mouth. It broke into rivulets that followed the line of his lips and Dane tasted it.

  He backed out of the rain toward the door and finished his rain-splattered coffee.

  Dane didn’t need anything, but he decided to walk to the main street of the tiny town that nestled at the bottom of the hillside. The idea of walking in the rain struck him as romantic, and anyway it felt good, as if he communicated with nature. He shook the raindrops from his sweater before he pulled on a jacket. He gathered up the keys to the cottage and left.

  The weather darkened the late afternoon and lights twinkled along the main street already. Dane window-shopped as he trailed past souvenir and antique stores. His senses led him across the main street to a café, and as he entered through the half-glass door, a bell tinkled above his head announcing his arrival.

  Dane’s gaze landed on the only free table by the window. Surprised the place was so busy, he made his way there and sat down. A server was with him in moments.

  “Hi, what can I get you?” The young woman beamed at him.

  “Just a coffee, please, black.”

  She hesitated. “We have a special on pie today—cherry and apple.”

  Dane smiled as he shook his head. “Just the coffee, thank you.”

  When she’d left the table, Dane stood and shrugged off his jacket. He hung it over the back of the chair and sat to watch the rain bouncing on the sidewalk.

  His order arrived quickly and the server stood for a few moments by his table.

  “It looks as if the rain has settled in for the night. You’re on vacation.”

  Dane wondered how she knew. “I am for a few weeks. I don’t mind the rain.”

  “We’re just entering the off-season months. Not many people take their vacations this time of year. We get a lot of rain. Where are you staying?”

  “On the Appleton estate, in the rental cottage.”

  “Wow, so they’re renting that out again.”

  A frown crinkled Dane’s forehead. “Again?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, nothing … really … just that they stopped for a while.” She rearranged his coffee cup, leaning closer. “Let me know if you change your mind about the pie.” She gave him a soft smile.

  Dane watched her go to another table. Was she flirting with me?

  She turned to him before she took the next order and gave him a look.

  Dane glanced quickly away. She is flirting with me. It wasn’t the first time, of course, but Dane liked men and he never gave a girl false hope. He didn’t look her way again. When it was time to pay, he caught the eye of another server. His jacket had dried in the warmth of the café and Dane slipped it on as he dashed across the street and retraced his steps to the cottage.

  On the way, the rain stopped and a pale evening sunburst made the wet vegetation glimmer for a few minutes.

  Dane considered what the young woman had said about the cottage and wondered why ‘they’ had stopped renting it out. Maybe for redecoration…

  Darkness was falling as he entered the cottage and he flicked on the lights. The building provided central heating, but there was a huge fireplace in one of the living rooms, with the grate laid and ready for lighting. Dane wandered around this room and stopped to stand by the French doors that led into yet another part of the gardens. After a few moments, he went back to the big friendly kitchen and opened his sketchbook to revisit the drawings he’d done the previous night.

  Chapter Three

  Night fell and so did more rain. Dane closed his sketchbook. He looked along the shelves in the larder and picked up a can of soup. As he stirred the soup, he listened to the news on the TV. Dane left it playing when he sat to eat the soup. A documentary about the resurgence of wolves in parts of the world caught his interest.

  At first, Dane thought a steady clopping sound was some type of effect on the TV show. He took his empty soup bowl to the dishwasher at the far end of the kitchen and the beat grew louder. Dane concentrated on the noise until he felt sure it was the sound of chopping wood and it wasn’t far away. He went to the back door and turned on the outside lights. Powerful twin beams lit the first half of the garden. Dane stared out of the door. The chopping stopped and the only sound remaining was the intermittent plop of rainwater from a leaf-filled gutter onto the crazy paved path.

  Dane flipped off the garden lights and went back to the kitchen. He booted his computer and opened his design software, intending to draft the first in a series of plans for the homes he’d drawn. Dane lost himself in the task.

  He’d just finished rearranging the floorplan for the second floor on one of the designs when the back door flew open and the handle crashed against the wall.

  Startled, Dane stared around at the door. His heart pounded in shock from the sudden racket that tore him from deep concentration. Wind stormed in and the door banged against the wall again. He stood and went to check both the integrity of the door and the mark it may have made on the white wall. He held the door and looked at the wall. A small but distinctly patterned indent had appeared where the handle had violently slammed onto the plaster. He ran his fingertips over it and the white plaster fell away revealing the brick underneath.

  “That’s a shame.”

  The man’s voice gave Dane such a surprise the back of his neck prickled and a spike of fear ran all the way to his toes. He spun away from the wall to check out who spoke, and was face to face with one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen. Dane’s mouth was dry from fear and his voice came out as a whisper.

  “Can I … Can I help you?”

  The unexpected visitor smiled. “I think it’ll be the other way around. What are you doing here?”

  Dane recovered his voice and composure. “Who are you?”

  The man gazed at Dane.

  Dane couldn’t help returning the azure stare and then without thinking, his gaze traced the planes of this man’s attractive face down to his delicious lips.

  “I’m the groundskeeper, the gardener.”

  Dane frowned. “It’s night. It’s pouring with rain.”

  “I know and that’s why I got more logs for the fire.” The gardener turned, bent to something beyond Dane’s view, and brought an armful of logs with him as he stepped into the cottage.

  Dane held up a hand. “Thank you, but I’m unlikely to light the fire—certainly not tonight anyway.”

  “Well, I’ll put them in the chimney nook.”

  Dane sighed as he followed the man down the hall to the room where he’d seen the fireplace. “I’m surprised Mr. Montgomery didn’t inform me about you.�
�

  The gardener slotted his logs into the spaces between other logs already in the nook bricked into the side of the fireplace. “Zachary Yarrow.”

  Dane folded his arms over his body, wishing he’d thought to close the door as chilling air swept along the hall and into the room. “Dane Lovell.”

  Zachary stood, having completed his task. “You’re here off season. I guess you know. I always do the gardens off-season—have done for the last—well, for years. When I’m here, I usually stay in this cottage. I guess I need to find somewhere else this time.”

  Cold, Dane accepted the information with a nod. “I need to close the door, Mr. Yarrow.” He returned to the back door and closed it up.

  Zachary Yarrow had followed. “You can call me Zachary.”

  Dane hung around near the back door. The gardener showed no signs of leaving and Dane didn’t know how to be rude enough just to ask him to go.

  “It’s way too dark to garden. You’re wet through.” Dane’s gaze ranged over the sodden sweater Zachary wore, and along the rain-darkened jeans covering Zachary’s muscled thighs.

  The guy has to be cold. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

  Zachary grinned happily. “A cup of coffee, yeah, that will be great, thanks.”

  Dane led the way back into the kitchen. “Sit by one of the radiators and try to dry out a little.” He put water to boil and heaped instant into mugs. “I can lend you a dry sweater…”

  Zachary leaned close to the radiator. “It’s okay. I’ll drape my sweater on here. It’ll be dry in no time.” He pulled the soggy item over his head and arranged it on the hot metal flutes.

  Dane experienced a shock of attraction as he took in the smooth, muscled chest on display when Zachary turned to him.

  “Look, it’s already steaming.”