Firefly Hollow (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

L
ATE MONDAY MORNING, SARAH WAS up to her elbows in strawberries, prepping them to make jam, when she heard a vehicle in the driveway. Glancing out the window, she was shocked to see Kathy. She wiped her hands on a towel and opened the door for her sister.

“Thanks,” Kathy said, setting the baby’s bag down in one of the kitchen chairs. She looked around and raised her eyebrows. “You’re busy today.”

“Yes. Mr. Combs’s strawberries came in this weekend. Ours didn’t do anything, so I got six flats from him to make jam since the library was closed today. If you want to take some home with you, feel free. Where’s Moira?”

“She’s with Randall’s mother. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.”

Not sure what to say, Sarah pushed her hair back off her face. Feeling how loose her ponytail had gotten, she reached up and redid it. “So what brings you out here today?”

To her surprise, Kathy’s cheeks flushed. “We need to talk.”

Sarah studied her sister. For once, the derision and smugness was gone, and Sarah was hard-pressed to name what had taken its place.

“Think we could go on the porch and sit? I can lay a blanket out for the baby. He could use some sun,” Kathy said.

“Sure. I’ll get a quilt from the couch. Go on out, and I’ll be right there. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Starting to worry, Sarah got the blanket and went out to the front porch. She made a soft nest partially shaded from the sun and took little Randall from Kathy. After pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, she laid him down, then joined Kathy on the swing.

“First, I’m sorry,” Kathy said. “I know we haven’t gotten along the last few years, and I know I’m to blame for a lot of that. But I am sorry, for whatever it matters.”

“Sorry for what?” Sarah asked, frowning. “What’s going on, Kathy?”

“Randall and I went to London Saturday. I ran into Owen.”

Sarah’s heart started pounding, and she knew instinctively that she wouldn’t like what came next.

“He wasn’t alone. He was with a woman.”

“His aunt or a cousin?” Sarah asked.

“No. He said she was a neighbor. And when he introduced us, he didn’t say I was your sister, only that he knew me from back home.” Kathy didn’t look at Sarah.

Her throat as dry as parchment, Sarah had to try three times before the words would come. “What did she look like?”

“Short little thing, blonde. Maybe ten, fifteen years older than us.” She must have seen something in Sarah’s expression, because she stilled. “That mean something to you?”

Sarah gave a faint laugh, looking out over the front yard as her heart broke. “Oh, yes. That means a lot. It explains a lot.” Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she laughed. The sound emerged with a harsh edge, nothing of humor in it. When Kathy’s arm came around her shoulders, Sarah stiffened.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah. So damned sorry.”

Giving in to the tears, Sarah let herself cry.

Some time later, all her tears spent, Sarah straightened from where she’d been leaning on Kathy. The initial shock still reverberated through her, but she was starting to think past it. “Do you think there’s any chance they weren’t together?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Sarah could tell Kathy didn’t want to answer her, but she persisted. “Why not? I need to know, Kathy.”

Kathy looked down at her hands laced together in her lap. “When a man and a woman have been together, they look at each other a certain way. Touch each other a certain way. You just know, Sarah. Especially if you’ve been cheated on. Or if you’re the other woman.”

“He touched her?”

“No, she touched him. But it was there. And I told him what I thought of him, too. I expected better of him, and I’m sorry he wasn’t.”

The baby whimpered, and Kathy bent to pick him up. “I need to feed him. Will you be okay if I go in for a few minutes?”

Distracted, Sarah waved a hand toward the house. She searched her memory for what Owen had told her about the woman he’d been with, but he’d been vague. He hadn’t said the widow’s name or described her at all. As much as she wanted to believe that Kathy was mistaken, she very much doubted she was.

Sarah didn’t move off the swing for a while. Kathy came back out and sat beside her, the baby in her arms. Sarah held out her hands, and Kathy passed little Randall to her.

“Maybe I heard you wrong earlier,” Sarah said, keeping her tone deliberately light, “but I could have sworn you implied you knew what it was like to be the other woman.”

When Kathy smiled sadly, Sarah’s heart sank further. That was something she hadn’t believed was possible, but there it was.

“The baby isn’t Randall’s.”

Her words were another shock and a blow, even though Sarah didn’t like Randall. “Oh, Kathy.”

“I’m leaving him, Sarah. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t stand living with him anymore. That’s the other thing I came out here to tell you.”

Sarah looked down at the baby, who was blissfully ignorant, and groaned. “Does Mama know?”

“No. You’re the only one I’ve told.”

“Who’s the father?”

Kathy reached over with a tissue and wiped drool off the baby’s chin. “Randall’s boss from the garage. Clay Morton.” Sarah was incredulous, and Kathy shrugged. “It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I’d never have found the courage to leave Randall if I hadn’t met Clay. We’re leaving together tomorrow.”

“What about Moira? Have you told Randall yet?”

“No. He’ll find out when he gets home from work tomorrow. I wanted to warn you, as he’ll probably show up here first, looking for us. And Moira’ll be with us.”

Sarah swallowed, finding everything hard to take in. “Where are you going?”

“It’s probably best that I don’t tell you. Clay’s arranged a good job for himself, and as soon as we get where we’re going, I’m filing for divorce. When that comes through, we’re getting married.”

“So you won’t be staying around here?”

“We figured it might be better to go someplace where we could get a fresh start.” Kathy stood with a groan and stretched. She picked up the quilt the baby had been using and shook it. “I want you to know something. I didn’t tell you what I did to hurt you. I hope you believe that.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Sarah admitted. “Why did you tell me? You didn’t have to.”

Kathy looked across the valley, the quilt draped over one arm. Sarah was surprised to see her struggling with tears.

“Randall has been cheating on me since we were in high school. Sometimes I knew about it; sometimes I didn’t. I don’t want that for you. You deserve better.”

“So your advice to find a man who doesn’t beat me and all that? Should I disregard it?”

Her sister laughed, and in that instant, she looked freer than Sarah could ever remember seeing her. “You find a man who treats you like a queen, who puts you above all others. You find him, and you hold on to him. And don’t you dare settle for anything less. Do you hear me?”

Standing, Sarah handed Kathy the baby and wrapped her arms around them both. “I hear you. Will you at least promise to write now and then?”

“Of course. You’ll do the same?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Long after Kathy had gone, Sarah stayed out on the porch. She stared at the landscape, not feeling comforted, but instead, feeling as though she were on an alien world. It was as if everything she’d held dear had been turned on its end. When the phone rang, she jumped, startled. Thinking it might be Owen, and that he might be calling with an explanation, an apology, something, she nearly killed herself getting inside. Ignoring the blood that ran down her shin from where she’d hit it when she tripped, she grabbed the phone with a breathless “Hello.”

“Yeah, is Rachel there?” a woman asked. “This is Maude. She’s ‘specting my call.”

“Oh. No. Sorry. Try again.” Sarah hung up and slumped down, landing on the floor with a thunk. Her back pressed against the wall, she looked down at her skinned leg. One spot in particular was bleeding more profusely than the others, and as the blood dripped off her calf and splattered on the linoleum, she started laughing.

“Sorry, try again,” she whispered. “I don’t think so.”

Sarah didn’t think things could possibly get any worse, but that evening after supper, someone knocked on the door. She and Gilly, who were finishing up the jam making in the kitchen, exchanged a look and went to answer the door together. When Sarah saw who was on the other side, a chill went down her spine.

The deputy sheriff’s face was solemn in the falling dusk. “Ladies, I’m looking for the family of Kathy Begley.”

“Kathy’s my sister,” Sarah managed to say. “What’s wrong?”

She never remembered falling, or that the deputy had had to help Gilly get her to the couch while Jack rushed in from where he’d been working outside. Instead, what stood out was the horrible knowledge, the tears, the pain, and the disbelief. Sarah remembered the sound of Jack’s voice trembling as he called their mother and the seemingly interminable drive to the hospital, to Kathy, after Eliza had been told the devastating news. She remembered the long, long wait in the hospital waiting room, and the kindly young doctor’s grim face as he came out to apprise them of Kathy’s condition. Most of all, she remembered the realization that none of their worlds were ever going to be the same again.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

F
ATE SEEMED TO BE CONSPIRING against Owen at every turn. He finally got the time to sit down late Sunday evening and call Sarah, but when he picked up the receiver, the line was dead. After a quick trip down to Nora’s, taking Tad and Julie along as chaperones, he discovered that a car wreck had taken down the line.

“It won’t be back up until midweek, at least. I’m sorry,” Nora said. “And it’s out all the way into London from what I hear.”

Ready to pull his hair out with frustration, Owen thanked her. “Not your fault.”

Returning to the Hays farm, he cloistered himself in a bedroom and wrote Sarah a long letter, pouring his heart and soul into it. He’d been away from her so long, he didn’t much care if he did give away his secret. He simply wanted to be with Sarah.

Monday morning, he gave the letter to Amy to mail for him. “Promise me you’ll send this? It’s important that it goes out today.”

She gave him an impatient look. “Owen Campbell, you know I will. Get on with you.”

He gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and headed out for his meeting with the contractor who was organizing the rebuild. Until Eli could recover a little more, Owen was in charge of that task.

Things moved fast on the house. Tuesday, more than twenty men showed up to help, and they came back each day that week. By Thursday, Eli was well enough to sit in a chair under an oak tree and supervise, with Amy hovering to ensure he didn’t overdo.

Owen joined them at lunchtime, stripped down to his pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. “It’s coming along so quickly, you all might be able to move back in here this weekend. I can hardly believe it. If you ever wondered how your neighbors felt about you, now you know.”

“It’s overwhelming,” Amy said. “I don’t know how we’ll ever repay all these folks. They won’t take money. And you, Owen… Sweetie, I don’t have words enough to tell you how grateful we are that you’ve been here.” He clasped the hand she held out to him and squeezed.

“Well, I think we need to cut the boy loose,” Eli said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen anyone chomping at the bit so much to get home, but not say a word about it. We’ve held you up long enough.”

“I figured I’d head back Sunday or Monday, if you all are comfortable with that. I’ll stay longer if I’m needed, but I am anxious to get home.”

“You need to let me give you a haircut before you go home. Your Sarah won’t recognize you.” Amy touched his hair, which Owen had taken to tying a bandanna around to keep it out of his face. “Are you going to shave?”

He rubbed a hand over his beard, which was almost as unruly as his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve kinda gotten used to it. I might trim it up a little, though.”

“We’ll sit down tonight and take care of that. It’s the least I can do,” Amy said. “We don’t want to send you back to your girl looking like a wild man.”

“I’m hoping to get a letter from Sarah today or tomorrow. She should have received the one we sent out Monday by now. I’ve not been as diligent about writing her as I should have been,” Owen said.

“I’m a little surprised by that,” Eli replied. “We were starting to wonder if something had happened between the two of you.”

Astonished, Owen looked from his uncle to Amy. “You know how busy I’ve been. I wasn’t avoiding her or anything like that. I love Sarah.”

“That’s what made your not writing that much more puzzling, son. I’m glad you sent that letter out to her this week. If we were wondering, she might also be.” Eli carefully got to his feet. “I see that Stidham fella over there. I’ve been wanting to talk to him.”

Owen and Amy watched him go. Owen was troubled by what Eli had said. He asked Amy if she felt the same way, that he’d been neglecting Sarah.

“Honey, that’s something you’ll have to ask her. Hopefully, you’ll get to do that soon.”

“Hopefully. That’s why I was so eager to get that letter out to her, so she’d understand.” Without that letter, he was afraid Sarah would write him off as a lost cause. The letter was a good start at an apology, but he’d feel better once he saw her in person.

He couldn’t get home soon enough.

When Owen came down to breakfast the next morning, he found Amy and Eli seated at the kitchen table with their daughter, Julie. The girl’s eyes and nose were red, and she wouldn’t look at Owen as he came to a halt at the end of the table.

“What’s wrong?”

Amy heaved out a rough sigh. She and Eli exchanged a look, and Eli gestured toward her with his uninjured arm. “You tell him.”

Amy pushed a familiar-looking envelope across the table to Owen, who stared at it in confusion.

He picked up the envelope, the skin all over his body prickling with warning. It was the letter he’d written to Sarah, explaining everything. “I thought this got mailed. Amy?”

“Julie has a confession to make. I’m so sorry, Owen. I thought it went out.”

Still not believing what he held in front of him, Owen looked at Julie. “Explain. Now.”

Her face turned bright red, and she started crying. “I just wanted to read it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’ve never read a love letter before, and I wanted to see what it said. I’m sorry.” The teenager buried her face in her arms and sobbed.

Fear and anger raced through Owen. He wasn’t even aware that he’d stood up until Eli followed suit. He looked at his uncle, not seeing him. Instead, he imagined Sarah’s face growing colder and more hurt every day that went by that she didn’t hear from him. His heart sank, even as his temper increased, and he started cursing.

“Henry Owen Campbell! Watch your mouth!” Amy scowled at him, clearly appalled, and Owen made an effort to calm himself down. Looking down at Julie, he shook the letter at her.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you? This was a private letter, Julie. The things I wrote in here were for one person’s eyes and her eyes only. I poured everything I felt into this letter so that Sarah wouldn’t worry, so she’d know I was coming home to her. And you took it and kept it? What’s she going to think now, huh? That I’ve abandoned her, that I’m done with her, that’s what. Damn it!”

Owen stormed out of the house. His anger carried him across the driveway to the pasture fence, where he slammed his hand into one of the slats. Head bowed, he had to swallow against the sick fear that clawed his belly. He heard someone come up beside him and saw Eli’s boots stop next to his.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Sorry’s not going to fix this. Do you know what Sarah’s probably thinking right now? And I can’t even call her.” The phone lines were still out, and Owen started thinking about where he could get access to a phone.

“Look, I know you were going to leave in a few days, but I think you should go now. We’ve gotten enough done that Amy, Trent, and I should be able to handle it from here.”

“I don’t want to walk out on you and leave you in the lurch,” Owen protested half-heartedly.

Eli sighed. “In what possible universe could you possibly think you’d be doing that? I’ve made it forty-five years on this earth, the last twenty-five or so on my own. I think I can manage.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Go get packed up. You can get on the road in fifteen minutes, if you hurry, and be in Hazard this afternoon. You can deliver that letter in person.”

The idea was too appealing to resist. “Okay. But you call me if you need anything. I can be back down here tomorrow, if I need to be.”

Eli wrapped his arm around Owen’s shoulders and started steering him back toward the farmhouse. “Son, I think it’s going to take more than a day to straighten this out. You don’t worry about us; worry about yourself for once. You need to make that commitment to Sarah. She needs to come first now. We’ll be fine.”

When they went back inside, Owen saw that Julie was gone.

Amy was washing the breakfast dishes, and she wiped her hands on her apron, turning to him with guilt written all over her face. “Sweetie, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I didn’t know she hadn’t mailed it until I saw it in her room this morning. Are you going home?”

“Yes. Hopefully, I can straighten this mess out.” He wrapped Amy in a tight hug. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

“Well, now, you know I will until we hear back from you. I’ll pack you some biscuits and sausage for the trip.”

Owen dashed upstairs and gathered his things, throwing them haphazardly into his bags. In five minutes, he was packed. When he left the bedroom, a forlorn Julie was waiting for him in the hall.

“Do you hate me?” Her voice trembled, and Owen felt a little of his anger melt.

“I’m not very happy with you right now. But no, I don’t hate you.” He tipped her chin up with one finger. “You’ve hurt me with what you did, Julie, and you’ve hurt the woman I intend to marry. I’m not quite ready to forgive you yet.”

Though she sniffled loudly and Owen could see that she wanted to cry, she held back the tears and gave him a stiff nod. “I understand.”

He ruffled her hair. “Try to stay out of trouble?”

“I will.”

Amy and Eli saw him off with hugs and kisses. Just as Eli had said, Owen was on the road in fifteen minutes. He checked his watch and the truck’s gas gauge. He’d stop to fill up before he left London, and hopefully, he’d be in Hazard by lunchtime. He’d go straight to the library, and if necessary, he’d get down on his knees in front of God and everyone else and beg Sarah’s forgiveness.

As he drove, he realized how stupid he’d been for not making more of an effort to contact her. If he had, then Julie’s stealing the letter wouldn’t have been as grievous an offense. So as much as he wanted to blame his young cousin, Owen knew that if Sarah told him to go jump in a lake, it was more his fault than anyone else’s.

Owen made good time on the road, arriving around the time when he’d thought he would. After he parked the truck in the pay lot down the street from the library, he sat there for several minutes collecting his thoughts. He didn’t want to rush inside willy-nilly and fumble his way through the explanation.

He didn’t see Sarah’s car, which gave him a moment of concern, but then he remembered that she was sharing it with Jack and Gilly. “Well, no time like the present. Suck it up, Owen.” He made sure he had the letter tucked inside his shirt pocket and, with a fervent prayer that he’d find the right words, headed into the library.

Callie was manning the front desk. Instead of the friendly smile she typically greeted him with, her eyes widened with alarmed surprise.

A frisson of warning raced across Owen’s back. “Hey, Callie. Is Sarah handy?”

“She’s not here. You need to talk to Shirley.” Callie dropped her gaze to the desk, her posture stiff.

Owen scowled. “What do you mean, she isn’t here? Where is she?” Callie didn’t answer, and Owen reached out to touch her shoulder. “Callie, where’s Sarah? What’s going on?”

Callie picked up the phone and dialed. “Owen Campbell’s down here. He’s asking about Sarah.” She hung up and stood. “Shirley will be right down. I need to shelve these books. Excuse me.” Before he could stop her, she hurried away.

His heart racing, Owen paced in front of the desk. Shirley finally appeared with a grim look on her face, and Owen knew then that something was very, very wrong.

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Come with me.” She started toward the back of the building, but Owen didn’t budge.

“Not until you tell me where Sarah is. What’s going on?”

Shirley grasped his arm and tugged. “Come on. We have to discuss this in private.”

Scared half to death, Owen followed her.

She led him into the employee break room and shut the door. “Sit down, Owen. Did you just get back in town?”

He sent her a frustrated look, but sat. “Yes. Now please, tell me what’s going on. Is Sarah okay?”

Shirley clasped her hands on the table in front of her. “In a manner of speaking, she is. But her sister isn’t. Sarah’s probably at the hospital with her right now, if I had to guess. They’ve all been taking shifts.”