Where My Heart Belongs (6 page)

“You chose how things would be and then dictated those choices to him. You did the same with me. I can still remember that phone call telling me that we couldn’t get together anymore on Saturday mornings. That I probably shouldn’t even call unless it was some sort of emergency. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Kathy rubbed her temples and tried to think. “It was only until Mom was better. I felt too incapable of handling the situation unless I put up boundaries. I knew Mom would need a lot of care. I knew I couldn’t give her the quality attention she needed and keep up with fifteen other things. If that’s selfish, then all right—I was selfish.”

“But why should your selfishness be any more forgivable than Sunshine’s?”

“Because my choices weren’t made for me. They were made for my mother.”

“Think about that for a minute, Kathy. Your mother would have loved to have you marry Kyle. She was delighted that you two were planning to marry. Kyle would have been on the road working for the pharmaceutical company, and you would have been free to live at home and care for your mom. When he came home from his trips, he could have comforted you—encouraged you—loved you. Those would have been positive things—not negative. Your mother might have even found his presence a comfort. Instead, she may very well have died believing that it was her fault for having separated the two of you.”

“That’s not true. She knew better. I told her I sent Kyle away because . . . well, because I needed the space. I needed the . . .” Kathy stopped. She hadn’t thought about the way she’d handled things as being anything other than selfless. Now her best friend was telling her that the choice had been selfish, and unfortunately, it all made too much sense.

“I’m sorry,” Kathy finally said after several moments of silence. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. I took the only way out that I knew would work.”

“I don’t want you to regret the past and your choices, Kathy. I just wanted you to see how easy it is to misjudge motives. Sunshine made selfish choices based on what she felt she had to do. She probably felt like she was coming apart at the seams. Leaving was no doubt the only way out that she thought would work.”

“But leave for twelve years and say nothing to anyone? Never send a letter? Never call?”

“At first she probably didn’t care to do either, and then, as the years went by, maybe she thought that no one would receive it even if she tried.”

“Why are you on her side?”

Sylvia shook her head. “I’m not. She was wrong—cruel to leave you all guessing. But I’m a mother, and I’m trying to help you understand why I would open my arms to a child who hurt me so deeply. The deeper you love someone, the more painfully they can hurt you. Your father is dying. Seeing the child he’d given up for dead or thought lost to him forever has got to be the biggest blessing in his life. He probably feels like dancing a jig. He probably feels better than he has in months. Would you take that away from him?”

“Of course not.” Tears came to Kathy’s eyes. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“When you love someone, you only want the best for them. Just like I want the best for you. If that best is in Colorado Springs, then I can bear the pain of my loss.”

Kathy wiped her eyes and gave a little laugh. “You make it sound like I’ll be gone forever—like I’ll never come back.”

“What do you have to come back here for? Be honest, Kathy. Your father and mother will be gone—the farm sold. Short of a few friends, Slocum, Kansas, will have nothing of interest for you.”

“It’s only a five-hour drive. I’ll come back often—I promise.”

“Please, Kathy. Don’t promise me something like that. It’s not fair. I’ll always love you and be your friend, but don’t pretend that things won’t change. We’ll both do what we have to do to get by. I’ll invest myself even more in my family, and you’ll turn to Kyle and your aunt and uncle. We might even make other friends.”

“But none of them will ever take the place of what we have,” Kathy protested.

“Of course not. We will always be close, but it will be different. Kathy, you have to find a way to leave the past behind you. You have to find a way to forgive Sunshine or you’ll never be any good to Kyle or anyone else. No matter how many miles separate you and your sister, you’ll steep in an anger that will eat away at your heart.”

Her words slapped Kathy in the face. And later, as she drove home, Sylvia’s warning continued to echo in her mind, the sharp sting of their truth undeniable.

F
IVE

SUNNY SPENT HER SECOND NIGHT on the farm in a restless state that wouldn’t let her sleep. The first night she’d been so exhausted emotionally and physically that she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. But not so tonight. Tonight the demons of the past tormented her.

She rolled over and punched down the pillow. The sheets were rather scratchy, definitely nothing like the Pratesi sheets she used to have on her bed. She’d been introduced to Pratesi linens in Beverly Hills, and she’d never used anything else after that. She rubbed her hand over the material near her face. These were no doubt inexpensive sheets picked up on sale for thirty dollars instead of three thousand. In frustration Sunny cast off the offensive piece and let out an exasperated breath.

She glanced at the lighted alarm clock Kathy had put beside the couch. It was just after one in the morning. There had been a time when this would have been Sunny’s favorite time of the night. She and her friends would have just been starting to party. Pushing back the covers, she sat up and looked around the darkened room. There was a hint of illumination from the hall light Kathy had left on, but otherwise the room was nothing but shadows and shapes.

Getting up, Sunny stumbled to the living room window and pulled back the shade. The night was quiet and the farm seemed to rest comfortably.

“So why can’t I?” she asked.

Why wouldn’t sleep come? There was no good reason. Sure, she was troubled by the way Kathy acted. “She hates me. That much is clear,” Sunny muttered. But Dad was happy to see her again. That should count for something. And of course, it did. Sunny knew such a great peace in his pleasure. He had told her that nothing had mattered more to him than seeing her again and knowing she was safe. Apparently Kathy didn’t share their father’s desires.

Sunny let the shade fall back into place and switched on the lamp. A photograph of her mother hung on the wall near the living room entrance, and Sunny couldn’t help but go to it. She gazed at the picture, struck by the youthful spirit and excitement in her mother’s expression. This was her graduation picture. She no doubt was excited about starting her new life and leaving childhood behind. Mother must not have been afraid of growing up and taking on new responsibilities—at least not like Sunny had been.

“If she’d been afraid, she would never have married so young.” Sunny touched the glass that covered the photo. She knew from stories told that her mother and father had married two days after Marg Clarey had graduated high school. There had been no plans for college or trips abroad. There had been no thought of going off to live on her own and make a career for herself. Mother had always and only wanted to be a wife and mom. She had told her daughters that very thing on so many occasions that Sunny never doubted the truth of it.

Sunny frowned. “We might look something alike, but that must be where the similarities stop. Kathy acts much more like you than I did.”

“Amy, is that you?”

Sunny looked down the hall to find her father standing just outside his room. “It’s me,” she answered.

“What are you doing up so late?”

She came to where he stood slouched against the doorjamb. His dark red plaid pajamas hung on him—obviously created for a much larger man. “I was just going to ask you the same thing. Come on, let me help you.”

He gave no protest and leaned heavily on Sunny as they walked the few feet back to his bed. “I heard noises. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Sunny guided him to the edge of his mattress and steadied him as he sat down. “I’m sorry I woke you. I couldn’t sleep. I feel like I’ve hurt you all more by coming home than by staying away.”

“Never say that. I couldn’t bear it. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive—that hurt more.”

Sunny’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I never meant for that to happen. Really, I didn’t. I just needed so much more than what I could find here—at least I thought I couldn’t find it here.”

“And now?”

“Now . . . I don’t know.” Sunny looked at her father, longing to cry. He was just a ghost of the man he’d once been. “Kathy told me about Mom. She blames me for Mom getting sick, and she’s probably right. I think Kathy hates me.”

“I can’t see Kathy hating anybody. She’s always giving of herself, and hateful people don’t do that.”

“She’s been through so much, Dad. So much that she shouldn’t have had to endure by herself. I should have been here to help.”

“Yes. I suppose you should have been here, but you weren’t,” he said, sounding stronger than he had just moments ago. “Recognizing the truth is always important, but you can’t undo the past that way.”

“I can’t undo the past no matter what I recognize, but I’d just be happy if my actions could at least stop the pain from passing on to other people.”

“Your sister has given a good portion of her life to see to my needs,” her father said, as if changing the subject. “I wasn’t much good to Kathy after Mom died. I walked around in a stupor for months. I don’t even remember a whole lot about what I did or said. I just remember the emptiness.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Sunny urged. “It might help me to better understand.”

Dad shrugged. “Not a whole lot to tell. With your mother gone, I felt I’d lost a part of myself. I didn’t know how to go on without her. For so much of my life we’d been together. I remember Kathy promising to take care of me— to keep the house and gardens—and all I could think was how it was a good thing she knew what she was doing, because I sure didn’t.”

Sunny sat down beside Dad and took hold of his hand. “Kathy’s always been strong.”

“You’re right. She has. By the time I started feeling like I could function again, we found out about the cancer. Kathy was faithful to see me to the doctor for treatments and checkups. She tried to keep me cheered up and encouraged. I could see it was taking its toll on her, but I was selfish and I couldn’t suggest we do things any differently.”

He tried to move back on the bed a bit and Sunny saw him grimace in pain. “Why don’t you lie back down, Dad? You can talk to me while you rest.”

He didn’t argue with her as Sunny helped him under the sheet and arranged the pillows. When he was settled, he began again. “I should have sold the farm a long time ago, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. Now I’ve put this burden on Kathy.” He moaned and tried to shift his weight. Sunny attempted to help, but he was still just as miserable.

“This was the place Mom and I had lived since our wedding. It was the place we raised you girls. If I’d had to leave, it would have been like losing everyone I loved.”

“But you didn’t lose Kathy. She was here all along.”

“She was here, but in a sense I lost her too. She was never the same after you left. She missed you and worried about you just like the rest of us. Kathy tried never to talk about it, but I knew it was there. I knew the anger and fear, regret and sorrow were eating away at her once easygoing nature, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Sunny found the comments shocking. She would never have expected Kathy to give her departure more than a cursory consideration. She had fully expected her mother to be sad, but she hadn’t even figured Dad would be all that upset.

“I have to tell you, Dad,” she began softly, “I never thought things would turn out the way they did. I never intended to stay away for so long. I always meant to write or call. In my mind, my very immature and selfish mind, I didn’t figure anyone would really care all that much. You would have the farm, Mom would have Kathy and the wedding to focus on, and Kathy would have Kyle. I didn’t see how my leaving could possibly matter.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it mattered a lot. You were a part of our family. We weren’t complete after you went away.”

“But I would have gone eventually, even if not then,” Sunny said. “I would have found someone to marry and leave home for.”

“Yes, but that would have been different. We would have still been a part of your life. We would have known you were safe and taken care of. You don’t have any idea of what it’s like to have a child somewhere, but you don’t know where or if they’re safe.”

Sunny looked away and tried to keep back the tears. There was so much she wanted to tell her father. So much she wanted to say . . . to apologize for.

“What happened? Where did you go after you left here?”

Sunny closed her eyes. She had worked so hard to forget the past and push aside the memories that threatened to smother her.

“I went to hell. At least it felt that way. There was nothing good or noble or pure—nothing of God in the places I went. You know that psalm that speaks of how even if you made your bed in hell, God would still find you? Well, that’s where He found me, only I didn’t want to be found.” Sunny remembered a morning twelve years earlier.

“Hi. I’m Mitch Haas.”

Sunny looked up from where she tanned beside the pool. She put her hand to her eyes to better see the handsome mustached stranger. “I’m Sunny.”

“I know. I asked about you. You’re new here, aren’t you?” He took a seat on the lounger beside her.

“Yeah. I just moved here last week.” Sunny had chosen this particular complex because it had furnished one-bedroom apartments for rent. She wasn’t sure when she signed the six-month lease if she really wanted to live in Las Vegas for six months, but she was willing to give it a try.

“Where are you from?” he asked, giving her a grin that made her stomach do a flip.

“Nowhere important.” She sat up and suddenly felt very self-conscious about the tiny bikini she wore. Taking up her towel in a casual manner, she pretended to blot her skin in an effort to cover up.