Authors: T. L. Haddix
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Werewolves & Shifters
Her emotions on a rollercoaster, Sarah started to refuse to take anything from Owen, but her mother stopped her.
“Look, I know the two of you have some problems you need to work out. But right now, I don’t care. You’re both adults, and I expect you to act like it. Whatever’s going on between you, put it aside for now. At least until we get Kathy home. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Owen?” Eliza prompted.
“Whatever you need,” he responded.
Eliza nodded. “Good. I’ll tell Nancy. You two wait in the hall.”
Sarah and Owen took up positions on either side of the door. Sarah kept her eyes forward and tried to pretend he didn’t exist. Nancy joined them after a couple of minutes, and they made their way to Owen’s truck.
Even though the ride to Gilly’s parents’ was short, it felt like a special kind of torture to Sarah. Nancy had managed to ensure Sarah sat in the middle of the bench seat. Owen was pressed all along her left side, and as he shifted gears, she could feel the muscles in his thigh bunch and relax. She held herself as stiffly as possible, but it didn’t help.
Gilly came out on the porch as they pulled up, and even from the driveway, Sarah could see her eyes widen.
“When did you get in?” she asked Owen as she walked up to the truck. “We figured you’d been eaten by wolves.”
He had the grace to blush. “A little while ago. Nancy, I’ll carry your bag in.”
“Thanks, Owen.” Nancy started to get out of the truck. When Sarah attempted to follow, she said, “No. You stay here. I know you’re not happy to be riding with him. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll manage. Get some rest,” Sarah said as she gave her aunt a quick hug. While Nancy updated Gilly on the plan, Sarah moved over to take Nancy’s spot. She let her head rest against the back of the seat, and her eyes drifted shut. She hadn’t slept in days, her dreams running red with blood every time she laid her head down on the pillow.
When Gilly spoke to her through the passenger window, she was startled awake.
“I’ll pack up your things and bring them home tonight when Jack and I come back. We’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Owen got back in and backed out down the driveway. Sarah waved at Gilly and Nancy before turning to face forward. Sarah didn’t speak until they neared the turn-off for the road that led to Owen’s house nearly twenty minutes later. “If you want to, go ahead and drive to your place. I’ll walk down. I need the exercise.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He took the turn, and before long, the foot of his driveway came into view. It was nearly hidden and, unless someone knew it was there or were really looking, was easy to miss. Owen steered the truck off the road and started the climb around the side of the hill.
“How’s your uncle?” Sarah finally remembered to ask. Her thoughts had been racing around in circles so much, she felt lucky to be able to string the words together enough to form the question.
“Better. He finally got to come home last Friday, and he’s been steadily improving ever since. We almost have their house rebuilt, too.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, it’s gone pretty fast.” They topped the hill, and Owen’s parents’ house came into view. He drove past it, and stopped the truck in front of the newer house. “I was starting to think I wouldn’t ever get to see this place again. Sarah, I’m sorry—”
“Stop. Just stop. I can’t do this right now. I only want to go home and sleep.”
“We will talk about this though, right?”
“Yes. But not today.” She didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door, but got out on her own.
“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll put my bags inside and walk you home.” Owen had his bags in hand and was already halfway to the front door. “You’re too tired to go on your own.”
“Fine.” She knew she was being snappish, but she didn’t care. If he got offended, that was his problem. She started in the direction of the steps that led to the path home. She heard him curse behind her, but she kept walking, her only thoughts involving getting home and going to bed.
Owen caught up with her quickly, and Sarah was thankful that he didn’t try to initiate any conversation. At the house, she unlocked the door and led him into the kitchen, where the dishes were still piled up from Monday night. The jars of jam she’d canned were still waiting on the counter for their lids, and a line of sugar ants was marching from the back door toward the sink.
Sarah felt like crying. “Oh, damn it. I forgot what a mess we’d left this place in.”
Owen started rolling up his sleeves. “I can take care of this. You go rest. I’ll get this cleaned up in no time.”
His willingness to step in and take care of her was too much. The irony was the final straw and, temper flaring, she spun around to face him. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do a
wonderful
job. Please make yourself at home. When you’re finished here, Jack started painting the house Monday evening. You can finish that. And I’m sure we can find something else for you to do when you’re done with that chore. Just forgive me if I don’t believe you’ll finish any of them. Where were you, Owen?” Her voice had grown louder and louder until she was shouting. “Where the hell where you? Damn you! I needed you, and you weren’t here. Why are you here now? Go now before I need you again and you aren’t there!”
Owen’s face had turned to granite, and she could almost see him reining in his own temper. Angry, hurt, and wanting to lash out, Sarah stalked over to him and shoved him with both hands. He didn’t budge.
“Why, Owen? Why weren’t you here? I needed you, and you weren’t here. Why? Why, damn it?” She screamed the last, and the tears hit. Sobbing, she curled her hands and beat her fists against his chest. “Why, why, why?”
His arms came around her. Sarah fought, but Owen wouldn’t release her. Instead, he drew her closer. The grief took its sweet time winding down, and by the time her tears slowed, Owen had picked her up. Sarah realized he was taking her upstairs, but she didn’t protest. She was just too exhausted.
In her bedroom, Owen set her on her feet. “Where’s a nightgown?”
Sarah gestured toward the chest of drawers. “Second drawer.”
He walked over and pulled out a gown. “Do you need help? Need to use the bathroom?”
“I don’t know.”
Owen matter-of-factly started undressing her, his touch impersonal as he helped her out of her clothes. Once she was stripped down to her panties, he eased the gown over her head. He let her settle it around her hips as he opened the bedroom windows, letting in some fresh air.
“Let’s go wash your face. You’ll feel better.” Taking her hand, he led her down the hall and into the bathroom. He wet a washcloth and wrung it out, then gently used it to blot her face. “I’ll let you take care of more personal business. I’ll wait for you in your room.”
After he closed the door, Sarah stood at the sink for a minute, trying to get her body to cooperate with her brain. She used the bathroom and washed up, then managed to get back down the hall. Owen was waiting in her room, where she let him tuck her in bed.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Just holler.”
Exhausted, Sarah was asleep almost before he’d finished placing the sheet around her shoulders.
Chapter Forty-One
O
WEN PULLED THE LETTER FROM his pocket and laid it on Sarah’s dresser, then left her bedroom and went to the top of the steps, where he sat down. Resting his head in his hands, he let the emotions he’d been holding back shudder through him. Unlike Sarah, whose tears had been violent and noisy, Owen’s were silent.
If he hadn’t known it was Kathy in the hospital bed, he never would have recognized her. Her face was swollen from the beating, and from what he’d seen of her arms, the rest of her body hadn’t fared any better. Owen had gotten into a few altercations over the years, tussles with Eli’s son Trent, and once with Harlan after they’d reached their late teens. Those battles had been rough, and Owen had come away from them sporting various aches, pains, and bruises, but nothing like what Kathy was suffering. He couldn’t imagine the kind of beating she had endured at Randall’s hands. If the man hadn’t killed himself, Owen would have gladly murdered him without regret.
The thought of Kathy’s children devastated him, but Sarah’s pain almost destroyed him. She had needed him, and he’d let her down. Owen couldn’t lie to himself anymore; he’d not written because he had been hesitant to put himself out there. As he’d told Shirley, he really had no excuse. He’d wanted to protect himself, so he’d held back. Sarah deserved better than him, and Owen suspected she knew it.
Once his emotions were under control, he went downstairs and started cleaning the kitchen. Owen knew a lot of men, his father included, considered dishes and cleaning women’s work. He’d never understood that. Work was work. If something needed to be done, then whoever was most able to do it should do it. It was a philosophy he’d always believed and Eli had helped reinforce.
Owen spared a few thoughts for Eli and Amy as he worked, but he realized that his responsibility wasn’t in Laurel County anymore. If he wanted a chance at working out his relationship with Sarah, he had to put her first, no exceptions.
Once the kitchen was clean, Owen did a little straightening around the house. He stepped out onto the back porch with the garbage and glanced over at the garden. It wasn’t in terrible shape, but the weeds were getting a decent hold. Knowing exactly what he needed to do next, he went back inside and grabbed the key to the shed off the wall. Thanks to the day he’d helped put the garden in, he was familiar with where all the tools were, and in hardly any time, he had the garden mostly put to rights. He was putting away the hoe and preparing to get out the lawn mower when he heard Sarah scream.
The blood was everywhere, coating Sarah’s hands, arms, legs, and torso. She frantically brushed at it, trying to shake it off, but it clung stubbornly. She couldn’t get it off.
The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her.
“Sarah, come on, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Sweetheart, please. Open your eyes.”
“Blood, there’s so much blood,” she mumbled. When she finally came awake, the stench of it still burned in her nostrils, and she coughed. “Get it off me. Please, Owen, make it go away.”
He sat down on the bed beside her. “Shhh, it’s okay. Look at me. That’s a girl. Look at me. You had a bad dream. There’s no blood, Sarah. It was only a dream.”
Sarah focused on his face, and the horrible visions started to fade. He was brushing strands of hair off her damp face, and Sarah brought her hands up to his wrists. She felt his pulse race against her fingertips and the warmth of his skin against hers, and she started to relax.
“You okay now?” he asked.
“Yes. I think so.”
Owen closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “When I heard you scream… God, Sarah.” His breath rushed out, across her lips, and Sarah had to fight not to kiss him. They sat like that for a few minutes, and she felt the last vestiges of the nightmare slip away.
“Do you want to talk about the nightmare?” he asked.
“I don’t know. All I remember about it is that I’m covered in blood, and I’m alone and scared. That’s all I remember, but it’s horrible. I can taste the blood; it’s so strong.” She drew her knees up to rest her head on them, forcing him to move back. “I wonder if it’s because Kathy was here Monday, and I feel guilty. I didn’t try to stop her or talk her out of leaving. I knew she was going to. I should have said something.”
“What could you have done? If she’d stayed here, Randall might have come gunning for all of you. You could have been killed, too, Sarah.”
“I know. And that’s hard to take, as well.”
“How did he find out? That she was leaving, I mean. Do you know?”
Sarah scooted back so that she was propped against the pillows and kicked off the sheet. “From what one of the guys at the garage told Jack, he overheard Clay telling Randall that he and Kathy were in love and that they were leaving. They got into an argument, and Randall threw a punch or two. Clay let him, and Randall left, headed for the bar.” She looked down at the counterpane bedspread, tracing its pattern with a fingertip. “The baby wasn’t Randall’s. Kathy told me when she was here Monday morning.”
Owen’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, geez. And Randall found out?”
“I guess so.” She tipped her head to the side. “She came to tell me that she’d seen you in London. And that you weren’t alone. Were you with
her
, Owen? The woman you had the relationship with?”
He grimaced, but he nodded. “I was, but not the way you think. I needed a ride into town, and Amy called Nora before I could stop her. Amy didn’t know about us. I couldn’t very well explain it to her in the kitchen. And after three years, I didn’t think it mattered. She’s their neighbor.”
“Did it matter to her?”
Owen studied his boots, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I got the feeling I wouldn’t be rebuked if I wanted to renew our acquaintance. I didn’t, though. I’m not interested in her or anyone else outside this room.”
Her chuckle was dry and rough, Sarah knew. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
He didn’t seem surprised. “I can understand why you’d think that. I’ve done badly by you, Sarah. I know that. I want to fix things.”
“And if you can’t? If things between us are irretrievably broken? What then?”
“I refuse to give up. It’s taken me a while to understand the whole picture, to realize what it means to make a full commitment. I wish I’d known a few weeks ago, but I didn’t.”
As much as she wanted to believe him, it was hard. She knew she wasn’t in the best frame of mind to make any sort of decision. While she hadn’t intended to discuss their relationship so soon, a question kept plaguing her. “Why? Why didn’t you call or write? For that matter, why are you here now, after so long?”
Owen stood and went to her chest of drawers. He picked up an envelope and brought it over to her before sitting back down on the bed. “I was afraid I’d get hurt. That’s the why. Plain and simple. No excuses. So I told myself I was too busy and that you’d understand why I wasn’t in contact. Plus, I didn’t think it would take quite so long to get back here. The phone line got taken out late last week by a wreck, Tad broke his arm, Eli ripped his stitches out, and I used all of that as an excuse to protect myself.”
Sarah set the letter aside. “Why’d you come back now?”
His mouth twisted in an annoyed grimace. “That letter. It was supposed to go out in the mail on Monday. Instead, it got waylaid by a fourteen-year-old who wanted to read a love letter. When she confessed this morning, I realized what I’d done by not contacting you. Then, when I got to the library and Shirley told me about Kathy…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” When they heard two car doors slam, Sarah glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “That’s probably Jack and Gilly. I should get dressed.” She looked at Owen, and it occurred to her that Jack probably wouldn’t take his presence in her bedroom very well, but before she could warn him, the front door opened.
“Sarah? We’re home.” Gilly was coming up the stairs. Sarah tried to nudge Owen off the bed, but he wouldn’t move.
Gilly came to a stop in the bedroom doorway and stared at Owen. “You shouldn’t be here.” She shot a worried glance over her shoulder. “Jack’s already talking about going up to your house to have a word or two. You are not his favorite person right now.”
“I’m not his favorite person on a good day.” Owen stood. “I’ll go face the music, see if he wants my help with the grass or what.” He touched the back of his hand to Sarah’s cheek and left.
Gilly leaned against the doorjamb, watching him go, then turned back to Sarah. “Are you going to let them sort it out themselves?”
Sarah went to the closet and pulled out her comfortable clothes. “Yes, I think I am. I’m not sure I’m ready or willing to forgive Owen yet, and if Jack doesn’t get the anger out of his system now, he might not ever. In the event that I do decide to forgive Owen and we end up married, they probably need to be over any grievances one or the other has first. Don’t you think?”
Gilly rubbed her hand over her face. “Yeah, makes sense. I just hope they don’t hurt each other too much. We’ve had enough of that this week.”