“Tally, I love you more than you can ever understand.”
“I know, Mom.”
24
Addison had managed more than a month of skipping church for the sake of Caleb’s care, but her pardon had come to an end.
She rolled over on the full-sized mattress, rubbing the spot where her hip pressed into a spring all night. Caleb had promised to bring their queen-sized bed with the pillow-top mattress into the house, but then the accident happened. Somewhere out in the shed, her perfectly delicious night’s sleep sat in storage while she fought the canyon that pulled her body into Caleb’s all night.
She’d managed to wake up with a stiff back, a dull headache, and the scent of coffee and bacon in the air . . . and no Caleb. He’d somehow succeeded in getting out of the squeaky bed and out of the room on crutches without waking her. Not even Howard’s crowing at half past nowhere-near-time-to-wake-up had roused her enough to open her eyes. Maybe country life was sinking in.
She scratched her toenail along the rough edge of the floor plank while a grumble of rebellion worked its way up her throat.
No, she wouldn’t become bitter like her mother. This was the phrase she’d been repeating internally since she was Hannah’s age, long before she truly understood what bitterness was. Back then, she’d heard people use the word to describe her mom. That was enough. Whatever it meant, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Straightening, Addison shook her arms and slipped her feet into a pair of Caleb’s too-big slippers. She was blessed to have three healthy children and a husband who had lived through a horrific accident and would soon be back to building her a beautiful home at the end of this gorgeous farm.
Her attitude would be far better with enough sleep. Wiping the last remains of slumber from her eyes, Addison headed out of the room and toward the waiting day.
In the kitchen, she found Hannah, a book in one hand and a piece of bacon in the other, sitting at the table, her gaze glued to her story.
Caroline rinsed a plate and balanced it in the dish rack while a perfectly good dishwasher, a gift from Addison and Caleb last Christmas, sat unused. She turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“Later than anyone else, it appears.” From the window, Addison watched Lilly twirling from the tire swing while Connor picked at a piece of bark. She turned and ruffled Hannah’s hair, then placed a kiss on top of her head.
“That’s good for you. Moving is exhausting. Can I get you an egg?”
“I don’t think I can blame the move any longer. We’ve been here over a month already.” Addison’s stomach wobbled, a victim of her growing anxiety. “No thank you to breakfast. I think coffee is enough this morning.” She pulled down a mug with a scripture scrolled across the front. “Are you sure it’s okay we’re here? We could rent a place close by if it would be easier for you.”
“Nothing doing. I can handle a few kids, and you and Caleb too. No biggie.” Caroline pulled a pan back onto the burner, turned on the gas heat, and cracked two eggs, dropping them onto the cast-iron surface. “It’s a pleasure to have noise in this house again.” She sounded like the loving mother-in-law Addison had looked up to.
Please don’t let her slip away.
The warm scent of sourdough toasting filled the room, making Addison regret her decision to skip breakfast.
“Tell me again.” Caroline flipped the eggs over like a culinary professional. “When do you expect to be done with the new house?”
Addison tucked a strand of untamed hair behind her ear. “Late fall was the original plan, but with Caleb laid up and all . . . plus you know how construction is.” She pulled a carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator door and poured a long stream into her coffee, then slid into the seat next to Hannah.
“Here you go.” Caroline placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Addison. A kindness, though probably laced with either control or forgetfulness. But what a luxury . . . to be cared for.
Just as she took the first bite, she heard a piercing scream from outside. Addison jumped to her feet.
Lilly pounded up the steps and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Connor ran me right into the tree.”
Addison held her back and pulled the hand away from her temple. Light scrapes lined her face along her cheekbone. “I’m sorry. Should we get you all cleaned up before heading out to church?”
“Yes. And I think you should punish him.” She pressed her tiny hands into her hips, her lips forming a straight line. “I don’t understand why God made boys. They’re horrible.”
“Hey now.” Caleb’s voice boomed through the room, finally sounding like it had before the accident. “I’m a boy.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. You’re okay.” She left Addison and flung her arms around Caleb’s good leg. “I’m just dealing with my feelings.”
“Huh. That’s a new one. Where’d you learn that?”
“Miss Brianne told me it’s okay to have feelings as long as you deal with them right. She knows a lot for someone without kids.”
Addison nodded. “She sure does.”
Connor slammed the door. “I don’t know what she’s telling you, but I didn’t do anything wrong. She’s been nagging me all morning to push her. You take a risk when you sit in a tire swing.”
Caleb’s eyebrows rose. “And she’s a little girl, so you should know not to push her too high.”
Connor tipped his head back, his mouth wide open, and moaned, “I’m sorry.” His tone contradicted his words.
“It’s time to load up for church.” Caleb placed a hand on Addison’s shoulder. “I really need this today.” His eyes said more than his words ever could. Caleb Kilbourn was still hurt deeper than any of his physical injuries. He needed healing a doctor could not provide.
A HEADACHE THROBBED behind Addison’s eyebrows as she pulled their green minivan into the parking lot of her husband’s childhood church. It’s not that she didn’t believe in God. She did. In fact, God was one of the only things she was certain of. Church was the struggle.
As if wrestling three children into clean and appropriate clothing wasn’t enough, it was followed by an hour of keeping them quiet and seated or face the piercing eyes of disapproving people. A dramatic dum-dum-dum played in her head. It was a no-win situation for a mom who couldn’t even get a meal on the table without something having gone cold while another dish burned.
“Oh look.” Caroline pointed to someone entering the church. “That’s the sweet young woman from down the lane.” She tapped her forehead. “I can’t come up with her name right now, but she’s a treasure. She brought some of her homemade strawberry jam a couple weeks ago. It was as good as my own.”
“Brianne,” Addison said.
“What?” Caroline cocked her head.
“That’s the woman’s name. Brianne. She had lunch with us a few days ago.”
“No. I think it’s Diane or Luann.”
Addison’s mouth hung wide open. Caroline had known Brianne most of her life. She was the only friend Addison had made in West Crow, and with the constant work of keeping her kids from killing themselves on the farm, helping Caleb heal, and being sure Caroline didn’t bring the place crashing down, Brianne had been a frequent presence lately.
Lilly slid open the van door and popped out, almost running into the car parked beside them. “Come on, Mom. I want to see if any of my friends from school are here this time.”
Caleb used his arms to set his casted leg on the gravel, then adjusted his crutches. “It’s not real likely, kid.” He gave Lilly a wink. “Most people here live in West Crow.”
Her smile faded.
“But you’re so sweet, you’ll have a ton of new friends by the time school starts, too many to count.”
“Daddy, you’re crazy.” She stepped between his crutch and good leg and reached up to squeeze his face between her hands. “But I love you a bunch.”
Caleb formed fish lips and kisse
d her nose, making Lilly burst into laughter.
“Let’s not get her all wound up before we even get inside.” Addison pulled her daughter into her arms, kissed her forehead, then took Lilly’s hand and led them all toward church. A look back at Connor caught a glimpse of a tablet being pushed under his buttoned-up church shirt. “No way.” Addison held out her hand, tipping her head to make her seriousness clear. “Hand it over.”
“What?” Connor’s mouth turned down as his eyes widened into a not-me stare.
“You know exactly what.” Addison leveled her hand in front of him and tapped the toe of her pinching pumps into the parking lot.
“Ah, come on.” He tugged the device free, leaving his hem hanging half out.
Before Addison could say anything about that, Caleb gently touched her elbow, refocusing her on the door.
“I can’t believe he tried that,” Addison whispered next to her husband.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.” Caleb smirked. “The kid is a genius.”
She shook her head. “Would you feel the same way if Hannah snuck a book in under her shirt?”
He didn’t have a response for that.
At the door, Caleb and Addison waited to enter until the rest of the family caught up. Caroline and Hannah seemed to be deep in conversation, which slowed their pace.
The doors opened, and Jeff Delmar, with his round belly and even rounder cheeks, thrust a hand toward Caleb. “Hey, buddy. Finally back upright, huh? You’re looking a whole lot better than the last time I saw you.”
While balancing the crutches, Caleb grabbed the extended hand like a boxer claiming his win. “I’m coming along. Still throwing your pole in the water along with the hook?”
“You bet. And I’m counting on you joining me as soon as you can toss those crutches.” The man’s deep chuckle was swiftly followed by a soft slap on Caleb’s back.
“Now, Jeff Delmar, you settle down.” Caroline stepped up and poked a finger in the towering man’s gut. “This is not the place for roughhousing, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His circular cheeks flamed red. “Caleb, I sure am sorry you’re going through this.” He stood back and held the door as they entered.
Caleb’s face flushed. He looked Addison square in the eyes as he muttered, “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“He was out of town.” She kept her tone hushed. They didn’t need every churchgoer in the neighborhood privy to their challenges. And there was no reason to go over the same information again.
Caleb shook his head. “If I could tell you why, I would.”
She held her hands up. This wasn’t the place or time to try to find the missing pieces of that night.
The foyer smelled of scorched coffee and flowers. People milled about, concentrating at two tables where blank stickers were laid out with felt pens.
Caroline leaned close. “It’s name-tag Sunday. When I was younger, I despised this, but now it’s my favorite. Names just don’t stick in my noggin the way they used to.” She nudged her elbow gently into Addison’s side.
From what Addison had observed, it didn’t seem like much was sticking in Caroline’s noggin these days. Hopefully her appointment with the doctor would help Caleb to see what Addison was seeing.
A woman with a name tag that read Tawny stood at the entrance to the sanctuary. As they approached, her eyes went wide, her gaze at an angle. “Addison,” she said without a look at Addison’s name tag as she handed her a bulletin. “Good to see you here.” The chill in Tawny’s voice was enough to warrant a sweater.
“Thanks.” Addison took the paper, her mind jumping back into the loop she couldn’t avoid for long. Everyone she came into contact with felt like a threat to her family. Every situation seemed dangerous. Addison’s lungs tightened as she struggled to remember if she’d ever met Tawny before.
They moved forward to the row Caroline had shared with her family for decades, all but Addison seemingly unaware of the eyes boring into them.
Her heart raced and her legs ached to run from the building, but this was a church, a place where people were supposed to be welcomed, accepted, loved. Could it be her imagination? Maybe the lack of sleep was making her paranoid. Or the worst of all possibilities, maybe she was slipping into whatever mental illness had taken her mother. She’d read about how stress could trigger imbalances.
Addison placed a hand over her chest and felt the pounding behind her rib cage.
“Hey. Do you mind if I sit with you?” Brianne put a hand on Addison’s shoulder.
“I am so glad to see you. Please do.” Addison motioned for Brianne to join her. “Do you know Tawny?”
Brianne nodded. “She’s hard not to notice.”
“Should I know her?”
“Maybe. She works at the high school.”
Addison clasped her hands together. She was paranoid. Of course they’d met before.
A man on the other side of the sanctuary made eye contact with Brianne, and her face flushed pink.
“Who’s that?” Addison nudged Brianne.
“Seth Wallace. The deputy who came to your house.” She dropped her gaze to the bulletin in her lap.
Addison looked again. She didn’t recognize the man without his uniform. “I didn’t know he went to church here.”
“He doesn’t. Usually.” She fiddled nervously with her loose hair. “I think he goes to Grace.”
“It seems you know him better than I thought.”
“He was a good friend of my brother’s.” Brianne stared at the pages of calendar items and nursery needs.
The music started up, and Caleb set his hand on Addison’s knee. For a moment, she let herself remember those first moments together when the thought of him looking at her had put a blush on her cheeks. Where had the time gone?
25
Brianne took advantage of the quiet Sunday afternoon to skim the books still packed away in boxes and stored in one of the spare rooms. Directly after Amanda’s death, Brianne dove into research on the causes of suicide in young teens. Now that she’d watched all the DVDs once more, she could see Amanda’s hesitation, the way she looked to her mother for the right answers. That, along with the letter, was enough for Brianne to face facts: She’d made a horrible mistake.
She pulled out another stack of books, looking for two in particular. One had been written by an FBI expert on how to detect lying. The other was about the formation of false memories.
At the bottom, she found one of the two, the book on deception. She flipped through the pages, cringing at her notes, which documented signs she should have or could have noticed in Amanda’s mother. Signs she could see in the videos now but had missed in real time.
Back then, she had believed that a child would never lie about abuse. What she hadn’t counted on was the even stronger desire children have to please their parents. When pushed to believe something had occurred, Amanda had only two choices: She could have disagreed with her mother and faced the disappointment of the most important person in her life, or she could believe her mother was telling her something that was true. Eventually, that story had become part of her memory and her reality—even though the event had never occurred.
Brianne pushed the heavy box against the wall and tugged the tape off the next one. Cardboard fibers drifted into the air. Book after book about the mind of a child, reconciliation of the family, healthy relationships—she’d studied all of these, highlighting as she went, preparing for a career that, it turned out, a college education couldn’t completely prepare for.
It was possible that Caleb was telling the truth and he really didn’t remember the events of that day or the two weeks before. But what if Addison’s fears weren’t unfounded? How could she ever be sure? And even if he had told the truth, would he find it hard to trust his memories if they did return?
The one thing Brianne knew for sure was that memories had a way of lying to people. She thought about the last time she had been with both her
brother and cousin at Thanksgiving. Craig and Riley were talking about the year Riley had joined the family on a vacation to Yellowstone. Craig remembered being hungry and hoping Dad would catch a fish after a bear had eaten the family’s food supply. Riley remembered it raining through the tent. Mom said it had been a squirrel, they’d had plenty of food, and Riley had wet the bed. Three different recollections, probably none of them fully correct.
She stood and placed the FBI agent’s book on the empty bookshelf. This was more of an investment in her own memory than Brianne was ready to handle. She nudged the sleeping dog curled up on top of her tennis shoe. “Come on, Chester, let’s get out of the house.”
The dog went from sleeping to running around in circles in under ten seconds.
Brianne slipped her feet into fuchsia flip-flops near the front door. Movement caught her eye through the picture window. She peered closer and caught a glimpse of Hannah walking near Brianne’s fence, a book in front of her face.
Brianne had been that kind of girl, lost in another world, hoping her future would play out like a story line in a fantasy novel. But instead she’d trudged through the plot of a psychological thriller with no romantic thread to ease the tension. It turned out she didn’t have the heart for that much conflict and suspense.
If her story were playing out in a book now, no one would read past the first chapter.
Brianne ran her fingers down her face. For a second, she caught herself giving a therapist’s evaluation of her life. And she didn’t like the thoughts that sprang to her mind. Was she hiding? Was it possible that Brianne was like so many women she’d counseled who had experienced trauma and then tucked into themselves, afraid of the next thing the world might throw at them?
Brianne knew better than to get stuck in an unhealthy coping pattern. She was trained, educated. And she hadn’t been the one traumatized. If anything, she had taken part in the abuse by missing the signs.
Brianne opened the door, letting the fresh summer air wash into her stale living room. “Hannah?”
More Than We Remember Page 16
