Letters from Owen

by T. L. Haddix

  I’m back now. John came to the door a few minutes ago just as I was on the verge of losing my mind, a well-timed godsend who needed a drink of water and a cuddle. He knows something isn’t right, beyond Mommy having a tummy ache. He’s picked up on our sadness, and he’s worried. I did my best to reassure him, and he’s here with me now, sound asleep in my arms as I write this.

  He’s such a good boy, Sarah. It’s so funny to see his personality developing so strongly, and Ben’s and Emma’s as well. They’re all three so different, so precious. This was their loss too, this brother or sister who wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he or she is a guardian angel to them now. Please tell me you believe that as much as I do.

  I hate like hell that this happened while we were here, at least so far as it concerns Kathy. She’s doing so much better these days, but she’s still fragile. Thank God she has Charles to lean on. I could tell it bothered her deeply, not being able to be here for you. I know you’re angry right now about that but that you also understand why she can’t be here. I hope with some rest you’ll be able to see that. If not, I’m certain once you regain your footing, you will.

  Maybe I shouldn’t bring those feelings up right now, but you and I have never held anything back from each other. I don’t want you to think I’m chastising you in any way. I understand your anger and even share it to some degree. You feel like, in some way, she put her children at risk and paid the ultimate price. You didn’t do a damned thing, and we lost this baby. I know—I feel that way too. It isn’t fair.

  And that’s the completely, utterly irrational side of grief. I hate myself for thinking that, and I can guess that you do as well. The terror and pure hell she went through, is still going through, and probably always will compared to this loss? As tragic as this was, it doesn’t hold a candle to what she must feel.

  This pain we now share is from our perspective, and it’s personal and deep, something only the two of us fully comprehend and understand. It’s as devastating to us in this moment as anything we’ve gone through. As hard as it may be, we should forgive ourselves for that emotional anger we feel, and we have to stay strong until it passes. Not for all the world do I want to hurt Kathy more, and I know you don’t either. This isn’t her fault. She doesn’t deserve our wrath.

  That begs the question: who does? I don’t like the answer your mother gave me earlier, and that was that no one does. How can I wrap my hands around this pain and squeeze the life out of it so that it doesn’t hurt so much if I can’t blame someone?

  I know you want to be home, but your mother thinks you should stay here for at least the rest of the week until you can go back to Dr. Sanderson to make sure things are all right. I want to be there too, my love, safe and sound in our home, surrounded by all the normalcy we can muster. We will make the trip as soon as we can, I promise you. For now, I’m glad we’re here with Eliza. I think you need her right now, more than you need me or maybe in different ways.

  I should close now. John’s restless, and I should try to get some sleep while you’re resting. But I don’t want to go without telling you how much I love you. I hope you realize, especially now, how very much you mean to me. How much I respect you and adore you and, yes, how much I admire you. You are still my Sarah Jane; this doesn’t change how I feel. It doesn’t change my love for you, my devotion to you and our family. I hope you feel the same way.

  I would have done almost anything to prevent you from having to go through this. I wish I’d had that choice. I don’t like feeling powerless. I don’t like not being able to keep you from harm. I feel like I’ve failed at my job. I hope you can forgive me for that.

  Love always,

  Owen

  The Big Fight

  Present Day

  Long after Sarah and the grandkids had gone to bed, night found Owen too restless to sleep. Moving quietly, he slipped through the house like a shadow, considering what he wanted to do.

  Insomnia had plagued him when he was younger, before he met Sarah. He’d had a lot of devils riding his back then, personal demons who’d dug in with deep claws. Being married hadn’t exactly gotten rid of all of them, but they’d mostly been banished, only appearing now and again. When that happened, he’d simply shift into the wolf he could become and go for a long run, making passes back by the house on a regular basis to make sure he wasn’t needed.

  Through the years, they’d had many sleepless nights as a couple, part of the ups and downs of raising children. Dealing with sickness, the turmoil of teenage years, worrying about their adult children…

  The sleeplessness of a parent didn’t really go away when the kids turned eighteen, he thought with a chuckle. It just became a different kind of worry. With few exceptions, he wouldn’t have changed any of that struggle, as it would have meant changing the present, and Owen very much treasured his present reality.

  Since he’d turned eighty a few years back, he’d not felt up to the job of letting his body shift into anything else. Though he was still spry, often amazing strangers who didn’t know his age, shifting took too much out of him these days, expending energy he wasn’t willing to waste anymore. Far from extending his life, as he’d felt the process had done in his younger days, his gut told him that trying now would shorten his allotment by precious days. Owen wasn’t willing to risk that. He had too much living yet to do to make that kind of capricious sacrifice.

  Instead, he settled for grabbing a glass of chocolate milk and a handful of the homemade cookies he’d stashed away where the kids couldn’t find them, then headed for his comfy rocking chair on the front porch. The moon was full tonight—probably the reason he was restless—and he would enjoy watching it rise over the mountains.

  He’d no sooner finished the cookies than he spied two figures walking back toward the house from the barn. One shorter, one tall; one light, one dark. Sadie and Colin. The youngest and the oldest of his baby Amelia’s children, they were both shape-shifters.

  Sadie was a silver wolf like Amelia. Colin, who was about as near a clone as he could be to his father, was a mountain lion in his animal form, also just like Logan. If the boy hadn’t had his mother’s blue eyes instead of his father’s green, they could have passed for twins, albeit of different ages.

  Owen could hear them laughing softly, and he watched Colin tug Sadie into a headlock. He also heard Colin grunt as she jabbed him and then danced away, and Owen chuckled softly. They had a good relationship, those two, similar to the one Amelia had with her own siblings. Amelia and Logan had done a good job with them, with all four of their children really—even though Sean tended to get a bit of a stick up his rump from time to time. That, Owen acknowledged with a sigh, was something he got straight from his father.

  They slowed when they reached the walk leading up to the porch and saw him.

  “Grandpa. Everything okay?” Colin asked.

  “Sure. I just wanted some fresh air. Did you two have a good run?”

  Colin slung his arm around Sadie, pulling her into another headlock. “Yeah, until this little brat decided to shove me into a big puddle with leeches and snapping turtles.”

  Sadie was laughing too hard to fight him, so she ended up leaning against him. “You’re such a chicken for a guy who spends so much time in the woods. Did you know that?”

  “Do you know how much those snapping turtles like my long tail?” Colin countered indignantly. “It hurts when they bite!”

  Owen laughed. “You have such a hard life, young man.”

  Colin grinned. “It’s sure tough. Go fix us a snack, brat.” He released Sadie with a gentle hair ruffle.

  She propped her hands on her hips. “Why, because I’m female?”

  “No, because you’re a brat and you owe me,” Colin said as he sank into the chair beside Owen. “And because I’m bigger than you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t be surprised when your sandwich has
worms or some such inside. Grandpa, do you want anything?” She picked up his empty dishes.

  “No, sweetheart, I’m fine, thanks.”

  Once she’d gone in and a faint light shone through the dining room window, indicating she was in the kitchen, Colin let out a low growl of frustration. “Sean’s been picking on her again. I’m going to have to do something about that.”

  Owen was aware that the kind of picking Colin and Luke did and the kind Sean handed out were vastly different. All the boys had tempers—Sadie did as well—but Sean’s tended to come out a bit more meanly than his brothers’. Sadie, although she tried to avoid him when he was brooding, had a penchant for setting him off.

  “What’d he do?”

  Colin shrugged. “He had something wrong with the driver’s window in his car, and when she told him she didn’t have time to work on it, he snubbed up. Sean tends to think that just because she’s a natural-born mechanic, she’ll work for free and on demand. Dad just about took his head off over it a couple of times last week. I think he’s counting the days until Sean leaves for college this fall, and Sean’s just as eager to go.”

  Owen knew Logan was struggling with butting heads with his youngest son. He’d expressed his frustration to his brother Archer and to Owen a couple of weeks ago after a family dinner at his and Amelia’s house in London.

  To Colin, Owen said, “Sometimes it takes distance—and a lot of it—to smooth a boy’s sharp edges down into a pattern that makes him fit better within the family. A young man oftentimes has to leave home in order to find himself.”

  Colin laughed softly. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Maybe I don’t look at Sean the way I should. Even though we work really well together on the videos and stuff, we’re not that much alike. Mom says he’s too similar to how Dad was before they got married, and if he doesn’t cool it, she’s going to take a skillet to his head. Says he has too much Gibson and not enough Campbell in him.”

  At twenty-three, Colin had only moved out of Logan and Amelia’s home last year, and even then, he’d just gone as far as an apartment over their detached garage. The funniest part of the whole thing was that Logan—who’d teased his son relentlessly for years with good-tempered frustration about his unwillingness to move out—had been devastated.

  “I’ll make sure she knows she can stay here as long as she needs to,” Owen said quietly as soft voices approached from inside the house. “That might help a bit.”

  Colin touched his shoulder. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  Sadie stepped out carrying Baby Owen, followed by Easton, who had a tray of food.

  “Look who’s awake,” she said.

  “How’s she doing?” Owen asked. He turned on the lamp beside him as Easton distributed the food. “Want me to take her while you eat?”

  “I can multitask,” Sadie said, grabbing half a sandwich. “She seems calm enough right now.”

  “She’s had several hours of sleep,” Easton said. “She didn’t make a peep from the time I put her down at eight until just a few minutes ago. I hope Noah and Sophie are getting some rest. He hasn’t texted me since ten, so maybe that means they’re knocked out. What are you doing up so late, Grandpa?”

  Owen stretched out his legs. “Enjoying my grandkids and the moonrise.” He held his hands out to Sadie, who was struggling to keep a curious Baby Owen away from her food. “You can take her back when you’re finished eating.”

  A few scant minutes passed before the door opened quietly. “Goodness, are we having a party?” Sarah came outside and took the chair Easton pulled over for her. “Thanks, sweetie. How long have you all been up?”

  “Not too long, at least some of us.” Owen touched her hand. “Did we wake you?”

  She kissed the back of his. “You know I don’t sleep well when you’re not with me. It’s fine.”

  “Aww, you two… you’re so cute.” Sadie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them, tucking into her food. “Did you re-read the letters?”

  “Some of them,” Owen replied. “There are a lot of memories in that old box.”

  “Good memories, right?” She licked her thumb. “Mm-mm. Peanut butter and jelly never gets old.”

  “Mostly good,” Sarah answered. “There are some sad times chronicled in those letters too.” Her hand tightened around Owen’s.

  He knew she was thinking about the point when they’d stopped reading earlier that evening—the letter he’d written to her after the miscarriage. Even fifty-some years later, it was still a painful time to consider.

  “There are also some embarrassing stories within those pages,” he said, hoping to lighten the burden. Shifting the baby to his other side, he dug into the pocket of his T-shirt and pulled out a folded paper. He handed it to Sarah. “Look what I found.”

  When she unfolded the note, he held his breath. It was a ridiculous poem he’d written her, one of the few he’d ever penned as he wasn’t good at that style of creative writing.

  She read it, tilted her head, and re-read it, then looked straight ahead with a single shake of her head. “Oh, my God. I’d forgotten about this.”

  “Don’t leave us curious cats in suspense for too long,” Colin said. “You know that’s dangerous.”

  Sarah’s laughter pealed out. “A little curiosity is good for you, silly boy. As to the story… I’m assuming by you bringing this out in front of all these lookie-lous, you’re okay with finally telling the tale?” she asked Owen.

  He shrugged. “Might as well. It’ll give them something to rib their folks about. None of your parents even know the story, you see.”

  “Yes, because your grandfather was so embarrassed by how hugely he lost his temper, he forbade any of us to tell it.” Sarah made a face at him. “I still can’t believe you did that. You could have been arrested, you know, you silly man.”

  Owen glowered at her. “Sarah Jane, I’d do the same thing tomorrow if presented with similar circumstances. Though I will admit I could have probably held my temper and my tongue more than I did.”

  She huffed. “I know you would. Well, go on. They’re all dying from curiosity.” A smile played around her lips, and he could swear her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

  Grumbling, more because he liked to tease her than because of any real aggravation, he passed the baby back to Sadie and reached for the note.

  “‘Roses are red, violets are blue, your husband’s no poet, but love you I do. Forgive me? O.’” He shook his head as they all chuckled. “Poetry is clearly not my strong point.”

  Sarah smiled at him. “No, but you have other redeeming qualities. Go on. Tell the tale.”

  He folded the note and started talking. “It was getting close to Valentine’s Day, 1967. We’d had a rough few months, and we were looking forward to spending a few days alone. Uncle Eli and Amy had come up to get the kids and take them back to London so we could have some time for us. We had John, Emma, and Ben at that point,” he said, lacing his fingers with Sarah’s.

  “What kind of rough months?” Easton asked quietly. “I didn’t think you two had ever had any trouble.”

  When Sarah nodded, Owen answered, “We didn’t, not the kind you mean. We lost a baby in sixty-six, when Sarah was just a couple of months along. It took the wind out of our sails for a bit, that’s all.”

  Words of sympathy came from all the kids.

  Sarah smiled at them, her glance tinged with sadness. “It was a long time ago, but thank you.”

  “Anyhow, to say our romantic vacation didn’t go as planned is a bit of an understatement.” Owen shook his head. “It went straight sideways on day one and all downhill from there.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “That’s not the way I remember it at all. And we did end up with Rachel a few months later, so I must not be imagining how things turned out.”

  To his consternation, Owen felt his cheeks hea
t as the kids snickered and “eww’d” in turn. “Woman, hush. You’re getting ahead of yourself.” But he kissed her hand and winked. “Now, where was I?”

  “Hopefully getting ready to tell us why you almost got arrested,” Easton said with a grin.

  “I didn’t almost get arrested. I could have been. There’s an important distinction there. But you’ll see what I mean.” Owen grinned. “It all started with a high-school crush…”

  February 10, 1967

  Owen Campbell was a man full of anticipation. For the next few days, for the first time in too long, he was going to have his wife all to himself. With their three children safely attended to by trusted family and with Sarah having a few days off from work at the library starting tomorrow, they had nothing planned except each other.

  The last few months had been reminiscent of the first few months of their marriage, when a painful loss had somewhat overshadowed their joy at being newly married. These next few days would be the first time since Sarah’s miscarriage that they’d had more than a few hours to themselves. Owen knew they were both very much looking forward to the privacy.

  With an empty house and nothing but time on his hands, he decided to head to town. He could indulge his genealogy habit at the library for a few hours, and maybe he could even take Sarah to lunch. He grabbed his work satchel and stuffed some notebooks and pencils inside, along with the charts of the particular lineages he was working on. Feeling like a man ready to pick up his girl and whisk her away, he even whistled a cheerily off-key tune as he headed for his truck.

  When he got to the library in downtown Hazard, he lucked out and grabbed one of the coveted spots directly behind the structure. It was still early, just past nine, and he hoped there wouldn’t be many people around this time of day. If the parking lot was any indication, he’d gotten his wish.

  As he walked through the tiny lot, he slowed to admire a cherry-red sports car with white trim. Owen had never been terribly interested in cars, but he had to admit, as he continued on past, that the sharp, sleek lines of the low-slung vehicle were impressive.