Letters from Owen

by T. L. Haddix

  “What do you have there, little bit?” he asked, hurrying the short distance over to Rachel, who was plucking something up off the ground.

  He reached her in time to see her yank up a clump of grass and lose her balance, making her plop down on her butt with a startled laugh. With wide blue eyes, she looked up at him, grinning, then promptly started eating the grass.

  “Rachel, no, that’s not food.” He hunkered down to take the grass, snorting wryly. “Well, most of the time it isn’t. Sometimes it is, if you’re a deer.”

  But Rachel wasn’t about to let go of her prize. Her hand tightened around the grass, and she screeched unhappily as he tried to make her let go. Pushing at him with her left hand, she glared at him, her bottom lip quivering. “No! Mine, Papa. Mine!”

  Trying to keep a straight face whilst in the middle of a tug-of-war with an eighteen-month-old over a clump of grass called for more restraint than Owen possessed. As he laughed, still gently pulling on the grass, Rachel only grew madder. Within a minute, she was in a full-on meltdown, inconsolable as she shrieked with disappointment. When she saw he wasn’t going to give, she let go of the grass and hit him with both hands.

  “Mine, Mama!” she sobbed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Whenever he disciplined her—which admittedly wasn’t often as she was a good baby—she always ran to Sarah for comfort.

  “Oh, now don’t even start that slapping,” he said softly as he stood with her in his arms. “You know better than to hit people, young lady. Come on. Let’s see where your mama is.”

  “What on earth are you doing to that baby?” a woman asked, then she laughed.

  Turning, Owen did a double-take when he saw who was standing behind him, then he cursed silently. He put on his game face, however, and greeted her. “I’m being the meanest daddy on the planet. Nora Caudill, how in blazes are you?”

  The very last person he’d expected or wanted to see, Nora was a former neighbor of Eli and Amy’s. She’d sold her farm and moved out to Somerset not long after Owen and Sarah married.

  More than a decade ago, when he was twenty-four and feeling utterly alone following his mother’s death a couple of years earlier, he’d worked for Nora, helping her out on her farm one summer. A widow who was a handful of years older than Owen, she’d been lonely and hurting as much as he was. For a few weeks, he’d also shared her bed. She was the only woman he’d ever been with besides Sarah.

  She smiled at him sweetly, all petite blond prettiness and light. “I’m doing well. I’m so sorry about Noah.”

  Owen ducked his head as he joined her on the edge of the parking lot. “Thank you.” Rachel hid her face in his shoulder, still crying softly. “I need to find Sarah.”

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?” Nora asked.

  “Of course not.” Liar. You just don’t want your chickens to come home to roost. Telling himself it was ridiculous to be afraid that Sarah would meet Nora, he fell into step beside her.

  “I wondered if I’d see you,” she said softly. “I’ve kept up with you some through the years with Amy. Is this your baby?”

  Owen rubbed Rachel’s back as she quieted to hiccups, half asleep now. “She is. This is Rachel. The other three are with Sarah’s brother and his wife in Georgia for vacation. Two boys and another girl,” he said before she could ask. “I hear you’re a mom now. Congratulations.”

  She blushed. “Thank you. Henry’s a blessing. He’s at a friend’s house here in town. He’s a rambunctious little guy, five years old and ready to conquer the world. I didn’t think bringing him here tonight would be a good idea.”

  Since Rachel had calmed down, Owen stopped. They were halfway back to the funeral home, just at the back of the last row of cars, and he struggled to find the right words to ask the question that had been plaguing him for years. “Who… where’d the name Henry come from? His father?”

  Nora’s smile was tinged with sadness. “No. He’s named for a sweet man who meant a lot to me a long time ago, someone who helped me get through a very bad spell. Unfortunately, Henry’s father isn’t in the picture.”

  “He’s named after me,” Owen said, staring at her. He hoped his dismay didn’t show.

  “Yes.”

  When Amy had pulled Owen aside five years ago to tell him about Nora’s new baby, she’d questioned him hard. “Why did she name that child after you? I know she did even though she won’t tell me yea or nay. I’ve not known her for fifteen years now and not learned when she’s hiding something.”

  He’d had to confess to his aunt then that he’d had a summer romance with Nora years before he and Sarah married. He’d also begged her not to mention the naming to Sarah as he knew that would upset his wife. He’d meant to tell her himself, but with how busy life had gotten, it had slipped his mind until a few minutes ago, when he’d turned around and seen Nora.

  She was studying him. “That bothers you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as anything other than respect.”

  “It makes me a bit uncomfortable,” he admitted.

  She frowned. “Best I recall, you hate that name. I always liked it, but you hated it.”

  He shifted Rachel. “I do hate it. Henry’s never who I was, who I wanted to be. It’s none of my business what you named him. I’m glad you have him, truly.”

  “So am I. Everything changed for the better once he arrived. I’ve never been happier.” But a lingering sadness in her eyes belied her words. “Speaking of happy—you are. It’s written all over you. I never pegged you for a family man, but it seems to suit you.”

  Smoothing his hand over Rachel’s back, he nodded. “They’re my world, Sarah and the kids. It’s that simple.”

  “Hmmm, it shows. She’s a lucky woman.”

  Owen smiled. “I’m the lucky one. She’s a saint.”

  Nora twisted the bracelet she wore. “I think I’ll head on inside, see if I can find Amy. I parked and saw you back there, and I wanted to say hello. It was good to see you again, though not under these circumstances.”

  “And you. I’m going to stay out here since she’s gone to sleep,” Owen said, his voice low. “Take care of yourself, Nora.”

  She smiled and lifted her chin. “I will. You do the same.”

  As he watched her walk away, he sighed and leaned against the car he’d stopped beside. The realization that, if Fate had twisted differently, he could have ended up with Nora instead of Sarah was jarring. While times were changing and society was in the midst of a sexual revolution, Owen still felt as though sex and intimacy were sacred things to be shared between people who loved one another.

  He wasn’t proud of his relationship with Nora. They’d caught each other in a moment of weakness and pain. If not for that, he’d never have touched her. Back then, he’d not expected ever to have the kind of relationship he had with Sarah. He’d not thought himself worthy of such. So when Nora had approached him, when he’d let himself be seduced, he’d never expected anything to come of it. She hadn’t either, or so she’d said.

  Owen was the kind of man who if he were to get a woman pregnant, would marry her. He had never been more aware of how large a bullet he’d dodged, standing in a darkening parking lot with his precious daughter sound asleep on his shoulder. But for the grace of God, he could have been married to Nora. John, Emma, Ben, and Rachel wouldn’t exist. He’d never have fallen in love with Sarah. The life they’d built—the life that meant everything to him—wouldn’t exist.

  Even though he’d been with Nora years before he’d formally met Sarah, he felt ashamed. That something he’d done when he was young and stupid and hurting could have had such a huge impact on his life shook him.

  It wasn’t that Nora wasn’t a nice person. She was—Owen really liked her and had a lot of respect for her. Affection, even. But she wasn’t Sarah. She wasn’t his world.

  “I hope to God you kids are smarter tha
n me,” he told Rachel, laying his head on hers and closing his eyes. “If your mother and I can raise you so that you understand how precious this life is—what we have—I’ll be satisfied that we’ve done a good job.”

  Though he hated to take her inside and risk waking her, he also didn’t want to run the risk of Sarah meeting Nora. He didn’t know if he could stop it from happening, but he needed to try. He sighed as he acknowledged that he and Sarah were going to have to have a talk about Nora’s son’s name.

  “I should have told her years ago, little bit. Let’s hope that decision doesn’t come back to haunt me now.”

  Four

  Sarah hadn’t seen Owen and Rachel for a little while. As she stood sipping water in the funeral home’s small lounge, she leaned against the counter, weary to her bones. If she knew her husband, he’d escaped for some time alone—at least she hoped he had. Though she’d been looking forward to the visit with her family in Georgia, she was seriously considering asking Owen to take them home to Firefly Hollow tomorrow.

  They could go down to Savannah later in the summer maybe or even at Thanksgiving. For right now, Owen’s well-being was more important than what they’d had planned. Though he was handling the stress of Noah’s loss well enough, Sarah fully expected him to fall apart once all the responsibilities surrounding the funeral were done. The safest place for him to do that was the mountain they called home. Simply put, he needed to be able to run. He couldn’t do that at the beach.

  She was straightening up the counter, getting ready to go looking for Owen and Rachel, when a smartly dressed blonde stepped inside the room. With a shy smile, she nodded at Sarah.

  Sarah returned the nod politely as she headed for the door.

  “You’re Owen’s Sarah, aren’t you?”

  Stopping, Sarah tilted her head. “I am. I’m sorry—do I know you? I’ve met so many people the last few days I barely know my own name.”

  The blonde tightened her fingers around the clutch purse she held. “We’ve never met, no. I’m Nora Caudill. I used to own the farm just down the road from Eli and Amy.”

  Sarah automatically shook the hand Nora offered, before her words had a chance to register. When they did, she simply stared at the woman, lost for words. “Oh. How do you do?”

  That Nora. That neighbor. For an instant, Sarah thought she was going to be sick. Telling herself to suck it up like the adult she was, she figuratively straightened her spine even as the pain slapped her.

  Every move Nora made was ladylike, feminine, and delicate in a way that made Sarah feel like a bumbling hulk. Even her handshake was soft and girlish, not firm and steady like Sarah’s. As Sarah watched the woman her husband had been with before her, it struck her that Nora Caudill was the polar opposite of her in nearly every way. She didn’t know what to think about that.

  “Your little girl looks just like you,” Nora said. “I ran into Owen in the parking lot a few minutes ago. He’s… not the same man I knew all those years ago.”

  “Excuse me?” Sarah didn’t know how to respond. She was tired, emotionally and physically, and she’d simply not been prepared for this meeting. A hundred years wouldn’t have prepared her for this meeting.

  Nora blushed—delicately, of course—and waved. “I’m sorry. I’m not handling this well. I didn’t seek you out to cause trouble, truly. It’s just that seeing Owen the way he is now, I wanted to meet you. I hardly recognized him, he’s changed so much in temperament. I’m afraid my curiosity got the best of me.”

  Clasping her hands at her waist, Sarah struggled to keep her countenance neutral. As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, the jealousy bug had bitten her hard. “How do you mean?”

  Nora laid her purse on the table and laced her fingers together, then shrugged and gestured wide. “He was so angry when I knew him, very untouchable.”

  Sarah snorted. “Not from what I’ve heard.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean sex,” the other woman said, her voice low. She fluttered her hand again. “Emotionally, he was isolated. Even as… intimate as we were, he never let me in. He didn’t have that kind of sentiment in him, not then, even though he was kind. He never would have been able to let anyone in, I thought. But tonight, the man I saw—he’s happy. He’s at peace in a way he never was when I knew him.” She sighed. “So I wanted to meet you, to make sure you understand how significant a difference you’ve made. Owen always deserved more than he felt like he did. I could read that on him plain as day back then. I’m happy that he has that, that he has you. He lights up when he talks about you, you know. That’s all I wanted to say.”

  Sarah exhaled slowly through her nose, pressing her lips together. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Nora’s smile was sad. “In a way, yes. I knew even then he wasn’t meant for me. I’m glad he was meant for someone.”

  Clearing her throat, Sarah glanced toward the door to make sure no one was near. “You could have made a play for him back then.”

  “No. Oh, I won’t lie and say I didn’t consider it. When he came to help after Eli and Amy’s house burned down, he’d changed—I saw that. The thought did enter my mind then that I should try. But he mentioned you, and I knew I never stood a chance.”

  It was Nora’s turn to clear her throat. “The thing is I loved my husband with all my heart. It nearly killed me when he died. I knew I’d never have that kind of love with Owen, and I wasn’t willing to settle for less—especially once it became clear that he was utterly enamored of you. I’ll admit I was jealous. I think most any woman who knew Owen would be. But it wasn’t meant for us. Seeing him tonight, I understand exactly how wrong we would have been for each other.”

  “I suppose I can appreciate that,” Sarah said slowly. “This isn’t very comfortable for me.”

  “I know. For me either,” Nora admitted.

  As they stared at each other, the absurdity of the situation struck Sarah, and she chuckled. “Of all the times I’ve thought about meeting you, this isn’t how I’d imagined our conversation would go.”

  Nora grimaced. “Me either. I was half afraid to approach you. The last thing I wanted was to upset you, especially now. But my dratted curiosity… well, it always has gotten me into trouble.” She smiled. “In another life, I think we could have been fast friends, Sarah Campbell.”

  Sarah nodded. “But not this one.”

  “No, not this one.”

  Nora extended her hand again, and this time, Sarah took it and held it. They didn’t say anything else, just studied each other for a long, long minute, then Nora left.

  “Well. Now you know,” Sarah murmured as she wrapped her arms around herself, giving the other woman a good lead before leaving the room. As cathartic as the meeting had been, she had no desire ever to lay eyes on Nora Caudill again.

  Sarah was secure in her marriage, confident without being cocky that she held Owen’s love and affection. Even so, she didn’t like the reminder that there had been someone before her, that someone else had done with Owen things that Sarah considered sacred. She didn’t care one whit for what the new, modern woman was “supposed” to think about sex—the only thing that mattered to her was how she and how Owen felt.

  She ran into him in the hall outside the lounge, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him carrying a sleeping Rachel. He looked tired, his cheeks shadowed with a beard even though he’d shaved that afternoon before they came to the funeral home. His hair was mussed, probably from where he’d run his hands through it, and his shirt wasn’t as crisp as it had been earlier. But he was so handsome and so dear to her it almost hurt to look at him.

  Nora’s words about losing her husband came back to Sarah, and she said an extra prayer of thanks as she slid her arm around Owen’s waist.

  “Looks like we need to get this little one to bed,” she said softly, touching Rachel’s curled-up hand then his shirt underneath. “Ar
e those grass stains?”

  To her surprise, Owen’s lips turned up and amusement lit his eyes. “They are. Your daughter threw a holy fit because I wouldn’t let her eat grass.” He spoke in a voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry. “She may look like you, but I’m starting to wonder if she doesn’t take after me in certain ways too.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “You mean… oh, my. That would be something else, wouldn’t it?” She tightened her arm around him. “Our little fawn.”

  “Time will tell.” He sighed. “I spoke to Jolene—she said for us to get out of here and get some rest. She’s going to try to get Eli and Amy to go home, and she figures she’ll have better luck with that if fewer people are here. It’s still a madhouse up front in the chapel, where they are. Jolene and Trent are working to clear it out.”

  “All right. I’m ready to go when you are. Want me to take Rachel?”

  “Nah, I have her.”

  Trent met them at the front door. “You’re heading out? Good. Dad’s about to throw everybody out. Mom’s on the verge of collapse.”

  Sarah glanced at Owen, concerned. “Do you need our help?”

  Trent shook his head and gave her a quick hug. “I think we can handle it. Get this little one back to the motel and rest. I’ll call later tonight and let you know if anything comes up.”

  Since the family houses were full of people from out of town who weren’t necessarily able to afford a room, Sarah and Owen had decided to stay in a motel fifteen minutes away from Eli and Amy’s place. The motel was just a little ways up the road from the funeral home, so they were inside their room in under five minutes. As Sarah got Rachel ready for bed, Owen braced his hands against the closed door.

  “Do you want me to go to the restaurant next door, get us some supper?” he asked without turning.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate that.” She finished with Rachel, covering her with a light blanket, then crossed to where he stood. When she ran her hands up his back, he sighed and turned, pulling her into him as he leaned against the door. “How can I help? Please tell me.”