by T. L. Haddix
“This helps,” he said, holding her close. “This is everything.”
Sarah rested against him, absorbing his feel and his scent. “Yes, it is. I met Nora.” She hadn’t meant to break it to him quite like that and especially now, but the words had slipped out.
Owen tensed, his hands freezing on her back. “You did?”
If they hadn’t been so tired, if the situation had been different, she would have laughed at the distress in his voice. Instead, she raised her head and met his wary gaze. “I did. She seems nice.”
He swallowed. “She is. Sarah…”
She shook her head and traced the stubble on his cheeks. “I’m not upset. I just wanted you to know.”
“All right.”
His confusion at her non-anger tugged at her heart. With a soft laugh, she kissed him. “We will talk about her, but not right now. Why don’t you get us some food, and I’ll watch our little grass-eater?”
Owen kissed her fiercely. “Okay. Any requests?”
“Something hot and hearty.”
After he left, she got undressed. It felt good to get out of the full slip and hose and into a soft, loose cotton nightgown, to wash her face and arms and wipe away the sweat of the evening. The room had air-conditioning, and while it was loud, it felt so good after the heat of the funeral home, it was worth the noise. Sarah stretched out on the bed, happy to be off her feet.
Thinking about what Nora had told her, she couldn’t help but wonder what Owen’s relationship with the woman had been like. Angry and untouchable, holding himself apart… Sarah was familiar with that side of him. It had taken several years for his insecurity to fade, and she still saw elements of it from time to time—the night they’d learned of Noah’s death, after Owen had taken her so roughly on the porch, for example.
There was some truth to the fear he’d expressed—that she wouldn’t stop him if he needed her. She’d been pondering that ever since he’d made that accusation. As soon as they reached a point where they could spend some time alone with each other, she intended to sit him down and have a frank conversation. First, however, she had to figure out the words that would make him understand.
From the first time they’d been intimate, his need had spoken to something in her. As much as his touches set her ablaze, whether a slow burn or a flash of something hotter than the sun, his need for her was every bit as arousing as what he did to her physically. Through nine years of marriage, they’d neither one been shy about exploring the other, and their lovemaking had varied from sweet and gentle to the kind of raw, love-driven lust that had occurred on the porch.
What Sarah found herself dwelling on now was the latter. Nora’s words haunted her but not for the reason one might suspect. No, Sarah was concerned that in an effort not to hurt her, Owen had been holding back a part of himself, that he only let that angry side out when he couldn’t manage to keep up his emotional walls.
She sighed heavily and scrubbed her face with her hands. “As soon as we can, husband, you and I are going to have a long conversation. I know you love me. I just need to know that it’s enough.”
Five
Though Owen had protested, Sarah had insisted they head back to Firefly Hollow after the funeral.
“We need to go home,” she’d said that morning as she straightened his tie in the motel room. “Georgia can wait.”
“If this is about me… Rachel, stop it.” He leveled a warning look on the baby, who was using her bed as a trampoline. With a happy giggle, she flopped down on her back, grinning at him. “Anyhow, as I was saying—if us going home is about me, I’m fine with heading south.”
“Yes and no.” Sarah smoothed down the tie and pinned it to his shirt. “I need and want to go home too.”
He studied her. She did look tired—hardly a surprise given how stressful and hectic the last few days had been. “I’ll take you home on one condition, madam—tomorrow or Wednesday, once we’ve had a chance to catch our breath, we’ll re-evaluate. Is that a fair compromise?”
“More than,” she answered with a wink.
They weren’t able to leave London until after four o’clock that afternoon. As they took the back way in, going across a remote mountaintop road in Leslie County that led into Mason’s Creek—which came out only a few miles from home along the river—conversation lulled. Rachel was asleep on the seat between them, her head on Sarah’s lap.
“Are you angry?” Owen asked quietly.
Sarah frowned. “No. Why in the world would you think that?”
He shot her a look as he slowed to let three chickens cross the dusty road in front of them. “Nora.”
“Oh. No, I’m not angry about that or anything else. That doesn’t mean I ever want to lay eyes on her again,” she said dryly.
Owen had thought she surely would be, unless… “Did she tell you about her son?”
Shifting, she stretched her arm and traced the cuff of his short-sleeved shirt. “No. I didn’t know she had kids.”
“Kid, singular. He’s five.” Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, he blew out a harsh breath and hoped he wouldn’t wreck his marriage with the confession. “She named him Henry.”
Even though he wasn’t looking directly at her, what with having his eyes on the road, he could tell Sarah had gone perfectly still. He glanced at her. “I’m not pleased by that, and there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.”
“How long have you known?” she asked quietly. She pulled her hand back, resting it on Rachel’s arm.
They were at the top of the mountain near a wide spot, and since there was no traffic coming either way or any houses nearby, Owen pulled over and parked. They’d have privacy to talk for several minutes, in all likelihood, as the road wasn’t heavily traveled. Facing her was difficult, but he did. “Amy told me when he was born. I meant to tell you then, but a thousand and one things happened, and it slipped my mind. It simply wasn’t important.”
Sarah’s voice was soft—too soft—when she spoke. “Your former lover had a child and named him after you, and it wasn’t important for me to know that? I beg to differ.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, cursing himself for what had to be the hundredth time since last night. “I swear to you I didn’t try to hide this. It really, truly didn’t matter to me, and then as soon as I saw her last night, I remembered and I knew I’d made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“I need a minute.” Easing out from under Rachel, Sarah got out of the car and walked to the edge of the grass beside the road. Her spine was rigid, and Owen could see the tension coming off of her even at that distance.
Sitting there, giving her the space she needed, was about as painful as anything he’d endured. When she walked on down the road slowly, he cursed and got out. Rachel was sound asleep, the car was safely to the side of the road, and they’d be right there.
“Who the hell does that?” she asked as he approached. She propped her hands on her hips and glared at a clump of weeds with such irritation Owen was surprised it didn’t burst into flames. “Why didn’t she name him after his father? Damn it, Owen.”
As she meandered farther along, he spread his hands, nearly falling to his knees with relief that she didn’t think the boy was his. “I guess from what she said, he’s not in the picture. At least she didn’t name him Owen.” When she turned the glare onto him, he winced. “Or maybe that’s not any consolation. Sorry.”
After a minute, she walked back to him. Grasping his shirt, she tightened her fingers into fists and tugged. “You know, if I didn’t trust you implicitly… oooh, that’s so infuriating! I’m glad I didn’t know last night. I might well have punched her. And what’s with her, anyhow? I didn’t know you liked blondes.”
Owen blinked at her, lost for words. “I don’t.”
Her eyebrows clashed together as she scoffed. “Apparently you did well enoug
h at one point in time.”
As much as he’d have loved to blame his flaming hot cheeks on the strength of the sun, he knew better—he was mortified. “She didn’t remind me of you, and at that point, that’s what I needed. Even though I’d only seen you once after you turned eighteen, you haunted me. She’s nothing like you. So… yeah. It’s the best explanation I have.”
Sarah’s sigh was rough, and she leaned into him briefly. “I’m not… I thought I’d accepted that part of your past a long time ago. Apparently I’m a jealous wife. We have an audience. We’ll finish this later.”
Owen wanted to protest, but since their audience was only eighteen months old and was trying to climb out of the car, he had to let it go.
It didn’t take them long to make it home after that. As bad as he felt about not heading to Georgia, Owen had to admit he was glad to see the farmhouse. They’d stopped at the grocery store near the mouth of the holler to get a few pantry staples as they’d used those up in preparation of being away for an extended period.
Since Rachel had napped most of the drive home, she was ready to run wild. Once Sarah had gotten her something to eat, they went out onto the porch and gave Rachel her freedom in the yard.
Sarah sank down onto the porch steps with a groan. “It’s good to be home.”
Owen sat beside her. “It is.”
She laced her fingers with his, playing with his wedding band. “What you had with her… I don’t think it about that much—or I try not to is probably more accurate to say. Truly, until last night, I’d not given her another thought for ages. And I don’t like dwelling on that time. I don’t care if that isn’t mature of me. That said, I know it doesn’t have anything to do with us, okay?”
Owen met her eyes. “Good, because it doesn’t. What that was, what we have, there’s no comparison.”
She placed her fingers over his lips. “I do have concerns though, and I don’t want you to brush me off or try to spare my feelings when I ask you some questions which I need answered. Understand me, husband?”
He slid his hand into her hair and rested his forehead against hers. “That’s asking a lot of me, Sarah Jane.”
“I know.”
“I’ll do my best.” He was afraid of what she was going to ask, though he couldn’t think of any question that would take away from what they had. Sure as shooting, if the question existed, that’d be the one she’d pick.
“Last night, something she said made me think. She told me she hardly recognized you, you’ve changed so much. When she knew you, you were angry, isolated. And… geez oh Pete, I don’t even know how to ask this.” She turned her face to watch Rachel roll across the slope of the yard a little ways out. “We’re going to have to hose her off tonight, you know.”
“Sarah… let’s get this over with, please?”
She groaned and covered her cheeks. “The other night, when we were out here and we did what we did, there was so much anger and pain in you. I could feel it. Before you ask, no, you didn’t hurt me, didn’t come close to hurting me. I needed that sort of release as much as you did,” she said, her voice so low he had to lean in to hear her.
“But after talking to Nora, I had to wonder if the side of you I saw Thursday, if that’s how you were with her. Further, I worry that that fierceness is always there and you’re holding back out of a… a fear that you’ll hurt me. And I don’t want to think that’s the case, because I think it would break my heart to learn you’ve not been able to show me that side of yourself, that you’ve had to deny yourself that kind of release of emotion to protect me.”
Owen was stunned. Of all the grievances he’d imagined might come out of Sarah’s having met Nora, he’d never expected this.
“I… don’t know what to say.” Scowling, he rubbed his hands over his face, then shoved them through his hair. Unable to sit, he paced away a few steps before he turned to look back at her. “Aren’t you the same woman who almost got into an argument with me because we have too much good sex?”
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m trying to figure out how in the hell to answer the question,” he countered, keeping his voice low so that Rachel wouldn’t hear. He shook his head. “I don’t compare what happened back then with what we do. I never have. What’s between us is so far beyond the superficial connection I had with Nora I can’t begin to explain the difference.”
Rachel ran up to him, and he caught her, lifting her high above his head and whirling her around until she squealed. As he brought her down, he blew a raspberry on her belly, then he set her on her feet and watched as she dashed off to roll down the hill again.
“When I was with Nora, I was different,” he admitted softly as he crouched in front of Sarah. “Yeah, it was similar to what we did Thursday. It was raw, and it wasn’t pretty. She and I were using each other, and while I liked Nora, that’s all it was. I still feel guilty about that, how I used her.”
“Are you saying she wasn’t using you in return?” Sarah asked, brushing back an errant lock of his hair.
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
She leaned forward. “Then don’t feel guilty for taking comfort where you could find it, you stubborn man.”
Owen caught her hands, closing his eyes as he kissed her palms. “That’s easier said than done. Regardless, to answer your question from earlier… generally speaking, I don’t make love to you the way I had sex with her. Sometimes, yeah, like Thursday. And maybe I do hold that part of myself back some because I don’t want you to see me like that, because there’s still a part of me that’s ashamed of that. But I don’t feel like I’m missing something, like I’m not complete.”
Sarah kissed him. “Don’t you know that I love you no matter what?”
“I do know that. My holding that back, it’s not about you. It’s about me accepting myself. Maybe I still have some work to do.” He wet his lips, ducking his head as he tried to figure out how to make her understand. “All I had to give her was that side of me—the anger, the fear. I never felt safe enough to expose my heart. With you, it’s the opposite. I can’t stop sharing my heart with you even when I’m hurting. I need you so much in so many ways, and that need is wrapped up in love. It’s who I am with you, who I’m safe to be. I don’t feel like I’m finding the right words, making sense.”
But Sarah was smiling at him even as her eyes were wet with tears. “You’re making perfect sense. Just promise me you won’t try to hide if you need me. That’s all I ask.”
Owen grunted when Rachel ran into him, giggling, then she wrapped her little arms around his neck and climbed onto his back. Exchanging a laughing kiss with Sarah, he nodded. “I promise. I love you.”
“I love you too. Munchkin, you’re as dirty as you can be.” Sarah stood. “Why don’t I run you a bath and let you play in there?”
Owen swung Rachel around and carried her into the house. “Once you get her in the tub, I might go out for a run.”
“Good. I kind of expected you’d need to stretch your legs.”
After he set Rachel on her feet upstairs, he caught Sarah. “I’ll see you in a little while. Will you be okay here?”
“Of course. You be safe out there.”
But he didn’t immediately leave. Instead, he stood in the bathroom doorway, watching as the woman who’d helped him create a family laughed and played with their baby girl. When they’d left Laurel County earlier, he’d expected to want to shift into the wolf tonight. He still might—running as the wolf did allow him to release a certain element of stress that the deer simply didn’t. If he did become the wolf, however, he might let Sarah see him tonight. She was fascinated by the wolf he could become, always had been.
Not for the first time, he saw himself through her eyes, and it was no less an epiphany this evening than it had been in the past. She’d never seen him a
s a monster even though that was how he’d thought of himself—and still did, he realized, at least a little. Maybe it was time he stopped being ashamed of that part of himself. He knew he couldn’t let go of that emotion overnight, but it was certainly something he’d be thinking about in days to come.
Toad Hollow Road
Present Day
The text from Jonah came early, barely past seven in the morning. Owen was already up and having some freshly brewed coffee as he thumbed through the online edition of his favorite local-ish newspaper. He’d popped one of Sarah’s breakfast casseroles in the oven when he got up, and it would be ready to take out soon—just in time for Sarah, and maybe some of the grandkids, to come in.
Though he was perfectly capable of cooking simple meals, they both liked something a bit heartier for breakfast these days. Ordinarily, one of her casseroles would feed them for close to a week, but today, with Easton, Colin, and Sadie in the house, Owen knew there wouldn’t be a scrap left.
“Maybe I should have gotten out the fruit salad from last night too,” he mused and picked up his phone. As he read Jonah’s message, he frowned. “Well. That’s interesting.”
“What is?” Sarah asked as she came into the kitchen.
Owen filled the mug he’d readied with cream, then passed it to her. “Jonah’s message. He’s found us something.”
She paused, curiosity lighting her eyes. “Oh? Where is it?”
Turning the phone around, Owen showed her the map. “Right next door to him and Molly.”
“Are you serious?” She took the phone. “How much land? How much money?”
“Thirty-six acres, small house that needs torn down or heavy rehab, a hair under two hundred grand.”
“And it’s right next door to them?” Sarah pulled out her chair and sank into it slowly.
