. . . that night the rain had finally come . . . the way Lia had grasped at me . . . her sweet moans.
I let out a harsh breath, the memory buzzing through me like a sweet pulse of electricity, bringing with it the sharp pang of yearning that I’d tried so hard to deny. God, it still made me ache. Not just my body, but the sacred places in my heart that had always been reserved for her—no one else. Never anyone else.
I swore softly and Hudson paused momentarily in his high chair art, smiling at me, and repeating proudly, “Fuw!” before going back to smearing with relish. I would have laughed and internally scolded myself for swearing in front of the baby if I wasn’t so torn up inside from Lia’s visit.
Fuw was right.
My mind returned immediately to Lia, and that rainy, passion-filled night, and then forward to when I’d woken in the morning and she was nowhere to be found. And for the first time in just over a year, I had felt a fire light within me and gain strength, knew the sudden wild need to fight to get my life back. To fight to begin a life with Lia, because circumstances had prevented any true beginning. I wanted to marry her if she’d have me, to bind us together as a family now that I had finally gathered a full breath. Even one.
And so I’d looked for her relentlessly, even hired a private detective. But as the months went on and on, my bitterness escalated, and my hurt returned.
I thought back to her words from so long ago. Had she loved me then? “Someday I’m going to leave here, but a part of my heart is going to remain. With you.” I had touched the sea-glass shape she’d given me so many times, wondering if that was what she’d meant. That she would just up and leave without a way to contact her? But, she’d left more than a part of her heart. And it had devastated me. I’d just hurt. Ached. That’s the state she’d found me in, sitting in the diner, eating dinner alone.
No wonder there’d been no trace of her. She’d gone all the way to Texas. Goddamn her! Didn’t she realize that any number of horrors could have befallen her if she’d broken down on the side of some dark road without a cell phone? I was surprised that beat-up car she drove had made it across the California state line, much less almost halfway across the country and back. Not to mention I had no idea what type of situation she’d been in once she’d arrived at her aunt’s house. An aunt I’d never heard of. But that wasn’t surprising, was it? Lia had always been so damn closed-lipped about herself.
Still, to know she’d been with family brought some measure of relief. For a time, I’d questioned whether she’d met another man and run off, but when would she have met anyone? And then I’d been worried sick something awful had happened to her. At the memory of the torment I’d experienced wondering where she was, a sick, helpless anger ran through me and I took another deep calming breath, attempting to gain control. God, I’d meant to question her more, to make demands, to force her to spell out her intentions. Seeing her gazing at our son with such heart-wrenching love in her beautiful eyes combined with hearing the danger she’d put herself in to get away from me, had made my need for answers dematerialize like a wisp of smoke.
My guts churned.
I heard the front door open and close and my mother’s voice calling a hello before she came around the corner to the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.”
“Is she gone?”
“Yeah, she’s gone.”
My mother pressed her lips together in disdain. The sudden twist of anger was unwelcome and made me feel vulnerable. Even after everything, I still couldn’t deny the knee-jerk reaction of my heart to defend Lia.
“Well, thank God. And how are you, my little sweetheart? How’s Grandma’s sweet boy?” she crooned to Hudson, putting her nose against his. She’d never accepted Lia, but even my mother couldn’t deny Hudson’s charms. And though we’d never spoken the words, Hudson’s personality was so much like Cole’s that he’d healed a piece of both of us.
Sometimes he reminded me of my brother so strongly, it was both a joy and a jab at the aching wound that would hurt forever. But then I’d look in his eyes where he was all Lia—not just the color and the shape, but the sweet defenselessness so present in his watchful stare—and a wave of love would wash over me so strongly, I’d almost have to sit down so I wouldn’t fall. Because despite it all, despite how we started and how we ended, the baby boy in front of me was the product of the unceasing love I’d carried in my heart since I was nine years old.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered, pushing back the chair I’d been sitting in and standing. My mother, who’d been bent toward Hudson jerked slightly and straightened.
“My goodness, what is it?”
“I need to do some work. Do you think you could watch him for a while?”
“Well, all right. Or I could call Tracie.”
“No, this is Tracie’s day off. I don’t want to bother her.”
My mom shifted on her feet. “Preston . . .”
“What?”
“Well, I’m no matchmaker, but have you thought about taking Tracie on a date?”
I frowned. “A date?”
“I know you’re going to say you don’t need the complications right now, but I’ve been thinking about it, and Tracie’s such a pretty girl, and she’s wonderful with Hudson, and well . . . I can tell she’s attracted to you. Don’t you think it just makes sense? It might be a good way to help you move on from Lia. I know you still harbor feelings for her and clearly that won’t do anyone any good. Dating someone else—someone sweet like Tracie—might be just the thing you need. Just the thing Hudson needs.”
I stared at my mother, taking in her words. I’d hired Tracie a few weeks after Lia left. My mother was willing to watch Hudson here and there, but she wasn’t going to watch him full-time while I worked, so I’d needed someone. Tracie had come highly recommended by my mom’s friends in town who had used her to watch their children until they went to nursery school. Tracie was sweet and pretty, but I’d never thought of her in that way. And I’d never seen any sign that she thought of me in any romantic sense either.
“Tracie’s a teenager, Mom.”
“She’s nineteen. She’s only five years younger than you.”
She was the same age Lia’d been when I’d gotten her pregnant. I glanced unconsciously at the farmhouse table and winced, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I don’t have time to date anyone, and I need Tracie to watch Hudson.” I couldn’t risk making things awkward and losing her as a babysitter—Hudson liked her, she was sweet but firm with him, and I liked her easygoing manner. And moreover, I didn’t want to date her. Why were we even having this conversation?
“Thanks for thinking of me, Mom, but no.” I kissed Hudson on the top of his head and turned and walked toward the back door.
“Have you considered that Lia might be back to take Hudson?”
I halted but didn’t turn. Did she mean kidnap him from me? Disappear with him? A harsh shiver ran through my body, a flash fire of panic, the memory of what it’d felt like to discover Lia was gone without a word. What would it feel like if it hadn’t only been her, but if she’d taken my son, too? “She wouldn’t do that.” My voice was quiet and steely and even I wasn’t sure if I believed the words. My trust in Lia had been irrevocably damaged.
Without waiting for my mom to reply, I opened the back door and stepped out into the mild warmth of the springtime sun. The farm workers’ heads bobbed in the distance, moving down the rows, collecting the ripe fruit. Strawberries. La fruta del diablo I’d heard them called, and I understood why. Hard, low, backbreaking work that had to be done by hand, packed in plastic containers as they were picked. And packing those suckers could be like working out a puzzle while being timed. It took skill and practice to get them to fit perfectly with the best ones on top—no stems showing—so they looked pretty in the grocery store produce section.
I walked to the edge of the farmland, gazing out at it for a minute before squatting down and picking up a handful of the rich soil. I took comfort in the feel
of the dirt as it slipped through my fingers, and the vision of the abundant harvest in front of me.
The pride I felt went as deep as the roots of all the things that grew here. Generations of Sawyers had fed this land with blood, sweat, and tears. They had returned to the same farmhouse I did at the end of the day dirty and sunburnt but filled with the satisfaction of wrestling with the land and reaping the rewards.
They’d washed the dirt from beneath their fingernails, their hands rough and callused from hard, physical labor, their skin gritty and weathered. They were men who were used to harshness: from the rocks that needed to be plowed from the earth, to the relentless heat of the sun on their necks, and so when they slipped between the sheets upstairs and gathered their wives to them, they’d gloried in the clean softness of a woman’s body and the tenderness of her love.
The knowledge of that flowed through my blood like an ancient memory that spoke in feeling instead of words.
That’s what I’d wanted Lia to be for me—a gentle haven. I’d wanted it—desperately—and yet, I’d kept fouling it up, over and over. I’d pushed her away instead of gathering her close, a part of me believing that my punishment should include denying myself the comfort she might provide. And yet . . . in punishing myself, hadn’t I really punished both of us? She’d loved Cole, but she’d wanted me. I sighed, feeling weighed down with sadness, with missed opportunities, and with the consequences of my poor choices.
And the bitterness that refused to abate.
I focused on the farmworkers in the field again. At least it had been a good season and the farm would make a profit this year—though barely—after two years of drought and hardship. We were one of the lucky few—many farms in the region hadn’t been able to survive and were now nothing more than scorched, barren land and empty farmhouses owned by the bank.
I squinted past the fields to where I’d just completed a man-made lake at the south end of the property, ensuring that if we ever had a drought again, we would have accumulated rainwater and irrigation runoff to use for the crops. My dad had talked about creating one for years, and I’d finally made it happen. It wasn’t much more than a large, clay-lined pit right now, but eventually—God willing—it would be filled to the top with the one thing more precious than gold to a farmer: water.
In the year after my father and brother died, I’d worked my body to exhaustion just to keep the farm running and then to build the water reservoir, most days falling into bed practically unconscious before I’d even hit the pillow.
And yet, I’d been relieved to have the mind-numbing work to keep my anguish at bay. And I’d gathered some amount of comfort just being present in the fields. If I could find Cole anywhere, my heart had insisted, it was there—his spirit running through the rows of strawberries, his laugh floating on the wind, the echo of his feet pounding the earth. If I could capture his joy for just a fleeting moment, just one, it would be all I'd ever ask.
In all truthfulness, I wasn’t sure I’d have even made it through that time if I hadn’t had the farm to keep me sane.
How had Lia made it through that awful time? She’d lost a friend, too—one of her only friends. And then she’d become a mother. Her life had been altered so dramatically. Forever.
I stilled, the thought causing a spear of guilt and pain to wrench at my heart. I hadn’t even thought to ask her how she’d managed. I’d been so focused on my own torment—the bittersweet reality of my survival—the deep burden of grief that held me underwater, the aching misery of feeling like a piece of me was missing, I hadn’t had the presence of mind to focus on anyone other than myself.
The very sight of Lia swollen with my child had caused a low hum of joy in my blood, but mostly, mostly it’d been a reminder of what I’d done that had caused Cole’s death. My decisions—my actions—changed so many lives.
Since Lia had gone, I’d vacillated between terror and pain and finally anger and bitterness, but I’d never dwelled on the idea that she, too, might have needed me. That maybe, I’d let her down as well.
Would I have had anything to give if I’d realized sooner? Or would it have just caused me to feel more guilt, more responsibility for the suffering of someone else?
And did it even matter? Had it simply happened the way it happened, bringing us to a point where there was no turning back anyway? So what was the point in going over the many what ifs now?
And maybe my mother was right. If there was no fixing the situation with Lia and me, if there was too much water under the bridge, then perhaps focusing on something simple—something pure and straightforward—would help me gain some control over the never-ending ache in my heart when it came to Lia.
I swore softly, standing. I didn’t have answers to all these questions just now and so I would do what I did so well—I’d lose myself in some physical labor until I was too fucking tired to think. It was a vice, I realized, but every man needed at least one.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Annalia
The smell of pancakes and bacon quickly brought me back to a simpler time, and I smiled slightly as I let the door of IHOP fall closed behind me. Funny that I thought the years I’d lived in the small apartment with my mother, scrimping and saving every dime, now felt like the easy life in my mind. But compared to what had happened afterward, it had been. As it turned out, financial strife—even financial desperation—was much easier and more pleasant than emotional despair.
I smiled at the girl at the hostess stand—someone new I didn’t recognize—and asked if Ron was available. He had been the day manager when I’d worked there a little over a year ago and I hoped that hadn’t changed. We’d never been close friends, but he was efficient and fair, and he’d always treated his employees well. I’d resigned before I had Hudson, but I’d left on good terms.
“He’s in the back. I’ll go get him. Can I tell him your name?”
“Yes. Annalia. I used to work here.”
The girl nodded and went off toward the back. I’d purposefully come in during what I knew was the slowest time to ensure that the manager on duty had time to see me.
As I waited, I glanced around. Everything looked exactly the same and I felt a sort of comfort to be here. I’d been worried that it would hurt to come back, but it didn’t and for that I was grateful. Because I would have to bear it regardless of how I felt. I needed a job because I needed money. It was really that simple.
I had gone to what I now considered my mama’s apartment the night before and asked if I could stay with her. She’d seemed almost happy to see me, which had been a small blessing, considering the way we’d parted. I’d left her for six months and honestly expected a bitter and terse reception. She hadn’t asked me any questions, although I felt she wanted to and was holding herself back. But she’d been civil and I was relieved. I’d wait for her to ask me about her sister. If she ever did.
Preston had continued to pay my mama’s rent, which I’d believed he would. Preston was many things, but he wasn’t cruel, nor was he vindictive, and so I’d left my mama’s continued financial care in his hands—the care he’d taken over when I’d moved into his farmhouse with him and his mother. I’d been almost five months pregnant.
But I didn’t expect him to keep paying my mama’s bills now that I was back, and I also felt an obligation to reimburse him for the support he’d continued to extend to her while I’d been gone.
“Annalia?”
I was snapped from my thoughts and turned back from where I’d been glancing around the restaurant to see Ron coming toward me. I smiled and stepped forward. “Hi, Ron. How are you?”
He seemed hesitant as he stuck his hand out and shook mine. “Been good. I didn’t hear you were back in town.”
My smile faltered slightly at the statement that made it obvious he’d heard I’d left town. “Oh, well, I just got back yesterday actually.”
“Hmm-hmm.” He looked at me expectantly, his discomfort obvious. I glanced nervously at the counter where two o
lder women were whispering to each other as they looked back over their shoulders, their gazes directed toward me. I swallowed. How had I forgotten how small this town was? How everyone learned everything about others—sooner or later. I’d seen evidence of it at the diner a few days before and now knew the gossip had spread far and wide. I could only hope there were a few people in Linmoor willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.
Only now, I wasn’t just some girl who’d infected the high school with the bedbugs on her sweater. Now, I was the girl who’d publically shamed a Sawyer, and that crime would have me strung up in the public gossip square to give everyone the chance to throw their stones in my direction in the hopes of drawing blood.
I straightened my shoulders and looked Ron in the eye. “I’m hoping you have a waitressing position open and I could have my old job back.” I put the hope I’d spoken of in my smile as I waited for his response.
He shifted on his feet, his eyes darting away toward the two ladies at the counter. I thought I recognized one as a friend of Mrs. Sawyer, who had shown up with a casserole after I’d come home from the hospital with Hudson, though I couldn’t be sure. It was a deep sadness inside me that that time was still such a blur. “I’m sorry, Annalia, but we don’t have any positions available right now.”
My heart dropped. “Oh. Because I thought I saw an ad in the paper. That’s why I came here first. I was hoping you’d remember how hard I worked. You once told me I was the best waitress you had.” I smiled again, trying to tap into the employee/employer mutual respect we’d had. I hadn’t really seen an ad in the paper—I actually hadn’t bothered to look—but the turnover at IHOP was high and there had always been an ad in the paper in years past, so I took my chances with that small fib.
His cheekbones colored slightly, and I knew I’d been right about the ad. I also knew I was embarrassing him and myself, too, but I really needed a job. I’d been so sure that if I could get one quickly anywhere, it would be here.