“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sara managed to say.
The woman gave a closemouthed smile of sorts. “You said your name is Sara. Sara Perry?”
Sara stared at her. “Why do you ask?” What did Palmer’s daughter know? Did she know?
“My mom left a letter addressed to a Sara Perry,” the woman explained. “I haven’t had a chance to mail it or even drop it off. Between crying and trying to get the house sorted before the bank takes it...” She waved her hand by her face and then shook her head, her eyes welling. “Ignore me. Things are a mess.”
She glanced at Noah. That the midwife had had financial problems wasn’t a surprise. Willem had bribed her. She’d known that from the start.
“I am Sara Perry,” she said. “And I am truly sorry for your loss. I lost my parents, and I know how painful it is.”
The woman offered a small smile. “I’ll just go get the letter. It’s on her bedside table. I think she wrote it the night before she passed. I was here the week prior, knowing how sick she was, and it wasn’t there earlier.”
“Was it cancer?” Sara asked.
The woman nodded. “The diagnosis came too late to do anything about it. I’ll just go get the letter.”
Katherine’s daughter left the door ajar and walked up the stairs. Sara turned to Noah, unable to form words. He squeezed her hand.
“Another letter from beyond the grave,” she finally said, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I can bear it.”
“Sounds like it might be a deathbed confession,” he whispered.
She gnawed her lower lip. The woman returned, holding a letter, and she handed it to Sara.
“Thank you,” Sara said. “And again, my condolences.”
She nodded and closed the door.
Sara and Noah headed to his truck. She was done here, at least. She had a letter, which might explain things.
They got into Noah’s pickup. “How about I drive a bit away from here, so you can read it in privacy. Without being right here, I mean.”
“Actually, let’s get out of this town entirely. Wellington is doubly ruined for me forever. Let’s go back to Bear Ridge. You can park in town near the coffee shop—I’m going to need a boost of caffeine.”
He nodded and started the truck, and once again she was so aware that he was right here when she needed someone who could see her through whatever the hell was in the letter. Explanation? Apology?
She held the letter in her hand as Noah drove the hour back to Bear Ridge. Finally, he parked near the coffee shop on Main Street.
“Ready?” he asked, gesturing at the letter.
“No. I wasn’t ready for Willem’s letter either. I almost wanted to flee the office before the lawyer could read it to me. Good thing I stayed.”
Noah nodded. “I’ll be right here. You can read it aloud or to yourself. Whichever you want.”
“I’d rather read it aloud. So you hear what I hear.” She cleared her throat and slit open the envelope. Inside were two pages, typed on white paper. It was signed with her full name—Katherine Marie Palmer—in black ink. She glanced at Noah, needing a gulp of him before she dived in. “Okay. Here goes.”
Dear Sara,
Two weeks ago I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, stage three. My doctors tell me it’s inoperable. I did something terrible that I need to rectify. I can’t fix it, but I can tell you the truth. It’s only two months later, and though that must feel like a long time to you, I feel better knowing it’s not.
Your baby daughter didn’t die at birth. Your husband, Willem Perry, told me he’d make up a devastating lie about my daughter and ruin her life if I didn’t comply. He also bribed me by paying off tens of thousands of dollars of debt, which my late husband accumulated through gambling. Anyway, it’s true that your daughter was born frail, but she was alive. He told me to back him up that she died during the birth. I was horrified but said I would for the reasons I stated. Then he muttered something about “Dawson.” I don’t know what that refers to, and as I left your home that evening, hoping to make it home before the big thunderstorm, he left too—with the baby in a car seat. I don’t know where he took the newborn. But she was alive when she was born. Maybe the word Dawson will mean something to you? A start for finding your daughter?
This letter will be a shock. I don’t know why your husband didn’t want the girl. I only know that I can’t go without making this as right as I can. By telling you the truth. May God forgive me. I won’t ask your forgiveness, because I don’t deserve it. And I’ve taken enough from you. I’m deeply ashamed. I don’t know what your husband would have done to my daughter had I refused, and because your daughter did look so frail and small compared to her brother, I rationalized that she would probably not make it. That was not my decision to make. I hope I was wrong. I hope you find your daughter healthy and get her back.
Sincerely, Katherine Marie Palmer
Sara just stared at the words on the pages, unable to speak.
Noah took the letter and put it back in the envelope, then shoved it in his glove compartment. He leaned over and took her in his arms, and she let him, wrapping her own arms around him tightly as she cried.
He didn’t say a word; he just held her, which was exactly what she needed.
Fifteen minutes later, she wiped under her eyes. “I’m ready to go home,” she said. “I have my closure. And I never, ever want to think about her or Willem or what they did or why again.”
“Want to get some coffee first?” he asked, pointing at the coffee shop two stores down.
“And a Boston cream doughnut,” she said. “Maybe two.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Coming right up. Want to wait here or come in with me?”
“I’ll wait here.”
She watched him head in, her head clearing already. By the time he came out with a white bag and two coffees in a tray, she was ready to put her past behind her.
She had no idea what the present would hold, though. Or where she and her twins would be in the near future.
* * *
Noah told Sara to take the day off. He’d matched her with a horse when she’d first agreed to take the assistant forewoman’s job, and he was glad when she agreed that taking Bluebell for a ride in the acres of open pasture would be therapeutic after the heavy morning. The moment she’d ridden off, though, he missed her and wished he were beside her on Bolt. He didn’t want her to be alone, even though he knew it was probably best for her right now.
He checked in with his staff, glad to hear everything was running smoothly. He was going to lead a trail ride for parents and kids who were new to horses, Dylan as his backup. As he met the group of six in the barn, three parents and three kids, he couldn’t help but notice how the moms and dads doted on their children, listening to them, assuring them, being excited about the horses along with them. This was what he wanted for himself with Annabel and Chance, and because there was something fundamentally wrong with him deep inside, where he couldn’t commit to Sara the way she needed, he was going to lose the twins.
With the kids on the gentlest of ponies and the adults on sweet quarter horses, they entered the small pasture and did a slow trot around the perimeter. There was hooting and laughing and big smiles from the entire group, and Noah gave easy instructions as he rode alongside the middle of the pack, Dylan at the rear.
And then out of nowhere, somehow, a little girl fell off her pony. Lyra Barnett, five years old.
Her face crumpled in tears under her helmet, and she just lay on the grass, not moving. Her father, a very fit man in his early forties named Mike Barnett, was beside her on the ground in a heartbeat, as were Noah and Dylan.
“I’ll text our on-call doctor,” Noah said, pulling out his phone.
The man held up a hand. “Hang on a second.” He turned his attention to his daughter. “Where do
es it hurt?”
The girl just cried.
“Daddy, is Lyra okay?” her twin brother asked, still on his pony.
Her father touched her leg, slowly inching his hands around both feet and the entirety of her legs. The girl didn’t wince.
“I’m a doctor,” Mike explained. “Nothing feels broken.”
Noah’s heart was beating like a hundred wild horses galloping. She was okay. Thank God.
Lyra cried harder, then wiped at her eyes. “I stink at riding horses.”
“You were doing good until you fell off,” her brother put in.
“I really was, right, Daddy?” Lyra asked, wiping under her eyes.
Her father smiled at her. “You sure were. Accidents happen, right?”
“Right,” her brother said.
Lyra scowled at him. “Right,” she said louder.
Mike Barnett smiled, and Noah had to also.
“Dylan, why don’t you take the group into the next pasture,” Noah said. “I’ll have Sara join you.” He quickly texted her.
Dylan nodded and helped Lyra’s brother off his pony so he could sit beside his family, and then he instructed the group to dismount, helping each kid off, and they all led the ponies and horses into the next pasture. He could see Sara already coming up the path in the golf cart, her expression grim.
“I’ll run her over to the clinic in town,” Mike said. “We’re locals, so we’re familiar with the place.” He turned to his son. “I’ll call Mommy and she’ll take you to the creek to see if there are beavers and badgers and porcupines hanging around.”
“The porcupines are my favorite,” the little boy said.
Sara rushed over, concern in her eyes. Noah explained the situation, and she texted Daisy to pick up Mrs. Barnett from the lodge, where she was taking some R&R with a book and Cowboy Joe’s lemonade and peach cobbler.
“Your wife will be here in two minutes,” Sara assured him. She turned to the little girl. “Hi, Lyra. I’m Sara. Was this your first time on a pony?”
The girl shook her head. “My third time. I rode a pony at our birthday party.”
Sara smiled. “I’ve been riding horses a long time. I fell off one time. I was thinking about something, and plop, right off on the ground. Luckily I wasn’t hurt.”
“I don’t feel hurt anywhere,” Lyra said. “I’m upset that I’m not on Cupcake anymore.” She looked at the sweet brown-and-white pony.
Her dad grinned and patted Lyra’s back. “Well, let’s have you checked out as a just-in-case, and if nothing is broken or sprained, we’ll get you right back on Cupcake, okay?”
“’Kay, Daddy,” she said.
Her mom arrived, and Daisy drove off in the golf cart with the family—father and daughter to their car by the gate, and then mother and son to the creek. Noah dropped back down to the ground, leaning his head against a fence post. “That was lucky. And close. If she’d gotten hurt...”
“Little kids get hurt. It’s what happens. I like her dad’s point of getting right back on the pony. That’s the lesson, Noah.”
“I don’t need a lecture right now,” he said, squinting up at her in the bright sunshine. “I feel bad enough as it is.”
“I understand that,” she said. “But you absolutely do need a lecture,” she added, pushing her straw cowboy hat farther on her head and taking off down the path.
Every minute he pushed her farther and farther away, when all he wanted was to have her beside him.
Chapter Thirteen
As Noah finished his chores and rounds and got a welcome text from Mike Barnett that Lyra was absolutely fine, no broken bones or sprains or torn anything, he let out one hell of a breath. He knew that little kids got hurt. Of course he knew that. He’d broken at least five bones over his childhood from being too rough with himself and from incidents he had no control over, like tripping over a hole in the ground that his father hadn’t taken care of. Kids got hurt. And yes, the important thing was to teach them to dust themselves off, if possible, and get back up.
He wasn’t afraid of Annabel and Chance falling off ponies; of course they would. Of course they’d have illnesses and mishaps. That was life.
So why the hell could he commit so fervently to them and not to Sara? Granted, he wasn’t afraid of her getting hurt. He was paralyzed at the notion of giving in to the full range of his feelings for her. Once he did, he wouldn’t be in control. That he understood, because he’d thought of little else the past two days. He had to remain in control of himself or he’d drive her off, one way or another. He couldn’t ruin what they had—he wouldn’t. And keeping things as professional as possible between them, as friendship based as possible, was the answer.
As he closed the main barn door, he saw Daisy coming toward him, on foot this time.
“So I have news,” she said, stretching out her hand.
There was a ring on her finger. A small round diamond in a silver band.
“You’re engaged?” he asked, his mouth dropping open.
“Jacob proposed this morning. He said he felt ready to ask me last night, but didn’t have a ring, so went off to the jewelry shop to buy one.” She looked at her hand.
“You don’t look particularly happy,” he said, then regretted it. This wasn’t his business. Or maybe it was. Of course it was. He was her brother.
“I feel good about it,” she said, her eyes still on the ring.
“You feel good about it?” he repeated.
“Noah. I’m almost seven months pregnant. My baby’s father proposed. We’re going to make this work so that we can be a family. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Except you don’t love Jacob. Does he love you?”
“He cares about me. He’s committed to our family and our future, and he thinks we’ll get there as time goes on and we share a life with our child.”
He stared at her. “Get where? To love?”
“Yes, to love. We’ll be raising a child together. Our goal will be the same. We’ll be parents, committed to our baby. That alone will help us grow as a couple.”
“God, Daisy. Is that how it’s supposed to be?”
Now she stared at him. “Um, hello, pot talking trash about the kettle.”
He scowled at her. “My situation is different. I’m protecting my stake in those twins. In not destroying my relationship with Sara.”
“Riiight, little brother. With the woman you’re madly in love with.”
He froze, realizing how true that statement was. He was deeply in love with Sara.
“How can I not try?” Daisy asked, tears welling in her eyes. “Things might work out great with Jacob. He’s my baby’s father.” She stared at him—hard. “I personally don’t know how you cannot try, Noah.”
With that, she walked off, leaving him so unsettled he had to sit back down against the barn.
Had a hay bale fallen on his head? That was how he felt. Absolutely gobsmacked.
And not sure where the hell to go from here.
* * *
To make this as easy on the two of them as possible, Sara was packed before she told Noah that she planned to move into the main house. She’d been thinking about doing just that ever since she’d left the town hall without a wedding ring on her finger. There’d been a lot going on and she’d pushed moving out of her head, but there was no way she could continue living in the cabin with Noah. Yes, he’d lose home access to the twins, but the way she saw it, that was his own damned fault.
Stubborn gets what stubborn deserves, she thought, instantly feeling bad for him. She didn’t know exactly what it was going to take to get through to him, to blast through the concrete he’d built around his heart. She just knew she had to protect herself.
She had spoken to Daisy, swearing her to secrecy until she could talk to Noah about her decision, and Daisy had offer
ed her a bedroom in the farmhouse across from the nursery, which the twins would have. The downside was that the living arrangement was temporary. Daisy was newly engaged to her boyfriend, Jacob—boy, had Sara been surprised to hear the news—and Jacob would move in after the wedding. He was a businessman, something to do with imports and exports. She understood why Daisy wanted to marry him, despite, despite, despite.
Daisy and Jacob had talked about a July wedding, a couple weeks before her due date so that Daisy could have the wedding she wanted—a church ceremony and a big reception at the ranch with family and friends. If they were going to do this, she wanted to really do it.
Sara understood that more than anyone. And, at least it gave her a solid month in the farmhouse with her good friend until Daisy married and her husband moved in and Sara would move out, finding a place she could afford in town.
Now, Sara stood in the kitchen of the foreman’s cabin, making a pot of coffee, knowing that Noah would be home in about ten minutes.
She was on her second cup of the bracing brew when she heard his key in the lock.
Her suitcases were beside the table. She’d thought about collecting the twins’ baby stuff and putting it all near the door so that they could get into his truck quickly, but she knew what the sight of the swings and stroller and mats would do to him.
Her stomach churned. She hated hurting him. But he’d left her no choice but to do exactly what she was doing. She couldn’t live this way with him, this quarter of a life.
“I smell coffee,” he said with a smile as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Then his gaze moved to the suitcases, and the smile disappeared. “You’re leaving?”
“Moving up to the farmhouse. The twins will take the nursery that Daisy has already begun creating. The three of us will leave right before her wedding, when Jacob will move in.”
He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, quiet for a moment as he seemed to take in what she’d said. “I don’t think she should be marrying him so fast. I get that they want to get married before the baby comes, but why not see how things go before committing like that?”
For the Twins' Sake Page 18