Dragonfly Creek

by T. L. Haddix

  Defiantly, she pulled the fabric loose. “There. Happy?”

  His lips quirked up, but he didn’t laugh again. Instead, he tipped her chin up. “Are you really okay to do this? I can go with you until Byrdie gets there.”

  “And who will see to your patients?”

  “I don’t have that many appointments over the next couple of days. One of the luxuries of being an in-demand private physician. I can set my own hours.”

  Touched, Ainsley smiled at him. “Jonah, you already do so much for me. I promise you, I’ll be fine. And if I’m wrong, and it turns out when I get there that I’m not fine, I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, at least I don’t have to worry about running into Ben. He moved to Georgia years ago.”

  “Yeah, well. There is that.”

  “I’m eager to start setting things to rights. This is going to be cathartic. One last step in the healing process. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so.” He hugged her tightly. “I’m proud of you for doing this. Doug would be, too.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh, I know so.”

  Ainsley let him hold her for a few minutes as they both pulled their emotions in check. She wasn’t the only one on whom the last few years had been rough.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Jonah. So glad you stayed.”

  “It’s home.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  She pulled away and walked to the nearest set of french doors to look out over the green landscape that rolled away from the main house. Horses grazed in the distance, lazily swatting at flies with their tails. The land was vibrant and verdant, peppered with flower beds and manicured hedges. There was a kitchen garden out back and a formal garden, as well. The house and grounds were immaculate, but they were a home.

  She and Doug had bought Dragonfly Creek Farm after their first anniversary, intending it to be their refuge from the outside world. Ainsley had needed the space to get sober, while Doug and Jonah had needed privacy from prying eyes. Along with Byrdie, they’d formed an odd sort of family. Once she’d let it, the setting had soothed some of Ainsley’s restlessness. It was her favorite place in the world, and the only place she’d ever felt like she belonged.

  She would never fit in with the people in Hazard. A lot of that was her mother’s doing, Ainsley knew, but that knowledge didn’t change her memories. She hated the way she felt when she thought about the person she’d been. Oh, yes, it was definitely time to face those memories.

  “Call when you get there?” Jonah asked as he came up to look over her shoulder.

  “Of course. Even if I have to go to a gas station and use a pay phone.”

  With the windows down and her radio cranked up, Ainsley hit the road. She managed to leave town just before rush hour. Lexington was growing more and more every day, it seemed, and soon driving from one side to the other would take an hour. She was glad the farm was closer to Versailles than to Lexington proper and that it was so large. She would be heartbroken if developments encroached on her private space, but with the house situated in the middle of close to two hundred acres, she hoped she would never have to worry about that.

  Once she was on the interstate, she opened up the engine and let herself enjoy the drive. Within an hour, she’d reached the end of the parkway and was on the two-lane highway in Campton that led straight to Hazard, which was still an hour away. The transition was shocking, an almost instantaneous switch from fast to slow. After the pace of Lexington and the interstate, several miles passed before Ainsley made the mental adjustment.

  She reached Hazard shortly before six and decided to stop at the grocery on her way instead of making a special trip. She saw a sign for the chain store she liked to shop at in Lexington, then made her way there. Taking a deep breath, she prayed for courage and that she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew—not her first night in town.

  When the produce department worker gave her a dirty look several minutes later, she realized she was dawdling. With a quick smile, she hurried on down the aisle. She was putting off going to the house, and she shook her head at herself. After filling the buggy with a few essentials Byrdie hadn’t packed, she stopped in the deli and grabbed a roasted chicken. At least she would have dinner tonight, she thought. She didn’t want to get too much food until she’d evaluated the state of the kitchen at the house.

  With the groceries loaded in the trunk, she bit the bullet and made the trip to the house. Mr. Thornton had sent her the garage door opener in the mail, but she parked in front of one of the three bays without pressing the button. For long, long minutes, she just stared at the house. Of a contemporary design, it had been built in the late nineteen fifties to her mother’s exacting specifications. It was a sprawling structure situated high on the peak of a mountain that overlooked the city. The nearest neighbor was at least half a mile away, down in the valley below. Her mother’s own kingdom, she thought.

  She’d blocked out the need to ever have to return to this house. When she’d left that summer to marry Doug, she’d been so devastated by what she was doing, just the thought of returning to Hazard had made her physically ill. To his credit, Doug had never pushed her to return, especially not after the miscarriage.

  She couldn’t think about that now, though. Too much agony still lurked under the surface of those particular memories. She needed to get inside and get settled in, and then she could start dealing with what her decisions and her mother’s duplicity had cost her.

  Chapter Eight

  Ainsley woke as the sun was coming up the next morning. She’d taken one of the larger guest rooms on the ground floor, one that faced southwest and out over the pool. She lay in bed, gearing herself up for the day mentally as the room brightened ever so slightly around her.

  As much as she hated what the house represented, she’d always loved this room. White carpet, cherry-wood furniture, and an elegant, lightly patterned wallpaper gave it an understated class. Though somewhat dated, the decor was still stylish. It also reminded Ainsley of home, and she knew she would probably need that reminder over the weeks to come.

  The travel clock she’d set up on the nightstand showed her that it was just seven o’clock. Unable to stay in bed, she got up and took care of her bathroom needs before donning a simple one-piece bathing suit.

  When she’d decided to return to Hazard to oversee the final disposition of the estate, her first order of business was to make sure the pool was in working order. Mr. Thornton assured her it was, and Ainsley hoped the man was as good as his word. One of the first things she’d done after getting sober was have a spectacular all-seasons pool installed at the farm. With very few exceptions, she swam every morning and often every evening.

  The air was still cool when she stepped outside, and the sun was barely peeping through the fog shrouding the mountains around her. Birds were singing in the trees surrounding the clearing where the house sat, but their songs were muted by the thick condensation in the air. Tossing her towel onto a lounge chair on the pool deck, she moved to inspect the water. It was uncovered, and a few leaves floated around on the surface, but the water itself was crystal clear. She dipped the toes of one foot in, but quickly drew it back.

  “Oh, that’s cold!” With a grimace, she remembered that the pool wasn’t heated. The water wasn’t cold enough to forego swimming in, but the first few minutes wouldn’t be pleasant. “You’ve faced worse. It’ll be character building, Ainsley. You can do this.”

  She walked to the deep end, took a deep breath, and dove in.

  When she surfaced, she was breathless from the shock. Muttering words that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap, she started moving. Jerkily at first, and then more smoothly as her muscles warmed up, she started doing laps.

  She’d discovered her love for swimming while at
rehab. Withdrawal from the alcohol and pills had left her body weak and her muscles cramping and aching as though she’d been beaten. The facility she’d been at had a lovely heated pool that had welcomed her with a soothing warmth. By the time she’d gone home, her daily swims had become almost as necessary as breathing.

  After completing her ritual, she climbed out to sit on the lip of the pool, breathless. The fog was burning away almost before her eyes, revealing the folds and dips of the mountains around her. If not for her many negative memories associated with the area, she would have found it inspiring.

  Ready to face what had to be done, she went inside and got cleaned up. As soon as she had breakfast, she had to tackle her mother’s private office. She was wary of the secrets she would uncover. Geneva Brewer had a unique ability to ferret out secrets, a skill she’d always attributed to a lightning strike that happened when she was seventeen. Geneva had regarded her ability as a blessing, but to Ainsley, it was more like an evil curse.

  Her mother had ruined a lot of lives, thanks to that ability. Now that Ainsley was back in town, she hoped she would be able to make some reparation for her mother’s sins as she settled the last of the estate. She was fully aware that she might not succeed, but she had to try.

  Her first meeting with Hershel Bowling, the local coal operator who was purchasing a large chunk of her mother’s holdings, was scheduled for her second day back in town. His company headquarters were only a couple of miles down the road from her house, and she made the drive in no time. Her mother’s attorney, Jim Thornton, was waiting for her when she parked.

  “Jim. How are you?” She shook hands with him as they met behind her car.

  “Fine, fine. How about you? Was the house to your specifications?”

  “It was perfect. Thank you. I particularly appreciated that the pool was ready for me. I think the house could have been falling down around me as long as I could get up and swim this morning.”

  He smiled. “Good. I’ll let Carly know. She was happy to go back up there and get the place in order, having worked for your mama for the last few years. You never met her, did you?”

  The reproof was delivered gently, but it was still there. Ainsley ignored it.

  “No. You said she’s found a job with another family here in town, correct?” She walked through the door as he held it open for her.

  “She did.”

  Their small talk died as he asked the receptionist to let Hershel know they were there. Hershel and his wife, Tammy, had been contemporaries of Ainsley’s father. They’d always been nice to her, even when she was a small, awkward child, and Ainsley thought well of Hershel. He’d been the first person she’d thought to approach to help disburse the estate after the shock of her mother’s death had settled somewhat.

  Hershel appeared a scant minute later, with a tall, handsome man in tow. Ainsley readily accepted Hershel’s hug, a genuine smile emerging as they embraced.

  “How’s Tammy?”

  “Hoping to convince you to come to dinner soon. I’m to ask you insistently to come over.”

  “Well, consider me convinced. Tell me when, and I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “She’ll be glad to hear that,” he told her with a wink. “This is my best accountant, John Campbell. He’s here to advise me on all the fine print, financially speaking. John, this is Ainsley Brewer Scott.”

  As they shook hands, Ainsley felt a cold wave of shock run over her. She knew immediately who he was. Asking was only a formality. “Do you have a brother named Ben?”

  John smiled. “I do. He’s a couple of years younger than me. Do you know Ben?”

  She remembered Ben as being shorter than John. His hair was darker, but the family resemblance was strong—too strong for her comfort. She shook off her unease and answered him. “I did, a lifetime ago.”

  “I’ll have to mention you to him, then.”

  Only years of guarding her emotions made it possible for Ainsley to not react outwardly. “He’s here, then? In town?”

  “Came back last fall.”

  “Oh.” Her response was inane, but at that moment, it was all she was capable of saying. Her mind reeling, she sat down next to Thornton and prayed she didn’t have to respond intelligently to anything for the next few minutes. It was going to take everything in her to not get up and run screaming from the room.

  She hadn’t expected Ben to be in Hazard. On Doug’s urging, not long before he died, she’d hired an investigator to track Ben down. She knew she would never approach him, but Doug was convinced she needed to have closure, to know Ben was okay. The investigator had reported back to them that he was working in Georgia, and from all appearances, he seemed happy. He’d even had a girlfriend, though the PI hadn’t been able to determine how serious it was. Ainsley wondered if she was with him, if they’d gotten married, or if he’d left her behind when he moved back.

  Thankfully, the meeting wasn’t long, as it was just a preliminary get-together to discuss their game plan. She held herself together until she was in her car. Seeing the way Thornton was eyeing her, she knew she couldn’t fall apart just yet. With a smile and a wave, she started the vehicle, and carefully, so carefully, she backed out and drove away.

  “Please let me make it home. Please let me make it home.” She repeated the mantra as she drove. When the house came into view, she saw Byrdie’s car was parked in front of the garage. Ainsley let out a half-sob of pure gratitude. She managed to park, then hurried to the door, where Byrdie met her with a smile.

  One look at Ainsley’s face, though, made the smile disappear. “What’s wrong?”

  Trembling, unable to speak, Ainsley let Byrdie envelop her in a hug. Byrdie got her inside and into the kitchen, where Ainsley sank down into a chair at the old Formica table.

  “Sweet baby girl, what in the world is wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do I need to call Jonah?”

  “No,” Ainsley whispered. “No, I just need… I need a few minutes.” She folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. Byrdie pulled up a chair and sat beside her, curling a warm hand around Ainsley’s. Her other hand stroked Ainsley’s hair soothingly.

  When she finally felt in control enough to sit up, she took a deep breath and pushed away from the table. Without a word, Byrdie handed her a napkin, and Ainsley wiped her wet face.

  “Ben’s here.”

  Byrdie pursed her lips, blowing a silent whistle through them. “You saw him?”

  Ainsley shook her head. “His brother. He’s an accountant at Hershel’s. But he looks like Ben. I asked if they were related. He told me that Ben’s back. Been here since the fall.”

  “Oh, baby girl.”

  “I don’t know how I made it through the meeting. I don’t remember much about it.” She laughed bitterly. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “No, I imagine not. This trip just got a whole lot more complicated. We can go back home today. Just say the word.”

  Ainsley crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows beside the table. “That’s tempting. I won’t say it isn’t.”

  “But?”

  With a rueful smile, Ainsley touched Byrdie’s hand. “But I’m tired of running. And that’s what it would be.”

  “I don’t know. Could be more of a strategic retreat, if you ask me.” Byrdie went to the stove for the teapot and took it to the sink to fill it up. “Did his brother know who you were?”

  Ainsley thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. I asked Ben to stay pretty quiet about us that summer. I guess he did.” She didn’t voice her belief that he probably hadn’t cared enough about her to mention her to his family in the first place.

  Byrdie moved around the kitchen, pulling things together for tea. She’d performed the ritual for Ainsley countless times
, normally soothing them both. But right that minute, Ainsley didn’t think she could be soothed.

  She stood. “I’m going to go get changed. I need a few minutes.”

  In her bedroom, she changed into a pair of cut-off shorts and a loose wide-necked tunic. The sight of the shorts made her smile, if briefly, because they were old and ratty. Even Jonah would find them offensive. Naturally, they were her favorite shorts.

  Instead of going back to the kitchen, she went upstairs, to her old room. She’d glanced inside briefly before, but hadn’t quite been ready to face her old self. Now, though, with the knowledge of Ben’s presence looming over her, her teenage bedroom was the one place she needed to be.

  The room was done mostly in pinks, from the rose carpet to the walls to the bed linens and drapes. With white furniture, it was an utterly feminine room. She’d decorated it when she was sixteen and still struggling to “bloom,” desperately needing to feel pretty.

  Remembering that girl who hadn’t fit in anywhere made her sad. She moved to the dresser and touched the bottles sitting there with a slightly trembling hand. There were no pictures of friends taped to the mirror, no corkboard with tokens of her childhood. Ainsley had been intensely private, even then, never wanting to leave anything out that her mother could use against her.

  The room was an eerie reminder of her childhood, unchanged from the day Ainsley had left for good—the day after Ben had broken her heart and the day after her mother had laid her options out to her in plain, stark terms. The next day, she’d married Doug, and life had changed forever. Aside from a few outfits and some personal items, including her journal, she’d left everything behind. She was surprised that her mother had left the room intact.

  She didn’t kid herself it was done out of any kind of sentiment. More likely, Geneva had viewed the room as a sort of trophy of her power or had closed its existence off from her mind.