Dragonfly Creek

by T. L. Haddix

  “I’ll do you one better. Nonny and I were getting ready to go grocery shopping. We can pick you up, if you feel like it, and you can go with us. I’ll even buy you lunch.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Good. See you in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll meet you on the street in front of the building.”

  A few minutes later, as promised, Eliza’s car eased to a stop. Ben climbed in the backseat with a grunt.

  “Wow, you do look like you lost a fight,” Emma remarked as he buckled his seat belt. She had the visor down and was examining him in the mirror on it. “Hurt much?”

  “Like a toothache. Hi, Nonny.”

  “Hello, sweetie. Are you sure you’re up to going with us?”

  “I think I can keep up with Emma. Not sure about you, though,” he told her with a smile.

  Emma laughed. “We’ll be a sight, that’s for sure. You battered and bruised, me ready to pop. Poor Nonny. People are liable to talk about you being out with those two loony grandchildren of yours.”

  Eliza waved the words away with a chuckle. “Let them talk if they don’t have anything better to do. At least they’ll be leaving someone else alone.”

  As they ate lunch, Ben kept glancing at Emma, trying to covertly assess her. He must not have been too stealthy, however, because she finally put down her fork and stared back at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I know that look. What?”

  He shrugged. “I’m just wondering if you should be out and about in your condition. No offense, Em, but you look miserable. Beautiful,” he added hastily, “but miserable.”

  “Nice save. And I am miserable. But everyone assures me that’s part and parcel at this stage. And I figured I could be miserable at home or miserable at the grocery store. I’ve been home all week, staring at the walls, so I elected to go to the grocery.”

  He managed, barely, to restrain himself from asking if she was sure she was having only one baby. Emma was the first pregnant woman he’d been around since he was young and his mother had carried his sisters. He didn’t remember her being quite so pregnant with them.

  When she winced and put her hand on her side, Ben froze. “Oh, my God. You’re in labor.”

  Emma’s reaction was immediate. She laughed so hard and fast that she snorted. Ben sat back and watched her, crossing his arms. He scowled, and she laughed harder.

  “Oh, your face,” she giggled. “My kingdom for a camera.”

  “Not labor then?” he asked Eliza, who was smiling.

  She shook her head. “Probably just some robust kicks.”

  “And somersaults.” Emma grabbed his hand and placed it against her side. He’d felt the baby move before, but somehow, this was different. Maybe knowing what he’d lost with Ainsley made the moment more precious.

  “A few more days, and I’m going to be a mommy,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “Can you believe it?”

  “No, I can’t. But I think you’ll be a great mommy, all the same. And I can hardly wait to be the doting uncle who spoils her rotten and sends her home.”

  “Now, you know you wouldn’t do that,” Eliza teased. “When are you leaving for Lexington?”

  “A couple of weeks, probably. I’ll be back and forth between now and then, finding an apartment, registering for classes, that sort of thing.”

  “Driving that stick is going to be hard with the cast on,” Emma observed. “Do you want to borrow my car for the next few weeks? I’m not going to be needing it. Just promise you won’t wreck it. It’s brand-new.” She’d traded in her sporty car for a more family-friendly SUV a few weeks ago.

  “I’d appreciate that. Thanks. And I’ll be careful.”

  They lingered over lunch, then took their time in the grocery store. They drew a few suspicious looks, as Emma had suspected, but Ben shrugged it off. Neither Emma nor his grandmother asked him about Ainsley, but they were both more solicitous than usual. The kindness went a long way in taking the edge off his pain.

  By the time they got back to Emma’s house, his sister was drooping. Ben carried in the majority of the purchases, despite his wrist, and set the bags on the counter.

  “Why don’t you go lay down?” he suggested as he and Eliza started taking the groceries out of the bags. “I’ll help Nonny.”

  Emma wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder for a minute. “I’ll do that. Love you, Benny.”

  He hugged her back, then kissed her temple. “Love you, too. Now git.”

  Once they heard her door close overhead, Eliza turned to him with a sigh. “She’s scared to death. Thanks for going with us today. I could see her relaxing as the two of you joked with each other.”

  Ben’s guilt intensified. “I should have been here more, instead of where I was.”

  “No. That isn’t what I meant. Don’t think that it was.” She put the milk in the fridge. “Speaking of where you’ve been, however. What a mess. How are you holding up?”

  Ben just shook his head. “The family grapevine never fails to surprise me. I don’t know why. And I’m dealing.”

  “John said you scared him, you were so angry. He and Zanny stopped by this morning, too, with the boys,” she explained in answer to his questioning look. “He said he half expected you to walk back to Georgia last night.”

  “I wasn’t that angry. I probably would have only made it to Tennessee before I got tired.” He folded the empty paper bags and stacked them on the counter. “And I’ve never been that angry before. I guess John told you what she did.”

  “What he knew about it, yes.”

  Ben braced his good hand on the counter and stared down at the name of the grocery store that was printed on the side of the bags. “She was pregnant with my child, Nonny. She married another man while she was carrying the child we made. If I ever needed confirmation of what her letter said, learning what she did provided it. No way she gave a damn for me, pardon my language, and did that.”

  “I take it she lost the child?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. And any chance of having another one with it, if she told me the truth about that. A small, very petty part of me is glad. I don’t like that. Don’t like what she makes me feel, the anger, the hate. It’s ugly.”

  Eliza was frowning. “Forgive an old woman’s nosiness, but I thought back then was more emotional than physical. I didn’t think the two of you were that intimate the first time around.”

  Ben flushed. “We weren’t. Just that last couple of weeks or so. Why does that matter?”

  “I don’t know if it does. It’s only that a woman who’s looking to get pregnant is going to take every chance she can to do just that. I imagine, with you being the age you were, she had a lot more opportunity to lure you into bed than she took advantage of. Unless you’re trying to protect my sensibilities?”

  “No. It was only the last two or three weeks we were together. And then she left.” He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Straightening, he pushed away from the counter. “Do you need my help with anything? Take advantage of me while I’m here if you do.”

  “You sure you feel up to working?”

  “I could use the distraction. I was going to hang around the apartment all day, but the less time I have to think, the better. If you have some Tylenol, I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, we still have some baby furniture we need to get assembled. If you’re willing, we could get that out of the way. We’re going to be needing it sooner than later.”

  Ben smiled as he followed her out of the kitchen and up to the nursery. “You know, I’m starting to think we might end up having a baby for our birthday next Sunday.”

  She smiled back at him, conspiratorially. “I thi
nk so, too.”

  “It’d be a nice present, a baby to cuddle,” he admitted as he settled on the floor to look through the instructions for the crib. “Just don’t tell anyone I said so. I’d hate to ruin my tough-guy image.”

  Eliza ran a hand over his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Late Sunday night, Owen and Sarah were snuggled together in bed. They had the house to themselves; Amelia and Rachel had gone to stay with Emma for the night. Owen had taken full advantage of that, but instead of the pleasant lethargy he typically felt after he and Sarah had made love, he was restless. Events from nearly thirty years ago were weighing heavily on his mind, mixing with Ben’s dilemma.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You keep sighing.” She turned on the lamp and propped herself up on an elbow to look at him.

  Owen rose up beside her and slid a hand into her still-dark hair. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her with an almost desperate passion. “I love you. Have I told you that recently?”

  “At least three times this evening, but hearing it never gets old. And I love you, too. Honey, what’s wrong?”

  She lay back, and he followed, throwing one leg across hers. He played with her hair, spreading it out on the pillow.

  “What if Ben has it wrong? What if it’s all some horrible misunderstanding, and they’re going to throw away the kind of love we have? Like we almost did?”

  She touched his face with a soft hand. “You just can’t believe she used him to get pregnant, can you?”

  Owen shook his head slowly. “No. I’m not naive, Sarah. I know things like that happen. But I also know how to read people. Unless she’s the best actress I’ve ever seen, she loves him.”

  “Good luck getting him to believe that.”

  “I know.” He ran a hand down her body, moving the sheet back as he did, gaining more comfort than arousal from the touch. “I want all our babies to have what we have. Want them all to be happy. I don’t care if they’re garbage collectors or world-famous photographers. I just want them to be happy.”

  “What are you thinking?” She played with the hair at the nape of his neck and smiled up at him when he shrugged. “I know you’re planning something.”

  “I think, if our son won’t go see her, that maybe we should. There’s more to this than meets the eye. I’d stake my next book on it.”

  “When do you want to go?”

  “Soon. Something like this, it festers and builds up, and that just makes it harder to resolve. We learned that the hard way.”

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  He loved her for not questioning his instincts. It was one of the many things he loved about this woman. She stood up to him when she needed to, but they were so in sync on so many things, arguments were few and far between.

  “After you get off work?”

  She moved her hand down, dusting it across his chest. “I can take a personal day. Or half a day. However long it takes. She may not want to talk to us.”

  His relief was instant. “I think she will. I hope she will.” He traced her eyebrows. “I love you, Sarah Jane. It’s hard to believe we’ve been married almost thirty years. It feels like it was just yesterday,” he whispered.

  “Oh, we’re just getting started. Don’t you doubt it.” She met him halfway to share a kiss, soft and full of love. Owen deepened it, and soon, all thoughts of their children had fled his mind. There would be enough time in the morning to worry about whether or not his instincts were right.

  Sarah was nervous. She understood Owen’s need to talk to Ainsley and even agreed that it was necessary. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth, not if it meant Ben would be hurt more.

  They didn’t say much as they drove to town, then up the long driveway to the Brewer estate. The house was impressive, and as it came into view, Sarah whistled low.

  “I like our mountain better,” Owen told her. “But this is nice.”

  “It is. I’m particularly envious of the garage.” She’d been teasing him about building one lately, now that they were older. The appeal of scraping a car off in the winter was fading fast.

  “Are we doing the right thing?” he surprised her by asking as he put the car in park.

  Sarah clasped his hand. “I think so. Only one way to find out.”

  Hand in hand, they went to the front door. Owen rang the bell. After a few seconds, a trim older woman opened the door. Surprise crossed her face for an instant, then resignation settled in.

  “Well, hello. I’ve been expecting someone from your family to show up.”

  Owen made the introductions. “Byrdie, this is my wife, Sarah, Ben’s mother. Is Ainsley available?”

  She grasped the doorknob and looked over her shoulder, then stood back. “Come on in. She’s not available, but I reckon we need to talk. How is Ben?”

  Owen gave a slight shake of his head. “Not good. Ainsley?”

  “The same. Would you care for anything to drink?” She ushered them into the living room.

  “No, thank you,” Sarah told her. “You and Ainsley are close?”

  Byrdie smiled. “I raised her from the time she was born. Her mother wasn’t very nurturing. She was more than happy to hand Ainsley over to me, and I was overjoyed to take her. After Ainsley left Hazard, I went to her. She’s as much a daughter to me as if I gave birth to her.”

  The sadness in the woman’s voice spoke volumes. Sarah glanced at Owen. He’d been right—there was a lot more to the story than what they knew. “Byrdie, we’ve got quite a mess here. How do we fix it?”

  The smile they exchanged was from mother to mother, full of love and concern. “For that, we’re going to need something to drink. Come on into the kitchen with me. I’ll put some coffee on.”

  She’d just gotten the pot going when a tall, handsome man appeared at the door. “I thought I heard voices.”

  “Jonah Morrissey, Owen and Sarah Campbell. Ben’s parents. They’re here to help. Jonah’s my second adopted child. He lives on the farm with us in Lexington.”

  Sarah shook the hand he offered. “Are you from Hazard?”

  “No, ma’am. I grew up in Lexington. Doug Scott was my best friend.”

  Byrdie brought four mugs to the table, along with the sugar bowl. “Is she resting?” she asked Jonah.

  “Finally. It’s pretty bad this time.” He went to the refrigerator and got out the cream. He brought it to the table and sat down. “So what’s the plan?”

  “We have some questions,” Owen said. “Not a lot about what we know makes sense. And we know how easy it is for little things to become big things. So we thought we’d stop by and just ask—what the hell is going on?”

  “Where do you want to start?” Byrdie asked. “It’s quite a complicated tale. Maybe you should tell us what you know, and we’ll fill in the blanks.”

  Sarah looked at Owen as Byrdie filled their mugs, then sat down. “You’re the storyteller.”

  “Ben and Ainsley met a few summers ago, started a romance. They were intimate, which resulted in a pregnancy Ben didn’t know about. Ainsley married another man and broke Ben’s heart. She lost the child. Her husband died about a year ago, her mother last fall. Ben and Ainsley hooked back up recently, and he found out about the baby last Friday. He believes she used him to get pregnant five years ago. And they’re both hurting.”

  Byrdie nodded. “Most of that is true. The only part that isn’t true is that Ainsley used him. And you’re missing the motivations behind the rest. I guess Ben is, too.”

  “The motivations are crucial here, I’m betting,” Sarah said.

  “They’re pretty important, yes.” Byrdie rotated her mug on the table. “You need to understand something. Ainsley and her mother didn’t have a good relationship. G
eneva resented Ainsley for a number of reasons. I worked for the family for a few years before Geneva got pregnant. She never wanted children. She was perfectly happy with things as they were. Sol was older, and he indulged her. She liked that—a lot. Felt it was what she deserved in life. When she found out she was pregnant, I think if she’d had access to an abortion doctor, she would have taken that route without hesitation. Fortunately, she didn’t. Sol found out first, and he wanted that baby like he’d never wanted anything before. So she was stuck.”

  Sarah found Owen’s hand on the table, and his fingers curled around hers in support. “That didn’t change after Ainsley was born?”

  “No. Geneva’s resentment got worse. Geneva’s spine was damaged during delivery. It got worse and worse as the years went on, and she blamed Ainsley for that. Sol, too. She never let the two of them forget what they’d taken from her. Shut Sol out, and nothing Ainsley ever did was good enough. She was such a good child, so sweet, so kind. If she hadn’t looked so much like her mother, I’d think she’d been switched at birth.”

  Sarah knew too well what not being wanted as a child could do to a young girl’s psyche. John’s Zanny had grown up in a broken home, and her father had done quite a bit of damage to her self-esteem, which she’d only recently started healing.

  “How did Ainsley handle it?” she asked.

  Byrdie sat back with a sigh. “She kept her head down as much as she could. Didn’t cause ripples. When she was eighteen, she went to Europe for a grand tour. Ainsley took the opportunity and started spreading her wings. When she came home, she was a lot more confident. And she started standing up to her mother. First time ever. I was so proud of her.”

  “That’s when she met Ben, when she came home,” Jonah added when Byrdie couldn’t continue. “And she said she couldn’t believe someone like him was interested in someone like her. She was about twenty, thirty pounds heavier then, and like Byrdie said, her witch of a mother had done a number on her self-esteem.”