by Janet Dailey
Voice strained, Mitch whispered, “It’s okay, Emmy. If you want to, go ahead and cry.”
And she did. Her soft cries continued as Kristen helped him get her in the truck. Tears poured down her creased cheeks the entire drive back up the muddy track to the house.
A sedan and a truck were parked in front of the house when they arrived. Ruth Ann and Lee rushed down the front porch steps to greet them as they pulled up.
“Is she okay?” Ruth Ann asked, holding an umbrella over Mitch’s head as he lifted Emmy down from the cab.
“She’s soaked clean through.” He cradled Emmy closer to his chest, wincing as she shivered against him. “I need a blanket and dry towels. Once we get her warm, I want to take her straight to the hospital, just to be safe.”
“I’ll help, then drive you,” Ruth Ann said, walking with him toward the house.
“Kristen?” Mitch glanced over his shoulder. An almost palpable relief poured through him when she fell in step beside him and her hand covered his on Emmy’s shoulder. “Will you follow us with—?”
“Don’t worry.” Her hand tightened over his. “I’ll wake Sadie and Dylan, and we’ll meet you there.”
She hurried ahead and disappeared inside the house.
After helping Emmy change clothes and wrapping a thick blanket around her, Mitch settled into the backseat of Ruth Ann’s car with Emmy at his side. As they traveled down the driveway, he hugged her closer and rubbed her arms briskly, glancing back anxiously, hoping for a glimpse of Kristen close behind.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Emmy’s truck appeared and followed at a close pace.
Emmy whimpered, and Mitch smoothed a hand over her wet hair, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry about this, Ruth Ann. Thank you for watching the kids and for driving us.”
She glanced back at him from the driver’s seat. “No need to thank me. I’m here for Emmy whenever and however she needs me.”
“In a way, I’m hoping this is one event she won’t remember,” he whispered as Emmy drifted off, breathing deeply against his chest. “She’d hate this. She’d feel awful about your being dragged out at this hour and Kristen searching on foot for her in a storm. Emmy never did like to put people out, and she never cared for charity.”
The rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers slowed as the storm weakened. Ruth Ann looked in the rearview mirror at the headlights following them, then met his eyes. “I know I’m speaking for me and Kristen when I say this isn’t charity,” she said softly. “This is love.”
CHAPTER 15
Kristen slid her clay-covered sneakers beneath her chair and shifted to a more comfortable position. Or at least as comfortable as it could get in a hospital waiting room.
She fixed her attention on the wide double doors on the other side of the room. One door opened, the sunlight streaming through the windows at her back glinting across the metal handle as it swung outward.
“Mr. Pittman?” A nurse, bright eyed, with a warm smile, nodded as a man rose from one of the seats lining the back wall. “You can come back now.”
A woman seated beside him stood, too.
The nurse held up a hand. “I’m sorry. Only immediate family is being allowed at the moment.”
Smothering a sigh, Kristen sank farther back into the stiff chair. She’d spent the early hours of the morning in the emergency room waiting area after Emmy had been checked in, hoping for good news or, at the very least, some kind of reassurance that she was okay.
But hour after hour had passed with no news. She hadn’t seen Mitch since moments after she arrived with Sadie and Dylan. He’d come out briefly to tell her that they’d taken Emmy to a back room and that he’d return with news as soon as he could.
That had been around two in the morning. It was almost eight now.
“Is Nana gonna be okay?”
Kristen glanced to her left, where Sadie sat, blinking up at her with sleepy eyes and a fearful expression. Dylan was slumped in a chair on the other side of his sister, his eyes closed, snoring softly. Both of them had to be exhausted. After the full day they’d had yesterday, they’d barely managed to fall asleep before she’d had to wake them, load them in the truck, and drive to town to sit and wait for hours on end.
“Don’t worry, Sadie.” She brushed the little girl’s bangs back and tapped her chin. “Your nana’s tough. She’s going to pull through this just fine.”
The words were hard to say and even more difficult to emphasize with a hopeful smile.
Kristen turned away and focused on the double doors again. Please, please let her be okay.
“Ms. Kristen?”
Biting her lip, she faced Sadie again. “Hmm?”
“What if she’s not?” Sadie’s chin trembled. “What if she got too cold, like Uncle Mitch said?”
Kristen’s heels tapped to a nervous rhythm on the linoleum floor, her knees bouncing with each movement. “She was cold,” she said gently, “but Mitch got her here quickly, and I’m sure they’re taking good care of her. We just have to be patient, and we have to . . .” She swallowed hard. “We have to hope for the best and be strong for your uncle Mitch.”
Because he was worried—incredibly so. Kristen cringed, recalling the ashen pallor of his skin when he’d greeted them after they first arrived. His arms had trembled around her as he embraced her, and a pained look had appeared in his eyes as he struggled to smile down at Sadie and Dylan.
“I can do that,” Sadie said, leaning her head against Kristen’s shoulder.
Heart aching, Kristen hugged her close and managed a smile. “I know you can. You’re a strong young lady. Your uncle Mitch and I are proud of you.”
“Ms. Kristen?” Sadie’s head shifted against her as she glanced up. Her small mouth moved to speak; then she hesitated. Finally, she stretched up toward Kristen, cupped her hand around Kristen’s ear and whispered, “I love you.”
Her vision blurred, and blinking rapidly, Kristen kissed her forehead, then whispered back, “I love you, too, Sadie.”
It was a strange mix of pain and joy—saying “I love you” to a little girl who wasn’t Anna. Holding Sadie in her arms, as if she were her own daughter. Kristen had no idea if the pain would ever completely disappear, but for the moment, it had faded.
The double doors swept open, and the nurse reentered. “Mrs. Hart?” She scanned the room, and her eyes came to rest on Kristen’s face. “Mrs. Kristen Hart?”
“I . . .” Kristen rose slowly, a warm sensation unfurling in her veins. “I’m Kristen.”
The nurse smiled. “You can come back now. Mrs. Emmy’s anxious to see you.”
Kristen hesitated then smiled at Sadie as she said, “Wait here with Dylan, please. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Sadie nodded.
Pulling in a deep breath, Kristen followed the nurse down the long, winding corridor. They turned left, then right, then left again before coming to a stop in front of a patient’s room labeled thirty-nine. The nurse knocked, and after Mitch, his tone deep, issued an invitation, she opened the door and stepped back, motioning for Kristen to enter.
As hospital rooms went, this one was roomy. There were two lounge chairs positioned on the right side of the room, and a wide set of windows lined the opposite wall. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds and pooled on the white sheets covering the bed.
“Kristen.” A frail hand lifted, and heavily veined fingers splayed toward her, beckoning her closer.
Emmy lay beneath the sheet, her frame slight and gray hair curling at her temples. But her eyes were clear and focused on Kristen’s face with recognition.
Legs shaking, Kristen took one step forward, then another, heavy shivers racking her body until her composure cracked and heaving sobs escaped her.
Mitch moved away from his position beside the bed, and his arm wound around her waist before he led her to a chair next to Emmy. “She’s okay.” He spoke gently, his lips brushing her cheek. “She’s been asking for you for a while now.”
After easing into the chair, Kristen reached out and slipped her hand into Emmy’s. Her sobs increased when Emmy’s soft palm smoothed over her hair in a gentle repetitive motion. A door clicked softly behind her as Mitch exited.
Minutes later, after she’d caught her breath and her crying had calmed, Kristen raised her head.
Emmy smiled, despite the tears shining in her eyes. “We’re a pitiful pair, aren’t we? Me with my weak, obstinate mind. And you with your hidden secret.” Her smile widened. “Guess that’s just how us Harts are.”
Kristen wiped her cheek with the back of her palm, then looked down and studied Emmy’s hand clutching hers. “How do you know about that?”
“I’ve seen and felt pain before,” she said. “It’s in your eyes. Noticed it the moment I first met you. Reminds me of when I lost my Joe.” Her tone softened. “What have you lost, Kristen?”
Kristen closed her eyes. Saw the sweep of Anna’s brown hair across her back as she smiled at her over her shoulder. Recalled the joyful sound of her laugh when they sat up in the hospital bed late at night, reading funny stories. Revisited one of Anna’s most precious last moments—the one when she smiled bravely, squeezed Kristen’s hand and said, “Don’t cry, Mama.”
“My daughter,” Kristen said brokenly. “I lost Anna.”
“How old was she?” Emmy asked gently.
“Five.” A fresh surge of tears streamed down her cheeks. “She had cancer. We tried everything, but—” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to let her go, and at first, I didn’t. I carried her memory with me for so long, but then it hurt too much to remember—to realize how good life was with her and how empty it is now without her. But then I met you and . . . Mitch and Sadie and Dylan.”
“And you wanted to do more than remember?” Emmy asked. “You wanted to feel alive again?”
Kristen nodded. “But it feels like a betrayal. Like I’ve left Anna behind. And it hurts too much to remember. It hurts too much to move on.”
Emmy shook her head, tears spilling over her lashes, as she pulled Kristen into a close embrace. “Oh, Kristen, it hurts just as much to forget. And I’m afraid to stop loving and living each day to the fullest for as long as I have left.” Her hand moved over Kristen’s hair again. “Don’t you know you’re my miracle? The one I’ve been waiting for? I’m not willing to let you go just yet.” She rocked slowly back and forth as their quiet cries whispered across the room. “So what will we do, my dear girl? Oh, what will we do?”
Kristen nuzzled her face closer against the silky skin at the base of Emmy’s throat, drawing comfort, strength, and new life from her firm embrace. “We’ll just do what a family should,” she whispered. “We’ll hurt—and heal—together.”
* * *
Mitch lowered the shade over Emmy’s bedroom window, but the late afternoon sun still glowed brightly through the thin covering, casting an orange light over her face. She still smiled slightly, even in her sleep, and held Sadie, who napped next to her in a loose embrace.
After being released from the hospital not long after her visit with Kristen, Emmy had been anxious to return home. She’d walked slower than usual when leaving the patient’s room and making her way to the truck, but she had managed it on her own and had almost vibrated with joy when he turned the truck back onto Hart’s Hollow Farm’s driveway.
Emmy’s face had lit up at the sight of the new sign Kristen had made, and she’d glanced into the backseat and shared a warm look with Kristen. She’d barely made it into the house, though, before the eventful day caught up with her, and she’d yawned repeatedly as he and Kristen helped her change and get settled for a nap.
Sadie, excited her nana was home, had piled into the bed with her, tucked her hands under her cheek, and promptly drifted off, as well.
Mitch grinned. They were a gorgeous sight. He bent, kissed their cheeks, then left quietly and closed the door behind him.
“Are they asleep?” Kristen stood at the other end of the hall, her hands twisting nervously at her middle. Her T-shirt and jeans were rumpled from sitting in a waiting-room chair all night, her blond hair was disheveled and there wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face.
She was the most gorgeous woman Mitch had ever seen.
He nodded, his eyes tracing the curve of her mouth, her cute nose and the peaceful look in her eyes. “Dylan?”
“He’s out like a light.” She swept a hand through her hair and sighed. “They’ve all earned a decent nap. And now that they’re home . . .” Her voice trailed away, and a glimmer of hope lit her expression as she studied his face.
“I put your bags back in the guest room.”
Her smile faded. “My bags?”
He gestured toward the floor near Dylan’s closed bedroom door. “The ones you left right there early this morning.”
“Oh.” Her chest lifted on a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I need to apologize to you for—”
“That can wait.” He strode to her, took her soft hand in his, and tugged her toward the front door. “I have something to show you.”
“But I need to—”
“Hey.” He stopped and faced her, cradled her face in his hands and brushed a soft kiss across her lush mouth. “I don’t need an apology right now. I just need you, if you’re willing.” He grinned. “Will you humor me, please?”
Her attention drifted to his mouth, and she smiled. “Okay.”
He continued, leading her outside onto the porch, down the front steps, and across the lawn.
The sun shined bright, its rays slipping between the thick low branches of the oaks and heating his skin. A light breeze rustled the leaves on the trees and the grass at their feet. He stepped softly until they reached the wide trunk of one of the oaks, then released Kristen’s hand, cupped his together, and lowered them by her knees.
She looked down and laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you one of the best views around.” He grinned wider and beckoned with his hands. “Come on. We’ve got a few moments to ourselves, and that big branch over there has our names written all over it.”
Smiling, she held on to his shoulder, placed her foot in his cupped palms, then shoved off and lifted herself onto the lowest branch. He waited until she had settled, then joined her, hoisting himself onto the same branch and scooting his way over beside her.
“You’re right,” she said, gazing at the landscape in front of them. “It is one of the best views.”
He followed her line of sight, taking in the lush green lawn, the long winding red driveway, lined on both sides with colorful gourds, and the fields full of thick, healthy soybean plants and tall cornstalks. The blue sky was flawless—there wasn’t a cloud to be found—and golden sunlight streamed in every direction.
He turned back to Kristen, took in the pink flush of her cheeks beneath the sun’s warmth, the graceful fall of her hair along her back, and the soft, welcoming curves of her lips.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “The most gorgeous sight in the world.”
She turned to face him, and her green eyes lingered on his smile. “You’re not even looking.”
“Yeah, I am.” Leaning forward, he cupped her face and dipped his head, then pressed soft kisses to her forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin. He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip, his arms straining to wrap around her and pull her close. “You know how I told you once before what I missed most about my childhood?”
She nodded.
“It’s this feeling you give me.” His hand slid down, took hers, and placed it on the upper left side of his chest, where his heartbeat was strong against her palm. “This love I’ve never felt before. I want that feeling forever. I want you forever.”
Her mouth parted, and a soft gasp of pleasure escaped her.
“And I want us to give Emmy, Sadie, Dylan, and the child I hope we’ll have someday the same kind of love. Limitless, unconditional.” He glanced at the house. “The same kind of love Emmy had fo
r Joe, for my father, for Carrie, and for me. The same kind of love you had for Anna.”
A brief flicker of sadness crossed her face. “You heard?”
“Yes.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to know everything about her and about you. And I want you to know me. Do you want the same? Do you want to make a life with me?”
Her smile returned. “I love you, Mitch.” She reached up, cradled his face in her hands, and whispered against his lips, “There’s nothing I want more.”
EPILOGUE
“Emmy! Get down from there.”
Kristen shaded her eyes, tilted her head back and looked up, smiling at the cute face laughing back at her from the oak tree. At five years old, Emmy was full of mischievous energy and could charm the hardest of hearts—just like her father.
“Aw, she’s just having fun,” Mitch said, ducking under the low branch and glancing up. “Aren’t you, baby?”
Emmy, hanging upside down, with her legs hooked over the branch, nodded, her long brown hair trailing over Mitch’s shoulder. “Just having fun, Mama,” she chimed, swinging back and forth and dangling her arms.
“Well, how about having fun down here, safe on the ground? Our first customers should be arriving soon, and I’ll need your help today.” Kristen tapped her toe, her mouth twitching, as Emmy made a face, then held her arms out for Mitch to help her down.
His broad hands gripped Emmy’s waist, lifted her from the limb, then lowered her safely to the ground.
“Can I help Dylan and Sadie?” Emmy asked, hopping from one foot to the other and watching her cousins wash strawberry buckets by the front porch.
“Yes, please,” Kristen said. “That’d be very nice of you, and I’m sure they’d appreciate your help.”
At eleven, Sadie had grown into a tall, intelligent, and pretty young lady with a reserved disposition. Dylan, on the other hand, couldn’t be more outspoken, flirtatious, and adventurous as a sixteen-year-old teenager. Both of them continued to do well inside and outside of school, Sadie having already mastered the piano and Dylan continuing to impress at every game the high school baseball team played.