“Nellie, I thought all books with holds on them got these stickers. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”
“It is. Why?”
“Because I checked a couple of books out a few weeks ago that were supposed to be on hold for someone else. Their cards didn’t have stickers on them. If they had, I wouldn’t have checked out the books. The patron came in looking for the books, and they weren’t here.”
Nellie pursed her lips, and pulled off her glasses, letting them dangle on the delicate chain she wore around her neck. “The patron who had the books reserved wouldn’t happen to be a handsome man, would he?”
“As a matter of fact… how did you know that?”
Nellie shook her head. “Because that’s what Callie does. She takes off the tags, and then whatever man has been waiting for the books calls or comes back in to see what the hold up is. She’s determined she’s going to catch her a husband, that girl is. Shameful.”
The idea that Callie had set her cap for Owen didn’t sit well with Sarah. Callie had never made a secret of her admiration of Owen’s looks, but removing the tags on his holds seemed like a somewhat underhanded way of getting his attention.
Nellie stood and straightened her skirt. “It’s time for me to take lunch. You’ve been here long enough that you can handle things.”
Sarah smiled. “If I have any questions, I’ll call downstairs. I promise.”
The older woman handed Sarah a key ring. “This is for the genealogy room. There’s a patron back there now. If he leaves before I get back, which I doubt he’ll do given how long he usually stays, make sure he signs out in the register. Lock the room after he leaves.”
“Okay. Have a good lunch.”
After Nellie disappeared, Sarah started shelving the returned books, enjoying the quiet. With the end of the school year approaching, she knew the peaceful atmosphere was something that wouldn’t last much longer. Shirley had warned her that the library became much more active in the summer months. Children, especially those living in town, came to the facility in droves.
As she turned the corner with the cart, Sarah looked in the direction of the genealogy room. Owen was exiting, walking toward her with a distracted frown, as though he were trying to puzzle something out. When he saw her, he slowed.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Campbell,” Sarah said, cringing inside. She thought he had left.
He walked to stand beside her. “Owen.”
“Excuse me?”
“Owen. It’s my name. Mr. Campbell was my father.”
Sarah shelved a book and sent him a non-committal smile. “Okay. Is there anything I can help you with?”
The distracted look came back across his face. “No. I was just taking a break. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course.”
He went in the direction of the restrooms, and Sarah realized she was grasping the handle of the cart so tightly, her knuckles were white. She forced a laugh and made herself loosen her grip. Blowing out a sigh, she moved down the aisle of bookshelves and continued putting up the books.
In a couple of minutes, she heard booted footsteps coming back toward the stacks, and she tensed in anticipation. Sure enough, Owen appeared at the end of the row of bookshelves. With his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, he ambled toward her. His dark blue plaid dress shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms made his shoulders look a mile wide. Sarah tried to act nonchalant, but her heart was pounding.
“Where’d you learn that trick you used on the insurance agent?”
“Um.” Sarah blinked at him, unsure of how to answer. Should she deny that it was a deliberate attack or answer honestly?
Casually, he picked a book up off the cart and thumbed through it. After a minute, he looked up, an eyebrow raised. “Well?”
Sarah frowned. “That’s a rather forward question, don’t you think?”
Owen shrugged, looking back down at the book in his hands. “No.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You’re assuming I’m not just clumsy. That it wasn’t an accident.”
A small smile lifted the corners of Owen’s mouth, but he didn’t look up. “It isn’t an assumption; it’s a fact. I’ve watched you. You’re not clumsy.”
Completely disconcerted and tired of being toyed with, Sarah said the first thing that came to her mind. “What kind of game are you playing?”
His head jerked up. “I’m not playing any game. I genuinely want to know.”
“Why? Worried I might use that sort of maneuver on you?” Sarah eyed him from head to toes, and back up again. “It’s a distinct possibility.” Moving past him with the cart, she went to the other side of the bookshelf and tried to pretend he hadn’t followed her.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said. “I came on a little strong that day at the pool. I’m sorry.”
With a muted groan, Sarah shelved the book she was holding and turned to him. “So you’ve waited this long to apologize? It’s been over a month. Obviously, you weren’t too guilt-stricken.” Smarting as she remembered how cold he’d been that day, she made a dismissive motion with her hand. “Apology accepted. Now, if you don’t need anything, I have to get back to work. You can get back to whatever it is you were doing.”
She walked across the room to the next section of books, hoping he would take the hint. Much to her frustration, he didn’t. Instead, he shelved the book he held—in its proper place, she noted—and followed.
“It’s genealogy,” he said as he came to a stop a few feet away. Hands back in his pockets, he leaned against the wall and watched her finish putting the books away. “What I’ve been doing. I really am sorry about the way I acted that day. You startled me, and I didn’t respond very well.”
“Mr. Campbell-,”
“Owen.”
Sarah counted to ten, then to ten again. “Mr. Campbell, I was the one in the wrong that day. I was trespassing. You had every right to throw me off your land.”
He scowled. “I didn’t throw you off my land.”
“Not literally, but you most definitely did figuratively. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been there. I won’t be there again. End of discussion.”
Sarah could tell her response didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t move when she rolled the cart back to the elevator and returned to the desk.
After a minute, he pushed away from the wall and came to stand beside her. “As long as you don’t bring anyone else with you, I don’t have any objection to you coming to the pool from time to time. Just… just be careful if you do decide to come back, okay? And don’t go swimming by yourself. It isn’t safe.” With that, he headed into the genealogy room.
Stunned, Sarah stared after him. She had to make a concerted effort to pick her jaw up from where it had fallen on the floor. When Nellie returned from lunch five minutes later, Sarah was still trying to figure out if she’d imagined the exchange or if it had really happened.
In the genealogy room, Owen mentally cursed himself for being ten kinds of fool. Though she had hid it well, there was still a lingering hurt from that early encounter. From everything he’d seen of Sarah, she didn’t seem to be the type of person to hold a grudge for long. Therefore, the only logical reason for her to still be harboring hurt feelings about being forbidden from using Owen’s land was that she had a deep, emotional attachment to the pool. That train of thought almost didn’t bear following. Because if that was the case, if she truly was connected to the land emotionally, it was entirely plausible that she was the sort of woman Owen had dreamed of finding his entire life, but never dared believe existed. A woman who might possibly be able to accept him for who he was, all of him. A woman who, if she felt that deeply about something, wouldn’t easily forgive the person who came be
tween her and what she loved.
And he’d been the one to hurt her.
Chapter Seventeen
WHEN SARAH CAME DOWN FOR breakfast Saturday morning, she found her mother sitting at the table, staring into space.
“Everything okay?” Sarah asked.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Sarah told her with a smile. She pulled together a bowl of oatmeal and some leftover canned peaches they’d had with supper the night before and poured a large cup of coffee. Sitting down across from her mother, she ate quietly for a few minutes. When Eliza resumed staring out the open kitchen door, Sarah felt a frisson of concern dance up her spine.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked again.
Eliza blew out a slow breath. “I have a lot on my mind, sweetie. Have you heard anything else from Owen?”
“No. He hasn’t been back in since that day I dropped the books on Tony.”
Her mother propped her chin on her hand. “Well, hopefully he’ll make his mind up one way or the other, whether he’s going to be a nice man or an ogre. Personally, I’m hoping for the nice guy. You could do much worse.”
“Mama!” Sarah laughed, a little embarrassed, especially since she’d been thinking that very thing.
“It’s true. And I’d like to see you married and settled, Sarah. You deserve to be happy.”
Sarah frowned. “You make it sound like you’re not planning on being around much longer. What’s going on, Mama?”
Eliza ran her finger across a groove Jack had cut in the table when he was ten. “I got a letter from Nancy yesterday. She wants me to come to Georgia for a while to stay with them.”
Carefully, Sarah laid her spoon down and sat back. “Okay. For how long?”
“I don’t know. Until thinking of your father doesn’t make it hurt to breathe anymore, I guess.”
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room was loud. Outside, Sarah could hear birds chirping, dogs barking, children yelling, but inside, it was as though a blanket of silence had fallen over the kitchen.
“How soon would you be going?” Sarah finally asked.
Eliza stood and went to the sink, dumping her coffee down the drain. “I’ll wait until after the baby was born, and Kathy’s all right from that. Do you think you’d be comfortable living here by yourself?”
It dawned on her then that Eliza’s mind was made up, and that if she hadn’t had a new grandchild to greet any day or Sarah living at home still, she would already be packing.
She didn’t want to lie to her mother, but her instincts were screaming that how she answered the question was monumentally important. “I think I’d be okay. It would be lonely, but maybe Gilly could stay with me some of the time.”
“And you wouldn’t resent me for leaving?”
“Oh, Mama, no!” Sarah went to her mother and embraced her. “I don’t want you to go, but if you need to, then you should. Don’t let me be the reason you don’t go. I’ll be fine.”
She felt some of the tension leave Eliza’s body. Her mother’s hands came up to squeeze Sarah’s arms.
“I can’t stand being here without him, Sarah Jane.” Eliza’s voice was choked with tears. “I don’t know what else to do.”
For several minutes, Sarah held her mother while Eliza cried.
After a while, Eliza released a shuddering breath. “I was so worried to tell you. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand and would feel like I was leaving you. You could always go with me. Nancy said they’d love to have you, too.” She pulled away to reach for a tissue.
Sarah crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “No. I don’t think I’d like that. I’m starting to build something here; I feel it. A life, a career. And I’m not talking about Owen Campbell,” she interjected before her mother could say it. “So as much as I’ll miss you, I think I’d rather stay here. Will you write?”
“Of course!” Eliza walked over with a clean tissue and wiped Sarah’s wet cheeks. “And I expect you to write me back.”
Sarah nodded, not looking at her mother. The tears were still too close to the surface. When the phone rang, she was relieved.
Eliza hurried to answer it, her face breaking into a smile as she listened to the caller. “But she’s doing okay? Good. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Moira with your mother? Okay. Yes, I’ll see you soon.”
She hung up, and Sarah knew without asking. “Kathy’s having the baby.”
“Yes. I need to get dressed and go to the hospital. You know how Randall is.”
Sarah snorted, then smiled. “I know. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here. I’d rather not have to sit through things with him in the waiting room. I’ll see Kathy and the baby tomorrow.”
Eliza gave her a sharp look, but didn’t protest. Sarah knew her mother understood that she needed some time to take in what they had discussed.
“Then I’d better get around. I’m glad she’s at the hospital and not having the baby at home. You girls definitely have the advantage over us old ladies there.”
“Mama, you’re not old,” Sarah chided. She agreed with Eliza’s assessment, though. While a lot of women still relied on midwives to deliver their babies, she was glad the hospital was nearby. New and modern, it provided a much safer alternative than her mother had had available when she was pregnant.
Ten minutes later, Eliza was ready to go. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Okay. I may go for a walk. If you call and I don’t answer, that’s where I’ll be.”
“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital with me?”
Sarah nodded. “I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”
Her mother got in the car and waved as she backed out of the driveway.
As Sarah watched her drive down the road, she whispered, “I’ll be fine. The sooner I start getting used to being alone, the better off I’ll be.”
Chapter Eighteen
OWEN DIDN’T GET OUT OF bed until after noon on Saturday. He’d been up until nearly four o’clock the night before, working on a story idea that had come to him Friday morning. By the time he stumbled to his bed, he’d been exhausted. As a consequence of sleeping so late, his head was pounding from hunger.
He pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans and a white T-shirt and headed downstairs to raid the refrigerator. Electricity was another luxury he’d had installed when he built the house, one he couldn’t imagine going back to living without.
His hunger satisfied, he walked to the front door and stared out across the kitchen garden at his parents’ house. He was going to have to get the tiller out soon, but after writing into the wee hours, the last thing he wanted to do was work more. Thoughts turning to the swimming hole, he wondered if Sarah would take him up on his offer and venture back over the property line.
“No, she’s too upset,” he told himself. “It’s way too soon to expect her to be there.”
He packed a bag with some fresh fruit and a couple of books and started down the mountain. Since he didn’t expect to see another human, he didn’t bother showering or shaving. He felt decidedly scruffy with a full day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw, and as he scratched his chin, he thought he might try growing out the beard.
When he reached the pool, he almost lost his footing when he spotted Sarah sitting on the rock. Clad in shorts and a shirt with its tails tied underneath her breasts, she presented a stunning picture. Owen wanted to howl then and there. She didn’t act as if she knew he was there, so he took an extra minute to gather his composure. He made sure to make noise when he started walking again.
Sarah turned her head, a look of alarm and dismay crossing her face. She started to stand.
“No, no. You’re fine. I’m not going to yell or bite your head off,�
�� he said as he reached the large, flat boulder. “Do you mind if I sit?”
Wary, Sarah shook her head. “It’s your land. You can do whatever you want.”
Owen set down the bag he was carrying, then sat on the lip of rock she was resting her back against. He struggled to find something to say, but he was at a complete loss. A few strands of her hair danced across her cheeks, teased by the breeze. Surreptitiously, Owen inhaled, taking in the smell of her perfume, shampoo, and the faint, healthy odor of sweat. She turned to study him, and he saw that she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’d better go, let you have your privacy.” Once again, she started to stand.
Reaching out a hand, Owen stopped her. They both stared at where his hand rested on hers, and he slowly pulled back, making the move a caress. He did his best to ignore the awareness the move had caused. “You aren’t bothering me. Please, stay.”
Sarah didn’t look at him, but after a minute, she eased back down onto the blanket. “Okay.”
When he was sure she was going to stay, Owen pulled out his own blanket, along with his fruit and books. He held an apple and orange out to Sarah, but she declined. Placing the fruit on the empty bag, he kicked off his boots and stretched out his legs. He picked a book and began reading, or tried to.
A good twenty minutes later, Sarah said, “It helps if you turn the pages. Makes the story much more interesting.”
Owen’s face heated, and he gave a rueful shake of his head. “I’ve heard that.”
Sarah gave a quick laugh, and Owen felt like he’d won a prize. She drew her legs up to sit cross-legged and pulled a book out of her bag. He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw that it was one of his, not the one he’d recommended, either.
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