“Have you? Because I don’t see how. Your mother must have hated him for what he did.”
His mouth tightened. “It changed their relationship, yes. That’s something else I’ve carried with me, the guilt about that.”
“Oh, Owen. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I don’t, necessarily. But I still feel guilty.”
Owen closed his eyes. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. The strands were loose and silky soft against his cheek. His heart twisted as he wondered if this would be the last time he’d hold her. Though he hadn’t set out to deceive her on purpose, the intention didn’t seem to matter as much as the result. Adding to his guilt was the knowledge that he still wasn’t being honest about what he truly was.
Sarah finally stirred against him. “Owen?”
“Yes?”
“Is there anything else you’d care to share with me? Any other secrets you’ve been keeping?”
He didn’t know how to answer. She pulled back to look at him, perhaps sensing there was more.
He looked down at her and shrugged. “There are some things I’m not ready to tell you yet. I’m not… it isn’t you. I’m not ready to talk about them yet.”
“Are they bad things?” A horrified look crossed her face. “You’re not married, are you?”
“What? No! No, I’m not married. Never have been. To be honest, I never considered that marriage might be in my future. Not until recently.”
Sarah looked dubious. “Then what sort of things are we talking about? Are you a criminal? Have you killed someone? Do you turn into a werewolf by the light of the full moon?”
Though he was fairly certain she was jesting with the last question, it took every bit of control Owen had not to react. He stuttered, trying to figure out how to respond.
Sarah put her fingers over his mouth. “Stop. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t owe me any explanations. You already said you’re not ready to talk about it, whatever it is. But answer me this.” A flash of uncertainty and pain crossed her face, and she wet her lips. “Is there someone else?”
Owen cupped her face in his hands. “No.” He kept his eyes on hers. “No. There’s no one else, Sarah. Only you.” She closed her eyes, and Owen didn’t think he’d imagined the relief he’d seen in them.
“Then I guess I’ll have to be patient, wait until you’re ready.” She turned her head and kissed his palms, first one, then the other. “That said, I think we both need a little space to think about things. I’m going to head back to the house.”
She stood, and Owen followed suit. “Sarah, I—”
“I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”
He frowned. “I know. I trust you.”
“Do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. Yes, I really do. You’re sure you have to go?”
Sarah wrapped her arms around her waist. “I think so. I need some time to process what you’ve told me. It’s a lot to take in, all at once. And I’ll be honest, I’m a little upset you didn’t tell me earlier. I understand why you didn’t, but that’s the logical side of my brain. The emotional part is still struggling with why you didn’t.”
Feeling lower than low, Owen nodded. “Okay. I’ll walk you home.”
“No. I’d rather you didn’t, not today.”
He felt the words like a blow, and his jaw tightened. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easily.” Stepping closer, Sarah put her arms around him, her head resting on his chest. She gave him a tight hug, but moved back before Owen could pull her to him. “You may wish I had, however. Mama wants me to invite you to dinner tomorrow. The whole family’s going to be there, Randall and Kathy included.”
Owen led her inside to where he’d hung their coats and helped her into the poncho. “You said Eliza wants me there. Do you?”
Sarah sent him a winsome smile. “I want you there, yes. But only if you want to be there. Don’t answer me now. Just show up if you decide to come. We eat around one, and Mama doesn’t like people to be late.”
Not quite sure what to say or do, Owen held open the door and followed her out onto the porch. She went down the steps.
He had to grasp the support post in order to keep from going after her. “Will you call me when you get home to let me know you’re there and safe? You don’t have to say anything else, but let me know you’re okay. Please?”
“Of course I will.” With a small wave and a sad smile, she set off.
It only took seconds for her to disappear from sight, and as she went, Owen felt his heart shatter. The need to shift, to change into a wild creature and run howling through the woods, was strong. In his animal form, he could express pure emotions easier than he could when in human form. The only time he came remotely close to being that emotionally free as a human was when he was writing. He knew he had to resist the urge to change, at least for a little while.
Once Sarah was safely home, though, he would shed his clothes and transform into the monster his father had feared so much. It had been a long time since Owen had felt such self-loathing, and he growled.
“You took so much from me, old man. I’ll be damned if I let you take anything else,” he told the house behind him. He’d never been able to tell his father how he felt when Hank was alive, and the house had come to represent most everything Owen resented about his past. He’d hoped that by bringing Sarah there, he’d finally be able to let go of the hurt and the hate, but it hadn’t happened. “One of these nights, I’m liable to burn you to the ground.”
He grabbed his coat and headed for the house that was his sanctuary to wait for Sarah’s call. He didn’t want to change while it was still daylight out. With the wolf riding him hard, night couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE ENTIRE WALK HOME, SARAH struggled with her emotions. She was hurt that Owen hadn’t trusted her sooner with the truth about his being a writer, but she understood why he hadn’t, given what he’d told her about his father. That said, she wondered if he really would have told her or not. That doubt, that question, raced through her mind. Even though he’d said all the right things, she would need some time to get back to completely trusting him again.
Another thing that weighed heavily on her mind was Owen’s reluctance to tell her what else he was hiding. If she hadn’t almost been able to feel his pain, she would have pushed harder to get him to talk. As it was, her instincts were telling her she’d end up pushing him further away if she persisted.
When she got home, she was immensely relieved to find her mother there. She greeted Eliza, then went to the phone to call Owen. He answered on the first ring.
“It’s Sarah. I’m home.”
“Thanks for calling and letting me know. Sarah, I… I’m sorry, about everything.” He sounded so tense and tired and so very alone, that it was all Sarah could do to not cry out.
“We’ll talk soon. Bye, Owen.” Moving slowly and carefully, as if she would break if she made any sudden moves, she replaced the receiver in its cradle.
“Everything okay?” Eliza asked.
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think it is, Mama. I really don’t think so.”
Some time later, sarah and Eliza sat on the back porch, sipping hot cocoa. Eliza had already let Sarah cry on her shoulder. Now that Sarah was calm enough to talk, she told Eliza a little bit of what had happened.
“I found out something he’d been keeping from me. It’s not bad,” she rushed to assure her mother. “He’s not married, doesn’t have kids. It isn’t anything like that. But I’m hurt that he didn’t tell me. I kind of stumbled on it, to tell the truth. And it makes me wonder what else he’s keeping from me. How much he trusts me, if he trusts me.”
Eliza brushed a ha
nd over Sarah’s hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I knew what to tell you, but that’s something the two of you are going to have to work out.”
“I know. I just… I want so much to be with him. It feels right to be with him, Mama. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And it isn’t only that he’s attractive,” she said, blushing. “Though he is. But he makes me laugh, and he makes me feel safe, and I want to make him smile. He doesn’t smile enough. Now, though, I’m worried he won’t let me close enough to be a part of his life. Not the way I want.”
“Sarah Jane, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Utterly miserable, Sarah lifted her gaze to her mother’s. “I think I am.”
Eliza closed her eyes and tightened her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“There’s nothing to do but wait; I know that. But, God almighty, it’s hard.”
“You know, back when I worked with Owen’s mother, Lucy, at church, I got the feeling from her that he was a very troubled young man. Oh, not the kind of troubled that would make me worry about you dating him,” she hurried to say when Sarah shot her an incredulous look. “It was more that she couldn’t reach him. He was maybe thirteen, fourteen, and she’d sent him to stay with someone. He was having trouble in school, I think. Lucy was absolutely heartbroken. Owen was her favorite child.”
“Do you know what it was that made him like that?” Sarah kept her eyes on her mug as she waited for the answer.
Eliza considered the question for a minute. “I think she said something about his father and that they’d had a falling out. It hurt Owen, and he would never let her in after that.” She looked at her own mug, running a thumb along the rim. “From what I know of Owen, what I’ve seen when he’s here, I’d guess that he shut himself away from everyone. I don’t think he’s used to letting anyone in. He’s probably opened up more to you than to anyone in recent years, sweetheart. That has to be hard for someone like him. I don’t think I’d give up on him yet.”
Sarah felt a small smile coming on. “You think he’s worth fighting for, then?”
“I do. I think he’s a good fit for you, and vice versa. I’d hate to see either of you give up now.”
The forest was damp, the scents of decaying vegetation strong in the air. Fog rolled through the trees like a living thing, and the cold, ethereal atmosphere suited Owen’s mood to a tee. As soon as it was dark, he’d stepped outside and shifted.
For a long time, he just ran—up and down trails, through the brush—welcoming the sting of the branches as they slapped against his face. It was the wolf’s version of the hair shirt, Owen thought, which he very much felt he deserved. Eventually, he found himself at the pool. After getting a long, cold drink, he shook himself and trotted up the path to the top of the boulder. Sitting down, he finally let his pent-up emotions rise to the surface. Anger, grief, guilt—they all warred for dominance within him. They swelled, fighting to get out, to be expressed.
He hadn’t run in so long, the emotions threatened to tear him apart. They started clawing their way out of his throat, first emerging simply as yips and whimpers.
When he couldn’t hold the pain inside any longer, he howled.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SARAH AWOKE AT THE CRACK of dawn on Sunday morning. She had only slept in fits and starts, she was so worried about her relationship with Owen. As if that hadn’t been enough, she kept hearing a wolf howling in the distance. When she rolled over for what felt the hundredth time at five o’clock, she simply gave up. Throwing the covers back in disgust, she got up and pulled on an old sundress. She pulled her hair back into a severe twist, then headed downstairs to the kitchen. She didn’t have to worry about waking up Jack, who had taken their parents’ old room, as he had stayed in town with Gilly and her family. Free to move around the kitchen, she turned on the small radio Jack had gotten them for Christmas, keeping the volume low, and got to work.
By the time her mother came down three hours later, Sarah had started making the yeast dough for rolls. Additionally, the pot roast they were having for dinner was ready to go in the oven, and she had baked two pies and two dozen cookies.
“Sarah, what in the world? How long have you been up?”
With a quick glance at the clock, Sarah shrugged. “Since five or so. Want coffee?” Without waiting for Eliza’s response, she poured a mug and added sugar and cream, just the way her mother liked it. She handed the mug to Eliza with a tense smile and turned back to the dough.
Her mother, still dressed in her nightgown, blew out a breath. “Okay, then. I’ll sit over here at the table and watch you work. What kind of cookies are these?”
“Oatmeal chocolate chip and peanut butter. And the pies are apple and strawberry. Do you think I should make a cake, too?”
Eliza thunked her mug down on the table. “How many people are you expecting to feed today? Sweetie, I think you need to take a break. Sit down here with me.”
Sarah braced her hands on the counter. “If I sit down, I’ll start to think. And if I start to think, I don’t know if I can bear the weight of my thoughts, Mama.”
“I understand.” Eliza’s voice was quiet, and when Sarah looked over her shoulder, she saw that her mother was twisting her gold wedding band. “Just don’t wear yourself out too much. The last thing you want to happen is for dinnertime to get here, and you be asleep on the couch.”
Sarah snorted laughter. “Yeah, I don’t think that’d be the best way to kick off his first sit-down with the family. If he even shows up.” She shook herself, stopping the thought in its tracks. “I was thinking about making those noodles Daddy’s cousin, Helga, used to make. What do you think?”
Eliza glanced around the kitchen skeptically. “Well, I think you’ve already made enough food to feed an army. We still need vegetables, but that won’t take any time to do. So, sure. Go ahead and make the noodles. They sound pretty good, I admit. Do you want my help?”
“No. You’ve cooked these big dinners for us all these years. Sit back and relax this time. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Sarah went back to work, humming along with the song on the radio.
After a few minutes, Eliza got up and topped off her coffee. “I think I’m going to get my Bible and go sit on the porch. Holler if you need me, sweetie.” She gave Sarah a quick hug and kiss, and disappeared into the living room.
By the time Jack and Gilly arrived, most of the food for dinner was ready.
Gilly looked around the kitchen, her eyes wide. “Wow, Sarah. I made a cake last night. Jack kept trying to get a piece of it. Maybe I should have let him,” she said, handing over the glass cake safe to Eliza, who had come into the kitchen with her. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I… I’m fine.” Sarah glanced over the food, mentally going through the list in her mind. “The corn and beans need to be heated up, the rolls are ready to go in the oven whenever the roast comes out, and the broth for the noodles is on the stove. What am I forgetting?”
“What about tea and lemonade?” Gilly asked.
“Oh, crap!”
“We can take care of that. You need to head upstairs,” Gilly said.
Sarah glanced at the clock and grimaced. “I guess I should probably go get cleaned up. Everyone else will be here soon, and I look like a hot mess.”
“Why don’t you do that?” Eliza took her hand and tugged her in the direction of the stairs. “The last thing you want to happen is for Owen to come in and see you looking like we’ve kept you in here chained to the stove.”
Sarah nodded. “Okay.”
When she started to climb the stairs, she realized how much her feet and lower back hurt. She’d been standing for almost seven hours, but the hard work had done its job. She was too tired to be anxious about whether Owen would make an appearance anymore or not.
De
ciding that she had time to take a bath, she filled the claw-foot tub, adding Epsom salts and bubble bath. As she sank into the hot water, she groaned with relief. She dunked under the surface fully, holding her breath until it hurt. When she resurfaced, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Head resting against the back of the tub, she closed her eyes.
“Right now, I’ll be happy to get through the day. I hope that isn’t asking too much.”
When Sarah came back downstairs thirty minutes later, dressed in a blue blouse and white capri pants, the house was full of people. She strained to pick Owen’s voice out of the melee, but couldn’t hear him. It was twenty ‘til one, and he should have arrived if he was coming. Masking her disappointment, she hurried into the kitchen.
Kathy, seated at the table with the baby, looked up with amusement clear on her face. “We thought we were going to have to get a wheelbarrow to cart all that food you cooked into the dining room. Surely you’re not nervous about your beau coming over.”
Sarah ignored the remark and stopped to run a gentle finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “Is there anything else we need, Mama?”
Eliza chuckled. “Nothing but our last guest. Oh, you did forget to do mashed potatoes, but we covered that. And the gravy. Speaking of our guest,” she said, looking out the kitchen window, “here he comes. Sarah, let him in?”
All the nerves she thought she’d conquered by working that morning came rushing back into her stomach, and for an instant, Sarah thought she might be sick. Swallowing hard, she hurried out the kitchen door and stood on the porch steps, waiting as Owen crossed the back yard. He looked up when he was a few feet away and stopped dead in his tracks.
Wearing dark pants and a red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he was so handsome it hurt to look at him. He carried a small book in one hand, and as she watched, he shifted it to the other hand nervously. His expression was guarded, solemn. Sarah pushed open the screen door, and he walked slowly until he was only an arm’s length away.
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