Molly thrust out her chin. “Oh, yeah? And I suppose Buck’s death was for a reason, too. I’m sorry, Sara, but none of this makes any sense. The only thing I know is, I have a daughter to raise. I have to do what’s best for her.”
“You’re right, Molly. That’s the bottom line.” Sara stood and picked up the box of labels.
Hearing the resignation in Sara’s voice made Molly regret her harsh words. She leaned across the desk and held out her hand. “Oh, Sara, I appreciate you. Really, I do. Where would I be without you and Jackson? But—”
With a sad smile, Sara grasped Molly’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “I know. You have to live your life the way you see fit. I’ll try to remember that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Molly pulled the rake through the rectangular plot of earth behind her house then stopped to survey her progress. She finally had a chance to start her flower garden. She’d had one when she and Buck lived here before, and she always enjoyed planting and tending the flowers.
Soft evening light shone down on the newly turned ground. Pots of fledgling plants sat on a nearby bench, ready to be transferred to their new home. Next to the plants was the box of yard ornaments she’d used in her previous garden, which Sara had kept in a storage shed.
Molly put down the rake and hooked up the hose to the faucet on the side of the house. She turned on the water to a slow drizzle then dragged the hose to the plot. Picking up a trowel, she knelt and began to dig the first hole. The pleasant aroma of freshly turned earth floated up to her nose. This promised to be fun. In Chicago, while living with Paige and Harlan, she’d had only a few indoor geraniums to care for. She’d missed her outdoor garden.
Molly worked away, faintly conscious of the sounds of the TV floating out the open back door. Karli was in the living room watching her Mr. Muggins program. She’d wanted to help Molly, but in the end, the TV won out.
“Molly?”
Molly looked up just as Steve appeared around the corner of the house. Surprised at his sudden appearance, she jumped to her feet, trowel still in hand. “Hey, Steve. What brings you here?”
“Decided to take a walk this evening. Hot day and I needed to cool off.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt.
Molly’s pulse quickened, as it always did in his presence. “Today was hot. At least, out here there’s shade.” She nodded at the maple tree overhanging their corner of the yard.
“Yeah, the breeze feels good. How’s Karli doing?”
“Doing well. She’s in the house watching her favorite TV program.” With a smile, Molly nodded toward the back door.
His gaze followed her direction. “Ah. Mr. Muggins, I assume?”
“None other.”
All the time they were talking, Molly sensed something else was on Steve’s mind. A thought flashed. Had he come to tell her he was returning to New York? Her heart flip-flopped. Yet, why should his leaving upset her? She’d known an end to his visit would come soon.
She cleared her throat. “I get the feeling you’re here for a purpose.”
Narrowing his gaze, he pressed his lips together. “You’re right. I want to talk to you…about Angie.”
Molly gripped the trowel and took a step backward. Why did he want to talk about his ex-wife? “Angie? Because of that night at the party, when you thought you saw her?”
“Not just that. I’ve wanted to tell you about our marriage for a while now. I intended to tell you that night, but when we found out Karli was sick, of course, I put it off.” Steve looked out across the yard and rocked on his heels. “Then I decided to tell you the night I set up your laptop, but the time wasn’t right then, either. Karli was still sick, and we had business to do.”
“And the time is right now?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Molly swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. His hesitant manner didn’t feel right. “Well…okay. Mind if I keep working?” She tipped her head toward the garden.
“Not at all. In fact, I’ll help you—as much as I can.” He pointed to his sling.
“Sure. You can hand me the plants when I’m ready to stick them in the ground.” She knelt and scooped a couple more piles of dirt from the hole she’d dug.
“Okay. What’s first?”
“How about a delphinium?”
“Ah, right.” His hand waved over the variety of plants. “And which one is that?”
They both laughed, which eased Molly’s tension. “The one with the blue flower.” She pointed her trowel toward the box of plants on the bench.
“Of course. I knew that.” He stepped to the bench, picked up a delphinium, and handed it to her.
Molly set the plant on the ground beside the hole. “I’m listening.”
Steve paced a few yards ahead then stopped and turned. He blew out a breath. “Okay, here goes. My dad died when I was five. My older sister and my mom raised me. Then when I was eighteen, Mom passed away. My sister was married by then and starting her family. I wanted to go to college, but there was no money. I decided I would work my way through, no matter how long my degree took.”
“What kind of a job did you get?” Molly tamped down the dirt around the newly planted delphinium.
“As my situation turned out, I didn’t have to get a job. My godparents, Ed and Jane Griffin, gave me the money to go to college.”
She slanted a look his way. “Wow, that was nice.”
Steve nodded. “I always intended to pay them back someday, and at this point in my life I could, but it’s too late.” His voice dropped. “They’re both gone. They drowned in a boating accident in Mexico, where they were vacationing.”
“Oh, how sad.” Her throat tightened, remembering her sadness at losing loved ones. “Did they have children of their own?”
“Only one—Angie.”
“Ah, I’m beginning to see…”
Steve put out a staying hand. “Don’t start second-guessing, Molly. Hear me out.”
Molly stepped forward along the row and began digging a new hole. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more, but what could she say? “Okay, but get me another pot, please.”
“Which one this time?”
“How about a dahlia? Those are the red blossoms.”
Steve selected a dahlia and set it down beside Molly. Picking up the hose, he guided the water into the hole. “Angie was a wild kid. The Griffins were in their forties when she was born, and they never knew quite what to do with her. She was barely through high school when they died.”
“That must have been tough.” Molly pulled the dahlia from the plastic pot and placed it in the hole.
“She was lost without them. Before they went on their trip to Mexico, Ed Griffin must have had a premonition, because he said to me, ‘Steve, if anything happens to us, will you look out for Angie?’ And I promised him I would. Turns out, I did more than that. Before a year had passed, I asked her to marry me.”
Molly scooped out a hole for the next plant. “You’d fallen in love with her.” She couldn’t look at him and focused on the damp earth. Of course, he had. Why else would he marry her?
He hesitated then said, “Marrying her seemed the right thing to do.”
Okay, so he wasn’t going to admit he loved her. “Were you happy?”
“I thought we were. I did everything I could to help her to settle down. She wanted to learn metal sculpture, so I found her a class at the community college. That’s where she became interested in butterflies. She made yard ornaments of their shape and even sold a few at local fairs and festivals.”
“Yard ornaments? Butterflies?” Molly stiffened. Her gaze strayed to the box of yard ornaments sitting on the bench. The one on top was a butterfly. The tip of one copper wing gleamed in the sun’s lowering rays, like a bit of buried treasure.
“Yes, why?”
“Ah, nothing.” Molly ducked her head and stabbed at the earth while her
mind raced. The photo of Angie she’d seen in Steve’s hotel room had pricked her memory. So had the butterfly and star tattoo he’d described on Angie’s left wrist. And now, the added information that Angie had crafted butterfly yard ornaments and sold them at fairs and festivals. All pieces of a jigsaw puzzle she couldn’t quite fit together.
Steve’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Angie’s old friends wouldn’t let her alone, and she began hanging out with them again. I was busy with my computer work. Jerry and I had started our company, and I worked long hours. I’d come home to find her gone. Sometimes, she stayed away far into the night, and eventually, all night long.”
“Did you go looking for her?” Her gardening tasks forgotten, Molly sat back on her heels and gave her attention to Steve.
“Sure, I did. Sometimes I’d find her and drag her home, and sometimes I’d return home alone.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “And then, one day, when we’d been married exactly a year, she left and didn’t come back. Like I told you before, I did everything I could to find her, from hiring private detectives to consulting a psychic.”
Molly widened her eyes. “No trace of her anywhere?”
“Nothing that ever panned out. One detective thought he located her in one of those cults that travel around the country. One report placed the group not far from Red Rock.”
“Red Rock?” The words jogged Molly’s memory, but only for a moment. Then the impression vanished.
He leaned down in her direction. “Yes, why?”
Unable to meet his gaze, Molly again poked the earth with her trowel. “I, ah, maybe that’s why you thought the woman at Harwell’s party was Angie.”
“Maybe. But, anyway, then the trail went cold.”
“I can imagine how stressful her disappearance was.”
“I blamed myself.” He kicked at the dirt. “Her parents entrusted me with her care. I let them down.”
“But you did divorce her?” She held her breath while she waited for his reply.
He nodded. “Jerry kept telling me I should, and so I finally gave in. I had to wait five years, though, to divorce her in absentia. I thought after that I could move on, but I haven’t been able to. I keep thinking maybe she’s alive someplace and needs my help.” He held out his hand, palm up. “I feel responsible. I promised her parents I’d look out for her well-being, and they did so much for me…”
Molly focused on digging another hole while at the same time processing all Steve had revealed. “You said one detective traced her to this area. Have you asked around since you’ve been here, to see if anyone remembers her?”
“Yes. I’ve been showing her photo in various places, but with no luck.”
Did that mean she wasn’t in the area? Red Rock was a small town. Surely, if Angie were here, someone would have seen her. Molly’s gaze strayed again to the box of yard ornaments. Tell Steve to go look in the box. “Steve, I, uh—” Heat crept up Molly’s neck and onto her cheeks.
Steve leaned forward. “Yes? Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”
Still surprised by what she’d heard, Molly fanned her face with her free hand. “Guess the heat’s caught up with me, after all. I’d better quit for tonight.”
Steve’s brow wrinkled. “You didn’t get much done. My fault.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She made a dismissive gesture. “I planted three. That’s a start.”
“I can help you clean up, anyway.” Steve stacked the empty plant containers then headed to the bench and put them in the box with the remaining plants. “Want me to put these inside? They look light enough to carry with one hand.” He pointed to the box of plants and then to the one with the ornaments.
Molly’s knees went weak. Had he seen the butterfly ornament? Apparently not, for his expression showed only slightly raised eyebrows, as he waited for her answer.
“No, thanks. I’ll leave everything here until tomorrow and pick up where I left off.” Her gaze flicked between him and the box. Molly stepped to the faucet. As she turned off the water and coiled up the hose, her hands shook. She prayed he wouldn’t notice.
Performing the methodical tasks helped to stabilize Molly. When she finished, she longed to escape alone into the house, but her manners prompted her to ask, “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
His lips tilted in a half smile, but then they thinned and he shook his head. “I’ve taken up enough of your time tonight.”
Although relieved, she held out a reassuring hand and brushed his arm. “Please don’t feel that way. I’m glad you shared your story. I feel bad for you, and for Angie, too. She sounds like a troubled person.”
He nodded, his expression still grim. “That’s what I’ve always thought.” He held up a finger. “But there’s one more thing I need to say.”
Molly’s gaze darted to the box of ornaments and back again. Before she spoke, she swallowed hard. “What’s that?”
“I told you I haven’t been able to move on. But, now that I’ve met you…that might not be true anymore.”
Molly’s heart beat faster. “But, Steve…”
“There’s something between us, Molly. You can’t deny your feelings, and neither can I.”
“But—” Her thoughts whirled.
Steve placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s save that discussion for another time, okay?”
Before she had a chance to respond, he turned and walked away.
****
After Steve left, Molly headed for the box of yard ornaments. She picked up a butterfly-shaped one and ran her fingers over the sculptured metal. Up on the bench, the box had caught the last rays of sunshine, and the metal was warm to the touch.
She recalled the day she’d bought the ornament. Three years ago, she, Buck and Karli went to a rodeo in the neighboring town of Forksville. Buck was in high spirits because he’d won the saddle bronc riding division.
Afterward, with Karli in a carrier on Buck’s back, they strolled along the row of tents where craftspeople sold their wares. Buck bought a teddy bear for Karli and a pretty green scarf for Molly, which he said matched her eyes.
They came upon a booth full of metal sculptures, many of them yard ornaments on long spikes. There were frogs and birds and squirrels—and butterflies.
“I want one of those,” Molly said. “It’d be perfect for my garden.”
Buck agreed. They looked over the selections, finally settling on one of the butterflies—the one Molly now held in her hands.
A young woman stepped forward from the back of the tent. Molly remembered thinking how pretty she was with her long, dark hair and large, dark eyes. But what she remembered most was the butterfly and star tattoo on her left wrist, visible when she reached out to take the money Buck handed her.
He said, “Nice tat,” or something like that.
A smile lighted the woman’s face. “I like butterflies,” she said.
“Did you make these?” Molly asked.
The woman nodded.
“Are they in stores anywhere? I might like to buy more.”
The woman shook her head. “Right now, only in fairs. We hope to get them in the stores soon, though.”
“Do you live around here? Is there somewhere I could contact you?”
An older woman with gray hair tied back with a scarf came to stand stiffly beside the young woman. “We stay near here, sometimes,” the older woman said.
Molly was about to ask for more information, but then one of Buck’s rodeo pals and his wife and two children joined them. The man slapped Buck on the back and congratulated him on his win. The wife chattered to Molly about their respective children.
By the time Molly could turn back to the young woman in the booth, she was busy with another customer. That was the last Molly saw of the young woman who made the butterfly ornament. A woman she was sure was Angie. She recognized her from the photo Steve had and from the distinctive butterfly and star tattoo on her wrist.
Molly stared at the ornam
ent, wondering what to do. Should she tell Steve? If she did, he might be able to find Angie, at last. Wasn’t that what he wanted?
And then what?
Steve believed something was happening between him and Molly, something romantic. Molly had to admit she agreed with him. But if Angie came back into the picture… Steve took his responsibilities seriously. His loyalty and determination to keep his promise to his godparents were qualities she admired.
But, if he found Angie again, he might realize he loved her, after all, and that whatever he felt for Molly wasn’t real.
She should tell him what she knew about Angie. That was the honest thing to do. Didn’t she pride herself on her honesty? Molly gripped the butterfly until the sharp edges cut into her fingers. She needed to think about this—at least for a couple days.
In the meantime, she’d do some checking around town on her own. If Angie was still in the area, maybe Molly could discover her whereabouts.
She carried the ornament into the kitchen. From the living room came the sounds of the closing music for Karli’s TV program. Molly needed to find a place to hide the ornament. She didn’t want Karli to see it and to wonder why she was hiding it away, instead of putting it in the garden. Karli was an inquisitive child who didn’t miss much, and she would ask.
Finally, Molly chose the broom closet next to the cupboards. She stuck the ornament in the back behind the broom and a mop and other cleaning supplies.
She turned her attention to story time and tucking Karli into bed and kissing her goodnight. As she performed their nightly ritual, she couldn’t shake the heavy cloak of guilt that now lay on her shoulders.
Chapter Fifteen
After that night, Molly didn’t know what to expect from Steve. Given his statement that “something was happening between them,” she figured he’d want to spend more time together.
However, the following two days passed without a word from him. He didn’t show up at the bakery office, and he didn’t come to her house.
That night at dinner, Karli asked, “Mommy, where’s Steve?”
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