Hometown Girl

by Courtney Walsh

  She glanced at Drew, who watched her, his strength and support the only thing enabling her to continue.

  “I know it doesn’t work that way. Dad forgave me. I guess I just needed to forgive myself.”

  “That sounds like a smart idea,” Molly said.

  “But you can understand why I can’t let you sell the farm to Davis Biddle.”

  “You can start over, Beth.”

  “She’s right,” Ben said. “If this guy wants the farm as much as he says he does, we’ve got some leverage. We can make sure we all get out of it what we put into it.” Ben had always been the voice of wisdom, and Beth always agreed with him.

  Until now.

  “What about your mom?” Callie asked, eyes hopeful. “I mean, it doesn’t change much for me, but I feel so bad for you guys. I loved your plans. Everyone in town loved your plans.”

  “We agreed not to bring our mom into this,” Beth said. “Because of her health.”

  Callie stilled. “Well, what do you think, Drew?”

  Drew stood on the outside of their circle, arms crossed. “I think it’ll be hard to get everything repaired by fall.”

  “But not impossible, right?” Beth could hear the naïve hopefulness in her own voice. Somehow Molly had become the voice of reason, and she’d become, well, the deluded one.

  Drew looked away.

  Not him too.

  “It doesn’t seem like we have a choice.” Ben shook his head. “We don’t really have any reason not to sell to this guy.”

  Beth caught a glimpse of Drew, who looked like he might choke on whatever words he wasn’t saying.

  “What is it?” She turned to him.

  His eyes widened.

  “You have something to say, I can tell.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t.”

  She stared at him. Didn’t he know she’d been watching him swallow his thoughts for weeks now? Usually she let him off the hook, but not this time. “Tell me.”

  “You’re just as much a part of this as the rest of us, man,” Ben said.

  “You’re more a part of this than the rest of us,” Beth said quietly.

  Drew shook his head, as if silently making a decision. “We’re not going to land on the same side of this one, Beth. Just let it go.”

  “Why?” She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “You don’t want to fight for everything we’ve been working for?”

  “Of course I do.” He kept his voice calm and even as always. “But you’re more important. You’ve got a chance to get out of this without losing everything. You should take it.”

  Beth looked around the circle of sad faces that all told her the same thing. No matter how much she wished it, the only way to save the farm was to let it go.

  None of them saw any other choice. And as much as she hated to admit it, neither did she.

  Their dreams for Fairwind Farm had washed away in the storm.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Beth sat in one of two Adirondack chairs she’d salvaged after the storm, staring at the empty fire pit and trying to figure out how to let the farm go.

  Why had God chosen to take this away from her, just when she’d begun to love it?

  She didn’t understand it, but she chose to trust He had a plan. In the past, she’d been so angry when things didn’t go her way—if she’d learned anything, it was that anger had turned her into someone she didn’t want to be.

  Her phone rang, and she saw Dina’s name on her screen. Beth hadn’t told her the barn sale was off. And she’d probably been working round the clock to spread the word.

  Beth let out a heavy sigh, then clicked the phone on. “Hey, Dina.”

  “Beth, have you had a chance to check your email? I’d love to know what you think of the mock-ups. And you’ll be happy to know Midwest Living and Country Life agreed to promote the sale online in exchange for advertising, which I’d be willing to donate.”

  “Dina, you don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s already done. Someone will be calling you this week. They’re excited. They might even send someone out to the sale.”

  She sounded so happy. In spite of everything, she’d been a good friend to Beth. It felt terrible to let her down. “You haven’t talked to your grandma, have you?”

  Dina paused. “No, why? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, but the farm isn’t. There was a tornado.” That stupid lump was back in her throat.

  “Oh, no, Beth. I’m so sorry.”

  “It looks like we’re going to have to sell. We don’t really have another choice.” Even as she said the words, Beth thought of a hundred other choices—though she had to admit, most of them resulted in their financial ruin.

  “So what’s next for you, then?” Dina asked after a pause.

  Beth swiped a tear before it could slide down her cheek. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “Come work for me.”

  Beth laughed. “What?”

  “Come on, Beth. You’d be amazing. I know we were always a little competitive in high school, but we’re past all that now—and my team could use a great leader like you.”

  Was she serious?

  “So, what, I’d move to the city?”

  “Sure, why not? Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is.” Or at least, it had been.

  “Think about it. Let me know. I’ll hold on to the advertising and leave the magazine interviews in place for a couple more days. Maybe there will be some sort of miracle.”

  “I hope you’re right. And Dina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  She hung up, a familiar hollow feeling returning to her gut. After everything they’d invested in Fairwind, she was sick to think of walking away from it now.

  A stick cracked behind her, and she turned to find Drew standing there. How long had he been there?

  “You’re leaving?” Even in the shadow, she could see his disappointment.

  She looked away. “Aren’t you?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  She stood and faced him.

  The ten-year-old boy in the fishing photo popped into her mind. Anger rose within her. Why hadn’t anyone done a better job making sure he was okay? If they had, maybe he’d be able to talk about it now. Instead, he stood there, the truth trapped inside him.

  She didn’t know how to let him go. She didn’t know how to give him the space she’d promised. Not when she wanted to know everything about him.

  “You gave me something,” she said, “and I don’t even know if you realize it.”

  His eyes held hers, unmoving.

  “A safe place. I didn’t even know I needed it. I was so ashamed of everything that happened at work, but the day I told you, it was like it lost its hold on me. I realized life isn’t about how much I’ve accomplished or what I’ve done. It’s about who I’ve loved and how well I’ve loved them.”

  He didn’t say anything, but then, that didn’t surprise her.

  “Do you know how hard it is to love someone who doesn’t let you in?” Tears returned to her eyes, but she forced herself to keep going. She moved over to him, reached up and touched his face. “It’s safe here.”

  Finally, he looked at her, and in that moment, she saw the fear that tormented him. The pain of a past that wouldn’t go away. For years, he’d lived with the memory of something that he’d likely had no control over, something he probably blamed himself for, and it had held him hostage—a spectator in his own life.

  “You’ve got to let this go.”

  Drew closed his eyes, as if wrestling again with a demon that had him by the throat. He started to speak but quickly closed his mouth.

  Beth could see it now—he wasn’t unwilling to open up, he was unable. Had he ever talked about that day to anyone?

  He inched away from her, again just out of reach. Turning in a circle, he raked his hands through his hair, then put the ba
ll cap back on his head. He glanced at the side door of the house—the nearest escape—but stopped before going in.

  “If you leave, what happens to us?”

  The question took her off guard. How should she respond? He’d told her she didn’t have another choice but to sell—he had to know she’d get another job. And yet, from where he stood, it probably looked like she was walking away.

  Leaving him with the exact opposite of a safe place.

  How could she expect him to do anything but run?

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond. The sound of the slamming screen door punctuated the end of their conversation.

  Drew stormed through the house, out the front door and back out to the barn, stepping over debris that made the farm look worse than it had the day he’d arrived.

  Anger stuck to his thoughts like static cling.

  Why was this so hard to talk about? He wanted to tell her everything, but every time he started to, something stopped him.

  A thick barrier of shame.

  He moved toward the tree that had sliced through the roof, and started hauling the mess away. Each downed branch gave him something else to throw. He cut through the larger sections with a chainsaw and hauled them out to the burn pile. He swept shattered glass into a dustpan and threw it in the garbage.

  He worked angry.

  Beth was right. He had to let this go. It was killing him—yet he didn’t have the right to wish for a peaceful life.

  Not until he found peace for Jess.

  He picked up a fallen table and slammed it back where it belonged. He did the same with the other tables, then the chairs.

  His pulse raced, and his face heated. He wanted to punch something. Hard.

  Drew picked up an old wooden chair and threw it against the wall. The chair fell in pieces onto the ground. He picked up another one and did the same thing.

  Jess’s laugh echoed in the emptiness of the barn. Seconds later, the buoyant melody of “Sh-Boom,” the song he’d heard earlier, filled his thoughts. He tried to shake them away, but scenes from his nightmare played out in front of him.

  Dancing with Jess. Her singsong voice calling his name. The face in the shadows. The icy realization that something was wrong. Crawling out of the loft. A blow on the back of the head. Darkness.

  He had answers to questions no one was asking anymore. He had to tell someone.

  He had to find a way to make himself talk.

  It was why he’d come here in the first place—to finally, finally put this thing to rest.

  He looked at the wooden chair he was clutching in his hands. Slowly, he set it down, pulse still racing as he fell to his knees.

  He hadn’t prayed in years. All the time his parents had forced him to go to church, he’d sat with a chip on his shoulder, angry at a God who would allow something so tragic to happen to Jess. To him.

  Something tragic had happened to him. And he’d never made peace with that. He’d never cried for Jess. He’d never cried for himself. For the loss of his childhood.

  Now, in the silence of a broken barn, Drew allowed himself to feel the painful burden he’d carried for so many years.

  It wasn’t fair, what happened to her, God. I’m angry at You for letting it happen. I’m angry that I couldn’t stop it. I’m angry that nobody protected me.

  It had shaped his life, this pain he couldn’t carry anymore. It had left him alone, unable to let anyone in.

  I want to let this go, God. You’ve got to take this from me.

  Drew pulled himself up and looked at the mess he’d made, evident even with all the storm damage. He’d clean it up. If he was going to say goodbye to Fairwind, he was going to do it with a clear conscience.

  He walked outside and started for the house—but stopped at the sight of the squad car in the driveway.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Beth had been sitting in the kitchen when she saw the squad car pull in. She imagined Molly had hitched a ride out to the farm, but when Bishop got out of the car alone, she realized this wasn’t a social call.

  She met him on the porch, noticing the manila envelope in his hand.

  “What’s wrong? You look freaked out.” Beth moved aside so he could come in.

  “Remember how there was a witness to Jess’s kidnapping?”

  He knew about Drew. Beth took a deep breath. “I already know, Bishop.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’ve been a little busy with a tornado and the crushing of my dreams.” She sat down at the table.

  “Well, now you just sound like your sister.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “What is there to tell? He witnessed something terrible twenty years ago. He was a kid.”

  “So why’s he here now?”

  Beth had wanted that question answered so many times, but this time, she chose to trust. “I don’t know yet.”

  “I think I might.” Bishop was paid to be suspicious. “He was at the station the day of the tornado. Nancy said he acted nervous. I think maybe he had something to confess.”

  “Confess what? He was ten years old.” Beth thought about his face when she’d accused him of exactly what Bishop accused him of now. He’d been hurt by her betrayal. She had to believe the best about him.

  “I don’t know. What if he was messing around and he accidentally knocked her on the head or something? People have died that way.” Bishop rested his hand on his holstered gun.

  “I think he was a victim. A scared little kid who saw something terrible.”

  “Then why would he come to see me?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Ask me what?”

  Beth turned and found Drew standing in the doorway behind her, eyebrows knit.

  He’d entered through the side door. Beth sat at the table, her back to him, and Bishop stood, hat in hand, leaning against the sink opposite her.

  They both turned and looked at him.

  “Hey, Bishop.” Drew’s attempt at lightheartedness fell flat against the tension in the room.

  Beth looked away.

  “What’s going on?” Panic simmered inside him.

  Bishop twisted the hat around in a circle between both hands. “Nancy said you were waiting to speak to me at the station. Before the storm.”

  “That’s right.”

  Bishop pushed himself to a full standing position and crossed his arms in front of him. “Care to have a conversation about that now?”

  Drew’s eyes narrowed. Beth still avoided them. What was going on here? Did they think he’d gone to the station to confess his guilt?

  Fists formed at his sides. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Beth first.”

  Bishop glanced at her as if asking permission. She gave a slight nod.

  “I’ll wait on the porch.” He left the two of them alone in the weighty silence of the farmhouse kitchen.

  Beth stood and smoothed her white button-down over her jeans.

  “Beth, what are you thinking?”

  Her eyes darted to his, then back to the floor.

  “I didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you think.”

  Beth shook her head. “I know, Drew. I know you didn’t.”

  He let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. “I wanted to tell you, I just . . . couldn’t.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her full attention.

  It was time to let it go. Time to lay it down. And he knew it. He drew in a deep breath. “They never looked at me as a suspect. Not really. I was a kid. And I was knocked out cold.”

  “Was it an accident?” Beth’s eyes searched his.

  “No.” Drew took off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, then over his face. As if anything could stop the pain that pulsed through his body now. “I came up here to tell you. I just . . .”

  He turned away, but before he could move, he felt her hand in his.

  “I’m listening.” She sat down at the table and pushed
out the chair across from her with her foot.

  After a long moment, he sat. Wished he could leave. But one look at her told him he couldn’t. There was too much at stake.

  He didn’t want to keep anything from her anymore.

  “I was there,” he finally said after several silent seconds. “We were playing hide-and-seek.” He closed his eyes and, just like that, he was there, climbing the ladder to the old barn loft.

  “It smelled like springtime. Hay and dirt and maybe an animal or two.” The loft had been off-limits, but Drew was old enough. He’d been on dozens of ladders.

  Beth watched, eyes intent. Safe.

  “I heard her come in. She’d been yelling my name.” He smiled at the memory. “I hid from her in the place I knew she’d be too scared to look. She hated that loft.” His smile faded. “But after a few seconds, I could tell something was wrong. I heard someone else in the barn. I knew right away she was in trouble.”

  Her quiet expression urged him to go on.

  “I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t smart or strong enough to help her.”

  He hurried through the rest—coming down off the ladder, feeling the crack of metal on his skull, getting knocked out. Then, waking up to voices and stitches and questions from the police. “Everyone was convinced that, because I’d been in the barn, I’d seen his face. I was the only one who could help find Jess.” His eyes clouded then.

  Beth reached across the table and covered his hands with hers. “That’s a lot of pressure for a little boy.”

  He pushed his fist into his eyes and forced himself to hold it together. “The trouble was, I didn’t remember seeing anyone, but for days, cops were out here, pacing the floor, setting up interviews with therapists. One of them even tried to hypnotize me.” Drew only just remembered that.

  “The worst part was knowing that I was letting my own parents down. And Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything—when you first got here?”

  “I was such a coward, Beth.” Drew pulled his hands back into his lap and stood. “I should’ve come back years ago. Harold called me every year begging me not to give up trying, but I didn’t want to relive any of it.” He stood at the sink and stared out the window across the cornfield. How could there be so much peace here, in a place of so much tragedy? “It was selfish of me not to do that for him. For Jess.”