by Miles, Ava
“Coffee, Tammy?” Tory asked.
“No, thank you. Daddy, Rye assaulted Sterling at his office,” she said.
Rye snorted. “All I did was punch him.”
He was going to be glib? She marched him down. “How dare you assault my husband! I know you’re a bully and a…bad–ass, but you have no reason to go after my family.”
Daddy put a gentle hand on her arm. “Yes, he does, Tammy. Rye and I agreed this morning that a talk with Sterling was long overdue. Your husband needed to hear from one of the Hollins men about how he’s treating you. If I hadn’t been such a captive to convention, I would have done it years ago.”
Her heart stopped in her chest. No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t. A fresh bruise on her shoulder throbbed in time with his words “What are you talking about, Daddy?” she asked, terror spilling over her like cold rain.
“Tammy, you don’t have to pretend anymore,” Daddy said. “We know all about the affairs.”
A buzzing sounded in her ears.
“Everyone does, honey.”
A pained gasp escaped her mouth before she pressed her hand to it. Hard. No, this could not be borne.
The grooves in Daddy’s face deepened, and he suddenly looked as tired as he had in the hospital when she’d first visited him. “I’m sorry you’ve had to shoulder this alone for so long, but we’re here for you now.”
No, this couldn’t be. She could tolerate the affairs if no one knew. Say nothing when Sterling came home smelling of another woman’s perfume. Even remove the lipstick stains from his collar before sending his shirts off to the dry cleaner.
But not if people were talking about her. Pitying her. Oh the shame…
Suddenly it was too much. “This is all your fault,” she said, pointing at Rye. “You’ve done this. Where do you get off acting like the prodigal son after throwing everything we value in our faces?”
Tory just looked down into her coffee mug, silent. That this strange woman should witness Tammy’s personal business…
“And how dare you interfere in my marriage,” she raged, “and tell me my kids aren’t happy.” The truth that they weren’t didn’t matter in that instant. Rye had ripped all her illusions from her, and they were the only things she had to hold onto.
“Who do you think you are?” she whispered.
“Tammy, you’re wrong,” Daddy said.
“No, I’m not.”
Rye stood slowly. Why did it look like his eyes were full of pain? He’d done this to her. “I didn’t know how it would be when I came back here, but I came. It was damned near the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not some prodigal son, but I’m here. I haven’t been home long, and even I can see that you’re not happy.”
Why was everyone using that word all of the sudden?
“You said you made a choice,” he continued, “and that it’s too late.”
He stepped closer, towering over her. She wanted to back down. She hated when Sterling did the same thing to her.
“Well, you’re wrong, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit by without helping.”
“You think beating my husband up is helping? Maybe in your hick country world, but not here. Do you have any idea what people will say when they find out you hit my husband?”
“But they’re already talking, aren’t they, honey?” Daddy said. “And at least Sterling’s got the message, and the town knows your family won’t tolerate him runnin’ around on you.”
Her chest grew tight as she imagined the whispers. Tammy Hollins wasn’t woman enough for Sterling Morrison, or he wouldn’t fool around. Her eyes started to burn. “All you’ve done is make it worse.” After his angry words, he was sure to hurt her again when he came home tonight. Oh, God.
How could she hold her head up anymore? Now she’d have to hole up at the house, where she never felt safe.
Daddy held out his hands. “I’m sorry you feel that way. And I have to ask, do you love him, Tammy?”
Her mouth opened, but no response came out. Had she ever? If so, she couldn’t remember. He’d been Mama’s choice, and she’d accepted him willingly enough, as was her duty. “Who cares?” she finally said. “I’m a wife and a mother of two young children. This is my life now.”
His sigh was audible. “It doesn’t have to be, honey. You’re so young, and I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
Trapped? When had she been anything but? How dare he say this to her now after rearing her on duty? “Do you love Mama, Daddy?”
His face turned white.
Bitter laughter poured out of her mouth, and she wondered absently who this woman was, talking this way. “You should be more careful before you start encouraging people to change the status quo, Daddy. It begs larger questions.”
“Tammy,” Rye called.
His raised voice had her muscles clenching in fear. For her, anger had come to mean the punishing grip of Sterling’s hands on her body. “It’s only fair for him to answer the same questions he’s asking me.”
Daddy’s jaw clenched. “We didn’t raise you to be cruel.”
A tear spilled over before she realized it, and her hand quickly dashed it away. The pain felt like a bomb inside her, readying to explode. “Well, maybe you should have. It would have made life a lot easier.”
“It hurts me to hear you talk like this,” Daddy rasped.
Did he think it didn’t hurt her? “Well, then it’s a good thing we never really talk.”
Daddy rose shakily, leaning heavily on the chair for support. “I don’t want it to be that way anymore.”
“Well, that’s too bad, Daddy, because my life is all set, and it’s too painful to talk about.”
She briskly left the room, fleeing the people who knew her secrets.
But they didn’t know the darkest secret, and wasn’t that the worst part?
***
“Oh God, what have I done?” Daddy murmured, and his anguish snapped Rye out of his own emotional funk.
“No, Daddy, you did right. I’ll go after her.” Seeing Tammy like that had broken his heart clean open. “Tory, stay with him.”
Without another word, he sprinted after Tammy. When he thundered onto the front porch, he heard her calling Rory’s name frantically. He took in the scene. Annabelle was curled into a fetal position on the chaise lounge in a white dress dotted with sunflowers, sucking her thumb. Her eyes were huge and glistening. When he knelt by her side, she took her thumb out with a popping sound.
“Rory ran away.”
Jesus. Had the kids heard them? He hadn’t even known they were out here.
Rye picked her up and hugged her tight. “We’ll find him, baby. It’s gonna be all right.” He carried her into the kitchen and handed her to Tory. Their eyes locked as she stroked Annabelle’s hair. “Take care of her. I’m going to help Tammy find Rory. He’s taken off.”
Daddy slowly rose, and Rye could see that his strength had left him.
“Daddy, sit back down,” he commanded.
“Don’t worry about me. Go.”
When Rye left the house, he spied his sister near the edge of the woods. “Tammy!” he called and ran to her. Tears were falling freely from her eyes now. God, this was killing him. He couldn’t remember ever having seen her cry.
“It’s all my fault,” she cried, clutching the lapels of her suit. “He must have heard us. I couldn’t leave them at the house alone. I should never have come here.”
Rye wrapped his arm around her, their first embrace in God only knew how long. She fought him at first and then slumped against him. His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the woods. Where had the boy gone?
“I brought Annabelle inside. Go check on her while I start looking.” He grabbed her shoulders and stared into her pained eyes. “We’ll find him, Tammy. I promise.”
As she hurried off, he turned to look at the massive expanse of trees fluttering in the breeze. He’d explored these woods often enough to know how many hiding places there w
ere for a little boy who didn’t want to be found. And Rye understood that feeling. Hadn’t he escaped here himself when times got too hard?
For the first time in a long time, he sent up a prayer. He hoped God would overlook his faults and grant his request.
Rory hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just a scared little boy.
***
Rye was examining the ground when Tory found him. “What are you doing?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“Looking for the boy’s footprints. It rained yesterday. I need to get Buster. He’ll be able to track him.”
His mention of the dog made goose bumps break out across her arms, but she knew he was right. A hunting dog could help.
“I told Tammy to stay with Annabelle, that I’d help you look for him.”
“Oh God, Tory, what have I done?” Rye said hoarsely.
Desperation and doubt were rare for him, but now his voice nearly shook with them. “Let’s leave that for later. We just need to find him.” She looked around, trying to think like a little boy. “I don’t think Rory would have headed for the main house—he’d guess that’s where we’d look first. You take the woods on this side. I’ll take the one that angles around the pasture.”
He cupped her face. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Then he kissed her swiftly and took off.
Tory had played outside frequently as a child, and while the woods could be a magical place, she remembered the fear of being lost in them as the sky darkened. She looked at the sun and heaved a sigh. Fortunately, they had a few hours of daylight left. She couldn’t bear the thought of the boy being alone and afraid in the dark. Her pace was brisk, but she paused to listen every few yards.
She was sweaty and bug bitten when she reached a shiny red barn above the pasture. The caretaker wasn’t there, and the stables were empty because the horses were still out in the field. Ears straining, she heard a small sound, like something brushing across the floor. It only lasted a second, but she went on instinct.
“It’s Tory, sweetheart. I know you’re in here.” She decided to give him a reason to come out. “Rory, your Granddaddy isn’t feeling so well at the moment, so I came to get you and bring you to him.” Clasping her hands together, she prayed he would take the bait.
Her teeth bit into her lip when his small body slowly climbed down the ladder from the loft. He looked so small. His eyes were swollen from crying, and streaks of dirt and mud covered his blue–and–white seersucker shorts and white polo. He had a nasty scratch on his cheek, and his eyes were wary.
“Has Granddaddy had another heart attack?” he asked.
She crouched down, meeting his gaze. “No,” she immediately assured him, “but he’s done a little too much today and needs you to help him back to the main house.”
“I’m running away,” he told her.
Oh, you poor boy. “Are you now? Where are you going?”
He kicked at some hay. “I thought I might stay here. Mr. Pullins can bring me food. He’s real nice, and that way, Annabelle can still come and see me.” When he lifted his head, his sad blue eyes cut Tory’s heart into ribbons. “She needs me, you know.”
Tory blinked back tears. “I’m sure she does. She’s lucky to have you for a brother. I always wished I had a brother.”
He studied her with a seriousness beyond his age. “Don’t you have a family?”
“No, I don’t,” she said softly. “My grandpa just died. He was the only one left.”
“What happened to your mama and daddy?”
“They died in a car accident when I was little.”
“Oh.” His brows knit together like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “So, your whole family’s in heaven?”
Tory wiped away a tear before it could fall. The little boy’s faith seeped into the cracks of her heart, and in that moment, she had a surer answer to that question than she’d been able to muster for some time. “Yes, I hope so.”
“That’s sad. Do you miss them?” he asked.
“Very much,” she responded.
His body edged closer, smelling of boy sweat and forest.
“Do you think my family would miss me if I ran away?”
Oh, baby. She wanted to hug him, but knew it would be the wrong move. “Of course they would. Your mama was crying when I left, and so was Annabelle.” She raised a tentative hand and brushed the damp blond hair off his forehead.
“My Daddy wouldn’t. He doesn’t love us.”
In that moment, she was glad Rye had punched Sterling. If he hadn’t, she would have. How could he make his own son think such a thing? Tory put an arm around him. “I’ll bet he does. You’re a sweet boy.” She could lie to a little boy about something this important, right?
Rory rubbed his head against her shoulder. “No, he doesn’t. I heard Mama fighting with Granddaddy and Uncle Rye. I’m glad Uncle Rye hit Daddy. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”
Tory hugged the boy tight. His usual reserve snapped, and he clung to her. She smoothed his hair and rubbed his back—anything to give him comfort.
“Rory, even if only one person loved you like your mama does, it would be worth going back.”
Pushing away, he put a finger to his lips like he was thinking. “You’re right. Annabelle and Mama love me. And Granddad and Grandmama and Amelia Ann.” He leaned into her again, ducking his head into her shoulder. “I like you too. I’m glad our names sound alike.”
Could she choke out an answer through her tight throat? “Me too,” she whispered. When she held out her hand, he took it. “How about we see if that three–wheeler over there has a key? That way we can get home faster.”
“It does,” he told her.
He was right, and as soon as they were both situated in the vehicle, wearing helmets, she turned the key dangling in the ignition. The engine thundered to life.
“You hang on tight now.”
His little arms gripped her waist. She hadn’t ridden a three–wheeler since high school, but it came back to her with ease, and she headed in Rye’s direction. When she spotted him and Buster near an enormous oak tree, she braced herself as the dog came bounding toward them.
“You found him,” Rye called. He plucked Rory off the seat and hugged him tight against his chest, and the boy wrapped his little arms around him.
His hazel eyes met hers, shining so bright, and in that moment she knew she loved Rye with all her heart. There was no holding back now.
“Thank God.”
When he pressed his face into the boy’s hair, she bit her lip as the dog danced around them, wired from the chase.
“You scared us, son.”
“I know, sir,” he murmured. “My tummy hurts.”
“No doubt.” Rye eased back. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m your Uncle Rye, not sir. I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that’s about to change.”
As he hugged the boy again, Tory stepped off the three–wheeler, keeping a wary eye on Buster.
“Why don’t you take him back?” she said. “I’ll walk.”
“No!” Rory yelled. “We’re not leaving her.” He shrugged free of Rye’s embrace and took Tory’s hand.
Now what was that all about?
“All right, son,” Rye said. “She goes with us. I didn’t want to leave her behind either.” He sent Buster home with a firm command. “Do you know he picked up your scent, Rory?”
“He’s a good dog, Uncle Rye.”
He picked Rory up and placed him in front before settling into the seat. When he turned to look at Tory, he gave her a big smile. “Good thing you’re so little. It’s going to be a bit tight, but it’s not far, and I’ll go real slow.”
When she climbed on, she pressed her face into his back, struggling with tears. Oh this man. This boy.
They’d barely cleared the woods when Tammy screamed out Rory’s name. Rye halted the three–wheeler and killed the engine, then lifted Rory from his seat and unbuckled the boy’s helmet.
�
��Run to your mama, son. It’ll make her feel better.”
Rory took off, arms pumping. When he reached Tammy, both of them fell to their knees, clutching each other, making room for a crying Annabelle to join them.
“What did you tell him to make him come back?” Rye asked.
Tory took off her helmet off and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I told him that so long as there’s one person who loves you, it doesn’t matter how bad things get. You always have to go back.”
Rye turned and caressed her cheek. “You’re one hell of a woman.”
She slid off the three–wheeler, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to go into his arms. His embrace was sweet, his kiss gentle. Then he tucked her under his arm and led her back toward the house.
Hampton raised one hand in greeting, using the other to grip the porch rail. His face was haggard.
You all right, Daddy?” Rye called.
“Aged me twenty years.”
“Me, too.”
Rory pulled away from Tammy as they approached and crooked a finger at Tory. She went down on one knee in front of him.
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ll be your family, I promise.”
She blinked back tears as she smoothed down his hair and rubbed a spot of dirt from his face. “That’s the most precious thing anyone has ever said to me. You go home with your family now, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As he ran to take Tammy’s hand, Tory took a moment to study Rye’s sister. She was disheveled for the second time in their acquaintance, her hair in wild clumps, mascara streaked down her face. She looked vulnerable—and like a stranger to the woman she’d first met, all smooth and polished. Her unpainted mouth trembled.
“Thank you, Tory. And Rye,” she added in a whisper, grabbing Annabelle’s hand with her free one. “We’re staying at Hollinswood tonight.”
“Good idea,” Rye responded. “I’ll take Daddy and follow you. We’ll talk to Mama with you.”
Rory tugged on Tammy’s hand. “I want Tory to come too. She shouldn’t be alone.”
His sweet words humbled her. “I’ll be all right, Rory,” she said. “You go with your family.”