This book is a work of historical fiction. In order to give a sense of the times, some names of real people or places have been included in the book. However, the events depicted in this book are imaginary, and the names of nonhistorical persons or events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such nonhistorical persons or events to actual ones is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Dorothy Garlock
Cover design by Brigid Pearson.
Cover photo by MorganStudio/Shutterstock.
Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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First Edition: July 2017
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LCCN: 2017934096
ISBNs: 978-1-4555-2735-9 (hardcover library), 978-1-4555-2734-2 (trade paperback), 978-1-4555-2733-5 (ebook), 978-1-4789-1613-0 (audio download)
E3-20170503-DA-NF
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Dorothy Garlock
Heartfelt Praise for Dorothy Garlock and Her Unforgettable Novels
Newsletters
For
Michelle Klein, Jodie McChesney,
Shannon Ruez,
Mary White, and Lois Woiwood
With love and gratitude.
Prologue
Hooper’s Crossing, New York
May 1937
SARAH DENTON LIFTED a damp blanket from the wicker basket at her feet and draped it across the clothesline, careful to smooth away any wrinkles before clipping it in place with wooden pins. Shirts hung next to tablecloths, napkins, bedspreads, and so on down the line. The spring air was filled with the scent of detergent and bleach.
High above, the early-afternoon sun shone brightly in a nearly cloudless sky. The blowing breeze was soft, unable to move the washings, but strong enough to stir the newly budded leaves on tree branches. Ladybugs momentarily lit on the line, their red-and-black shells standing out in stark contrast with the white fabric, before again taking flight. Bees weaved between the stalks of flowers. Birds collected twigs, looking for the perfect place to build a nest.
Sarah didn’t have that problem. Her nest was right here.
Her family’s two-story home wasn’t much, but it was theirs. Sure, it had its share of problems: pipes that shook when the spigots were opened in winter; a staircase that creaked with every step; a jamb that hadn’t been set quite right, making it impossible to shut the door; and from where she stood in the backyard, Sarah could see the spot just below the eaves where the squirrels squeezed their way into the attic. But for all of its faults, the house was as cozy and comfortable as a favorite sweater. She knew every inch by heart. It was crammed full of memories, of laughter, of good meals around the table in their cramped dining room. It was lined with photographs, holiday decorations, and boxes of toys. It was—
A sudden, lancing pain in her temple ended Sarah’s reverie. It was so intense that she had to steady herself on the clothesline. Fortunately, it quickly lessened. The truth was, she hadn’t been feeling well all morning. Most likely, she needed a glass of water and to lie down for a while. But there was still the half-full basket of laundry that needed to be hung. First, she would finish her chores, then she could take some time to rest.
That is, if Lily would let her…
As if in answer, Sarah’s six-year-old daughter burst from the back door, the screen banging against the side of the house, before leaping off the porch. Her arms and legs pinwheeled every which way, her blond pigtails bouncing as she laughed, a whirling dervish of energy. Lily made a beeline for her mother, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder.
The girl weaved among the wash, darting in and out of sight until she collided with her mother’s leg. Lily’s face lit up like the sun, with fetching blue eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and a smile that was perfect even if it was missing a couple of teeth. Moments like this one, ordinary and innocent, were still capable of taking Sarah’s breath away.
“He’s coming!” Lily hissed in a whisper that was anything but quiet.
“Are you and your father playing a game?” Sarah asked.
“Hide-and-seek! He’s looking for me right—”
Before the girl could finish, the sound of heavy footsteps came from inside the house. “Now where did she go?” a voice boomed.
Lily burst into a fit of giggles, then tugged at her mother’s skirt. “Hide me!” she insisted. Sarah did just that, tucking her daughter behind her, then raised a finger to her lips and made a soft shush.
Morris Denton stepped into the sunlight and gave his wife a knowing smile and wink, with no doubt as to where his child was hiding. “Now where in this big yard do you suppose Lily is?” he asked, which made the girl tremble, so desperate was she to hold back her laughter.
Sarah watched her husband peek behind the birdbath, push apart bushes, and peer into flower beds, all while loudly announcing what he was doing as he came steadily closer. It was something of a comical sight. Morris was a big man in both size and personality; he liked to joke that the only thing larger than his waistband was his love for his wife and daughter.
“I wonder if she scurried down a rabbit hole,” Morris said as he began to push his way through the drying laundry, giving his wife a wink. “Maybe she flew up into the treetops like a robin. Or maybe…” he continued, drawing the word out, “she’s hiding right here!”
Morris pounced, landing beside his wife with his hands raised and fingers splayed, the huge smile on his face making him look comically ferocious. Lily squealed, half from delight, the other out of genuine fright. But instead of running away from her father, she dashed toward him, grabbing him tight.
“Yo
u found me!” the little girl exclaimed.
“It sure wasn’t easy,” Morris explained as he wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, a playful smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. “Lily’s the best in all Hooper’s Crossing when it comes to hiding. For a while there, I thought she was gone for good!”
“Mommy helped,” Lily admitted.
“Only a little,” Sarah said.
“Partners in crime,” Morris added, planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“Again, again!” Lily pleaded, jumping up and down.
“All right. One more time and then Daddy needs to sit down for a bit,” her father said. “Run away, little mouse, and hide as best you can!”
Lily set off to do just that, but when she turned she wasn’t looking where she was going and ran right into her mother’s laundry basket. Clean washing spilled and was then trampled underfoot.
“Watch where you’re going, Lily!” Morris barked.
“I’m sorry!” the little girl replied, tears already filling her eyes.
“It’s fine,” Sarah soothed. “Nothing’s ruined.” She knelt down to pick up the laundry, but when she did the pain in her head returned, making her vision swim. Wincing, she fought it down, focusing on the mess and her daughter.
“She needs to be more careful,” her husband continued.
Sarah ignored him. Instead, she gave Lily a smile, wiped a stray tear from the girl’s cheek, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. “Hide really good this time,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
And off her daughter ran, having already forgotten her chastisement.
But Sarah hadn’t.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” she told her husband. “It was an accident. She’s just a kid.”
For an instant, it looked as if Morris wanted to disagree, but then his features softened. “You’re right,” he said with a nod. “I just want Lily to grow up right, to be the sort of lady I know she can be.”
“She will, even if she knocks over a laundry basket or two.”
Morris chuckled, a sound that never failed to warm Sarah’s heart. His laughter was one of the many things about her husband that she loved, part of a long list that included how he occasionally surprised her with a bouquet of flowers, the tuneless songs he hummed while shaving in the bathroom sink, the contented way he patted his belly after a big meal, and especially his ambition to become someone important, strengthening both his family and community. But even as Sarah smiled, another wave of pain washed over her, erasing it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Morris said, rushing to his wife as her knees buckled, pulling her close, his strong arms keeping her upright.
Sarah managed to steady herself. “I haven’t felt all that well today.”
“Looks to me like you’re the one who needs to lie down for a while,” her husband replied. “Why don’t you go inside and I’ll finish the laundry.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Besides, someone is waiting for you.”
“She won’t be hard to find,” he explained. “Lily will be either behind her bedroom door or under the bed. It’s always one of the two. And even if, by some miracle, she decided to throw me a curveball and mix things up, all I have to do is follow the sound of her giggles. She won’t stay hidden for long. I might even have time to stop off in the kitchen for a glass of lemonade first.” But then Morris paused, looking at his wife with no small amount of concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Go,” Sarah answered, though her vision still swam a bit.
Morris looked at her for a moment longer, then leaned close and kissed her softly. “I love you,” he said, then started for the house.
Watching him walk away, Sarah found herself thinking about the future. She understood that she would always be the one standing between Morris and Lily, tamping down her husband’s high expectations for their daughter, as well as bucking up the little girl’s spirits whenever she was feeling down. She would have to keep a close eye on Morris’s expanding waistline and mend the items Lily broke as she tornadoed around the house. But for all the obstacles that they would need to overcome, Sarah believed there would be many happier memories, a veritable flood of smiles and laughter. Maybe there would even be an addition to the family; she was still young enough, and surely Lily would enjoy having a brother or sister to share in her mischief. Either way, with love, hard work, and the fact that they would always have each other, all their dreams would come true. She was sure of it.
It was then that the pain returned, stronger than ever.
This time, it struck hard and deep enough to force a cry from her lips. Sarah swayed, her face twisting in agony, then dropped to her knees. Desperately, she grabbed a damp sheet, not wanting to fall farther; the fabric stretched, straining against the pins that held it in place, before finally giving way. She collapsed to the ground, the basket once again knocked over, laundry crushed beneath her, the pain incredible and endless.
“Morris…” she managed, knowing that her voice was too soft, her husband too far away to hear.
Lying in the grass, Sarah struggled to keep her fear at bay as darkness closed in from all around. She fought against it as hard as she could, not wanting to give up, not wanting to lose all she had, but in the end it was a fight she couldn’t win. She could feel the warmth of sunlight on her skin. She could hear the flutter of laundry in the gentle breeze. She could smell the scent of detergent mingled with spring flowers. She felt hot tears spill down her cheeks. She remembered the joy of watching her husband and daughter play hide-and-seek.
And then she was gone.
Chapter One
October 1952
LILY DENTON STOOD beneath the maple tree in front of her house, an ocean of fallen leaves at her feet. The night sky was cloudy, the moon playing hide-and-seek, and it was breezy enough to make her shiver, forcing her to pull her coat close, stamping her feet for warmth. She worried it might rain. A battered suitcase, painstakingly packed with what she thought she’d need, as well as a few treasured mementos, lay on the ground beside her. A dog’s sudden bark startled her and she stepped deeper into the shadows, fearful of being seen.
“This is crazy…” she muttered to herself.
Every few seconds, Lily looked up and down the street, the sidewalks lit by streetlamps, hoping to see the familiar red Oldsmobile, but the road remained empty. There was no point in checking her watch again; she’d done it so many times that she knew it was a handful of minutes past eleven. She had been standing beneath the tree for almost half an hour and was chilled to the bone. Lily hoped that she wouldn’t get sick, because the last thing she needed was to—
From the far end of the street, a pair of headlights interrupted Lily’s thoughts, making her heart hammer. She bent down and grabbed the suitcase’s handle, feeling both nervous and excited. But just as she readied to run to the curb, she saw that it wasn’t the Oldsmobile but a dented pickup truck. As it drove past, she once again found herself alone.
Not for the first time, Lily thought about giving up. Her father would likely still be in his office, writing or talking on the telephone no matter the late hour, so she would have to sneak inside, but worry was starting to get the better of her. Even though she’d been planning this moment for months, daydreaming about it for years, Lily had always known it was a house of cards, and that one strong gust of wind would knock the whole thing to the—
The honk of a car’s horn startled her.
She stared in amazement as a red Oldsmobile zipped down the street toward her before finally coming to an abrupt stop against the curb.
“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Jane Dunaway shouted out the driver’s-side window. “Let’s get this show on the road!”
Lily ran to the car, the suitcase banging against her leg. She was convinced that every last person in the neighborhood had been woken, that porch lights were about to come on up and down the street. She didn’t dare glance back over
her shoulder, certain that her father would be at the window, watching her with an angry, disapproving look on his face.
“Keep your voice down!” Lily whispered fiercely as she opened the passenger’s door. “You’re going to give us away!”
Jane answered with a loud laugh. “Who cares?” she asked. “No one can stop us now. Throw your stuff in the back and get in!”
Before Lily could even shut the door behind her, the Oldsmobile was already moving, the engine loud as it sped down the street.
“Isn’t this great?” Jane shouted over the cold wind rushing in through her still-open window, making her long black hair whip in every direction. She reached over and squeezed Lily’s hand. “New York City, here we come!”
Lily managed a weak smile, but she couldn’t match Jane’s enthusiasm. The reality of what she was doing slowly began to sink in.
She was running away from home.
Hooper’s Crossing was located in upstate New York, alongside a crook in the Porter River and nestled among the Adirondack Mountains. The town’s name had come from a centuries-old British trading post that had long since burned down. It was a quiet, scenic place; few of its six thousand inhabitants caused much trouble. Victorian houses, complete with white picket fences, had been built on wide, tree-lined streets. Hooper’s Crossing was the ideal American town.
But for as long as Lily could remember, she’d wondered what it would be like to live somewhere else.
She’d spent countless hours staring out the window at school, lying in her bed late into the night, walking down Main Street, and sitting in a church pew, daydreaming about other places. Lily had tried to imagine the bustling crowds of a big city, the quiet solitude of a farm or a windswept coastal town. She even fantasized about the exotic life to be had in a city like Paris or Honolulu. She wanted to spin a globe, drop her finger on some random place, and then be instantly transported there. Instead, she never left Hooper’s Crossing.
Mostly because of her father.
Morris Denton had been the town’s mayor for more than a decade; some of Lily’s earliest memories were of her father campaigning for office. In the months and years after the sudden, tragic death of his wife, Morris had thrown himself into his work. He was a tireless advocate, welcoming businesses that created jobs, as well as fund-raising for a new roof over the elementary school and a pavilion in City Park. Morris knew everyone in town by name, from the president of the bank all the way to his paperboy. He’d made it his mission to help his community and, by nearly all accounts, had succeeded spectacularly.
The Nearness of You Page 1