by Anna Adams
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I’m trying to get over this, Lilah, the frustration of those lost years, but you took my son and the life I thought you and I were making together. I have to understand why you did that.”
“I really believed you’d realize how important it was to be sober. Not just because of Ben. Or me. You needed to do it for yourself.”
“So you manipulated me for my own good?”
She pressed her lips together. She couldn’t really argue that. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We don’t have to fix the past. We just have to make Ben’s life happy.”
“No matter which of us he’s living with.”
Instinctively, she stiffened and opened her mouth to tell him to stop threatening her. Instead she decided to assume he meant when they were sharing custody. Even that eventuality put her into a cold sweat. She couldn’t always come with Ben to Tennessee, but she couldn’t imagine trusting Owen to keep him safe.
“There’s Butch’s place, in that piece of bottom land.”
She followed where he pointed. A neat little farm spread out before them like a painting. A man came out of the house in jeans and a thick coat, a baseball cap on his head. He waved at them on his way to his barn.
She shifted in the seat, straightening her back. “Don’t let Ben impale himself on this barbed wire while I’m with Butch.” Owen didn’t answer. She turned her face to his. “I mean, please. He doesn’t know about barbed wire, Owen.”
He nodded, but Lilah could tell he didn’t appreciate her lack of faith in him. She’d trusted him once. She’d also loved him, and he’d loved her. Just not enough to give up drinking.
And until she was convinced he could stay sober for life, she really couldn’t trust him with her son.
* * *
OWEN GOT IN a few days of work before another morning brought too much rain to peel back the tarp on the nearly installed, new barn roof. Ben was already up watching Saturday-morning cartoons. They were the old ones, reruns from when Owen had been a child, where bunnies and pigs and coyotes created mayhem.
From his room, Owen listened as he yanked on jeans and a thermal T-shirt. Suddenly, he wondered if all the violence was bad for a little guy. He shook his head and ran both hands through his hair, all the combing it would get.
Lilah had spooked him into being hypervigilant. As if classic cartoons would harm Ben. He hadn’t heard of any kids turning to a life of crime after watching a coyote repeatedly blow himself up.
He walked down the hall, buttoning a thick, flannel shirt.
“Boom,” Ben said softly around a spoonful of organic granola.
Owen stopped. Maybe he was wrong. Ben looked up, chewing contentedly.
Owen eyed his bowl. The cereal looked like little rocks sticking out of milk. “You like that stuff you’re eating?”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s good.” Not even the slightest hint of Grandma Suzannah’s fat-filled, comforting Southern breakfasts for Ben. “A-C-M-E, Own, what does that spell?”
“Acme. They make everything a cartoon guy needs,” Owen said, squeezing his son’s shoulder on the way to get another bowl.
Who could have guessed a month ago that he’d be sitting at his breakfast counter, sharing a meal with his own son? He poured some cereal for himself and ate it quickly, trying to catch up with Ben.
“I’m ready to go outside.” Ben clambered down from his stool as Owen was still only halfway through his granola.
“Right behind you,” Owen said.
Ben scooted off the stool and eased his empty bowl off the place mat. With his usual determination he carried it to the sink and lifted it to the ledge. Owen hurried over and caught the bowl just before it tumbled into the deep sink. “Thanks, buddy. Can you wait for me to finish?”
“You have to eat breakfast,” Ben said. “Healthy, healthy, healthy.”
“Did your mother tell you that?”
“My teacher. Healthy, healthy, healthy. I always eat breakfast.” He knelt on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, the better to see the television. “What are we going to do today?”
“I can’t work on the roof in the rain, so I thought I could show you some of your grandmother’s animals. You want to see them?”
Ben nodded. He put his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “Do you have any puppies?”
“No puppies, but our friend up the mountain has a big old white fluffy dog that looks after his goats.” Wouldn’t Lilah just love it if he gave Ben a Great Pyr puppy. “Sorry.”
“A kitten?”
“Have you asked your mom for a kitten?”
Ben looked at his hands and rocked back and forth against the table. “She says maybe when I’m bigger.”
“I can’t give you a pet if your mother doesn’t want you to have one.” Not true. He could give his son a puppy or a kitten that would live in Tennessee. But how hard would it be for Ben to say goodbye at the end of every visit?
In fact, how was he going to learn to say goodbye to Ben at the end of this far-too-short stay?
“You’d better go get your jacket, son.”
“Okay, Own.”
Restlessly, Owen picked up his bowl and took it to the sink. He washed the few dishes and poured coffee into a dented silver travel mug. Then he grabbed a bottle of water for Ben from the fridge. “Ready to go, buddy?”
“Uh-huh.” He came around the kitchen counter, already putting on his jacket. “Starting to rain again, Own.”
He was a responsible little guy. “I’ll get my coat, too.”
After grabbing it from his room, he hurried to meet Ben at the door and snagged his keys off a peg.
The rain was coming down buckets. Owen pulled up the hood on Ben’s jacket and then patted his head to make sure it stayed secure.
“Let’s take the car today.”
“Okay, Own, but I like when we walk.”
“I like our walks, too, but you don’t want to get soaked or muddy.” He opened the door and ushered Ben outside. They hurried to the SUV that mostly sat unused beside his battered work truck. Owen helped Ben into his car seat in the back. “Do you have your gloves in your pockets?” he asked as he slid behind the steering wheel.
“I’m not cold.” Ben leaned to the side to dig in his pockets anyway. He dragged the gloves out and brandished them, along with some pocket fuzz.
Owen started the car. “Do you want to go see what we’ve been doing in the barn?”
“Do you have a cow in the barn?”
He seriously wanted some animals, that boy. No cow in the barn had flummoxed him from day one. “No cow, but I have lots of tools you still haven’t seen.”
“No. I want to see cows today. And horses. And goats, ducks, chickens, frogs...”
“My mom doesn’t farm with frogs.”
“But Uncle Chad says they’re in the pond.”
“Don’t go near the water without a grown-up, okay?”
“Mommy already told me.”
“And don’t wander off when you’re with Uncle Chad.”
“Mom told me.”
“If you do wander off—I mean, if Uncle Chad gets lost—tell him to always follow a stream. Around here, they lead to roads.”
“Do they?” Ben peered around as if a stream and a road would magically appear outside the windows.
“Because back when people first came to this place, they needed water and they needed roads, so they built the roads next to the water.”
“Hunh.”
“Look. There’s the barn my mom keeps her cows in.” It didn’t compare in size with the barn they were rebuilding. It was more like an expanded garage, but she’d wanted it closer to the inn, so she didn’t have to leave her guests as long to milk her dairy herd o
f three cows.
“Do they share their house with the goats?”
Owen shook his head and parked at the far end of the inn’s square gravel parking lot. “The goats play around and annoy the cows, so we put the goats in a smaller barn made just for them.” A black buck goat gamboled into view just beyond the cowshed. “Not that they stay in it that well. Usually goats don’t like to get wet, but Gomer, over there, just loves to run.”
Ben craned to see. “I think I like goats. If I can’t have a puppy...” Ben broke off as Owen got out of the car and opened the back door to help him out. “Maybe I can get a baby goat.”
“I’ll bet your mom would just love that.” He laughed at the image of Gomer kicking up his hooves in Lilah’s immaculate house. “You can help me feed the goats after we take Gomer back to the shed.”
He texted his mother to let her know they were about to visit the cows, and they’d be slipping the goats a little extra food.
She texted back that he should be extra careful with Ben and the goats. He didn’t want to give Lilah ammo to prove he didn’t know how to be a father.
He shook his head. She sounded as wary as he did. Too many wounded souls were trying to make his small boy happy and safe.
“Gomer?” He flagged the small goat down, and Gomer followed like a frolicking puppy. He loved human company.
Ben hovered on Owen’s other side, reluctant to touch and yet also, nearly rigid with anticipation.
Owen didn’t push. He walked through the barn, holding Ben’s hand while Gomer bounced around them. The cows were pastured out back, but they’d come inside to avoid the rain. Maybelle, the oldest, mooed a greeting. Her sister, Daphne, completely ignored Owen. The newest addition, Tallulah, nosed over to see if he had anything delicious to eat in his pocket.
Ben suddenly lost his nerve as the young cow went for Owen’s pocket. He beat a retreat, completely silent.
“You okay?” Owen asked, searching his pockets first, and then pulling some hay out of the feeder for Tallulah. He tried to look as if Ben’s fear didn’t make him feel guilty and a little scared. Bringing him here might have been too much, too soon.
“Did she want to eat me, Own?”
“She’s hungry, but she never eats little boys. She eats hay and this feed stuff my mother gets for her. Usually, I have a little in my pocket, but today, I’m empty.”
“Can I give her hay?”
“Sure.” Owen went over and lifted him in his arms. Owen grabbed some more hay from the feeder and handed it to Ben, who leaned over, depending completely on his father to keep him steady.
Again, when Tallulah hurried to grab her snack, Ben sprang back. His fear ended Owen’s indecision. He patted the cow’s solid shoulder and turned toward the other end of the barn. “Time to visit the goats,” he said. “Come on, Gomer. Time to head home.”
Ben clapped his hands as if that were the best news he’d heard since his arrival in Tennessee. He kept a measured eye on his new shadow, Gomer.
“He’s not as big as a cow, is he?” Ben asked with obvious happiness.
“No, and he’s a lot more cuddly. Just stay away from the back end. Sometimes goats get all excited and they kick up in the air.”
“I can do that, too, Own. Put me down, and I’ll show you.”
Relieved he wasn’t too afraid of a cattle stampede to touch the ground again, Owen set him down. Ben ran a few steps and then hopped, laughing, so pleased with himself, he made Owen laugh, too.
* * *
LILAH FINISHED HER phone calls and the business she could do from her laptop at a corner in Suzannah Gage’s breakfast room. She packed her laptop and slid the bag on to her shoulder, carrying her coffee cup to the kitchen.
Owen’s mother turned from the sink. “Something wrong? Are you leaving already?”
“Not at all. I’m bringing my cup and saucer, and I wondered if there was anything I could do to help you while I’m here.”
Suzannah took the dishes from her. “No, thanks. You’re a guest, like any other paying visitor.”
“Well, I’m not, really. I don’t think you’re charging me full price, and you don’t bake special cookies and make organic granola for other guests’ children.” Somehow, she made those extra attentions for Ben sound bad, when she meant to be grateful to—if a little wary of—her son’s new family.
“I’m a rookie at being a grandmother, but I think I’m supposed to make special treats for him and spoil him as much as I can,” Suzannah said with a smile that warmed Lilah. “None of us is entirely sure how to handle this situation, Lilah, and I won’t pretend my loyalties don’t lie with my son, but I believe you’re trying to do the right thing. Now.”
“You mean after I alerted the lawyers and child welfare?”
“That wasn’t nice.” Suzannah washed her cup and saucer with quick, efficient movements. “But I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. For some reason you find it hard to believe that Owen will be a good father, and you jumped at your last chance to keep him out of Ben’s life. I’d have given anything to provide my children with a loving father, but I’m in no position to judge.”
“I don’t understand,” Lilah said, marveling at how honest these Gages could be in their conversation.
“I guess Owen didn’t tell you everything about his childhood.”
Lilah felt her face heat up. She knew Suzannah hadn’t always stood between her children and their alcoholic father. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t want to betray Owen’s few confidences.
“I wasn’t always a good mother,” Suzannah said. “My children couldn’t count on me, but I’m trying to show them they can now.”
“I understand that.”
“But you don’t have to be afraid of Owen.”
“You don’t have to fight on his behalf. I’m trying to accept this situation, but surely you can understand why I have reservations. I do know about Owen’s father.”
Suzannah looked embarrassed. “Owen’s not like him.”
“I’m not sure how you can know that. I get the feeling that Owen left me that last time and came back here to drink himself into oblivion. I didn’t want Ben exposed to that.”
Suzannah pursed her lips, and in that moment, Lilah saw the strong mother-son resemblance. “Let’s not argue, Suzannah. I’m not separating Ben from Owen anymore, and I won’t, as long as Owen doesn’t fall back into his old habits.”
“How generous.”
Suzannah turned back to the sink to wash cutlery with unnecessary vigor. Lilah understood her anger, but she had to look out for Ben. Still, she certainly didn’t want to make an enemy of Owen’s mother.
She stared at Suzannah’s reddened hands, searching for a benign opening. “You don’t use a dishwasher?”
“Depends on the dish. Stoneware goes in, but this is bone. I don’t like to take chances with it, but it’s cozier than stoneware, and I like using it.”
“Your home is cozy. Thank you for making Ben and me feel so welcome.” That was a bit of a stretch, but at least Owen’s family all seemed to love Ben.
Suzannah nodded over her shoulder. “I don’t like that you think Owen is a bad guy, but why wouldn’t I welcome you?”
Lilah didn’t know how to cut the tension between them.
Owen’s mother shook her head as if to suggest Lilah not answer. “I’m sorry. I’m making this worse. Ben and Owen are headed to the goat house if you want to join them.”
“The goat house?” Ben was so desperate for a pet, she could imagine him pestering the goats until one of them got tired of his overwhelming love and took a bite out of him. “Where’s that?”
“A little wooden structure in the trees beyond the east end of the parking lot.”
“I’ve never known east from west unless the sun’s out.”
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br /> “And it’s raining again. Put on a coat. You can take one from the hall closet. I have spares for guests. Turn left as you go out the back door of the dining room. You’ll hear Ben and Owen even if you don’t see the little white house between the spruce trees.”
Lilah ran upstairs and put her laptop away, slipping into her own jacket as she hurried back to the steps. The other guests had started to stream down. She overheard them making lunch plans as she negotiated a path between the small groups.
She glanced back, longing for the simplicity of a vacation. The fear of losing her son had kept her on tenterhooks from the moment she’d recognized Owen at her door.
Thank goodness she’d given up girlie shoes for boots since she’d arrived in Bliss. She hurried across the graveled parking lot, pausing only when she heard her son’s happy laughter. Even Ben wouldn’t sound that pleased if he were goat fodder. All the same, she rushed to see him.
CHAPTER NINE
OWEN WASN’T SURPRISED to find Lilah in the dining room a few nights later. All alone, looking far too lovely by the light of the small, battery-operated lamps his mother left on the tables at night.
The other guests had all gone to bed. His mom was probably hard at work in the kitchen. Lilah looked up as he climbed the steps to the sleeping porch. She pulled her earbuds out and glanced past him.
“Where’s Ben?”
“Celia came down to visit, and she’s looking after him for me.”
The fragile lines of her face hardened. She transitioned to full alert faster than anyone he knew.
“What’s up?” she asked, but she couldn’t even will herself to look casual.
He corrected himself. Not now anyway. Just a few years ago, casual had been her way of life. Or so it had seemed to him.
“I have to get back to work,” he said. “I’ve been keeping Ben with me because I wanted him to get used to being around me, but I’m paying crew to look after him when it’s not safe for him to be near me, and I’m not paying myself for the time I spend with him.”