The Farmer's Wife Page 21
“Which you’ve been begging me to do for years.”
“Tell me where you went,” Livy demanded. “Tell me what happened there.”
“Don’t take your lawyer’s tone with me, Livy Frasier Stark. It won’t work.”
“What will?”
Kim reached for the last chocolate doughnut.
“Touch that and die.” Livy snatched the sweet from her hand.
Kim blinked at her empty fingers. “Remind me never to get between a pregnant woman and the last chocolate doughnut.”
“Are we going to talk about doughnuts or you?”
“Doughnuts.”
Livy gave her the glare she usually reserved for recalcitrant defense witnesses. “Spill it, Kim.”
Kim hesitated. She’d never talked to anyone about that night. Was Brian right? If she did would the pain stop? Would the dream go away? Or would it only get worse?
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Livy pressed. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were scared of something, but you’re the most fearless person I know.”
“Me?” Kim laughed. “I sure had you fooled.”
Livy frowned and set down the doughnut as Kim continued.
“Did you know I’m scared to death of mice? I’m scared of secrets and the truth. I’m scared of love. I’m scared of babies. I’m scared of memories and nightmares and—” Her voice broke.
She was terrified she’d never feel again the way she’d felt with Brian. And if that was true, what reason was there to go on?
“Gotta face those fears.”
“Max!” Livy put a hand to her chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be hanging off the veranda?”
“I came in for a doughnut.”
“I think three is your limit.’
He eyed the half-eaten one in front of her. “It wasn’t yours.”
“Do as I say, not as I do.”
“You always say that.”
Livy gave an aggrieved sigh. “Is there anything I don’t always say?”
“Party on? Be free? Do what you wanna do?”
“That would be your gramma. Now, run along.”
“But Kim’s sad.” Max came into the room and leaned against Kim’s shoulder. His dark eyes were sad, too. “I used to be afraid of stuff. But Daddy taught me how not to be.”
In spite of herself, Kim was intrigued. “How?”
“Gotta face it, then it can’t hurt you no more. Don’t like the dark—turn off the lights. ‘Fraid of coffins— jump right in. Stuff that isn’t there? Gotta own it in a story.”
Kim lifted a brow at Livy. “I see now where the horror writer gets his ideas.”
Livy shrugged.
“You’re afraid of mice?” Max continued. “Gotta pick one up.”
Kim shivered. “I don’t think so.”
“They won’t hurt you. They’re little and kind of cute.”
“Not.”
“’Fraid of babies? Maybe you oughta have one.”
Kim shuddered.
“Max,” Livy warned.
“I’m puttin’ a lid on it. I just don’t want Kim to be scared.”
“Thanks.” Kim gave him a quick hug. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Lawyers,” Max muttered, and returned to the veranda.
“Sorry,” Livy said as soon as he was out of earshot. “You know how he is.”
Kim smiled. Everyone in Savannah knew how Max was. Precocious, adorable, brilliant, special beyond understanding. And usually right.
Face her fear and it would go away? Well, Max could forget about her picking up a mouse, but there was one thing she’d never faced. Considering her nightmare, maybe she ought to.
“I gotta go.” Kim stood.
“What? Where?”
“Gotta face those fears.”
“You’re taking advice from an eight-year-old?”
“Which he got from his father.”
“His father talks to people who aren’t real.”
“Hey, you married him.”
Livy grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”
Kim shook her head. She really had to get out of there.
Mid-November was late for Indian summer. The trees in central Wisconsin were well past their peak, yet the day shone bright with sunshine, and the temperature was far above sixty. The single snowstorm of the year had nearly melted away.
Brian wasn’t sure what had drawn him here. He’d only known that he had to come.
He parked his truck at the sign that pointed downhill, got out then followed the arrow. Moments later he stood at a tiny grave, complete with a tiny headstone. The only thing that was incomplete was the name.
Baby Riley.
The wind ruffled his hair, stirred the flowers he’d stopped to spend a fortune on. But he felt that the first time he visited his daughter in eight years he ought to bring something.
Brian laid the miniature pink roses atop the tiny patch of snow sheltered by the stone. Then he stuck his newly released hands into his pockets. What was he supposed to say? His baby didn’t even have name.
Dean would have a field day with that one.
He spun away from the grave, the pain too deep to bear. This had been a mistake. He’d hoped that by facing what he’d never faced he might be able to move on. But there was nowhere for him to go but back where he had been. And he hated it there.
The farm that had been his lifeline was no longer. Everywhere he looked, she was there. Outside the chicken coop, with egg in her hair. In the barn, holding kittens to her face. On the kitchen counter, screaming as a mouse ran around and around. In his bed touching him everywhere, yet nowhere at all.
Nothing was ever going to be right again without her. But he couldn’t beg for her love any more. Begging had never done either of them any good.
Brian reached the top of the hill. He wasn’t sure what made him turn back, maybe the sound of a car door or the scent of evergreen on the wind.
His gaze went to his daughter’s grave, and there she was.
Someone had laid pink roses in the snow. Who? No one knew about this place but her and—
Kim’s head jerked up; her gaze darted around the cemetery. On the hill stood a man, and even from this distance, she knew that it was him.
Was this fate? Or destiny? Divine intervention? Kim glanced at the tiny headstone. Perhaps just an angel at work.
She could run again. Jump in her car and never come back. But she’d come to face her fears. And the biggest fear was him.
She couldn’t run anymore. She couldn’t hide. She couldn’t lie or keep the secrets. She was so damn tired of being afraid.
Kim knelt and placed the small stuffed kitten against the headstone. She’d tied a big pink bow around the toy’s neck. Strange how the shade of the ribbon and the shade of the flowers were the same. Or maybe not so strange at all.
Brian’s shadow fell over them both. He didn’t say a word and suddenly she had to. “I’m sorry.”
He shuffled, impatient, annoyed. “I’m tired of hearing you’re sorry, Kim. I want to hear why you can’t love me.”
“I do love you. That’s why I’m sorry. You deserve better.”
He cursed and she focused on the headstone, afraid to look into his face. “What I deserve is the mother of my child as my wife. Why is it that every time I ask you to marry me—” he snapped his fingers, and it was then she realized his hands were no longer encased in casts “—poof. You’re gone the next day.”
She glanced at him and gaped. He had the brightest shiner she’d ever seen. “What happened to your eye?”
He hunched his shoulders and looked away. “Your brother happened.”
“What? Why?”
“I was sick of lying. I told him that I’d gotten you pregnant the baby died and that’s why you left.”
“I thought we weren’t going to tell anyone.”
“I thought a lot of things and none of them was true.”
She sighed. “I can’t believe Evan would
exert himself enough to do that.”
“Not Evan.”
“Aaron?”
Brian snorted. “Right.”
“Bobby or Colin came home? Why on earth would you tell one of them?”
“It was Dean, Kim. Dean.”
She blinked. Considered, then shook her head. “No way.”
“Way. He had the courtesy to wait until my wrists were healed, and then he punched me in the nose.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“And you’re his little sister. As he so kindly informed me—with his knuckles.”
Kim would never understand men. They got mad; they punched one another out; it was done and they were pals again. “So what does he look like?”
“Same’s usual.”
“You didn’t hit him back?”
“What for? I deserved this.”
“I thought you deserved a wife.”
“I do. And the only one I want is you.
She was shaking her head before he finished. “Brian, I suck at being a farmer’s wife. You’ve seen me. I try and try and I can’t get it right. I break the eggs—I scare the cows—I burn the food, lose the baby.”
“We didn’t misplace her,” he said softly. “She’s right here.”
Kim’s eyes burned. “I know.”
She ran her palm over the sharp autumn grass, then touched a pink rose petal with her fingertip. The softness, the perfection reminded Kim of her daughter’s skin. For the first time she savored the memory.
After a moment she realized that the silence felt good; being here wasn’t so bad, now that he was here, too.
Brian sat on the ground at her side. “I never stopped loving you, Kim.”
The sense of peace evaporated on the unseasonably warm wind. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore, but she didn’t think she was going to be able to stop it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she managed to say.
“Love is the only thing that does matter.”
“Love can’t bring her back.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes. I want her back, Brian.”
“And that’s the one thing I can’t give you. But I can give you more children. We can fill up the house if you want.”
“You think another child will make me forget the first one?”
“Of course not. But you’ve got to go on. We could have a life, if you’d let her death go.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my fault!” she shouted. Heart pounding with both fear and anger, Kim breathed deeply until the urge to scream or cry or both passed. “She died because of me.”
“What are you saying?”
The confusion in his voice did not quite mask the suspicion. Kim braced herself, then met Brian’s eyes when she finally told him the truth.
“I didn’t want to stay in Gainsville. I didn’t want to marry you. At least not yet. I wished her gone—” Kim returned her attention to the headstone “—and then she was.”
“You wished?”
Kim fought not to cringe at the incredulity in his tone. He couldn’t believe she’d been so heartless and selfish. Which only made two of them.
She nodded. “Every single night, until it happened.”
Brian laughed, startling her. “Wishing doesn’t make something happen.”
“I know that here.” She tapped her head. “But here?” Kim touched her chest. “Not so much. That’s why I couldn’t stay. You wanted her so badly. Every time I looked at you I remembered that I’d resented her, resented you.”
“You were eighteen and confused. So was I.”
“No, from the moment you heard we were having a baby, you knew what to do, you knew what you wanted.”
“But I didn’t stop to think what you wanted, and that was my mistake. I had to take care of you both, to make everything all right. And in doing that, I trapped you in the life I wanted.”
She had felt trapped. But she had no one to blame but herself.
“You were as trapped as I was, Brian.”
“Not really. I was scared, but I was happy.”
She smiled, remembering why she had loved him, why she loved him still. “You were so sure of everything. So confident, so certain. All you ever needed was your farm, a wife and some kids. Simple, beautiful dreams that I couldn’t give you. Not then and not now.”
“Fine. What can you give me? Love? I’ll take it.” He jumped up and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
She stared at him, wary. “Go where?”
“Anywhere you want. Wherever you’ll be happy. I love you. Screw the farm.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t? You think I’m going to let some grass and a few cows keep me from being with you?”
“It’s not the farm. It never was. You haven’t been listening to me. I can’t give you children, Brian. And you deserve them.”
He let his hand fall back to his side. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. To go through that again . . .” She stared at the grass as a cold sweat sprang up on her skin. “Just the thought paralyzes me.”
Silence fell between them for several moments. Then Kim murmured, “Do you remember when they made me hold her?”
“Yeah,” Brian whispered.
One of the paramedics who had answered Brian’s frantic 911 call had also been a midwife. She’d insisted that Kim needed to hold the baby or she’d never get over the loss. Kim had never gotten over it anyway.
“When I held her . . . I wanted her, and all I could think of was that it was too late. I’d been selfish, and she was the one who paid. I can’t forgive myself for that, Brian. Can you?”
“I should forgive you for being a child and frightened? I should forgive you for something that wasn’t your fault? No matter what you might think when it’s dark and you’re all alone, you didn’t kill that baby, Kim. Miscarriages happen all the time.”
“Exactly.” Kim jumped to her feet and faced him. “What if it happens again and again?”
“What if it doesn’t? You can’t live your life hiding from the bad what-ifs. Why don’t you go looking for the good ones? What if I take a chance? What if I find a life? What if love really can heal?”
“Is there nothing I could do or say or confess that you wouldn’t forgive?”
“No.”
“You’re a better person than me.”
He threw up his hands. “It isn’t about me forgiving you. It’s about you forgiving yourself. And as much as I want to help you, with that you’re on your own.”
He tempted her with the promise of the future she’d denied. Could love heal? Nothing else had been able to.
“Why did you come here today, Brian?”
He remained silent so long she didn’t think he would answer. Then he stepped closer and he slipped his hand into hers. The warmth of his fingers against her chilled skin felt so good, so right, she couldn’t pull away—she could only hold on.
“We never put her to rest. We never said goodbye.” He pointed to the headstone. “She doesn’t even have a name. It’s as if she never existed, and we both know that’s not true.”
“What should we do?”
The breath he took shook in the middle, but when he spoke his voice was strong. “We should name our little girl. We should tell everyone about her. We should change that headstone, have a funeral, say goodbye. And then—”
He turned her to face him, took both her hands in his. “Then we should get married, share a name and face everything we’re afraid of together.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“That I’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be gone again.”
She flinched.
“But I’m willing to take the chance, because I love you. I want that simple, beautiful life I dreamed of, and I think deep down you want it, too.”
She stared into his face, uncertain yet hopeful. If he was by her side, she might be ab
le to find the courage to try.
“The only thing I’m sure of is that I want you.”
The light in his eyes accepted her promise and made promises of its own. “Should we live on the farm or sell it and move to Savannah?”
“You can’t sell a farm that’s been in your family for the better part of a century.”
“Sure I can. A big For Sale sign in the yard, and within a week they’ll be building condos on the lawn.”
Kim winced. “I don’t think so. And while the idea of mice in the bed and sheep on the porch and chickens squawking at dawn’s early light gives me the heebie-jeebies, there’s something that’s worse,”
“What’s that?”
“Life without you.”
He grinned and lowered his mouth to hers. Their kiss was long and thorough and ended only when the wind picked up and stirred Kim’s hair.
She pulled away. “Did you smell that?”
“Manure again?”
“No.” She punched his arm. “It smelled like—”
She closed her eyes. The wind had smelled of spring in the heart of the autumn. Rain, new grass, roses and . . .
“Hope,” she murmured. The wind had smelled of hope. She opened her eyes.
Brian knelt next to the headstone. His hand shook as he ran his fingertips along the letters.
“Hope Riley.” He glanced at her. “What do you think?”
The answer came on the wind and this time there was no question.
Hope lived in the air.
EPILOGUE
Huge, lacy snowflakes drifted from a navy-blue sky. John Luchetti raised his face to the night and smiled. Everyone knew that Christmas Eve snow was magic.
An ear-piercing shriek made him pause with his hand lifted, ready to knock on the front door of the Riley farmhouse. Before John could recover, his daughter appeared. Wearing her wedding dress, she carried a broom in one hand. John got out of the way in a hurry. Ba, who had been sleeping on the porch for quite a while, from the depth of the snow on her back, didn’t even open her eyes.
The door flew open and one perfect slap shot later a mouse came flying out. Precious, the cat, followed and the chase was on, the fleet kitten-cat scrambling over new fallen snow.