“You’re always welcome here.”
Even after everything Bailey said, I have my doubts about this, and they’re not helped by the way her eyes dart away from me.
“My boss did say I could work remotely,” I admit hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t want to impose. I mean, I’d only stay another week or two if I did change my flight,” I add quickly.
“You are welcome to stay for as long as you like,” she tells me firmly. “I mean it, Wren.”
I must not look convinced, but then her expression is not at all convincing, and if it’s this hard for her...
“I noticed you found your old photo album,” she says unexpectedly. “Bailey reminded me that I took it away. That I put it in a storage box. That you hadn’t seen it in all these years.”
My stomach contracts.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Sheryl murmurs.
I belatedly realize that, while the emotion I’m seeing on her face is undoubtedly discomfort, it’s not discomfort due to the idea of me staying. She’sashamed.
“That was the wrong thing for me to do,” she continues. “I’d forgotten all about it, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”
I’m so taken aback by her apology that I feel dizzy.
“That’s okay,” I mumble.
“No. It’s not. It’s going to take more than a simple sorry to make up for that and all the other mistakes I made when you were younger. But I hope I can make up for some of them now.”
She meets my eyes and, this time, holds my gaze.
Suddenly, I’m blinking back tears.
“Come here,” she says huskily, and then I’m in her arms andSherylis hugging me, comforting me, just like my mother would. It’s the first time she’s ever instigated real, substantial physical contact with me.
“Please stay,” she murmurs into my ear. “I wouldlikeyou to.”
I nod against her shoulder and my voice is muffled when I reply, “I’d really like that too. Thank you.”
13
The light is pale and gray and it must be very early in the morning, but I feel wide awake. It’s Friday and I should be back in Bury St. Edmunds by now, but I’m not. I’m still here in Southern Indiana, smiling at the ceiling.
Bailey wants to go to Dirk’s again later—she was so happy when I told her I was staying. It will probably be another late one, but there’s no chance at all of me falling back asleep now. Whatisthe time?
As I reach for my phone to check, I catch sight of flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the white wall at the edge of the blinds. My heart lurches and I leap out of bed, shoving the blinds aside in time to see an ambulance heading in the direction of the Fredrickson farm. All my joy is swallowed up by dread as I remember the guns that Anders removed and the rope he was worried his brother might have taken down to the river. Peggy called Anders home for a reason—they all had cause for concern.
Please, please, please don’t let that ambulance be for Jonas.
The lights were flashing, but there was no siren. Is that because the roads are quiet? Or is there no need for urgency?What sort of living hell might Anders and his parents be in right now if that ambulanceisfor Jonas and it’s already too late?
I fight the urge to pull on clothes and walk down to the farm. Whatever has happened to that family is none of my business.
Eventually the ambulance comes past again, its lights flashing and its siren still silent.
News comes atten thirty that morning after the most sickening wait. The ambulance was for Patrik: he had a nonfatal heart attack in the early hours of the morning, but will likely make a full recovery. Sheryl flagged down Jonas as he was taking a bag to the hospital.
Despite being concerned about Patrik, I’m light-headed with relief for the rest of the day.
In the evening,I wander down to the Fredrickson farm with a basket of peaches and a “Get Well Soon” card from us all. Sheryl asked me to leave them on the doorstep if no one answers.
I’m at the gate before I see him—Anders—sitting on the front steps, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
