Chapter 27
Lesley could have kicked herself for not checking the weather forecast. What started as such a bright and sunny day turned dark and scary within the past hour.
Still, in her letter, she’d asked John to meet her by the tracks at six. Not too late, but late enough for him to finish whatever job he had done for the day—since he wasn’t working at Rosalyn, she didn’t know what his schedule looked like. Six seemed safe.
She placed the kickstand down on her bike and sat on the old oak stump. Rehearsing her lines, she jumped when she heard a rustle in the tall grass.
Angel. He must have followed her.
“Hey, buddy.”
The feline jumped in her lap and nuzzled his head under her hand, coaxing her to pet him.
“Come to offer me some support.” The past several nights, her and Angel had become closer. With just the two of them in the house now, she began to feel her only support system was the cat.
She gently rubbed under his chin as he purred against her skin. “You think he’s going to show up?”
Angel flopped his tail.
“Yeah, I hope so, too.”
The air held thick with moisture as the dark clouds above rolled in faster and faster. She checked her phone for the time. 6:05. Only five minutes late. Then again, her clock could be fast. She would wait a little longer. He would show. He had to show.
****
July 4, 1936
I slipped away for a moment from the hustle and bustle happening in our house. Papa invited neighbors and family from all over the countryside. Lila and Gentry’s wedding will be the talk of the state for a long time to come. An event so large has not happened around here since the Depression started.
Still, despite the celebration, all I have wanted all day is to wrap myself in Samuel’s arms.
The fireworks will start soon. I wonder if he will watch. I doubt many will miss me if I left the excitement of the celebration and headed for the tracks, but, eventually, Lila will realize I have disappeared and want me by her side.
She has been nervous for the wedding, and more importantly, the wedding night. I want to tell her making love is a wonderful feeling, but I do not think that will do her any good. I am not certain she is in love with Gentry, and for reasons I cannot explain, I feel she is already familiar with the hand of a man.
So, I will stay behind for Lila. Tomorrow, though, once the wedding is over, during the reception, I will slip out. I have already thought about the items I plan to take, and tonight, once everyone goes to bed, I can pack my bag and hide it under my bed. Papa always keeps money stashed away in a whiskey bottle in the hearth. Perhaps I should try to retrieve that as well.
All of these plans have my stomach in knots. I have had slight bleeding and stomach cramps from the anxiety of leaving. I do not think I will miss Papa, but I will miss my sister and my caretakers. Belle is with child, and I am saddened I will never see the baby grow. While Belle could never replace Momma, she has been the closest thing to a mother I have ever had. Her child will be so lucky to have such a wonderful person for a mother.
Momma would want me to be happy. Samuel is to be my family now. I love him so, and while it may not be logical what we plan to do, it does not matter. Running away seems right.
Still, I have yet to tell Jo our plans. Getting him alone has been rather difficult, and I fear telling anyone about what is to come.
****
The rain came down in a constant drizzle, and John still hadn’t shown. The clock on Lesley’s phone flashed eight. Two hours she had sat on that stump and waited. The night train had gone by, and she counted all two hundred and seventy-six of its cars while she waited.
The sky above sat completely dark, not a star visible in the cloaked sky. Her companion, Angel, had left over an hour ago when the rain had become so constant, logic had screamed at her to seek shelter, too, but her heart begged her to stay. Wait. He would come.
Now, she sat, soaked through and sticky from the mix of moisture and humidity, and after waiting two hours, realization sunk in like her feet in the ground beneath her.
John wasn’t coming. He’d given up.
Her teardrops mixed with the showers pouring down her face as her sorrow raced to a nail-biting fear she’d never felt before. The fear that she’d made the worst mistake of her life, and she may truly have lost him forever. Her fear rounded first base and slid to a safe second as irritation had her rising from her spot. How dare he leave her out in the rain? How dare he not bother to call or text. The irritation grew as each new raindrop splatted her skin, and gave her the green light to head to third. Determination. She was determined to make him see the truth, and bring him back home.
She would get him back.
Lesley kicked up the stand on her bike and pushed the wheels through fresh mud. They were going to work this out. She loved him too much to give up, and whether he wanted to or not, he loved her. They would find their way back to each other again. They had to, because deep in her heart she knew they worked better together than apart. Whether they stood beside each other—one with the hammer, the other with the nails—decorating for a birthday party, or speaking in front of a group, side by side, they were stronger, happier. And when they made love, everything in the world stopped as they soared together, in those moments.
Moments she wanted back.
Besides, this was only their first fight. If she got her way, they’d have many more to come, and the way they made up now set the stage for the rest of the relationship. Not talking, not communicating wouldn’t work. Make up sex…now that would.
Thunder boomed all around her as she finally stood on the front steps of John’s porch. She laid her shaky finger—from the adrenaline of her new-found courage or her soaked clothes she wasn’t sure which—on the doorbell, and pressed, reluctant to let up.
John pulled open the door, a deep scowl on his face. “Lesley.” The scowl changed from crossness to concern as he stared over her soaked body. “You’re soaked. Come in, I’ll get you a towel.”
She stepped over the threshold and waited on the doormat for him to return. Her hair slicked to her face as rain droplets fell off her eyelashes and down to her nose and cheeks. Her clothes clung to her skin, and she stood there on the doormat shivering from the blast of cold air hitting her from the air conditioner as she waited.
“Here.” He slowly made his way back toward her before he handed her the towel. “Lesley, what are you doing here?”
She wrung her hair out then wiped the cloth down her legs, the water slushing in her shoes as she moved her feet. “Did Emma give you my letter?”
“Yes.”
She stopped wiping and stared up at him. “Did you read it?”
His jaw set. “No.”
“So, I’ve been waiting for two hours in the rain for nothing?” She shoved the towel back at him.
“Appears so.”
He nodded and nonchalantly tossed the terrycloth over his shoulder like he had drenched women grace his doorstep on a normal basis. His whatever attitude had her determination skirting backwards to irritation again. She’d poured her heart and soul out in that letter. The least he could have done was acknowledge the damn thing.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you open it?”
“Because, what is there left to say? You choosing Peter—or even torn between choosing him or me—said it all. You’re not over him. I was something to pass the time, help you mend your broken heart. Maybe that’s all we were supposed to be to each other.”
All they were supposed to be. A fling? Did he even love me like I do him?
“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded his head as he stared down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, Lesley. I’m afraid I do.”
He was being stubborn. More than stubborn, he was downright frustrating. She poked a finger into his chest. “No. You listen to me. I love you, and you’re being a big jerk.”
She prayed he didn’t ask her why, because with his bull-headedness she was having a hard time thinking of a real good reason.
He stared at her finger then raised his gaze to meet hers. His eyes softened slightly at her confession, and her heart gave a little jolt. I can still reach him.
Then, a stormy gray took over his expression, almost as if her frustration traveled through her finger and into him.
“Yeah?” He moved her hand away. “Well, you could have fooled me, picking that ex of yours over me.”
“I didn’t pick him over you. I was confused. Peter and I have a history together. It’s hard to ignore that. You can’t fault me for that.”
“I can’t?” His tone soared higher, and then he stared up at the stairwell, as if he remembered his children were upstairs. “I can’t,” he said again, his voice lower. “There is only one other woman”—he raised up one finger—“from my past, and she’s dead. The only other woman I have ever dared to love was you.” He pointed that same finger at her. “So, forgive me for not being so understanding about being torn between two loves. I don’t work that way. I either love you or I don’t.”
His words hit her like a blow across her face. “What are you saying? You don’t love me?” Her voice trembled. “Is that why you didn’t bother to read the letter?”
She studied his eyes, wishing to see a tiny glimpse of something like she did a second ago, anything that would tell her he was lying. She saw nothing. Worse than hatred, he appeared impervious toward her.
“Yes.” He nodded, and stared at the ground. “That’s what I’m saying,” he added in a low tone.
With his confession, she staggered back, her backside hitting the door. How could he claim to love her one day and not the next? Flip his emotions so fast? He couldn’t—not if he truly cared for her.
She’d loved Peter, but the pain from her ten years of a failed relationship with him hurt nothing like the agony flooding her body over losing John. She’d been nothing more than a fling to him. A way to get past his wife’s death?
No. They had something.
“I don’t believe you. You’re scared.”
Still not caring to meet her gaze, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call Milton and ask him to give you a ride.”
Her voice shook as she fought back the tears, and reached for the door handle. “Don’t bother. I’ve obviously inconvenienced you enough.” She turned on her heels and let herself out, using all her willpower not to slam his door. While he may not want to love her, she couldn’t help her broken heart for still loving him and his children. She didn’t want to chance waking them by slamming the door on the way out of their lives.
Her heart pummeled in her chest as anger poured through her like the rain outside. If he truly loved her like he had claimed, then he couldn’t fall out of love with her that fast. Love didn’t work that way. But if this was how he would act every time they had a disagreement…like a stubborn goat, then he was doing her a favor by calling it quits.
Still, the pain was excruciating.
Lesley straddled her wet bike and pedaled down the street, not looking back.
They were over. If he could push her aside so easily, then she had no choice but to do the same.
Thunder boomed overhead, and the rain picked up speed as lighting popped fresh and new in the distance.
Her heavy, soaked clothes made it harder and harder to push the bike down the street, the fresh puddles in the road splashing her all over again as her tires crossed their paths.
How did things go so bad so quick? Why?
With each revolution of her pedals, she thought back on the events of the past few days. Her poor decisions had sent everything in a downward spiral, but still…the outcome didn’t truly make sense. John refusing her? And what about the bed and breakfast? The idea didn’t seem like a complete dream anymore without John as a part of the planning process. The future she had painted for herself over the last several weeks blurred without him.
She pedaled faster, racing to get home as more rain poured on top of her, and mud caked her tires. There wasn’t a single street light for another quarter of a mile. Enough distance to make everything in front of her as black as the night itself.
She flipped on her bike light, using the beams as her guide and pushed her tears back, needing all her vision to see the road. She could wait to break down inside the comfort of her bedroom, but until then, she must remain calm. Get home.
She leaned right into the curve, applying her brakes, but the slop of dirt on her front wheel caused her to skid. Bracing herself for the impact of the fall, she let off her hand breaks and released her right foot from the pedal, hoping to catch her body from the impact of the hard ground. Her hands and torso shook, her tight grip on the handlebars burning her forearms. But as her wheel began to right itself and her bike headed straight again, she lost her balance.
Struggling to stay upright, she didn’t see the log before it was too late. Her front wheel hit against the tree. Hard. The impact so severe, her body flung forward and over the handlebars.
A weightlessness took over as she flew through the darkness, placing her arms out in front of her to help break her fall.
Cold, mushy earth seeped between her fingers as her hands made impact with the ground, but they couldn’t stop the movement of her body flipping again. A loud crack penetrated through her skull.
Something cold and wet soaked her back, and her stomach swirled with nausea. Fighting to lift her hand to her head, her arm grew as heavy as the tree trunk she’d just flipped over, before a deep and heavy blackness lured her away from reality.