The One She Left Behind (Harlequin Super Romance) (18 page)

“Not always alone.”

That gave her a measure of relief. “It’s good to know Bill and May were with you.”

“Not Bill and May, Savannah. Sam was there.”

Savannah couldn’t have been more taken aback. “He came to the hospital?”

“Yes. He’d show up and tell me to take a break even if I didn’t think I needed one. But some days I was so tired I’d go home and take a nap. He always promised he’d call if it was time, and I trusted he would. Having him there was a godsend, especially at the end.”

Savannah swallowed hard around her shock. “He was there when Dad died?”

“Yes, with that old guitar. In your daddy’s final moments, Sam sang Floyd’s favorite hymn, the one about the sparrow.”

When Savannah could again speak, she said, “That was an incredibly kind gesture on his part.”

“He’s a decent man, Savannah. But I guess you’ve always known that about him.”

More now than ever. “Yes, he is. And I’m glad you finally realize that.”

“I never really took the time to know him before you left. Sometimes I’m too quick to judge.”

That admission was almost as remarkable as learning
Sam had kept vigil over her dad. “We all have our faults, Mom.”

“Your father didn’t have many,” she said. “He tolerated me for almost sixty years. He also saved my life.”

Now would be a good time to work her way into the mystery surrounding her mother’s history, but Savannah acknowledged she would have to proceed with caution. “How did he save your life?”

Even in the limited light, she could see her mother’s shoulders tense. “It doesn’t matter how. He just did.”

Now or never had arrived. Savannah chose now. “I saw your sketches, Mother. I found them in the bedroom. I know I shouldn’t have pried, but I felt like I needed to—”

“I know. I’m glad you found them.”

Finally, a possible breakthrough. “Was that you in the drawings?”

“Yes.”

“And the hands belonged to?”

When Ruth fell silent, Savannah worried the revelations could be over, until she said, “My stepfather was a horrible man.”

At least part of Savannah’s suspicions had been confirmed. “How was he horrible, Mother? Were you his punching bag?”

“Yes.” Ruth turned her face toward Savannah and lowered her eyes. “I was also his replacement wife.”

B
Y SUGGESTING THEY CONTINUE
the conversation back at the house, Savannah ran the very valid risk that her mother could clam up again. Yet she felt that would be best—moving to a well-lit venue where she could weigh Ruth’s reactions if she chose to continue the revelations, and stop her if they appeared to be causing her too much pain.

Once they arrived, Savannah guided her mother to the parlor, sat her down on the small sofa and took the space beside her. “Mom, I understand if you don’t want to talk about this,” she began, “but it might help if you do.”

Turning her attention across the room, Ruth focused on the family portrait taken before they’d moved to Placid. A depiction of much happier times. “When Don began to court my mother a month or so after Daddy died, I really didn’t mind all that much because Mama had been so sad and she finally seemed happy. But that happiness ended not long after that.”

After a lengthy hesitation, Savannah said, “Go on, Mom. I’m listening.”

Ruth drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I remember waking up in the morning to the smell of pancakes. He always cooked pancakes after he’d beat
my mother, like that would somehow make up for what he’d done to her. That’s why I hate pancakes.”

Savannah couldn’t fathom what her mother had endured when she cooked those pancakes every Sunday morning for her own family. “When did he start hitting you?”

“When I turned thirteen, the winter before Mama died. He used any excuse he could come up with. The crops were failing, the tractor broke down, the laundry wasn’t done to his liking. I used to hide in the attic, but he always found me.”

Savannah shuddered at the thought. “And your mother never stopped him.”

Anger as harsh as a Chicago winter flashed in Ruth’s eyes. “No, she never stopped him. She’d just take to the bed and let him do what he would to me, as long as he wasn’t hurting her. They said she died of pneumonia, but I swear she just got tired of getting hit and gave up.”

Savannah prepared to enter some potentially precarious territory. “And the other abuse?”

A fleeting look of shame passed over her mother’s expression. “A few months after we buried Mama, I had to go to work at the general store to help put food on the table since Don didn’t care to do anything but drink. I always took May with me because I didn’t trust leaving her alone with him. When I’d come home, I cooked his meals, washed his clothes and did everything Mama did for him.
Everything
.”

When Ruth covered her face with both hands and sobbed, Savannah laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to continue.”

“I want to.” As if the proverbial floodgates had opened wide, Ruth pulled a tissue from her pocket, dried her eyes and continued. “Mama and I never talked about the ways between a man and a woman. When he started coming into my room at night, I didn’t understand what was happening. I only knew it was wrong and it made me sick to my stomach. I tried to fight, but he was so strong.”

The abject terror her mother had endured made Savannah internally recoil. “Did you tell anyone?”

Ruth let go a caustic laugh. “Back in those days, no one told. Papa Don was a
respected
citizen. He rescued Widow Calloway and her children from certain poverty. People believed what a man did in his house was nobody’s business. And it really wasn’t his home at all, but he still defiled all that was good about it.”

Savannah began to recognize all too well the reasons behind her mother’s strange transformation when they’d moved back to the farm. “When we returned to Placid, the details came back to you, didn’t they?”

Ruth sent her a brief glance. “Yes, and your daddy always blamed himself for bringing me back here. But when the mill shut down in Knoxville, we didn’t have much choice. He did what he could to help. He took out most of the old furniture and painted the walls. But he couldn’t paint away the memories.”

Several issues still muddied the comprehension waters. “I’m beginning to understand what you went through, Mom, and I am so, so sorry. But I don’t understand why your anxiety caused you to close yourself off to me.”

Ruth refused to look directly at Savannah. “You were so headstrong and stubborn that I thought it best if your father dealt with you.”

No matter how hard she tried to push it down, that same old spark of resentment began to rear its head. “You mean easier, don’t you, Mom?”

Finally, she turned her weary gaze to Savannah. “Do you really think it was easy, watching you build the kind of relationship with your dad that I always wanted to have with you? But I couldn’t do that and protect you.”

Now Savannah was extremely befuddled. “I’m not following you, Mother.”

Ruth folded the hem of her blouse back and forth, her hands noticeably shaking. “Remember that night when you told me how much you hated Placid and you hated me for bringing you here?”

Savannah lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I could be one belligerent teenager.”

“Do you remember I raised my hand and almost slapped you?”

The long-forgotten image came back to her. “I hadn’t really thought much about it because you didn’t actually do it.”

“But I wanted to. After that day, I feared I had the meanness in me, just like Papa Don.”

Suddenly it all began to make sense to Savannah. “The important thing is that you stopped yourself, Mom. And not once did you ever lay a hand on me.”

More tears welled in Ruth’s eyes. “I couldn’t risk hurting you like he hurt me.”

Savannah felt her mother’s pain as keenly as if it were
her own. “I just wish you would have told me what you’d been through. I would have been much more considerate.” Less temperamental. Less hateful.

“I can’t take it back now. I can only say I’m sorry and beg your forgiveness.”

Savannah was prepared to take that next step—as soon as she had one more answer. “I do forgive you, Mom, but why tell me now?”

Ruth hesitated before saying, “Because your father asked me to make amends. He wanted to know that after he was gone, we’d rely on each other.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that. “So this wasn’t your idea.”

“So many times I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. We’d built so much bitterness between us, and I’m at fault for that.”

Savannah couldn’t ignore her role in that bitterness. “In part, so am I.”

Ruth shook her head. “You were a child, Savannah. I should have been more patient with you. I should have been stronger.”

“Stronger? You went to work when you were barely old enough to take care of yourself. You survived unspeakable acts and you raised your baby sister. If that’s not gutsy, I don’t know what is.”

“I didn’t mind working at the store.” Her mother’s ensuing smile made her appear twenty years younger and lifted Savannah’s spirits. “That’s where I met your daddy. He was the cutest boy I’d ever set eyes on. He used to come to the house and help me with the chores. As long as Floyd was there, Papa Don didn’t come around.”

Another burning question that Savannah had to address. “How much did Dad know about Don?”

“I told him everything right after we married. I had to because I didn’t know what it was like to have relations with a man without being afraid. It took years before I felt like a real wife. And in all that time, he stayed patient with me.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from Dad.” Savannah hadn’t expected to be made privy to this much information, either. “I still can’t imagine being married at seventeen.” She couldn’t imagine being married at thirty, either.

“It was tough,” Ruth said. “We didn’t have two nickels to rub together. We did have a lot of love and we had May. We worked hard to make a good home for her.”

“Which you did,” Savannah said. “May’s very grateful to you.”

“I know,” she said. “But I made mistakes with her, too. I never told her the truth about Papa Don. She never really understood why I had to get her out of that house before she became his target.”

Sometimes honesty wasn’t the best answer. “I can fully understand why you’d want to protect her from that, Mom. Especially since your mother never protected you the way you tried to protect me. And even if your good intentions got in the way of our relationship, I know why you did it, and I love you for it.”

Ruth looked as if Savannah had handed her a basketful of diamonds. “After you were grown, I wanted to be close to you again. I wanted to talk to you like we’re talking now. But I was so ashamed.”

Savannah took her mother’s hand into hers. “You have no reason to be ashamed, Mom. You had no control over what Don did to you. As far as we’re concerned, it’s never too late to make amends, right?”

“No, it’s not.”

When Ruth rose from the sofa, Savannah assumed that was the end of their peace accord, not that she believed everything would be smooth sailing from this point forward. Yet instead of leaving the room, Ruth walked to the antique desk in the corner and opened the drawer. She returned to the sofa and offered Savannah a paper. More specifically, a sketch. “This is for you.”

The drawing was both heartfelt and heartrending—a sleeping child secure in the arms of her father. Although the sketch had been done in pencil, the care the artist took to depict every intricate detail showed in the wisps of hair curling around the little girl’s cheek and the silver snaps on the man’s cuffs. Her hair. Her father’s cuffs.

Savannah didn’t have to search for the signature in the corner of the yellowed page to know this was her mother’s handiwork. She couldn’t have seen that signature anyway, thanks to the onset of tears. Never had she viewed something so honest and innocent. Never had she admired her mother’s talent—and her mother—more.

After brushing away the moisture with her fingertips, Savannah stared up at Ruth with a good deal of wonder. “When did you sketch this?”

“About twenty-four years ago. You’d been sick with the flu for a couple of days, so your daddy took you outside and sat with you on the porch. I couldn’t resist capturing the moment because I knew you’d be grown
and gone before I knew it. I drew it out of love for you both.”

For the first time in many years, her mother had expressed her love for her daughter. Savannah felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her soul. “Why have I never seen this before?”

“I wanted to wait and give it to you on the day you had your first child.”

Ouch. “I suppose you’ve decided that’s not going to happen.”

Ruth smiled. “I still hope for that, but no, I thought now would be a better time. Something to remind you that your daddy was the best of men and that he loved you with everything in him.”

Savannah needed no tangible reminders because she carried so many in her heart. She appreciated having the drawing anyway. “Mother, you are such an incredible artist. Did you ever dream of pursuing a professional career?”

Ruth reclaimed her place on the sofa. “As old-fashioned as it may seem to you, marrying your father was my dream, and seeing you succeed was, too.” She put her arm around Savannah’s shoulders in a surprising show of affection. “I’m proud of you, Savannah Leigh. Proud that you went after your dreams. But…”

Oh, boy. Here it came, just when Savannah thought they’d moved mountains this evening. “And?”

“Don’t let your work be your only dream. Those dreams are worthless if you can’t share them with someone.”

As if that were such a simple feat. “I’ll try, Mom, but it’s slim pickings these days in the dating world.”

Ruth sent her a sly smile and gave her a brief and somewhat awkward hug. “You never know when love will land on your front door.”

About the only thing Savannah expected to land on her doorstep would be the neighbor’s annoying cat. “Speaking of that, will you visit me in Chicago?”

“Maybe in a few months,” she said as she slowly rose from the settee. And before she left the room, she looked back and added, “If you’re still there.”

Still there? Where else would she be?

S
AM TOSSED THE LAST BALE
into the hay shed and turned when he heard his name. He found Ruth Greer standing nearby, a small rental truck parked in the gravel drive leading to the barn. When May stuck her hand out the window and waved, and Bill honked twice, he raised his palm in acknowledgment.

“You about to head out, Miss Ruth?” he asked as he pulled off his work gloves and shoved them into his back pocket.

“I am, but I wanted to say goodbye to you first.”

She’d pretty much done that last night, which made him wonder if there could be more to this unexpected visit. “I appreciate that.”

She glanced over her shoulder as if she were looking for support before bringing her attention back to him. “I also wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me, before and during Floyd’s passing. I might not have made it through this without you.”

“No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure. And you’re one tough lady, Miss Ruth. You would’ve handled everything fine without me.”

“Maybe, but I’m just glad I didn’t have to go it alone. At least now I’m feeling more at peace with leaving here.”

That led Sam to ask, “Have you and Savannah called a truce?”

She smiled. “Yes, we have. And she’s another reason why I’m here. I need to ask another favor.”

“No harm in asking.”

Ruth wrung her hands. “She’s decided to stay on until the end of the week so she can go through a few more things, or so she says. I’m worried she’s having trouble dealing with losing the house, although Lord knows why. She hasn’t been there for any length of time in years.”

“True, but she’s got a lot of memories wrapped up in the place.” So did he.

“I know, and that’s where you come in, helping her let go of the past.”

Like he could help Savannah when he hadn’t been able to help himself. “How do you propose I do that?”

“Just promise me you’ll check on her now and then for the next few days.”

She might as well have asked him to pick up the barn with his bare hands. “I don’t believe Savannah’s going to take too kindly to that idea.”

“Don’t give her a choice,” Ruth said. “Be persistent and she’ll come around.”