No wonder there’d been no trace of her. She’d gone all the way to Texas. Goddamn her! Didn’t she realize that any number of horrors could have befallen her if she’d broken down on the side of some dark road without a cell phone? I was surprised that beat-up car she drove had made it across the California state line, much less almost halfway across the country and back. Not to mention I had no idea what type of situation she’d been in once she’d arrived at her aunt’s house. An aunt I’d never heard of. But that wasn’t surprising, was it? Lia had always been so damn closed-lipped about herself.
Still, to know she’d been with family brought some measure of relief. For a time, I’d questioned whether she’d met another man and run off, but when would she have met anyone? And then I’d been worried sick something awful had happened to her. At the memory of the torment I’d experienced wondering where she was, a sick, helpless anger ran through me and I took another deep calming breath, attempting to gain control. God, I’d meant to question her more, to make demands, to force her to spell out her intentions. Seeing her gazing at our son with such heart-wrenching love in her beautiful eyes combined with hearing the danger she’d put herself in to get away from me, had made my need for answers dematerialize like a wisp of smoke.
My guts churned.
I heard the front door open and close and my mother’s voice calling a hello before she came around the corner to the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.”
“Is she gone?”
“Yeah, she’s gone.”
My mother pressed her lips together in disdain. The sudden twist of anger was unwelcome and made me feel vulnerable. Even after everything, I still couldn’t deny the knee-jerk reaction of my heart to defend Lia.
“Well, thank God. And how are you, my little sweetheart? How’s Grandma’s sweet boy?” she crooned to Hudson, putting her nose against his. She’d never accepted Lia, but even my mother couldn’t deny Hudson’s charms. And though we’d never spoken the words, Hudson’s personality was so much like Cole’s that he’d healed a piece of both of us.
Sometimes he reminded me of my brother so strongly, it was both a joy and a jab at the aching wound that would hurt forever. But then I’d look in his eyes where he was all Lia—not just the color and the shape, but the sweet defenselessness so present in his watchful stare—and a wave of love would wash over me so strongly, I’d almost have to sit down so I wouldn’t fall. Because despite it all, despite how we started and how we ended, the baby boy in front of me was the product of the unceasing love I’d carried in my heart since I was nine years old.
“Goddamn it,” I muttered, pushing back the chair I’d been sitting in and standing. My mother, who’d been bent toward Hudson jerked slightly and straightened.
“My goodness, what is it?”
“I need to do some work. Do you think you could watch him for a while?”
“Well, all right. Or I could call Tracie.”
“No, this is Tracie’s day off. I don’t want to bother her.”
My mom shifted on her feet. “Preston . . .”
“What?”
“Well, I’m no matchmaker, but have you thought about taking Tracie on a date?”
I frowned. “A date?”
“I know you’re going to say you don’t need the complications right now, but I’ve been thinking about it, and Tracie’s such a pretty girl, and she’s wonderful with Hudson, and well . . . I can tell she’s attracted to you. Don’t you think it just makes sense? It might be a good way to help you move on from Lia. I know you still harbor feelings for her and clearly that won’t do anyone any good. Dating someone else—someone sweet like Tracie—might be just the thing you need. Just the thing Hudson needs.”
I stared at my mother, taking in her words. I’d hired Tracie a few weeks after Lia left. My mother was willing to watch Hudson here and there, but she wasn’t going to watch him full-time while I worked, so I’d needed someone. Tracie had come highly recommended by my mom’s friends in town who had used her to watch their children until they went to nursery school. Tracie was sweet and pretty, but I’d never thought of her in that way. And I’d never seen any sign that she thought of me in any romantic sense either.
“Tracie’s a teenager, Mom.”
“She’s nineteen. She’s only five years younger than you.”
She was the same age Lia’d been when I’d gotten her pregnant. I glanced unconsciously at the farmhouse table and winced, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I don’t have time to date anyone, and I need Tracie to watch Hudson.” I couldn’t risk making things awkward and losing her as a babysitter—Hudson liked her, she was sweet but firm with him, and I liked her easygoing manner. And moreover, I didn’t want to date her. Why were we even having this conversation?
“Thanks for thinking of me, Mom, but no.” I kissed Hudson on the top of his head and turned and walked toward the back door.
“Have you considered that Lia might be back to take Hudson?”
I halted but didn’t turn. Did she mean kidnap him from me? Disappear with him? A harsh shiver ran through my body, a flash fire of panic, the memory of what it’d felt like to discover Lia was gone without a word. What would it feel like if it hadn’t only been her, but if she’d taken my son, too? “She wouldn’t do that.” My voice was quiet and steely and even I wasn’t sure if I believed the words. My trust in Lia had been irrevocably damaged.
Without waiting for my mom to reply, I opened the back door and stepped out into the mild warmth of the springtime sun. The farm workers’ heads bobbed in the distance, moving down the rows, collecting the ripe fruit. Strawberries. La fruta del diablo I’d heard them called, and I understood why. Hard, low, backbreaking work that had to be done by hand, packed in plastic containers as they were picked. And packing those suckers could be like working out a puzzle while being timed. It took skill and practice to get them to fit perfectly with the best ones on top—no stems showing—so they looked pretty in the grocery store produce section.
I walked to the edge of the farmland, gazing out at it for a minute before squatting down and picking up a handful of the rich soil. I took comfort in the feel of the dirt as it slipped through my fingers, and the vision of the abundant harvest in front of me.
The pride I felt went as deep as the roots of all the things that grew here. Generations of Sawyers had fed this land with blood, sweat, and tears. They had returned to the same farmhouse I did at the end of the day dirty and sunburnt but filled with the satisfaction of wrestling with the land and reaping the rewards.
They’d washed the dirt from beneath their fingernails, their hands rough and callused from hard, physical labor, their skin gritty and weathered. They were men who were used to harshness: from the rocks that needed to be plowed from the earth, to the relentless heat of the sun on their necks, and so when they slipped between the sheets upstairs and gathered their wives to them, they’d gloried in the clean softness of a woman’s body and the tenderness of her love.