She nodded, a strand of gray hair slipping from her topknot and falling over one eye.
He brushed it back, then helped her inside, casting a quick look over his shoulder at the front lawn. Sadie, crying, pressed her face against Kristen’s middle. Kristen hugged her close, her mouth moving as she spoke softly to Dylan, who stood close by her side. The smiles they’d sported earlier were gone, a mix of shock and sadness having taken their place.
Bad day, it seemed, had been an understatement.
Thirty minutes later, Emmy sat on the edge of her bed as he carefully peeled the last photograph from the scrapbook Kristen had created. Her tears had stopped almost as abruptly as they’d begun.
“They’re all back where you had them now,” Mitch said, placing the picture in the shoebox with the others. He lifted the shoebox from the floor and set it on her lap. “Would you like to look through them?”
She blinked slowly, th
en shook her head. “I’m tired.”
“Then lie back and take a nap.” He stood, moved the shoebox to the nightstand, and helped ease her back against the pillows. “I’ll be right outside when you wake up.”
Her eyes closed and she drifted off before he reached the door, her deep breaths steady and even. He closed the door behind him quietly, then followed the soft clink of silverware into the kitchen.
Dylan and Sadie sat at the table with half-empty glasses of milk in front of them, taking bites of two large slices of birthday cake. Chocolate icing coated their lips, and crumbs clung to their chins. Sadie was no longer crying, and Dylan looked more at ease, too.
“Where’s Kristen?” Mitch glanced around, an uneasy feeling knotting in his gut.
“She went to get the truck,” Dylan said around a mouthful of cake. “Said she’s going to check the fields while we eat. Is Nana okay?”
Mitch nodded, already heading for the front door. “She’s taking a nap. Stay here with Sadie, all right? I’ll be back in a sec.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, and by the time he reached the front lawn, Kristen was pulling Emmy’s truck onto the driveway. Jogging, he caught up to the slow-moving vehicle, then rapped his knuckles against the driver’s side window.
She spotted him, stopped the truck, and rolled down the window. “How is Emmy?”
“Resting.” He leaned on the windowsill and studied her blank expression. It was guarded and unapproachable. So much like when they’d first met. “Thank you for taking care of Sadie and Dylan.”
“I was happy to.” She faced the driveway again, a tiny muscle ticking in her jaw as her hand moved toward the old-fashioned window handle. “I’ll head out and take care of the field work.”
“She didn’t mean it.” He reached inside the cab, captured her hand, and threaded his fingers through hers. “She’s having a bad day. It’s going to happen occasionally, and it has nothing to do with you.”
Kristen nodded, giving a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
He waited. Searched her expression. “That was her illness talking, Kristen. Not her heart. You know that, don’t you?”
Eyes gentling, she lifted her hand, cupped his jaw, and smoothed her thumb across his cheek. “I know. Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You have enough on your mind, and Emmy needs you. Besides, it’s getting late, and the fields need to be checked. I think it’d help if I give her some space for a while.”
Reluctantly, Mitch released her, then moved back, watching as she put the truck in gear. “That was her illness talking,” he repeated. “Not her heart.”
Kristen glanced at him, smiled that empty smile once more, then drove away. Red clouds of dust billowed out from the worn tires and drifted slowly across the front lawn.
The strained note in her voice left Mitch wondering if she truly understood. And the vacant, detached look in her eyes made him question when—and if—she’d return.
* * *
Kristen ran. Legs burning, she forced one foot in front of the other, propelling herself farther away from the truck, which she’d parked a mile back at a neighboring field. Farther away from the grave intensity in Mitch’s eyes, and as far as she could manage to get from Emmy’s angry shouts, Dylan’s fear, and Sadie’s desperate sobs.
Get off my land.
Her lungs constricted with each fierce stride, struggling to catch the brief air she snatched in with ragged breaths. Bits of gravel, soil, and clay stung her bare ankles and shins, and sweat slicked down her back, plastering her thin T-shirt to her skin.
This ain’t your home.
Just ahead, the sun hit the horizon. The bright blaze of light pulsed more strongly just as the dusk-darkened land began to swallow it, the trees and the beaten red path starkly defined below. And in that moment—God forgive her—she’d never seen a thinner line between heaven and hell.