Charlotte's Homecoming. Janice Kay Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ her head. “I’ll make it.” She thought wistfully about a slug of the bourbon but instead got down two mugs, plopped in tea bags, filled them with water and stuck them in the microwave. One minute later, and the water was hot. Without asking Faith, she added more sugar than she liked to one of the mugs, then carried them both to the table.

      “Thank you.” Faith smiled wanly at her. Soot streaked her face, which was paler than it ought to be considering she had a good tan. Her thin nightgown had gotten a blast of water at some point and clung revealingly to her. Below the hem, her feet were filthy.

      Charlotte looked down and realized she looked just as awful. Her feet were not only filthy, but one of her toes was also bloody. She had a vague memory of stubbing it. “You know I had three showers today?” she said. “And now I’m going to have to have a fourth?”

      “It’s tomorrow now,” her sister pointed out. She stirred her tea, then lifted out the bag. “So this won’t be your fourth shower of today, it’ll be your first shower of tomorrow. No, today.”

      Suddenly they were both giggling.

      “Oh, Lord,” Faith finally said on a sigh, her hand pressed to her stomach. “I was sound asleep. I never would have woken up. It really is a miracle you happened to go outside.”

      Charlotte met her sister’s eyes. “Rory was awfully mad the other day.”

      “It could’ve just been a teenager. Why would Rory do something like this? He wants me back. He’d have to know that would blow any chance….”

      Charlotte set down her mug hard. “Does he have a chance?”

      “No!” Faith glared at her. “How can you even ask me that?”

      “You’re the one who just implied …”

      “I did not! I was trying to explain how he thinks!”

      Charlotte let out a frustrated breath. “When you called, you sounded like he’d been angry lately when he came around. And he was nasty from the minute he walked into the barn day before yesterday.”

      “There’s a big difference between …”

      God give her patience. “Yes, there is. But if he’s getting angry, it’s because he’s realized he doesn’t have another chance. You thought he’d just go away once he realized that, didn’t you?”

      Stricken, Faith finally closed her mouth and nodded, just once.

      “But when you were married, he got violent every time he thought he was losing control of you.”

      “Yes,” her sister whispered.

      “Maybe after he put you in the hospital he was ashamed of himself for a little while. Maybe he thought if he gave you time you’d forgive him eventually. But if he’s finally realized you aren’t going to, do you really think he’s not going to make some … I don’t know, some parting gesture?”

      Head bowed, gaze fixed on her tea, Faith looked … broken. “I don’t know. I guess I was more afraid he’d get mad and hit me. This seems so … sneaky.”

      “He must know how badly you want to keep the farm going, for Dad’s sake, and because it’s ours.”

       She heard herself and thought, Ours? Where had that come from?

      Faith looked up, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks dirty. “This would have been one of the worst things he could do to me.”

      Charlotte didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

      After a moment of silence, Faith said, “There are other possibilities. It could have just been random vandalism. Or … You know how Angie just started a couple of weeks ago?”

      “Yes, but what does that have to do …?”

      Faith interrupted. “I had a boy who worked for me before Angie. I caught him stealing money from the till and had to fire him.”

      Charlotte blinked. “You didn’t tell me that.”

      “He claimed it was the first time he stole anything, but I didn’t believe him.”

      “Really? You didn’t think he’d learned his lesson and would be grateful and loyal if you kept him on?”

      Faith sprang to her feet. “That’s enough! You don’t know me at all anymore. I will not let you treat me as if there’s anything wrong with believing my husband loved me enough to change.”

      Shame flooded Charlotte. She rose, too, facing her sister across the small kitchen table. “You’re right. I’m … really sorry.”

      Faith just looked at her, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. A moment later, footsteps went up the stairs and then Charlotte heard a door shut.

      “Why did I say that?” she asked the silent room. The awful thing was, she knew the answer, which made her feel even worse.

       CHAPTER THREE

      GRAY VAN DUSEN WAS THE first visitor come morning, which somehow did not surprise Charlotte. He was probably kept well informed about any exciting events in West Fork. She imagined him sipping his morning coffee while he perused an e-mail list of every fire and police call made in the previous twenty-four hours.

      Faith had slept later than Charlotte. She was standing in the kitchen sipping her coffee and gazing out the window toward the barn when she heard the shower start upstairs. It surprised her, making her realize that she hadn’t heard Faith take a shower last night, either before or after her own. Had her twin really crawled into bed still grubby and covered in soot? Charlotte felt a pang of renewed guilt. If Faith had done something as alien to her nature as that, guess whose fault it was?

      It would have been worse if I weren’t here at all, she reminded herself. Then the barn would have burned down.

      After recognizing the distinctive shape of Gray’s black Prius, Charlotte decided it wouldn’t be fair to hide out until Faith came downstairs. She’d need coffee and breakfast. Charlotte had already had both.

      Resigned but wary, she went out the back door as she had last night and walked toward the barn. Gray had circled it and was staring at the burned portion when she reached him.

      He was dressed up today, perhaps for meetings, but had left his suitcoat in the car. He wore gray slacks with a narrow black belt, a white shirt and black dress shoes that weren’t benefiting from the dust. The white shirt emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and from behind she admired the fit of the slacks.

      Yeah, right. She’d have been looking at his butt even if he’d worn wrinkled khaki.

      “You must have heard about our fire,” she said.

      His head turned, his thoughtful gray eyes taking in her cropped chinos and snug-fitting, royal blue T-shirt. She wondered whether he was inventorying her clothing, or admiring the fit. So to speak. His appraisal made warmth rise in her cheeks, which annoyed her.

      “Yes.” СКАЧАТЬ