Her mother was seated on the front porch when Amanda arrived. She was sipping a glass of iced tea while music played softly on the radio. Amanda passed her without a word, climbing the stairs to her room. Turning on the shower, she removed her clothes. She stood naked in front of the mirror, as drained and spent as an empty vessel.
The stinging spray of the shower felt like punishment, and when she at last stepped out, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple cotton blouse before packing the rest of her things in her suitcase. The clover went into a zippered compartment of her purse. As she usually did, she stripped the sheets from the bed and brought them to the laundry room. She put them into the washer, moving on autopilot.
Back in her room, the list of things to do continued. She reminded herself that the ice maker in the refrigerator back home needed to be fixed; she’d forgotten to arrange that before she’d left. She also needed to start planning the fund-raiser. She’d been putting that off for a while, but September would be here before she knew it. She needed a caterer, and it would probably be a good idea to start soliciting donations for the gift baskets. Lynn had to sign up for SAT prep classes, and she couldn’t remember whether they’d put the deposit down on Jared’s dorm room. Annette would be coming home later this week, and she’d probably want something special for dinner.
Making plans. Moving past the weekend, reentering her real life. Like the water in the shower washing Dawson’s scent from her skin, it felt like a kind of punishment.
But even when her mind finally began to slow, she understood that she still wasn’t ready to go downstairs. Instead, she sat on the bed as sunlight streamed gently through the room, and all at once she remembered the way Dawson had looked when he’d been standing in the drive. The image was clear, as vivid as if it were happening all over again, and despite herself—despite everything—she suddenly knew that she was making the wrong decision. She could still go to Dawson and they could find a way to make it work, no matter what the challenges might be. In time, her children would forgive her; in time, she would even forgive herself.
But even then she was paralyzed, unable to bring herself to move.
“I love you,” she whispered into the silent room, feeling her future being swept away like so many grains of sand, a future that already felt almost like a dream.
16
Marilyn Bonner stood in the kitchen of the farmhouse, idly watching the workers make adjustments to the irrigation system in the orchard below. Despite yesterday’s downpour, the trees still needed to be watered, and she knew the men would be out there most of the day, even though it was the weekend. The orchard, she’d come to believe, was like a spoiled child, always needing just a bit more care, a bit more attention, never quite satisfied.
But the real heart of the business lay beyond the orchard, in the small plant where they bottled the jellies and preserves. During the week, it housed a dozen people, but on weekends the place was deserted. When she’d first built it, she could remember townspeople whispering that there was no way her business could support the cost of such a facility. And maybe it had been a stretch at the time, but little by little the whispers had been silenced. She’d never get rich making jelly and jam, but she knew the business was good enough to pass down to her kids and allow them both a comfortable living. In the end, that was all she’d really wanted.
She still had on the same outfit she’d worn to church and her visit to the cemetery. Usually, she changed immediately after returning home, but today she couldn’t seem to summon the energy. Nor was she hungry, and that was unusual, too. Someone else might think she was coming down with something, but Marilyn knew well enough what was bothering her.
Turning from the window, she inspected the kitchen. She’d had it renovated a few years ago, along with the bathrooms and most of the downstairs, and she found herself thinking that the old farmhouse had finally begun to feel like home—or rather, the kind of home she’d always wanted. Until the renovation, it had felt more like her parents’ house, a feeling that didn’t sit well with her as she’d gotten older. A lot of things didn’t sit well with her as she struggled through adulthood, but as hard as some of the years had been, she’d learned from the experiences. Despite it all, she had fewer regrets than people might imagine.
Still, she was bothered by what she’d seen earlier that day, and she debated what to do. Or even whether she should do anything at all. She could always pretend that she didn’t know what it meant and let time do its magic.
But she’d learned the hard way that ignoring a situation didn’t always work out for the best. Reaching for her purse, she suddenly knew what she had to do.