A Bend in the Road (13 page)

“A few days
later, Kathryn’s father, who had a working relationship with the Union colonel
in charge of the occupation, contacted the colonel and informed him that there
was a Confederate spy in their midst, someone in contact with General Lee, who
was passing secret information about the town’s defenses. In light of the
rumors about Lee’s probable invasion, Harris Presser was arrested in his
parents’ shop. Before he was taken out to be hanged, he asked for one favor—a
candle to be lighted in the window of his shop—and it was granted. That night, from
the limbs of the giant oak tree in front of Kathryn’s window, Harris Presser
was hanged. Kathryn was heartbroken, and she knew her father had been
responsible.

“She went to
see Harris’s parents and asked for the candle that had been burning in the window
the night that Harris died. Overcome by grief, they hardly knew what to make of
the strange request, but she explained that she wanted something to remember
‘the kindly young man who’d always been so courteous to her.’ They gave it to
her, and that night she lit both candles and set them on the windowsill. Her
parents found her the next day. She’d committed suicide by hanging herself from
the same giant oak tree.”

On the porch,
Miles pulled Sarah a little closer to him. “How do you like it so far?” he whispered.

“Shh,” she
answered. “We’re getting to the ghost part, I think.” “Those candles burned all
night and the following day, until they were nothing more than little knobs of
wax. But still they burned. On into the next night, then the next. They burned
for three days, as long as Kathryn and Harris had been married, and then they
went out. The following year, on Harris and Kathryn’s anniversary, Kathryn’s
unused room mysteriously caught fire, but the house was saved. More bad luck
followed for the Purdy family—the hotel was lost in a flood and the logging
mill was taken to pay debts. In financial ruin, Kathryn’s parents moved away,
abandoning the house. But . . .” Miss Harkins leaned forward, a look of
mischief in her eyes. Her voice sank to a whisper.

“Every now and
then, people would swear that they could see two candles burning in the window
above. Others would swear there was only one . . . but that another was burning
in another abandoned building down the street. And even now, over a hundred
years later, people still claim to see candles burning in the windows of some
of the abandoned houses down here. And it’s strange—the only people who see
them are young couples in love. Whether or not you two will see them depends on
your feelings for each other.”

Miss Harkins
closed her eyes, as if telling the story had drained her. For a minute she
didn’t move, and Sarah and Miles sat frozen in place, afraid to break the
spell. Then she finally opened her eyes again and reached for her tea.  After saying good-bye, Miles and Sarah
descended the porch steps and returned to the gravel path. Miles took Sarah’s
hand again as they approached the street. As if still under the spell of Miss
Harkins’s story, neither Miles nor Sarah said anything for a long while.

“I’m glad we went
there,” Sarah finally offered.

“So you liked
it?”

“All women love
romantic stories.”

They rounded the
corner and neared Front Street; ahead, they could make out the river between
the homes, gliding silently, shining black. 
“Are you ready for something to eat?”

“In a minute,”
he said, slowing down, then finally stopping. 
She looked at him. Over his shoulder, she could see moths fluttering
around the glowing street lamp. Miles was staring into the distance, toward the
river, and Sarah followed his eyes but didn’t see anything out of the
ordinary.  “What is it?” she asked.

Miles shook his
head, trying to clear his thoughts. He wanted to start walking again but found
he couldn’t. Instead he took a step toward Sarah, pulling her gently toward
him. Sarah followed his lead, her stomach tightening. As Miles leaned toward
her, she closed her eyes, and when their faces drew near, it was as if nothing
else mattered in the world.

The kiss went
on and on, and when they finally pulled apart, Miles embraced her.  He buried his face in her neck, then kissed
the hollow of her shoulder. The moisture of his tongue made her shiver, and she
leaned into him, savoring the safe harbor of his arms as the rest of the world
went on around them.

• • •

A few minutes
later they walked back to her apartment, talking softly, his thumb moving
gently over the back of her hand.

Once inside,
Miles draped his jacket over the back of the chair as Sarah made her way to the
kitchen. He wondered if she knew he was watching her.  “So what’s for dinner?” he asked.

Sarah opened
the refrigerator door and pulled out a large pan covered in tinfoil. “Lasagna,
French bread, and a salad. Is that okay?” “Sounds great. Can I give you a hand
with anything?”

“It’s pretty
much done,” Sarah answered as she put the pan in the oven. “All I have to do is
heat this for a half hour or so. But if you want, you can start the fire. And
open the wine—it’s on the counter.”

“No problem,”
he said.

“I’ll join you
in the living room in a few minutes,” Sarah called out as she headed for the
bedroom.

In the bedroom,
Sarah picked up a hairbrush and began to pull it through her hair.

Much as she
wanted to deny it, their kiss had left her feeling a bit shaky. She sensed that
tonight was a turning point in their relationship, and she was scared. She knew
that she had to tell Miles the real reason for the collapse of her marriage,
but it wasn’t easy to talk about. Especially to someone she cared about.

As much as she
knew he cared about her as well, there was no telling what his response would
be or if it would change his feelings about being with her.  Hadn’t he said that he wished that Jonah had
a brother or sister? Would he be willing to give that up?

Sarah found her
reflection in the mirror.

She didn’t want
to do this now, but she knew that if their relationship was to go any further,
she would have to tell him. More than anything, she didn’t want history to
repeat itself, for Miles to do what Michael had done. She couldn’t go through
that again.

Sarah finished
brushing her hair, checked her makeup through force of habit, and, resolving to
face Miles with the truth, began to leave the bedroom. But instead of heading
out the door, she suddenly sat on the edge of the bed. Was she really ready for
this?

Right now, the
answer to that question frightened her more than she could say.

• • •

By the time she
finally emerged from the bedroom, the fire was blazing. Miles was returning
from the kitchen, carrying the bottle of wine. 
“Just thought we might need this,” he said, lifting the bottle a little
higher.

“I think that’s
probably a good idea,” Sarah agreed.

The way she
said it seemed off somehow to Miles, and he hesitated. Sarah made herself
comfortable on the couch, and after a moment, he put the wine on the end table
and sat beside her. For a long time, Sarah simply drank her wine in silence.
Finally Miles reached for her hand.

“Are you okay?”
he asked.

Sarah gently
swirled the wine in her glass. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet,” she
said quietly.

Miles could
hear the sound of cars as they rolled past her apartment. The logs in the
fireplace popped, causing a shower of sparks to ascend the chimney.  Shadows danced on the walls.

Sarah pulled
one leg up and crossed it beneath her. Miles, knowing she was collecting her
thoughts, watched her in silence before giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

It seemed to
bring her back to the present. Miles saw the flames flickering in her eyes.

“You’re a good
man, Miles,” she said, “and these last few weeks have really meant a lot to
me.” She stopped again.

Miles didn’t
like the sound of this and wondered what had happened in the few minutes that
she was in the bedroom. As he watched her, he felt his stomach begin to clench.

“Do you remember
when you asked me about my ex-husband?”

Miles nodded.

“I didn’t finish
the story. There was more to it than just the things I told you, and . . . and
I don’t know exactly how to say it.”

“Why?”

She glanced
toward the fire. “Because I’m afraid of what you might think.” As a sheriff, a
number of ideas occurred to him—that her ex had been abusive, that he’d hurt
her somehow, that she’d left the relationship wounded in some way. Divorce was
always painful, but the way she looked now suggested there was much more to it
than simply that.

He smiled,
hoping for some response, but there was nothing.  “Listen, Sarah,” he finally said, “you don’t have to tell me
anything you don’t want to. I won’t ask about it again. That’s your business,
and I’ve learned enough about you in the past few weeks to know what kind of
person you are, and that’s all that matters to me. I don’t need to know
everything about you—and to be honest, I doubt that whatever you’d say would
change the way I feel about you.”

Sarah smiled,
but her eyes refused to meet his. “Do you remember when I asked you about
Missy?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you remember
the things you said about her?”

Miles nodded.

“I remember them,
too.” For the first time, she met his eyes. “I want you to know that I can
never be like her.”

Miles frowned.
“I know that,” he said. “And I don’t expect you to—” She held up her hands.
“No, Miles—you misunderstand me. It’s not that I think you’re attracted to me
because I’m like Missy. I know that’s not it. But I wasn’t very clear.”

“Then what is
it?” he asked.

“Do you remember
when you told me what a good mother she was? And how much you

both wanted
Jonah to have siblings?” She paused but didn’t expect an answer. “I can’t ever
be like that. That’s the reason Michael left me.” Her eyes finally locked on
his. “I couldn’t get pregnant. But it wasn’t him, Miles. He was fine. It was
me.”

And then, as if
driving the point home, in case he didn’t understand, she put it as plainly as
she could.

“I can’t have
children. Ever.”

Miles said
nothing, and after a long moment, Sarah went on.  “You can’t imagine what it was like to find out. It just seemed
so ironic, you know? I’d spent my early twenties trying not to get pregnant. I
used to panic if I forgot to take my birth control pills. I never even
considered that I might not be able to have children.”

“How did you
find out?”

“The usual way.
It just didn’t happen. We finally went in for tests. That was when I found
out.”

“I’m sorry,”
was all Miles could think to say.

“So am I.” She
exhaled sharply, as if she still had trouble believing it. “And so was Michael.
But he couldn’t handle it. I told him that we could still adopt, and I’d be
perfectly happy with that, but he refused to even consider it because of his
family.”

“You’re
kidding. . . .”

Sarah shook her
head. “I wish I were. Looking back, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.
When we first started going out, he used to say that I was the most perfect
woman he’d ever met. As soon as something happened that proved otherwise, he
was willing to throw away everything we had.” She stared into her wineglass,
talking almost to herself. “He asked for a divorce, and I moved out a week
later.”

Miles took her
hand without a word and nodded for her to continue.  “After that . . . well, it hasn’t been easy. It’s not the sort of
thing you bring up at cocktail parties, you know. My family knows, and I talked
to Sylvia about it. She was my counselor and she helped me a lot, but those
four are the only ones who knew. And now you. . . .”

She trailed
off. In the firelight, Miles thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her
hair caught fragments of light and cast them off like a halo.  “So why me?” Miles finally asked.

“Isn’t it
obvious?”

“Not really.”

“I just thought
you should know. I mean, before . . . Like I said, I don’t want it to happen
again. . . .” She looked away.

Miles gently
turned her face back to him. “Do you really think I’d do that?” Sarah looked at
him sadly. “Oh, Miles . . . it’s easy to say that it doesn’t matter right now.
What I’m worried about is how you’ll feel later, after you’ve had the chance to
think about this. Let’s say we keep seeing each other and things go as well as
they have up to this point. Can you honestly say that it won’t matter to you?
That being able to have children wouldn’t be important to you? That Jonah would
never have a little brother or sister running around the house?”

She cleared her
throat. “I know I’m jumping the gun here, and don’t think that by telling you
all this, I expect us to get married. But I had to tell you the truth, so you’d
know what you’re getting into—before this goes any further. I can’t let myself
go any further unless I’m certain that you’re not going to turn around and do
the same thing that Michael did. If it doesn’t work out for another reason,
fine. I can live with that. But I can’t face again what I’ve already gone
through once.”

Miles looked
toward his glass, saw the light reflected there. He traced the rim with his
finger.

“There’s
something you should know about me, too,” he said. “I had a really hard time
after Missy died. It wasn’t just that she died—it was also that I never found
out who’d been driving the car that night. That’s what my job is, both as her
husband and as sheriff. And for a long time, finding out who’d been driving was
all I could think about. I investigated on my own, I talked to people, but
whoever did it got away, and that ate at me like you can’t imagine. I felt like
I was going crazy for a long time, but lately . . .”