“No. I mentioned it, but she didn’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s a sore subject. One that is really starting to worry her. I suppose I shouldn’t be the one to talk about it. I wouldn’t want Kathy to think I was betraying her trust.”
“I swear I won’t say a word to her about it. I just wanted to know what was going on.”
“The farm has been on the market since earlier this spring. Kathy had tried to convince your dad to sell a long time ago and to move with her to Colorado Springs. But he didn’t want to go. He was convinced he’d get better and be able to continue farming. Of course, that didn’t happen, and by the time he started feeling poorly again, the market had changed and it’s been harder to sell farms in this area.”
“But it hasn’t been on the market all that long. Surely no one is too worried at this point.”
“You need to understand something.” Sylvia looked around, as if to see if anyone might overhear. “There are problems financially.”
“I saw the car,” Kathy said as she came around the corner of the house.
Sylvia smiled and dropped the subject of the farm. “Sunny was just coming outside when I arrived. I thought it’d be a great chance to get to know her again.”
Sunny could see that Kathy felt uncomfortable and decided to give her some space. She wanted to know more about the financial problems, but she supposed she wasn’t going to get any answers at this point. “Well, I need to run into town. That’s where I was headed when Sylvia arrived. Kathy, I saw we were out of milk. Do you know if we need anything else?”
“There’s the stuff we planned to get in Hays.”
“I could go ahead and drive over today. Dad’s asleep, so it seems a good time. I’ll just do that.”
Kathy nodded and Sylvia held up her hand. “Could you pick up a couple of things for me too?”
Sunny smiled. She remembered that in the old days whenever someone was heading to the bigger city, there was always a request from someone to pick up things for them as well. “I’d be happy to. Do you have a list?”
“Nope, but it’ll just take a jiffy.” She hurried to the Suburban and climbed inside.
“You sure you feel like doing this?” Kathy asked.
Sunny nodded and grinned. “It’ll give me a chance to be in air-conditioning.”
Sylvia returned with the list and handed it over with a twenty-dollar bill. “I think this should cover everything, but if not, just keep the receipt and I’ll make it right with you.”
“No problem.” For the kindness Sylvia had shown her, Sunny would have happily bought every item on the list at her own expense. “I’ll be back by supper.”
Sunny got in the car and looked at Sylvia’s list. Several items were listed that Sunny knew would be hard to find in Slocum. And at the bottom a hastily jotted note said,
We
can talk about it later
.
Sunny tucked the note into her pocket. Apparently there was a whole lot more to this situation than she knew about.
With Sunny gone for the day, Kathy felt that she could relax a bit. There was no need to carry any pretenses with Sylvia. The woman could read her like a book anyway.
“So what does Sunny think about you selling the farm?” Sylvia asked as they walked toward the chicken coop.
Kathy tensed at the question. “I have no idea. I haven’t talked to her much about it.”
“Does she know about the finances?”
“Why should she? She hasn’t been here to worry about it.”
“How’s your dad?”
Kathy was grateful to change the subject. “In a lot of pain. Well, I hope it’s less now. The doctor doubled his painkillers. He doesn’t want to put him on morphine just yet— mainly because Dad doesn’t want it.”
“Why not?”
“Says he wants to be as coherent as possible for as long as he can. He wants to be able to talk to me and Sunny . . . and anyone else who visits. He says once he’s in heaven, he won’t hurt anymore and it seems a small price to pay. It seems huge to me.”
“How are things going with Sunny and your dad?”
Kathy stopped walking at this question. “He’s definitely happy. I guess I can be glad about that. I’m still awfully confused by her. She’s changed a lot, but I guess I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“Seems like it’s good,” Sylvia offered. “I mean she cared enough to come back and try to make amends.”
“How do you make amends for something like what she did? She left our parents to believe she was dead.”
“I suppose you could say that.”
“I have to. It’s the truth. She could have called or dropped a postcard at any time. She didn’t need to remain silent all those years. It really hurt them . . . and me.”
Sylvia put her arm around Kathy’s shoulders. “I know it did.”
Kathy felt her tears come unbidden. “I thought she was dead. Remember, we even had our own little memorial service when I decided I had to let Amy go and stop waiting for her to call—to come home.”
“I do remember—it’s only been a couple of years. But, Kathy, she’s not dead. She’s here and she’s probably hurting as much as you are. She told me that the separation of her family was hard on her, but probably worst of all was losing you.”
“Me?” Kathy couldn’t imagine that was true.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but that’s what she told me. Kathy, I really think you have a chance here to fix something that should never have been broken. But it’s up to you.”
Kathy stiffened. “Why? Why is it always up to me? Why can’t it be somebody else’s responsibility for once?”
“It’s going to take both of you being responsible,” Sylvia said softly. “You know it works that way, even if you don’t want to face up to it just yet. And after all, Sunny has taken the first step. She’s exposed herself to the ridicule and retribution that she knows she deserves. She’s made herself very vulnerable to everyone.”
Kathy walked to the chicken yard and opened the gate. Sylvia passed quickly into the yard and waited for Kathy to secure the latch. In her heart, Kathy knew that Sylvia was making a good point. What was most frustrating was that even Sunny had been making good points. Dad wanted his daughters to make peace and to lean on each other, but Kathy was the one holding out. She knew that now, but she still felt incapable of doing anything about it.
Kathy looked at her friend and frowned. “She could have let us know that she was all right. Even if she didn’t want to talk to us or be a part of our family—she could have sent even the shortest note to say ‘I’m alive and well.’ It would have taken very little time and very little money.”
“True,” Sylvia agreed but offered nothing more.
“If she would have at least called collect, Dad would have accepted the charges in a heartbeat. If she’d called soon enough, we could have told her about Mom.” Kathy measured out feed for the hens and fought to regain control of her emotions.
“Kathy, all of this is true, but it’s in the past. Do you plan to punish her for it for the rest of her life?”
Dabbing her eyes with the tail of her work shirt, Kathy considered the question. Was that what this was all about— punishing Sunny for what she’d done?
“Look,” Sylvia said, “I think you and Sunny need to sit down and talk. Really talk. You need to be honest, even if it makes you more vulnerable than you’re comfortable with. If you don’t do this, Kathy, I have a feeling you will always regret it. It’s your choice.”
“Everybody keeps saying that. Sunny said I made choices that kept me here—that it wasn’t her fault that I chose to give up Kyle and marriage. You said something similar yourself once.” Kathy felt her anger return and tighten around her like a warrior’s belt. “But I never felt like I had any say over the matter. I wasn’t like Sunny. I couldn’t just walk away, no matter how many times I considered it.”
“But you could have, and that’s where you aren’t being honest with yourself. You had the same choice, but you took a different path. What people thought of you mattered. What you thought of yourself mattered too. You knew if you walked away you couldn’t live with the consequences. Sunny didn’t have the same feeling.”
“Obviously not.” She turned and started toward the gate, but Sylvia reached out to take hold of her arm.
“Please hear me. I’m not trying to hurt you or cause you more pain, but Sunny’s choices don’t make her completely wrong, just like your choices don’t make you completely right. Sunny went about things in the wrong way—but she was of age and your father gave her the money she had coming to her.”
“She took it twice. Don’t forget she took the advance he gave her on her trust fund, and when she was twenty-one, she arranged to steal the money that was still in the bank under hers and Dad’s names. Only then, because she was of age, she could have it without question. She stole money that wasn’t hers to take.”
“Be that as it may, as I said, Sunny didn’t do everything wrong or right. She lived her life the way she thought she could deal with it. You did the same thing, Kathy. Don’t think there weren’t people who questioned your judgment just as they did Sunny’s.”
Kathy shook off Sylvia’s hold. “But why would they? I did what I could. I stayed here where I knew I could be useful. I remained in my father’s house to care for my mother and now for him.”
“Which are admirable choices, but you’re ruining your deeds by allowing bitterness to take over. Instead of rejoicing that you got to be here—to share time with your mother up until the end, you’re angry because Sunny wasn’t here. You have something she can never have. You had those last few years—those tender quiet moments—those shared times of sorrow. Sunny has none of that. She probably never even imagined it possible that her mother was dead, much less that she’d find her father ill as well.”
“But that’s what she gets for not keeping in touch,” Kathy said, folding her arms. “It’s the consequence of turning her back on us.”
“I agree. I’m not your enemy in this. I only want you to see reason. You stayed here where you were safe and protected. You had plenty to eat and no one to cause you physical harm. You had your mother’s company, and yes, you had to watch her die, but at least you were her comfort in those final days. You’ll always know how much that meant to her.
“You had your father’s love and company. I doubt Sunny even had a fraction of the peace you had. I don’t know what her story is or what all she’s been through, but there’s a look in her eyes that suggests a great many hideous things. I won’t try to guess them, but maybe it would help you both to share your miseries and try to help the other one see what happened over the years.”
Kathy thought back to Sunny talking about the baby she’d buried and the man who’d beat her badly enough to take that child’s life. Kathy had never had that kind of fear. But on the other hand, Kathy would have never put herself in that position. All Sunny would have had to do was pick up the phone and call for help.
But pride wouldn’t let her. Just like it won’t let me leave the
past behind
.
The thought startled Kathy. Was that what this was all about—pride? She let the idea linger for a moment. She could see that there was merit to the thought, but admitting it was so hard.
“I’ve blamed Amy for so long,” Kathy finally admitted. “And I’ve hurt over her desertion and betrayal. Sylvia, I don’t know that I can trust her again. I don’t know that the journey is even worth the bother.”
Sylvia shook her head. “I have three children and each is precious to me. Each can be a burden as well. But I can tell you without a doubt that if any of them ran away, I would welcome them back with open arms whether they came home the next day, the next year, or decades later. My love for them is unconditional. No matter their behavior, I will go on loving them. It sounds to me that your love for Amy was conditioned upon her doing things your way—or at least in a manner that met your approval.”
Her assertion was like a slap in the face. Kathy wanted to scream at Sylvia to get out, but she couldn’t even speak. It was almost as if the truth of the matter were strangling the words in her throat.
“Look, I didn’t come here to hurt you,” Sylvia began. “We’ve been friends too long to lie to each other. I know you love your sister. That’s why this hurts so much. That’s why you can’t just show her the door and forget she ever came home. It isn’t because of your father being alive. It isn’t because you think you have no choice in the matter. It’s because you made a choice a long time ago to love her unconditionally.”
Kathy felt her defenses drop. “It just hurts so much,” she finally whispered.
Sylvia hugged her close. “Sometimes that’s how it is with love.”
Kathy held on to Sylvia for several minutes. She felt as though she were a lifeline, and if she didn’t grab it now, she would drown in a sea of bitterness and sorrow. Her father would die in a short while, and she and Sunny would go their separate ways—maybe forever if she didn’t at least try to bridge the past to the future.
“I want to make this better,” she cried as Sylvia patted her back.
“I know. I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.”
Kathy pulled back. “Just tell me it’s worth the effort. Tell me it will be what I need it to be.”
Sylvia gave a little laugh. “Only if you tell me that my children will all grow up to be successfully employed, they’ll be madly loved by a wonderful Christian mate, and they’ll always love the Lord.”
Kathy couldn’t help smiling as she wiped at her tears. “No guarantees, eh?”
“Not a one.”
KATHY TOSSED AND TURNED IN BED until she decided it was foolish to even try to sleep. The humidity and heat of the night was overpowering any relief the little window fan had to offer. Clad in lightweight sleeping shorts and a tank top, she grabbed her pillow and went out to the porch hammock.
Maybe the air would somehow be cooler there. Plus, the hammock wasn’t that far from her father’s window and sliding glass door. If he needed something, she’d probably hear him call.
She settled into the hammock and closed her eyes to the gentle sway. Kyle had bought this hammock for her father as a birthday gift. He had shown up at the farm with the huge box wrapped in comic strip paper. Her father had praised Kyle for not wasting money on wrapping paper and had loved the gift. Just a few short weeks later, Kyle was out of her life. The memories came unbidden.