“Two. Hey, are those from our chickens?” Sunny asked, her expression lighting up. “I’ve tried for years to tell my friends how different—better—farm eggs are from store-bought ones. They never believe me. They couldn’t see how you could alter the taste of an egg.”
“City folks,” Kathy said as if in explanation. “And to answer your question, yes, they’re from our chickens. But not for long. I’ve given the batch to Sylvia. She’ll take them in a few weeks.”
“Sylvia Tanner?”
“The one and only. She married Tony Anderson and lives just down the road. Tony has actually been farming the land for Dad. He’s helped for the last few years, but this year he did it all himself.”
“And you’ve been friends all these years. That’s incredible. I’ve never stayed friends with anyone that long.”
“Maybe because you’ve never stayed around long enough,” Kathy replied without thinking. She wanted to bite her tongue for the quip, but instead turned to fry up the eggs.
“I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation, but I gather it was Aunt Glynnis. How is she? Is Uncle Will still alive?”
“They’re both fine. They plan to come see Dad before he dies, so you can see for yourself—if you’re here.”
“Is there really nothing the doctor can do for Dad?”
Kathy cracked the last egg and let it drop into the bacon grease. “They’ve been doing all sorts of things for Dad.”
“What kinds of things?”
Kathy turned to find Sunny watching her. She’d dressed in jeans and a white gauzy blouse with a white tank top beneath. She looked so much like their mother that Kathy wanted to cross the room and touch her sister’s face. She resisted the urge.
“When a person is diagnosed with cancer, they have to have a lot of doctor’s exams. They run all kinds of tests and have all kinds of consultations. We had to go to Hays for everything, because Slocum isn’t equipped to handle his diagnosis and treatment. We even went to the medical center in Kansas City.
“Dad had surgery and more tests. Radiation treatments and round after round of medications and diet changes.” Kathy tried to remain unemotional as she delivered the information, but she felt herself growing angry.
“But that hasn’t been the worst of it. I didn’t mind the long drives, following the doctors’ orders for treatments and medications, altering how we ate. The endless nights helping Dad through the pain were far worse. The horror of watching him decline before my very eyes, even as we fought to keep him alive. Like I told you earlier, he wanted to die at home, so hospice comes out every few days and the doctor and I stay in close contact.”
“Dad was always such a strong, vibrant man,” Sunny said. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”
“It isn’t fair.” She turned and flipped the eggs, then turned off the burner. Reaching for plates, Kathy tried to steady her nerves. There was no sense in fighting.
“So tell me about Kyle. You said something earlier about ending your engagement so you could take care of Mom. I guess I’m confused by that. Why did you do that?”
This stripped Kathy of any pretense of control. “What do you mean, why did I do that? I did what was required. You weren’t around to help. Mom probably wouldn’t have been sick had you stayed. I would have been planning a wedding instead of her heart transplant.” She put bacon on the plates, then added the eggs.
“Did Mom ask you to break your engagement?”
Kathy brought the food to the table just as Sunny brought the toast. “What do you think? Mom would never ask that of me.”
“Then it was your choice.”
Kathy gripped the back of her chair. “I never had a choice. My choices were made for me. Your choices decided my fate.”
For the first time Sunny took a stance that looked something other than passive. “That’s not true, Kathy, and you know it. Everyone makes their own choices. I admit my choices were bad ones, but I’ve been through enough counseling to know they were my choices, and even when I thought someone else was imposing them on me, I still made the final decision.”
“Oh sure, and what was I supposed to do? Walk away like you did?”
Sunny shrugged. “You could have. Who would have stopped you? You could have married Kyle and moved away. You didn’t have to stay. When Mom got sick you could have let Dad hire a nurse. There was money for it.”
“She was my mother. Yours too. How could I allow a stranger to care for her? What would people have thought of me?”
“People let other people care for their loved ones all the time. In fact, most people don’t have the time or ability to care for their parents the way you have. Besides, who cares what someone else might have thought?”
Kathy shook her head. “I cared.”
“Which is exactly my point. You made choices based on what mattered to you. You didn’t want people to think badly of you. I didn’t care what people thought of me. I just saw my life slipping away into the boredom and routine of country Kansas, and I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t leave here to purposefully hurt you or Mom or Dad. I left here because I knew that if I stayed it would kill me. Unfortunately, the choices I made nearly killed me as well.”
Kathy had no reply. She didn’t want to give Sunny any ammunition to use against her. Sunny, however, seemed not to realize how deeply she’d driven the point.
“Kathy, it’s important that you recognize that you did what you did of your own free will. You’ll never convince anyone that you didn’t have a choice, and here’s why: You assessed the situation and chose the high ground. You chose, for whatever reason, to do what the majority of people would say was the ‘right thing.’ You deserve credit for what you did, Kathy. Don’t say you didn’t have a choice in caring for Mom, because you did—and your choice makes it that much more special. You chose to give up your own plans and ambitions to care for your mother—our mother. I for one will be eternally grateful you did. It comforts me to know she didn’t die in the care of strangers.”
Kathy considered her words but said nothing.
“You chose to stay here with Dad, and when he got sick, you chose to care for him. You could have walked away. No one held you hostage here. No one forced you to remain. You could have taken your inheritance and left, just as I did. It was your right, but you took the high ground once again. You sacrificed on his behalf. You deserve praise and credit for that as well.”
Kathy hated the truth that rang clear in her sister’s explanation. All her life she had found some degree of reassurance in telling herself everything bad that had happened was Sunny’s fault. That if Sunny hadn’t done the things she’d done, Kathy would have had a chance to live her life the way she wanted. Now Sunny was daring to say that Kathy had made her own choices—that the life she’d lived these last twelve years was at her own hand—her own decision.
Kathy sat down and tried to force all the pieces of confusion back into place. Her mind felt overloaded with thoughts and images. “I’ve had to plan two funerals without you,” she finally murmured. “You have no idea how hard that is.”
“Oh, but I do,” Sunny said in voice barely audible. “I know what it is to plan a funeral.” She looked down at her plate. “I had to bury my stillborn son. His father was no help. In fact, he was the reason my son was dead.”
The shock from that statement assaulted Kathy from her head to the tips of her toes. “Good grief . . . what happened?”
Sunny didn’t look up. “I was twenty and nine months pregnant. I’d married a very abusive man who had a drinking and gambling problem. None of which I knew before I foolishly married him. The first time he beat me was when he found out I’d kept a separate bank account after we were married.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I made a bad choice,” she said, finally looking Kathy in the eye. “I’d chosen to marry an abusive man, and frankly I figured it was my punishment for having left home in such a bad manner. Every time he hit me, I told myself I deserved it.” Sunny frowned and looked down at her plate again. “But I knew my unborn child didn’t deserve anything of the sort.”
Kathy didn’t know what to say. It was difficult to imagine that her sister was married and had a child. “Where’s your husband now?”
“We divorced. Mitch was a gambler, like I said. He went through money as if it were his personal duty to deplete our bank account. He wouldn’t let me have any money. I guess he was afraid it would make me independent of him. I wanted to call home during that time, but he wouldn’t allow it, and frankly, after a time, I was too ashamed to call. I was just days away from my due date when things fell completely apart.”
Sunny traced a pattern on the tablecloth. “I had managed to sneak money out of Mitch’s wallet over the months of my pregnancy. I knew I’d need things for the baby, and whenever he was passed out drunk, I’d take a little here and there. Never enough to make it noticeable, you know?”
Kathy nodded, imagining her sister sneaking around, fearing for her life should her husband wake up and figure out what was happening.
“I would hide the stash in different places. Mitch always tore through my things when he was desperate for money. I don’t know why he presumed I would have any, since he never gave me any. I suppose he figured friends might share some good fortune with me.
“Anyway, one day he found the money I’d managed to save. I’d never seen him so mad. He accused me of everything from selling myself on the streets to getting money from home. I told him I was just saving it up for the baby’s needs. I reminded him the baby was due in just a few days and we had nothing for him. If welfare hadn’t been picking up the bill for the doctor and hospital, I wouldn’t have even had that much going for us.”
“Couldn’t he understand that?” Kathy asked, her tone softened in compassion for the terror her sister had endured.
“Mitch didn’t understand anything but blackjack and liquor. He was glad for the money but wasn’t about to let me get away with what I’d done.” Sunny gave a shudder. “The details aren’t important. He beat me—it seemed to go on for hours, although I was told afterward it was only a half hour or so. Neighbors heard and called the police. Mitch was still beating me when they arrived. He was in such a rage he didn’t even hear them knock. He didn’t realize they were there until they bashed in the door and pulled him off of me.” Sunny fell silent and slowly shook her head.
Kathy couldn’t keep from asking, “What happened then?”
“They called an ambulance. I was in pretty bad shape. Mitch had kicked me so hard he’d busted several ribs as well as my arm. I’d tried to protect the baby by blocking the blows, but it didn’t do any good. At the hospital they told me the baby had died. They gave me something to start my labor, and I delivered my son about ten hours later. They let me hold him.”
Tears were streaming down Sunny’s face, and Kathy’s own eyes welled with emotion. To lose a parent was difficult, but to lose a baby . . . that was unthinkable. Without even considering what she was doing, Kathy reached out and took hold of Sunny’s hand.
“He was perfect,” Sunny said. “He didn’t look dead—he just looked asleep. I sat there and rocked him for a long time.”
“What did you name him?”
Sunny smiled. “Gary. After Dad. He’s buried in Las Vegas. I visited the grave on my way here.”
“What happened to your husband? Did he go to jail?”
“Yeah. He was sentenced to ten years and got out in six. I have no idea where he went or what he’s doing. And I don’t care. My choice cost me the life of my son. It’s not something I can ever forget, but it is something I have to live with. Just like you have to live with your choices.”
SUNSHINE REGRETTED HER LAST few words the minute they were out of her mouth. She’d never intended to bring it back to Kathy and her attitude. She had honestly thought that if Kathy knew that Sunny could own her poor choices, then maybe Kathy could recognize her own choices and feel less the victim. Instead, Sunny had clearly crossed a line.
Kathy nearly knocked the kitchen chair over as she got to her feet. “I’m not hungry.”
“Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“I’m not mad. I have to take Dad his medicine,” Kathy said very coolly.
“Look, why don’t you let me do it?” Sunny got to her feet. “I want to lighten your load.”
“My load is just fine. I don’t need your help.” Kathy began pulling medicine from the cupboard.
“Kathy, please try to understand,” Sunny began.
Kathy turned around. “What I understand is that you have caused this family more than a little pain.” She seemed to struggle with her words. “I’m sorry about your baby. What happened . . . well . . . it’s awful. But this is something completely different.” Kathy whirled back around and gripped the counter. “I wish you’d never come back.”
Sunny knew it would do little good to try and argue her point. She looked back for a moment at the table. Why should her sister’s rejection be any different from all the other times she’d been cast off?
“I guess I’ll go to town.” Sunny picked up a piece of toast and a few slices of bacon and made a sandwich. “I’ll be back by afternoon.”
Kathy said nothing, but Sunny hadn’t expected her to. Kathy’s anger caused Sunny a moment of frustration. Wasn’t this why she’d left in the first place?
Nobody here ever understood me. Nobody ever saw anything
outside of their own needs—their own interests
.
Sunny slid into her car and took a deep breath. She hadn’t intended to tell about her baby son. She supposed a part of her had told the story hoping Kathy would be shocked enough to stop taking her anger out on Sunny. Another part of her just wanted Kathy to understand that her choice to run away hadn’t given Sunny a life of beauty and luxury as her sister might think.
She thinks I somehow missed out on the pain
.
The car roared to life and classical music filled the interior. Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” blared out as if to cheer her up. Sunny shut off the CD and threw the car into gear. There was no joy in her life right now and no sense in pretending there was. She took a bite of the toast sandwich and headed down the gravel road.
The drive into downtown Slocum took less than ten minutes. The drive through town took less than two. Built as a support to area farmers, the town had once boasted a spur line on the Union Pacific, as well as the promise of a major highway system. When the highway failed to materialize and the railroad line was eventually shut down, the town of Slocum slowly settled into obscurity.