I know you also suffered the loss of your mother at an early age,” Dovie murmured.
Annie nodded. “My mother died when I was seven,” she said. “My dad and his wife are in San Diego, but I don’t see them much.” Annie had often wondered how different her life might have been had her mother lived. People cared about her—aunts, uncles, grandparents—but they had their own lives and had lacked the time or patience to deal with a confused little girl who didn’t understand why her mother was gone. Even her own father had deserted her, burying his grief in his job. He hadn’t remarried until Annie was in her final year of high school. She’d been raised by a succession of housekeepers who’d moved in and out of her life; it was difficult to remember all their names.
“How sad,” Dovie said with genuine sympathy. “About your mother...and your father.”
“It made me strong,” Annie returned, “and independent.” That was one of the reasons Billy had divorced her, Annie believed. Perhaps if she’d needed him more, had been weak and clingy, he would have stayed. No, it wouldn’t have mattered. Billy would have left her, anyway.
“But you’re here now,” Jane said, “ready to start a new life.”
“That’s true,” Annie agreed. She reached for a scone, scooping on a thick layer of jam. “In fact, I’m more than ready.”
Both her children were down for their afternoon naps, and that meant Savannah Smith had an hour to herself. She poured a cup of tea and reached for the mail, which one of the hands had delivered before lunch. Early afternoon was her favorite part of the day. With two children constantly underfoot, it seemed the house was rarely quiet—not that Savannah had cause for complaint. She adored her children and loved her husband deeply. There’d been a time when she’d despaired of ever being a wife and mother, and then one day when she least expected it, she’d met Laredo. From the moment she’d picked up the handsome hitchhiker along a deserted stretch of road, her life had changed.
Her life had become what she’d always wanted it to be.
She sifted through the envelopes, automatically setting aside the bills and tossing the advertisements in the trash.
Then she saw it, her address scrawled in a familiar hand—and froze.
The letter was from Richard, her brother. The name of the correctional institution was stamped on the back of the envelope, along with a warning that the letter had not been inspected.
Savannah needed several minutes to calm her pounding heart before she found the courage to tear open the envelope. Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to unfold the one thin sheet of paper. In the three years since Richard had been incarcerated, this was the first letter she’d received from him. Typically, he blamed Savannah and their brother Grady for his troubles. He wouldn’t have written if he didn’t want something. She knew that without a shred of doubt.
Richard, the youngest of the Westons, was a constant source of pain to the family. After his last visit to Promise, during which he’d wrought havoc and brought disgrace into their lives, Savannah had searched carefully for an explanation, some event in their childhood that had shaped Richard into the man he was now. The thief, the scoundrel, the felon, preying on the weak and helpless. The man who gave no thought to the well-being or rights of others. In the end, she’d discovered nothing that could explain it. He’d been born into the same family, attended the same schools, lived in the same community. Richard, Savannah and Grady had all been equally nurtured and loved by their parents. Granted, her mom and dad had spoiled Richard a little, making fewer demands of their charming younger son than they did of their older children. But what youngest child wasn’t just a bit indulged?
Savannah had come to accept that there wasn’t any single thing that could account for the way Richard was. He’d made a series of small selfish decisions through the years; each one, she suspected, had led to the next. Each irresponsible act made the next one possible. And over time, those selfish actions had grown bigger and bigger. But for years, Savannah—if not Grady—had excused or overlooked his behavior.
The first major and truly unforgivable demonstration of Richard’s character had occurred shortly after their parents’ deaths in a flash flood. The day of the funeral, Richard absconded with the cash their father had left his heirs to cover the hefty inheritance taxes on the ranch. Richard had taken the money and simply disappeared. As a result, Grady and Savannah spent years scrimping and sacrificing to hold on to the land that had been in their family for more than 130 years. Savannah never learned what had happened to the forty thousand dollars, but guessed that Richard had squandered it, as he had his life.
Then one day, six years after he’d disappeared, Richard had mysteriously returned, full of regret—or so he claimed—for the pain he’d caused them. At first he seemed to be his old self again—fun-loving, charming, sociable. Before long, the ranch house was full of music and laughter, the way it had been when their parents were alive. Within a few months, though, Richard had revealed what he really was. Savannah had learned the ugly truth—her brother hadn’t changed at all. He disappeared again, owing thousands of dollars to local businesses. This time he’d holed up in Bitter End, a ghost town buried deep in the hill country, miles outside of Promise. Not until later did they learn that Richard was on the run from the law.
He’d hidden out in Bitter End for weeks. Savannah was convinced he would have stayed there indefinitely if not for the accident. A stairway had collapsed in one of the old buildings, trapping him. He could have died, would have, if he hadn’t been discovered by Dr. Jane and Cal Patterson. Nearly dead, Richard had been airlifted to a San Antonio hospital, and once he’d recovered, he was returned to New York to stand trial. His crimes had included defrauding and forcibly confining illegal immigrants; he was sentenced to twenty-five years in a New York state prison. Until today, Savannah had heard nothing from him.
Now this.
She braced herself emotionally and unfolded the letter.
Dear Savannah,
I imagine you’re surprised to hear from me after all this time. It’s taken me this long to come to grips with everything and realize how wrong I was. I never was a quick study, was I?
Prison life is worse than you probably think. Much worse. But it’s what I deserve. I can almost hear Grady agreeing with me and I don’t blame him. I know I’ve been here for three years and I apologize for not writing sooner, but I didn’t have the courage to ask you to forgive me. I’ll understand if you decide not to answer this, but I hope you will. Could you find it in your heart to bury the past and start again?
One thing I’ve learned in this hellhole is the importance of family. I don’t know what I’d do without my memories of you and without the money you sent for Christmas and my birthday. Thank you. Now that I’m stripped of everything else, I’ve discovered how much you and Grady mean to me. You’re all I have. I’m sure Grady won’t forgive me—but will you? I’m paying for my crimes and will continue to pay for the next twenty-two years. I can’t undo the pain I caused you or repay the money I stole, but I can tell you how truly sorry I am.
Write me, Savannah, please. Tell me about the Yellow Rose—how’s life on the old ranch? What’s happened to Bitter End? I worry about some of those old buildings and fear another one might collapse. That place is dangerous and should be shut down. I certainly hope you haven’t been back there on one of your “rose-rustling” expeditions!
You
