6. Sammie

Our meeting with the bride had gone well. So well, in fact, that she'd signed a contract, reserving the entire ranch for three days during the second week of December. She'd always wanted a Christmas wedding, she'd said, and the ranch was exactly what she had in mind. Around five, we left her and her mother to enjoy a bottle of champagne and a cheese plate while sitting at the firepit.

"Did I do okay?" I asked Thad as we crossed the grounds toward the house.

"You did very well."

"I'm glad you were there with me. I can't thank you enough for this opportunity."

"You've earned it." Thad's voice sounded odd, strangely distant and formal.

I sneaked a quick glance at him. Something troubled him. Other than during our meeting with the bride, he'd been strangely quiet all afternoon. Had I done something to make him mad?

During the years with John, I'd come to understand that any small thing could make him angry. The problem was, I never knew what it would be. Something I'd think was perfectly innocent, he took as a slight or criticism. Any innocuous glance at a man when we were out provoked unreasonable jealousy. If I chose to wear something he didn't like, he would ridicule me and call me ugly. Because of this, I'd honed my life around anticipating his moods and needs. People have described relationships with controlling, volatile people as walking on eggshells, and they're right. It's a precarious business, living with an abuser. Strangely enough, one grows accustomed to this way of life. Like an animal in constant danger, we become acutely aware of the actions and moods of our predators. Self-preservation becomes innate. Yet we cannot figure out how to protect ourselves from their unpredictable tempers, thus finding ourselves in danger most of the time. Day in and day out creates a pattern inside one's mind. Our nervous systems react without us even realizing it's happening.

Therefore, now, I sensed something troubled Thad, but I had no idea what I'd done. I scrutinized everything that had happened that day, scouring moments for clues to my mistake. He'd been fine at breakfast. After he and Chloe had been to the barn to see the chicks, he'd come back subdued—like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Had Chloe said something about our past? She would be four in a couple of weeks. How much did she remember?

Did she remember what he'd done to the kittens? And to her afterward? All the times John had hurt me?

I asked him the question I would never have asked John. "Everything all right? You seem…down? Or mad?"

We stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the front porch. Stella had texted that she and Chloe were coming back from swimming lessons and would be there soon. I'd been thrilled when Stella offered to take her to the local pool for lessons, as had Chloe. She'd run out to greet Stella the moment she'd gotten out of her car to pick her up and take her.

"I'm fine." He headed up the steps, with me following behind. When we reached the front door, instead of reaching for the knob, he turned back to me. "Do you think we could have an honest conversation?"

"About what?"

"About what really happened to you back in Philly. Or wherever it is you're really from."

My stomach dropped. Here it came. The ultimatum. He wanted to know the truth about my past. Or what? He would send me away? "What do you want to know exactly? I told you I can't talk about certain things."

"I know what you said, and now I'm asking again for the truth."

"Why do you care so much?" Heat had traveled into my cheeks. Was I angry? Defensive? Frightened? Everything at once.

"How can you ask me that?" Thad's eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "If it's not obvious that I care about you and Chloe, then I don't know what to say. I'm asking because I want to know you. The real you."

"What do you want to know?" I might as well get it over with.

"Chloe said something to me this morning. Something concerning. I've been debating all day if I should say anything, and I've decided I have to, even if it's uncomfortable. It's about her father."

It was as if a giant scooper cleaned out my insides and I was left with nothing but cold air whooshing about. I wrapped my arms around my middle. What had Chloe told him? "Can we talk inside, please?"

He held the door open, and we both walked into the foyer. "The den?" Thad asked.

"Sure. Fine." Blindly, I trailed him down the hallway and into the family room where Chloe liked to watch cartoons or play with her dolls. I sank into the couch, shaking, feeling as if I might be sick. "What is it? Tell me what Chloe said."

He stared at me for a moment. "You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"Not really." I had a feeling, though. A strong feeling.

Thad went to the liquor cabinet and poured us both a drink of whatever amber fluid was in the decanter. He set mine on the coffee table before downing his entire glass. Then he sat on the other end of the couch. I watched him for signs of anger or aggression but saw nothing that reminded me of my husband. Thad's eyes were soft and kind as they looked over at me. "Chloe and I were looking at the chicks this morning, as you know."

I nodded, waiting for the hammer.

"She told me about the kittens," Thad said. "About what her father did to them."

The kittens. God, the poor kittens. The scene replayed in my mind. I blinked to get the images out of my head, but I found that my eyes were wet.

Thad watched me carefully. How many seconds had gone by? I'd lost all sense of time, carried into the past. I had to answer his question.

"I found them under our house," I said. "And brought them in to try to save them, but they didn't make it. Unfortunately."

"That's not how Chloe described it."

I swallowed bile that wanted to strangle me. "What did she say exactly?"

Thad scrubbed both hands through his hair without looking at me. "She said her daddy hurt them. He took them away and they never came back. She said you cried, and her daddy used his fists to hurt you."

"She said all that?" What else had she said? How much did she remember?

"She made a fist to show me exactly what she meant." Thad demonstrated by folding his fingers into a tight fist. "What did he do to you?"

"He drowned the kittens. Threw them into the river in a trash bag." A sob came out of nowhere, feeling as if it might knock me over with the force of the pain I'd stuffed deep inside me for so long. "Then he came home and beat the crap out of me. Chloe woke up and started crying and to punish her, he threw her against the wall. I thought he'd killed her. That was the one thing I couldn't forgive. I knew I had to leave. So, I did. And now I'm here."

"You left no traces behind? Is that right?"

"I tried, anyway. I don't know if I'm free, even though I want so desperately to start a new life. All I care about is Chloe." I paused, barely able to breathe. "She's all I have in the world. The only thing God's trusted me with. I cannot mess her up." I began to sob into my hands, the grief like a river pouring out of my eyes. "But it's probably too late."

He moved closer and wrapped his arms around me. "You're safe here. You never have to go back there."

He was wrong. I wasn't safe. All it took to wipe out my life was a clever police detective or John's father and brothers showing up to kill me for what I'd done. Yet it felt so good in his arms. If only I could stay here forever.

"You can tell me anything," Thad said into my ear. "I won't hold it against you. I just want to know you."

"I can't tell you who I really am," I whispered, hot tears dripping into the fabric of his shirt.

"Why?" His arms tightened around me.

"Because it would be wrong to involve you or your family."

He lessened his hold on me, drawing away, but I couldn't meet his eyes until he lifted my chin with his fingers. "I have feelings for you, Sammie. I'm sure it's obvious to you."

"What?" I must have heard him wrong. Or he meant he cared about me. As a friend.

His forehead wrinkled as he cocked his head to the left, observing me. "I like you. A lot. You can't tell?"

My heart raced a million miles ahead of my brain. He liked me? "But you don't know me."

"I'd like to think I know you a little. Enough to have fallen in love with you."

"You do know me," I whispered. "But there's so much more, and if I told you, I'm pretty sure you won't think you're in love with me any longer."

"I don't think I'm in love with you. I am. Do you feel anything for me at all? Because I need to know that at least."

"I don't let myself think about that kind of thing. There's Chloe to think about."

"I was raised by a stepfather. He's my favorite person in the world. I can be a good father to her, even if my blood doesn't run through her veins. You could give me a chance. Let me prove to you that your secrets are safe with me."

"It's too risky. I don't want you implicated. Trust me on this."

"Implicated? That's an interesting word to use. Why don't you try me?" He lifted my hair away from my damp neck and caressed the skin with his thumb. "I can be the keeper of your secrets, Sammie. The one person you tell everything to."

"You won't want that. Not if I told you what I did."

"What you did?" The blood slowly drained from his cheeks. He knew it was bad. But how bad? "What did you do? Tell me. Tell me and let's see what happens." His voice sounded dry and crackly now.

"You have a high moral code," I said. "Which means I should not make you have to make the choice to keep it to yourself."

"Sammie, please. I want a chance. Don't you want to see if there's something special here?"

I got up from the couch, grabbing my untouched drink, and took a sip. It burned the back of my throat like punishment. I drank more. How I wished I could be numb. Forget John and everything that came before. Everything but Chloe. Then I'd be in this room with Thad, and I'd be able to tell him how I couldn't stop thinking about him and how I dream of him some nights and wake up tingling with desire. But it was more than lust. I was drawn to him. Craved his company. Melted every time I saw him with Chloe.

I went to the window. The late afternoon sun had lowered in the sky and flooded the back garden with a yellow glow. Fireflies and bees bounced around the pots of lavender and flowers.

I'd tell him the truth. He deserved to know who I really was. I'd beg him to keep it to himself long enough for me to pack up Chloe and be on our way. I'd managed to save quite a bit of money since the rent was so cheap. I'd go east this time. Maybe to North Dakota. There were small towns there. Ones I could blend into and not be seen. I would not make this mistake again, getting close to wonderful people like the Moons, only to have to leave them. How many times could I leave before there was nothing left of me?

I turned slowly. Tell him. Just tell him.

I tossed back more of the liquid punishment and rejoined him on the couch. "I got pregnant right out of high school. John and I had dated all through our senior year. When he found out, he offered to marry me. I didn't hesitate. He was part of a big family, and I thought it would be fun to be part of it. Before we married, he never showed any signs of what was to come. But it started on our honeymoon. He drank too much at dinner, and when we got back to the room he started yelling at me, saying I'd flirted with the bartender and had humiliated him. He tossed me against the wall and then onto the floor, punching my face. Then, by the grace of God, he sort of passed out right there. I shoved him off me and locked myself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. I finally fell asleep in the bathroom, shivering from my injuries and fear. When I woke in the morning, he was apologetic—said he drank too much and could I forgive him? I thought it was a one-time thing." Had I, though? At this point, I couldn't be sure.

"But it wasn't?"

"No. There were a lot of nights he drank too much. Most nights." I pressed my knuckles against my mouth to steady my voice before continuing. Telling Thad was easier than I thought it would be, a release of sorts. "My dad died when Chloe was a baby, but before that he'd had his suspicions even though I hid the bruises as best I could." I looked down at my hands spread over my knees. "I became one of those women who had to wear long sleeves in hot weather and should have bought shares in Cover Girl makeup."

"Did you ever go to the police? Or call them?"

I shook my head. "I would have if I'd lived anywhere else. Or if we'd lived in an apartment instead of in a house out in the middle of nowhere, someone might have called…when they heard my screams." I shuddered, remembering how often I'd cried for help before Chloe got too old for me to do so. When she became a toddler and started to understand more, I'd kept silent while he hit me. I hadn't wanted that to be one of her first memories. Instead, it had been of that bastard drowning those poor, innocent kittens.

"What do you mean, if you'd lived anywhere else?" Thad asked.

"My husband's family runs the little town where I grew up. John's brother is a cop. His cousin's chief of police. His dad owns a bunch of shady businesses that I think he might be laundering money through. I know. It sounds like a movie, but it's real. Even if anyone had believed me, which they wouldn't, no one would care."

"What about friends?"

"I didn't have any. John made sure of that. He isolated me from everyone, especially after Daddy died. Anyway, telling anyone what was really going on would have put them at risk and made everything at home more dangerous for me. The reason for the attack the night he died was because he thought I'd told one of his friend's wives about how he treated me. It was true. I'd told her in confidence. I should have known better. He was furious. There was no reasoning with him."

"Yeah, but you left. You got away." The hopefulness in Thad's voice broke my heart. If only I'd just "gotten away." If only I were in hiding just from him instead of the police.

"That was the plan. I hired a guy to make a fake ID for me with a new Social Security number and last name. I'd saved tip money—cash that I managed to hide from him. Once I had the fake ID, I took out credit cards with my new name. Closed my bank account. Everything to keep from being found. I had it all planned. But that night he came home drunk and ready for a fight." I paused. How did I tell him this next part and watch the caring look he now had in his eyes fade away? Would he pick up the phone and call the police? The idea horrified me. They'd take Chloe from me. She'd be raised by John's family. I couldn't bear the thought.

Still, I had to take the risk. I'd come this far in my unburdening. It was too late to stop now. If he wanted to turn me in, then he would. At least I would have told him the truth. He deserved that from me after everything he'd done for us.

"He had his gun on him and he whipped it out and threatened to kill me. I'd been taking these kickboxing lessons in secret, thinking defense skills would help me. That night, I used them." If I'd only known that would be my demise.

"Go on," Thad said.

"I kicked and punched and kneed his groin and knocked him onto the floor. We tussled, and the gun went off. He died from a bullet wound to his chest. I killed him." The last bit came out flat and emotionless. In the process of finally telling him the truth, I'd become numb. A self-protective act I'd honed over the years. "It was an accident." I peeked up at him, wiping away the tears that dampened my cheeks. "But the fact is, I murdered him."

I'd been wrong. His expression hadn't changed. He still looked at me with sympathy. Even love. How could it be? Was it possible he would still care about me once he knew the truth?

"I left him there. Blood all over the floor and him dead as could be." I chuckled bitterly before another bout of tears sprang from my eyes. "He always insisted the floor should be spotless. Another reason to hit me if there was even a speck of food on the counters or dust or a smudge on the floor."

Thad got up to bring me the box of tissues from one of the side tables. I took a few, dabbing at my face and eyes while I tried to get my breathing under control.

"What happened next?" Thad asked, returning to the couch.

"I got Chloe from her bed, and we left. Fled. I knew it would be at least twenty-four hours before anyone found him. It was a Friday night, so he wasn't due at work until Monday. He never went with me to church. His brother might get worried if he didn't show up to the bar Saturday night, but he didn't always go. Sometimes he stayed home to torture me."

Next, I told him about the bus ride to Bozeman and buying a car and then our nomadic life until I found myself at Crescent Moon Ranch. "We stayed at various cheap motels along the way, but I wanted to splurge for Thanksgiving. It was my daddy's favorite holiday."

"Where did you come from?"

"A small town in Tennessee named Fremont."

"Are the police looking for you?"

"I don't know. There was nothing in the local paper except for his obituary. I think they're keeping it quiet to protect his reputation. He wouldn't have wanted anyone to think a woman shot him. Especially his wife."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Men like that have big but fragile egos. They wouldn't want anyone to know that one of theirs was killed by a tiny woman."

"That's right." I twisted the tissues around one finger. "Are you going to turn me in?"

His face creased and twisted into an expression that could only be described as incredulous. "I would never turn you in."

"But you're a good person. With high morals."

This seemed to take him aback for a moment. I could almost hear his mind working through what I'd told him, piece by piece. "Which is why I'm not turning you in. You did nothing wrong. It was an accident."

"But I used all my kickboxing skills on him. That's what led to his death."

"Because he was trying to kill you."

"Yes, but no one will understand or believe me. I'm a nobody. His father wants me punished, and I think he wants to do it himself. If he can find me. Or he might want me sent to jail. Either way, I lose Chloe."

"What are you planning on doing long term? Running from one remote location to another? For the rest of your life?"

"It's either that or death or prison. If they get Chloe, I'll…I don't know what I will do. Whatever happens to me, I just want her to be safe. To have a good life."

"We can't let them take her. That's not an option."

"I have no relatives. She would go to them if I was incarcerated."

"How solid do you think this fake name and ID is?" Thad asked.

"Um, I'm not sure. The Social Security number was taken from someone deceased. This guy I hired seemed to know what he was doing. It's worked so far."

"And John's family kept it quiet. Which means they know what really happened. He tried to kill you, and the gun went off by accident." Thad looked up at the ceiling, clearly thinking through options and scenarios, as I had so many times.

"Do you trust me?" Thad asked.

"Yes."

"What about my family?"

"I have no reason not to. They've been good to me," I said. "But they might not understand this."

"They will. Because of what happened to Mama."

"She didn't kill her husband."

"No, but he was a bad man. Not one person mourned him, I can tell you that."

"John's family mourns him," I said. "I took him away from them."

"No, that's not right. You defended yourself from a man who abused you for years. He caused his own death. Would he be dead if he hadn't attacked you?"

"No. I just wanted to get away."

"That's your answer then." He rose to his feet and poured more whiskey into his glass. "I want to talk to Atticus about this. He's the smartest guy I know. He'll help us figure something out. He's got money if we need to hire resources."

"Resources?" What did that mean?

"As in, attorneys, protection, bribes, or threats."

I stared at him. "Bribes or threats?"

"Right. Solutions to your problem."

"Thad, I don't know."

"Do you want to make sure Chloe stays with you?"

"Of course." The idea of anyone taking her from me sent ice through my veins.

"Then let my family and me try to help."

"I don't want to put anyone in danger. You've all taken us in and been like—" I'd almost said family. Was that true? Had I started thinking of the Moons as family? I understood one thing clearly. Chloe had.

She proved my point by shouting out to us as she and Stella came down the hallway. I hadn't heard a car or the back door open.

"Mama. Tad. I'm home."

"Let me talk to Atticus," Thad said quietly. "Please."

As Chloe bounded into the room, I nodded, feeling somewhere deep inside me that it was my only choice. I'd prayed for help. Maybe the Moon family could be my salvation. More so than they'd already been, which seemed nearly impossible. Atticus and Annie had money and wealth, which equaled power.

Was John's family susceptible to bribes or threats? Who knew? But it was better than sitting here like a helpless duck.