Letters from Owen Page 9

  “Don’t give me a reason to whip you when we get to London. You know better than to apologize. What happened?”

  “They were out with friends, and I guess they tried to avoid a pothole or something. It’s been raining pretty hard here all day. Noah lost control of the car, and they hit a tree. Greg has some broken ribs, a broken leg, cuts, that sort of thing. Their friends are okay. Noah didn’t have a chance. He was gone as soon as they hit.”

  After promising to be there as soon as they could, Owen hung up. He stared at Sarah, full of shocked grief. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

  The urge to move hit him, and he stalked to the open door, looking out through the screen at the night beyond. It wasn’t enough. He felt as though he couldn’t get any air into his lungs, so he went onto the porch, not stopping until he was in the yard and a good twenty feet from the house. Bending double, he grasped his knees and let the pain come.

  When Sarah came to him, he turned away, hurting too much to face her.

  “Do you need to run?” she asked quietly.

  He straightened. “Yes. But what about—”

  “Hush. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll call Jack and Gilly. Go let this out.”

  Unable to even look at her, he nodded, then made for the barn. He’d already stripped out of most of his clothing by the time he entered the structure, and after taking half a minute to throw the items over a stall door, he fell to his knees. Within seconds, he was shifting into the wolf, his anguish speeding the process along. Barely giving himself time to recover from the transition, he ran.

  Sarah’s heart was breaking, not just for Eli and Amy and their family, but for Owen as well. He was as close to Noah and Greg as though they were his siblings, and for all intents and purposes, they were. As she watched him cross the field to the barn, she said a prayer that the family would have the strength to get through what was to come.

  Owen would be gone for a while, she suspected—he’d run until he was exhausted. Over the nine years they’d been married, there’d only been a handful of times when he’d needed to grieve, when darker emotions had overtaken him. Those were the times when he became the wolf, a stunningly beautiful gray-and-black creature that represented a side of himself he wasn’t comfortable exhibiting to anyone, not even her. He’d only let her see him in lupine form a couple of times, and it had made him so self-conscious she’d not pressed him for more.

  After going back in the house, she called her brother. “I don’t know what this will mean for the trip,” she said after explaining.

  “We’ll figure something out. I hate to hear about Noah. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Not that I know of right now. I don’t want to call Mama until we know what our plans are, plus it’s late.” She thought about the last time they’d seen Noah, back at Easter. “He still was just a baby, Jack, with the whole world ahead of him. Not much younger than us, not much older than Johnny. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children.”

  “I know. Will you tell everyone how sorry we are?” he asked quietly, his mind no doubt where hers was—on the loss their sister Kathy had suffered nine years ago.

  “Of course. I’d best go check on the kids. Owen needed some time alone.”

  Jack knew about Owen’s abilities, and he knew what that phrase meant. As his and Gilly’s property bordered theirs, albeit at the foot of the mountain, he was accustomed to being Owen’s guardian on that side of the hollow. “I’ll keep an ear open for him down here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know, we could take the kids with us and use your wagon, head out as planned in the morning. Then when you all were able, you could come on down and join us. It’s just a thought.”

  Sarah considered the idea. “Rachel’s a little young still, but that might work for the other three. Let me talk it over with Owen when he gets back or first thing in the morning. What time will you be up?”

  “Six or so, but call whenever. Let us know if we can help.”

  “I will. Thanks again, Jack.”

  Once she hung up, she headed upstairs to check on the kids. All four were sound asleep, so she didn’t linger, not wanting to disturb them. As she pulled the girls’ door around, a sob caught in her throat, and she hurried back downstairs so they wouldn’t hear her crying.

  Two

  The temptation to keep running until he couldn’t feel anything was strong, but Owen managed to resist. He wasn’t alone in his grief—Sarah would be hurting too. That, along with his need to touch their children and make sure they were safe in their beds, drove him back to the house after only an hour or so, well before he was fully in control of his grief.

  Covered in dirt and sweat, he didn’t bother putting on anything other than his briefs. He simply grabbed the clothes from the barn and carried them to the house. When Sarah stood from one of the rocking chairs on the porch, he wasn’t surprised.

  “I’m a mess,” he warned her as he stopped at the foot of the steps. “The kids?”

  “Sound asleep.” She assessed him quietly. “Do you still need distance?”

  “No,” he whispered, tossing his clothes onto the porch and extending his hand to her. “I just don’t want you to get dirty.”

  “Oh, shut up, would you?” Before she finished speaking, she had her arms around him, her face pressed against his chest over his heart.

  For the longest time, they stood there holding each other, not speaking. The weather was unseasonably warm with barely a breeze blowing, something unusual given their location on top of the mountain.

  When Owen’s stomach growled, Sarah pulled back and rubbed his chest. “You need food. Why don’t I fix you something while you get cleaned up?”

  But hunger for food wasn’t foremost in Owen’s mind, nor was a shower. Instead of answering, he kissed her, communicating his need through their embrace. He desperately needed to feel something other than pain, and making love to Sarah was the one surefire thing that would give light to the darkness.

  Like setting a match to a fuse, his desperation provoked her own. She gasped breathlessly as he bit her shoulder none too gently. In turn, she dug her fingernails into his upper arms and returned the nip.

  The action sent a jolt through him like lightning. Reaching under her nightgown, he deftly shoved down her underwear, growling when she obliged by stepping out of them.

  “Owen, the kids—the windows are open.”

  “Then we’ll have to be extra quiet, won’t we?”

  He carried her onto the porch, where he used his weight to press her against the house as he slipped inside her. He caught her gasps and moans with his mouth, but he couldn’t stop long enough to get them to the bedroom. He wasn’t strong enough to wait.

  Their coupling wasn’t smooth or particularly skillful, but Owen did manage to make sure he wasn’t the only one who benefited from their lovemaking. As they held each other after, each gasping for breath, his grief rose. Tucking his face into the curve of her neck, he cried silently, still cognizant of the need for quiet.

  Sarah let him mourn, holding him without speaking. When he finally lifted his head, he couldn’t look at her. He was still holding her against the house, and he swore under his breath.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She wobbled a bit as she stood. “Somewhat weak-kneed, but I’m fine.”

  Owen went back to where her panties were still lying on the ground and picked them up, then grabbed his own clothes as he came back up the steps. “I should probably shower.”

  “Mind company?” she asked as she followed him into the house and locked the door.

  “No.”

  When they were standing under the hot spray a few minutes later, he had her turn so that he could lather up her back. Red stripes that repeated the pattern of the lap siding he’d pressed her against ran down her back
.

  Cursing, he traced the lines. “I thought you said I didn’t hurt you.”

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder. “You didn’t. Why?”

  “You have marks. I practically leapt on you like an animal. God, I’m an idiot.”

  She turned and gazed at him with a perturbed, impatient look he knew well—it was usually reserved for after he’d said something outrageously negative and mule-headed regarding himself.

  “I beg your pardon, Owen Campbell, but I believe I was right there on that porch with you every step of the way.” When he didn’t respond, she narrowed her eyes. “Do you honestly think I couldn’t have stopped you? Don’t you know me better than that by now?”

  He gently ran a soapy cloth over her neck and shoulders. “I’m fully aware you could have. My concern is that you wouldn’t because you don’t want to hurt me or some such thing.”

  Hissing out a breath, she reached down and grabbed him, her grip firm enough that he went perfectly still out of instinct. “You weren’t the only one who needed that—you simply beat me to the punch. I’m capable of saying no to you, husband, as I believe you’ll recall I have on a number of occasions.”

  “Rarely,” he shot back when she released him.

  Sarah blushed. “Is that a complaint? Don’t do your husbandly duty so well if it is.”

  Realizing they were on the verge of a fight over having too much good sex, he stared at her, torn between laughter and anger. When her lips twitched, he looked away. If he started laughing right now, he didn’t know if he could stop.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m not thinking clearly.”

  “No kidding.” She took the washcloth from him and rinsed it, then added more soap and tugged on his arm. “Let me do your back.”

  Giving in, he turned. “Did you call Jack?”

  “Yes. He offered to take most of the kids on down to Georgia. We’d keep Rachel with us as she’s so little still.” She was only eighteen months old. “I told him we’d let him know, probably in the morning. I don’t want to wake them tonight if we don’t have to.”

  “I don’t want to let the kids go, but it’s probably the wisest choice,” he said quietly. “I suppose that would work. What if we don’t end up catching them before they return?”

  “Then they can bring our brood back with them. Everyone will understand.”

  He nodded as he brought her hand up and kissed the backs of her fingers over her wedding ring. “I know.”

  Once they were dressed, Sarah studied him. “How about some scrambled eggs and toast?”

  Framing her face, he kissed her. “I love you. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  Her smile was solemn. “I love taking care of you. Thank you for letting me. Go check on the babies. I’ll get you some food.”

  The three oldest kids were still slumbering, but Rachel was stirring. Ordinarily, Owen would have sat with her, talking low and rubbing her back until she drifted back to sleep, but tonight, he needed a baby to cuddle. After scooping her up, he took her down to the kitchen with him.

  “Hey, Mama, look who I found,” he said softly.

  Sarah looked up from the sink where she was rinsing the skillet. Her smile was soft. “I’m not the least bit surprised. Want me to hold her while you eat?”

  “Nah, I have her. Is all this mine, or are you going to eat too?” He picked up the plate she’d prepared and took it to the small round table in the corner beside the kitchen windows.

  “It’s all yours.” She came around the island and joined him, two glasses of water in hand. “She’s already falling back asleep.”

  He glanced down at Rachel, who was snuggled against his shoulder. “I think she may be a bigger daddy’s girl than Emma.”

  Sarah propped her head on her hand and watched him. “You wouldn’t have it any other way either.”

  “Not for all the money and riches in the world,” he said softly. “I love my family. God, Sarah, how in the world does a parent get through losing a child?”

  “Does it make me selfish to say I hope and pray we never have to find out?” She rested her feet on his, a way of touching they’d started using in recent years when they had their hands full—which, with four kids under ten years old, was often. After a couple of minutes, she asked, “What do you want to do in the morning as far as going to London?”

  He didn’t answer right away, finishing a piece of toast first. “Our bags are mostly packed. It’d be easy enough to have Jack and Gilly come up and get the kids. We could trade vehicles—they’d need the room in ours for everyone. Then we can drive Gilly’s car to London, stay for a few days, and hopefully go from there down through Tennessee. There’s no point in coming back here first.”

  “Okay. I’ll take care of packing a few more things, and that’s what we’ll do. We should be able to be on the road by seven thirty like we’d planned.” She took his empty plate and their glasses to the sink and washed them.

  Owen didn’t move from the table. Instead, he sat there, staring at Rachel, brushing back the dark hair that was just like Sarah’s. He couldn’t help but marvel at how much of a resemblance their youngest daughter had to Sarah, and he smiled.

  “She’s going to be your twin when she grows up,” he said as Sarah came back to the table and leaned against him. “That’s terrifying.”

  “That she’s going to grow up and be out in the world where we can’t protect her? I know it is.” She kissed the top of his head. “Let’s go to bed. Do you want to take her back upstairs?”

  “No, but it’s best that I do.” He stood. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  By the time he came back down, she’d finished packing. “Everything that can be readied tonight is. Do you think you can sleep?”

  He came to stand in front of her. “Probably not, but we should try. The next few days are going to be awful.”

  As they turned off the lights and got in bed, Owen tried to steer away from the grief and pain. His mind kept going in circles, however, not letting him see any peace. He’d just moved in to live with Eli and Amy permanently when Greg and Noah were born. As he was the same age as Trent—their oldest child—at fourteen, he’d helped a lot with the babies. Literally from the day they’d been born, he’d known them. He’d helped them learn to walk, had changed their diapers, babysat them—reluctantly—with Trent while Eli and Amy were out. All the things big brothers did for their younger siblings, Owen had done with Greg and Noah.

  The more he thought about Noah being gone, the more it hurt. Finally, unable to stay in bed, he slipped out without waking Sarah. He didn’t feel like shifting again, but he needed to be alone so he could grieve. At the very least, he needed to be somewhere he could move, focus his mind away from the pain, so he headed for his studio.

  By the time he was starting to feel tired, he’d managed to clean, reorganize, and rearrange most of the studio’s downstairs. The clock on the wall by the tiny kitchen ticked away, showing him that it was three in the morning. Knowing he had to try to sleep, he turned out the lights, locked up, and went back to the house.

  Sarah rolled over as he climbed back in bed. “Owen?”

  “Shh, I’m fine.” He yawned as he snuggled up to her. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Mm, okay. Love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Letting out a long breath, he closed his eyes. As he felt sleep claim him, he gave thanks for the woman he held. He didn’t even want to consider what they were going to have to face in the morning, but knowing she’d be beside him gave him a large measure of comfort. There was no way he could get through what was to come without her.

  Three

  By eight o’clock Sunday night, Owen was ready to come out of his skin. Between handling his own grief and helping his family through theirs, he was starting to feel the pressure of being confined. He’d social
ized so much since Friday, all he wanted to do was go home and lock out the world. He couldn’t, not yet anyhow.

  Noah’s funeral was scheduled for tomorrow at noon. Depending on how much Owen and Sarah were needed, they might try to leave after it was over. His uncle Eli had already cut them loose, but neither Owen nor Sarah wanted to go until they knew things would be as okay as possible.

  While he couldn’t go home, he could certainly take a walk outside to get away from the stuffy, crowded funeral home. With Rachel in his arms, he headed out.

  “That breeze is refreshing,” he told her as they walked. The funeral home had a sloping lawn behind it, and a small, slow stream ran across the back of the property. “You’ve been such a good girl these last few days. I’m proud of you, Rachel Mia.” He kissed her cheek, then set her on her feet.

  She giggled up at him, a miniature of her mother, then set about exploring. Owen didn’t let her get too far in the falling twilight, keeping pace with her as she rambled. Though she wasn’t as much of a rough-and-tumble girl as Emma—who always seemed to have scrapes or bruises from playing too hard—Rachel liked to be outside. She didn’t mind bugs or dirt, but she didn’t seem to attract mess the same way her sister did.

  Thinking of Emma made him rub his chest. He missed his babies. Even though they were perfectly safe, enjoying their trip with Jack and Gilly from all accounts, Owen worried. More so now. With the loss of Noah, the pain of separation was especially poignant. John, who’d been close to Noah, had been devastated by the news of his death. He’d almost stayed with them in Kentucky, but Owen had encouraged him to go to Georgia instead.

  “I promise we’ll go down and spend some time with Eli and Amy once you’re home,” he’d told John on Friday morning. “Eli and Amy will understand.”

  So John had gone with Jack and Gilly.

  Watching Rachel play, Owen admitted to himself that when he saw the rest of the kids, he’d hug them all close and dote on them more than he would have normally. So would Sarah. Neither of them cared if the kids ended up a bit more spoiled. They’d be safe and happy and alive, and that was all that mattered.