Frank Quill had returned to the burning house, and it had been Sadie, not the innocent Caroline, he had pulled from the flames.
A preventable, senseless tragedy. And not once, ever, in the eight years since had her mother or father condemned Sadie for the loss of their younger daughter. In fact, they had both gone out of their way to convince her that they cherished the one child God had left them while they mourned the one they had lost.
Sadie loved them both so much for that.
And she loved her mom’s friendship now. Charlotte Quill always met whatever life gave her head-on, since finding herself pregnant at the age of sixteen, through the tragedy eight years ago, through her husband’s death three years ago, and now as she found herself pregnant yet again.
Sadie only hoped that someday she could be half the woman Charlotte Quill was.
Because she needed very much to be the sort of big sister this unborn child could look up to.
Chapter Seven
Sadie was out of bedand halfway down the hall before she realized she should have been feeling bare feet touching the hardwood floor. She stopped in the doorway of the bathroom and stared down at the bandages covering her feet. She wiggled her toes, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other, testing for pain.
There was none. Not a twinge or even the memory of pain.
Sadie sat on the edge of the tub and lifted one leg to her knee, quickly unwrapping the bandage and twisting the bottom of her foot toward her.
Well, hell. There weren’t even any scars.
She quickly unwrapped the other foot and examined it closely, stretching the skin and running a finger from her toes to her heel, looking for the tiny little cuts that should have been there.
There wasn’t even any redness.
Sadie dropped her foot to the floor and stared out at the empty hall. Cuts didn’t heal, much less disappear, in twenty-four hours. It wasn’t possible.
And it sure as heck wasn’t magic.
Sadie looked down and wiggled her toes again. If she hadn’t pulled the small pieces of glass from her feet herself, she would say that it had all been a dream—or a really good advertisement for the salve she had used.
But it was not magic.
She had to see that priest again. She had to sit him down and make him explain how rubbing some over-the-counter medicine onto his cane could heal her feet. And she also would insist that he explain why he wanted her to believe it was magic in the first place.
“Sadie? What are you doing sitting on the tub and staring at nothing?” her mother asked, walking into the bathroom. She pointed at the floor. “And what are those?”
Sadie grabbed the bandages and tossed them into the trash by the sink. “They’re just some padding to help prevent blisters on my feet,” she quickly lied. “I’ve got to get some new boots this weekend. Do you remember that Dad used to own a small handgun? Do you still have it?”
Charlotte frowned at her. “A handgun? What’s that got to do with blisters?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I remembered Dad always carried a gun whenever we hiked. And I was wondering if you’d kept it.”
Her mother’s face wrinkled with worry. “Why?” she asked, sitting down on the closed toilet, facing Sadie. “Are you having trouble at the cabin? Has someone been bothering you out there?”
Sadie shook her head. “No, Mom. Nothing like that. I just thought I should probably have some sort of protection with me.”
“You can’t mean to carry a gun, Sadie. Frank only kept that for emergencies.”
“And that’s all I want it for. What? You think I’m going to walk around with it strapped to my hip like a gunfighter? Mom, I’m miles from nowhere out there. I just want to know that I can take care of myself if a problem arises.”
“But a gun, Sadie? Do you even know how they work?”
“Now, that’s a sexist remark.”
“You know what I mean. Gender has nothing to do with ignorance. You’re going to shoot yourself in the foot.”
“Dad taught me to use a gun when I was twelve.” She grinned at her mother. “And he also made me promise never to tell you.”
And she still shouldn’t have told her, judging by the scowl her mother gave her just then.
“I don’t have it anymore,” Charlotte told her. “After Frank died, I gave it to Sheriff Watts to get rid of.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like guns.”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Mom, you’re living smack in the middle of hunting country.
Every damn pickup in town has a gun in the back window.”
“That’s different. Those are rifles, meant to put meat on every damn table in town,” she shot back, standing up and glaring at Sadie. “And if you don’t feel safe in the woods anymore, then maybe you should move home and forget about that stupid park.”
Sadie also stood up, mostly from surprise at her mother’s outburst. “I thought you supported the wilderness park.”
“Not if it means my daughter has to live in the woods like a hermit and carry a gun in order to feel safe.”
Sadie blew out a frustrated breath and scrubbed her face with her hands. She pushed her hair behind her ears and forced herself to smile. “Well, jeez. If it bothers you so much, forget I even mentioned the gun. I am perfectly safe doing my job.”
“But that’s just it, Sadie. It’s not just a job to you. That park has become an obsession.
From the time Eric Hellman called you in Boston, you’ve become a driven woman. You left a perfectly good career and all but ran up here in less than a week. And just look at you,” she said, grabbing Sadie by the shoulders and pivoting her around to face the mirror. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I’ve toned up,” Sadie countered, glaring at her mother in the mirror.
“And you’re not taking care of yourself,” Charlotte continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Your hair hasn’t seen a pair of scissors in six months. You’re not using any sunscreen, and you have two hairy caterpillars for eyebrows.”
“I’m going to the salon today.”
Charlotte lifted Sadie’s left hand and turned the palm toward the mirror. “Look at that,”
she said. “Calluses the size of quarters. Scratches. Bug bites. Broken nails.” Her mother examined the fingers on the hand she was holding. “Or are you chewing your nails again?”
Sadie pulled free and stared into the mirror, unable to utter a word.
Charlotte spun her around to face her. “You’re so obsessed with this park that you’re ignoring the details of life again. You’re not even thirty yet, and you’re already becoming one of those addlebrained old spinster cat ladies.”
Sadie could only gape at her mother. “I date,” she snapped, pulling away.
“You go through the motions,” Charlotte said fiercely, not backing down. She waved an angry hand in the air. “And you spend those dates systematically driving the poor guys away before they can even get to know you.”
“Those poor guys are dorks. I gave three of them my cell phone number, and they never called.”
“You gave them the number of a cell phone that is always broken.” Charlotte waved her hand again. “It’s those damn details, Sadie. You’ve got to start living in the present, not the past. And not in some future shrine to your father and sister. I want you to live in thenow.”
Deciding it was definitely time to end this conversation, Sadie moved forward and took her mother into a fierce embrace. “I will, Mom. I promise. Starting today.” She leaned back and smiled. “I’ll go to the salon, spiff myself up real pretty, and I’ll even buy a new outfit for our date tomorrow night.”
Charlotte’s expression was skeptical.
“And I promise,” Sadie said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll be the epitome of charm and grace for Morgan MacKeage.”