Rom-Com Collection

“That’s not the same as wanting her to die.”

She flinched. “No. But I’m responsible all the same. When I came back here in September, I thought if I found Dad someone else, maybe I could make up for it. But I haven’t. My dad worships her memory—Jack and my sisters do, too.”

Yeah, that seemed true. “You never told anyone?”

“No! I... When my father came to the hospital, he was so...broken, and I was afraid he’d stop loving me if he knew. So I lied.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I just wanted you to know. I don’t want you to tell me how it wasn’t really my fault. I know what I did.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“You can’t say anything,” she said, her voice level now, and somehow that hurt his heart more than ever. “I don’t want them to know how she really felt.”

Levi ran his hand through his hair again. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

“I’m gonna go home, actually,” she said. “But thank you.”

“Please stay.”

“No, thanks. I’ll...I’ll see you around.” She stood up, and he did, too, pulling her into a hug. She felt cold and brittle, Faith who was all soft and sweet and warm.

“Stay,” he said one more time.

“I’m fine,” she said. “See you tomorrow, maybe.” And with that, she opened his door and went across to her own apartment.

The quiet of the night settled around him.

Faith’s mother had been dead for twenty years. That was a long time to keep a secret.

The cookies would have to wait. Levi turned off the oven, grabbed his car keys and headed for the police station.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE DAY HER MOTHER had died had been utterly normal except that Faith had needed shoes.

Faith had always loved being the baby of the family. In exchange for all the fun things the rest of them had done before she was born or when she was tiny, it seemed only fair that she got special treatment. She knew her family viewed her as vaguely cute but somewhat useless. Mom still never asked her to start supper...only Honor could do that (and had been doing it for years, as her older sister liked to point out). Jack was in college learning how to make wine and already knew cool stuff like how to fix the harvester and clean the thresher. Prudence was a grown-up, married and everything.

So Faith got to be the cute one. Her parents’ attention was spread thin, and Faith used it to get away with stuff...not being a straight-A student, for example, unlike her siblings. Not going to bed on time, because who really noticed? She didn’t have to eat all her vegetables, because with four kids over seventeen years, her parents were a little weary of enforcing the rules.

Her epilepsy got her the kind of attention she didn’t want—the panicky eyes from Dad, the short, sharp orders from Mom. She’d take some benign neglect any day.

But the day she needed shoes would be, she hoped, one of those rare and special times when she and Mom could do something, just the two of them, like those cloudy, lovely memories from when everyone else was in school, and Faith was her mom’s little shadow. Maybe they’d stretch the day out, get some ice cream at the cute place on Market Street.

Instead, Mom had been in a mood. “Don’t think you can try on every pair in the store, Faith,” she said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I have a thousand things to do today. Why you couldn’t have told me you needed these last week, when I had to come to this exact same place when Jack was home...”

And so Faith had ended up with a pair of not-bad sneakers, though she hadn’t been one hundred percent sure she wanted those and not the cute Reeboks with the pink laces. No time for ice cream, just back in the car. “You can sit in the front, you know,” Mom said, a trifle impatiently.

“That’s okay,” Faith said. She’d gotten in back automatically, accustomed to being low man on the totem pole when it came to the shotgun seat. It was a move that saved her life, the firefighters would say later.

But still, Faith had new sneakers. She always felt as if she could run faster in new sneakers, and gym was on Tuesday. Jessica Dunn was the fastest girl in their class and often made fun of the way Faith ran, and wouldn’t it be nice to run faster than Jessica, just once? Not that it was possible, but still...just once.

“Make sure you see the world before you settle down, Faith,” Mom said abruptly from the front seat. “I told Prudence the same thing, and did she listen? No. You get married young, and your options are severely limited.”

Faith frowned. Why would her mother say something like that? Pru and Carl were so cute. Plus, Faith was an aunt already. Everyone at school had been jealous. Possibly even Jessica Dunn.

Mom glanced in the rearview mirror. “You should see the world when you still can. This is a huge country, though if you asked anyone in the Holland family, they’d probably tell you the earth falls into an abyss if you cross the county line.”

“I love it here,” Faith objected. She took a new shoe out of the box and stroked the pure white shoelace. Should’ve gotten pink. Or maybe not. Maybe pink was babyish.

“Yeah, well, you’ve never seen anywhere else, have you?” Mom asked. “There are other places worth seeing, too, you know. Pru would have to be dragged kicking and screaming off the vineyard, and your brother’s already a lost cause, but you and Honor don’t have to stay.”

Mom’s voice went on and on and on. And the thing was, Faith wanted to stay. Where else was better than home? She’d already been to New York City on a field trip just a month ago. Levi Cooper and Jessica had gotten caught kissing in the back of the bus, which was bad enough (Faith still played with dolls...kissing? Gross!). The city had been so loud and hot; Manningsport seemed like heaven when they got back.

“There are days when all I can do is think about how nice it’d be to live somewhere else. Wouldn’t it be great to live in a city? Seattle, Chicago, San Francisco, all these places I’ve never even seen. And what does your father do? He laughs when I talk about it.” Mom’s voice was inescapable. “That’s why you should live a little before you settle down. You’ll regret it otherwise.”

Faith looked out the window. Daddy was perfect. He never seemed impatient or short. He always said Faith was his princess. And he loved Mom! He picked her flowers! Faith turned her eyes to the scenery outside, where black-and-white cows gazed placidly at their minivan. Leave here? Never.

Mom glanced in the rearview mirror. “It could be just us three,” she said. “You, me and Honor. Girl power.”

White-hot anger flashed like lightning. Oh, so now Mom was leaving? Fine! They’d be fine without her! And girl power? Is that what she called divorce?

“Why are you so quiet?” her mother asked, as if she didn’t know.

Faith didn’t look away from the fields. No, she didn’t think she would answer at all. Mom could suck it up.

“Honey, are you okay?” Yeah, that’s right. Call me honey, Faith thought. You should, after all that mean talk. From the corner of her eye, Faith saw Mom put a hand on the back of the passenger seat to turn around more fully. “Faith?”

Nope. Not gonna answer.

And then there was a slam, so loud it was like an explosion, and they were spinning, and the ground wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and the noise, the screeching and crashing, they were tumbling so fast it felt like she was in a dryer, arms and legs flopping helplessly, the seat belt hurt, grinding into her shoulder, her new shoe hit her in the side of the face, and God, they were still rolling and bouncing, someone stop that horrible noise, the grinding and crunching, it was awful.

And then they stopped, and the noise stopped, too, except a hissing sound and someone’s gasping little screams. She was dizzy, on an angle. There was a tree in the car with her, a chunk of the bark gouged out.

They’d been in an accident. That was it.

She was the one making the noise. Faith wrestled her mouth closed and stopped those awful little scream-gasps. Was she still in the backseat? Because the car didn’t look like the car anymore, bent around her, torn upholstery, wires and broken glass everywhere. It was crushed around her; the place where her seat belt fastened hidden in twisted metal. She seemed to be on her side, and her chest hurt. She could move her legs, if not see her feet. The door handle was against the ground.

She couldn’t get out, in other words.

“Mommy?” Her voice was weak and high. “Mommy?”

There was no answer.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

No answer. No sounds at all, not even moaning. “Oh, Mommy, please, please,” she heard herself say, and suddenly she was shivering and damp and could smell pee. She’d wet herself.

There. There was her mother’s hair, almost the same color as Faith’s, a few feet in front of her face, just out of reach. Faith’s fingers strained, but the car was trapping her. “Mommy,” she whispered, and she didn’t like the sound of her voice, not one bit.

Then she looked out the broken windshield, and there was her mother, standing in the field, completely unharmed, smiling and beautiful. Thank God.