Betsy closed her eyes.
“It sounds crazy, I know. It’s just that I’ve only now had a sort of breakthrough to where I can . . . I don’t know, see straight, I guess. I’ve finally gotten to the place where things are clicking. The first two weeks barely scratched the surface.” She paused. Betsy crossed her free arm across her stomach, holding herself tight. “I know this is so last minute and I’m being irresponsible, but, Betsy, I just can’t . . . I’m so sorry to ask this of you. I can’t leave now, and I don’t know how else to explain it.” Jenna exhaled and so did Betsy. “I know the girls are having a blast. I hope they’re not too much trouble and . . . I hope you can understand this. Please understand. I’ll call again as soon as I can. And tell . . . please tell them I love them.”
Betsy pulled the phone away from her ear and tried to call back, but no answer. She closed her eyes again and touched the phone to her forehead. Behind her, someone stopped. “Are you okay?”
It was the mother with the baby. Betsy nodded. “Thanks.”
“Just checkin’.” The woman swayed to keep the baby asleep on her shoulder. “You looked a little faint. Thought I might have to find a chair or something for you.”
Betsy took a breath and pulled open the door. From the back of the sanctuary, she could see between other heads and shoulders to where Ty, Addie, and Walsh sat, their heads bowed, all probably still working on their crayon masterpieces. Next to them was the empty space reserved for her. Fingers of emotion squeezed her heart and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.
She strode back to their pew. When she sat, Ty looked over at her and raised his eyebrows. Jenna? he mouthed.
Betsy nodded and turned her gaze to the front of the church where the pastor was wrapping up his sermon. Ty reached across the back of the pew and laid his big warm hand on her shoulder.
twenty-one
Ty
Tropical Storm Dawn has made a sharp curve to the north, heading north/northeast at 40 mph. It is expected to continue on this track over the next 2–3 days. Residents of the central Gulf Coast should take proper precautions in the event Dawn gains speed.
The radio spit out Dawn’s coordinates as Ty opened the gate for the remaining forty cows to exit the barn. When the last one trailed out, swishing her tail as if waving good-bye, he grabbed the water hose. Aiming it at the floor of the milking parlor, he turned the faucet on full blast.
To his right, fifteen curious faces pressed up against the wide window of the observation room. A group of YMCA summer campers had come early today to watch the milking. They were the second field trip this week, which was probably a good thing. Something to distract Addie and Walsh from the fact that their mom did not, in fact, show up as she was supposed to with their promised treats and a ride back home to Nashville.
As soon as Betsy sat back down in church on Sunday after receiving the phone call, he knew something was wrong. She filled him in as they made the girls’ lunches after church. Ty took a deep breath to keep his anger in check.
“Did you ask her when she’s coming back?”
“I couldn’t ask her. It was a voice mail.”
“Did you try calling her back?”
“Of course I did. She didn’t answer. Or it didn’t go through. Or something.”
Ty laughed low. “Of course she calls you while you’re in church. Where else would you be at eleven thirty on a Sunday morning? Leaving a quick message is much easier than explaining yourself.” He dragged his hand through his hair.
“I don’t think she purposely called while we were in church.”
He gave her a look and rolled his eyes.
“You’re not getting mad at me, are you? This is not my fault.”
Their whispers had grown harsh—not what he intended, but he couldn’t help himself. With one call to the Betsy Franklin Rescue Service, Jenna was off the hook. Again.
“I know it’s not your fault. I just don’t like the way she uses us. Uses you.”
“I’m her sister, Ty. I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do. You do have a choice, though it looks like you’re dead set against using it.” He stood from his kitchen stool. “Let’s go talk to them then.” They had to tell the girls something. Well, mainly Addie. Walsh seemed happy as a clam no matter what she was doing, but Addie was sensitive. Aware. Betsy had wanted to make it sound simple, like Jenna’s car broke down or she had to make an extra stop before coming back, but Ty pushed for the truth.
“I can’t tell them I don’t know when she’s coming back,” Betsy said.
Ty nodded at Addie, whose face was pressed up against the window in the living room, watching the driveway. “Twenty bucks says she’ll know you’re lying.”
Finally, Betsy told them Jenna just needed some more time. It was a version of the truth, at least.
Since their “discussion” in the kitchen, they’d danced around the subject of Jenna. They didn’t bring her up, but her presence—the lack of it—filled up their house anyway.
“Whatcha think about the weather report?” Carlos wrenched Ty from his thoughts, bringing him back to the barn. “It’s headed for the sweet spot.”
Ty looked up just in time to see Betsy smile from the window in the observation room, the kids in a swarm all around her. Ty lifted his chin in response, then remembered she hated the “cool guy nod,” as she called it, and held
