Alone.
“You’d do anything not to have to spend time with me, wouldn’t you?” Enid demanded. Tory hadn’t managed to get farther than the front hall when she’d gotten home to Thorn Hill. She was still worried about Liam. Ready for a shower and a change of clothes, too.
“What clued you in?” Tory wished she’d thought a moment before she’d answered, but the reality of the danger she’d faced earlier this morning was sinking in. Her hands had begun to tremble in the last fifteen minutes, and she’d found it hard to concentrate on Megan’s lively chatter on the way home.
Enid’s face fell. “Your rudeness, for one thing.”
Tory nodded. “You’re right.”
Enid peered at her. “Isn’t that the dress you wore to the wedding—”
“Yes, and I’d like to change, if you don’t mind.” Tory pushed past her and headed for the stairs.
“You reek of smoke—”
“Campfire,” she tossed over her shoulder. She hoped her mother didn’t hear about the blaze in Silver Falls and put two and two together.
“Who’d you go camping with?” Enid followed her upstairs.
“Just a friend. Look—” She forestalled the rest of Enid’s questions. “I needed to get away, and I bumped into a friend at the wedding who was going on a little trip. I went along. It’s that simple.”
“I doubt it’s that simple at all, but you are a grown-up. If you want to bug out, I can’t stop you.”
“At least you’ve realized that.” At the top of the stairs, Tory stalked down the hall.
“Tory, wait.” Her mother ran up the stairs after her. “I don’t want things to be like this between us. I’m proud of you for getting your bachelor’s degree, you know. I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while.”
Caught off guard, Tory stumbled. When was the last time her mother had said anything like that?
“It must have been a lot of work. I wish I’d been able to make it easier for you.”
Tory paused in front of her bedroom—the same one she’d slept in when she was a child. It had been strange to come back and find it just the way she’d left it. “It was hard,” she said. “But it was good to do it on my own.” She slipped inside the room and crossed to the closet to pick out an outfit, hoping Enid would get the hint and leave her alone.
“You like to be independent.” Enid leaned against the doorframe.
“When you do everything for yourself, no one can let you down,” Tory agreed lightly.
“I’m sorry I let you down. I’m not fishing for forgiveness, although I’d like it if you forgave me. I’m just saying that because it’s true.” When she didn’t answer, Enid sighed. “The thing about being too independent is that when times get hard, you might find yourself alone.”
Tory fidgeted, standing in the middle of her room, clothes in her arms. Her mother showed no sign of leaving.
“Is that what this is about? Have times gotten hard?” she finally asked. Her mother wanted something from her.
“I wasn’t thinking about my situation. I was thinking about Leslie Falk. I talked to her a little at the wedding.”
Tory remembered seeing Liam’s mother deep in conversation with the woman. Had Mary and Enid both been friends with Leslie back in their school days?
“She was always adamant she would never marry, and she never did,” Enid went on. “Now she needs dialysis three times a week. Managing on her own is beginning to wear her down. Not that she’d ever admit it,” she added.
“And the dialysis unit is shutting down. Maybe the hospital, too, in a year or so.”
“I guess I can’t help thinking about what would happen if I got sick.” Enid studied a chip in the paint on the doorframe. “Maybe I should have remarried, but after all Dale’s troublemaking and that damn Joe Packham lying about not having a wife—and then losing my kids—I decided men weren’t worth it. I figured I needed to work on myself for a bit.”
“For thirteen years?” Tory found herself smiling at her mother unexpectedly.
“I needed a lot of work.” Her mother smiled, too, but then grew serious. “I needed stability, as well. The truth was when I left Chance Creek, I didn’t know how to support myself, let alone you four. It killed me that I couldn’t do it right away and that by the time I could, you all weren’t interested. Losing your kids’ respect is pretty eye-opening,” she added. “When I could think straight again, I decided I needed a real career. Something that would fulfill me all on its own.”
“Bartending?” Tory wrinkled her nose.
“I haven’t bartended in years,” Enid said.
That couldn’t be true. Enid had never mentioned changing jobs—
“Not that you would know. None of you has asked me about my work in… well, forever.” Enid’s smile was wistful. “I kept waiting, but…”
Tory wanted to groan. “You expected us to guess that you’d changed jobs?”
“I expected you to show some interest in my life.”
Was there any other family this dysfunctional? Tory shook her head. “Okay, Mom, I’ll bite. What do you do now?”
“I’m a lawyer,” Enid said.
The third time he read through a paragraph of the certification paperwork and couldn’t remember a single word it said, Liam knew he wouldn’t accomplish anything until he blew off some steam. He’d stomped back to the house with the intention of climbing into his truck and driving straight to town to the Dancing Boot, then realized that was about the worst thing he could do. Once before when times were tough, he’d turned to drinking. It hadn’t ended well. He’d entered the house instead, grabbed a folding table from the basement and hauled it up to his bedroom. The little office he’d inherited from his father in the barn was too damn hot these days anyway, and his laptop was already in his room. He set up the table, snagged a chair from the kitchen and got to work.
A searing wind whistled around the edge of his open
