She spit on the ground by his feet. “That’s a damn lie. You hurt me good.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll have the sheriff pay a visit to your home. I won’t stand for slander.”

The idea of the sheriff arriving at her house and seeing the baby girl was enough to cool her rising temper. She couldn’t hide the child forever, but she figured if she had a little more time, she would hatch a solution.

“Yeah, I thought that would shut you up. Girls like you don’t need the trouble.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Have a nice day, Sadie.”

He walked past her like she wasn’t even there and vanished into the shop.

She returned to her truck, set her bundle on the seat, and slid behind the wheel. If she were smart, she would just drive home and forget there ever was a Malcolm Carter. There was no changing her life now, and she would have more peace if she simply made the best of it. She slammed the truck door.

She watched through the store window as Mr. Sullivan pulled out one of her jars of moonshine, and Malcolm handed him several dollar bills.

She sat up, leaning over the steering wheel, watching as Malcolm exited. “Go on and drive, Sadie,” she muttered to herself. “Best to get back to the farm and forget you ever saw him.”

Malcolm scanned the street, and when his gaze landed on her, he touched the brim of his hat and winked.

Her temper roiled up through her with such heat she could feel her cheeks flush. As if he felt her gaze on him, Malcolm squinted as he studied her a bit longer. His head tilted, reminding her of a dog that had heard a whistle. After looking both ways, he crossed the street and held up the jar of her moonshine, as if he was offering a peace token.

There was even a lightness in his step, as if he had already decided that a little moonshine would get him exactly what he wanted from her. It sure had the first time.

Something in Sadie snapped. All God’s good reason took one look at her and then took off running, leaving her alone with the devil sitting on her shoulder.

Sadie never could say why she lost her mind, but it abandoned her and made her forget about her mother, her baby, her brothers, the kindness of Miss Olivia, and even the memory of her daddy. All that was left in her was nothing but hate.

Malcolm was in the center of the street when she started the rumbling engine and put the truck in gear. Before she knew it, the wheels were rolling, and she was pressing hard on the accelerator. The engine revved. The next thing she knew, she was screaming as his body came at her fast. The grille caught him in the midsection and carried him over the hood of her truck. His body rolled off to the side and hit the dirt road hard.

Her heart racing, the surge of satisfaction quickly burned up under the glare of reality. In one blink, she had ruined her life and her child’s.

Her belly tightened, and her breathing quickened as she stopped the truck and looked back. Malcolm was lying in the street. His hat had landed on the sidewalk, and he was missing a shoe. His body was still. Mr. Sullivan knelt over him and then looked toward Sadie, as if he did not know her at all. Which, she supposed, he did not, because she sure did not recognize herself.

“Sadie, what have you done?” Mr. Sullivan shouted.

She turned and gently pressed on the gas. The truck sputtered down the street like it did not have a care in the world.

CHAPTER THIRTY

LIBBY

Tuesday, August 4, 2020

Bluestone, Virginia

Libby turned to the first page in Olivia’s journal and studied the face of the woman who was her great-grandmother. She traced her bright smile and tried to imagine her as an older woman sitting down and writing the letter to her. She could see now that the handwriting of the journal and letter matched. Clear, precise, it was a kind of old-world penmanship that had lost favor with the modern world.

After grabbing another handful of crackers, she ate several, wondering if she would feel this way for the remainder of her pregnancy. “If it means you make it into the world, spud, then I’ll do it.”

Libby stared at the young girl standing beside Olivia. Sadie Thompson. Elaine had said she hoped reading this journal would help Libby understand Olivia better. “The woman obviously loved plants but could also draw incredibly well. The journal mentioned the hire of a local girl to assist.”

Libby kept staring at young Sadie’s face. If the woman were still alive, she would be in her nineties. She closed the journal, and, after grabbing her car keys and a handful of crackers, she drove to Woodmont. Margaret was well into her seventies, and if there was someone who might have heard about the Thompson family, she would have.

She nibbled as she drove. Opening the car window, she breathed in the warm, humid air, willing it to chase away the nausea. As tempted as she was to ask Ginger for something to help with it, she did not want to risk anything that might impact the spud.

When she pulled into Woodmont’s long driveway, she was glad that Colton’s car was not there. Now was not the time to get into a discussion about her pregnancy or how she was feeling. Anything scraping the surface of emotion or commitment would have to wait.

She parked around back and was glad to see Margaret’s car. After grabbing the journal, she climbed the steps and knocked on the back door.

“Come on in!” Margaret shouted.

She pushed into the kitchen and found Margaret serving peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches to Jeff and Sam. For a moment she hesitated, not wanting to intrude.

“Hey, guys,” she said, smiling.

“Libby!” Jeff shouted.

“We’re eating lunch.” Sam sported a milk mustache.

“I can see that.” She set her purse and the journal on the table and eyed the sandwiches. For whatever reason, the idea of a PB&J sounded really good.

“I got plenty,” Margaret said. “Take one or two.”

“You would be a lifesaver.” Libby wondered if Colton had told his mother about the pregnancy.

Margaret set a sandwich before her. “What brings you out here? Elaine has taken Lofton back to Washington, and Colton is not here.”

“I came to see you, as a matter of fact.” She bit into the white bread, which meshed with the smooth peanut butter and grape jelly in a soft gooey mess that was the best thing this side of heaven. To her surprise, her stomach did not protest as she took another bite and then another.

“What can I do for you?” Margaret asked.

Libby set down the few remaining pieces of crust and wiped her fingers before she opened the journal. “Elaine loaned me Olivia’s journal.”

Margaret rested her hands on her hips. “Okay.”

The older woman did not look surprised, but then Margaret always played her cards close to her vest. She had been working at Woodmont when Elaine was pregnant, and she had guarded the secret closely.

Libby glanced at the boys, who were still preoccupied with their sandwiches. “You already know about Elaine and me?”

Margaret arched a brow and then nodded slowly. “I’ve known about your connection for a long time.”

“How long?” Libby asked.

“About as far back as it goes,” she said carefully.

“And my father.” Libby was now aware that the boys were quiet and staring.

“That too,” Margaret said.