Elaine looked in the mirror, wondering how Libby would accept the truth. When her own parents had died and her world had turned upside down, she had been so angry. It had taken her years to let go. Libby too had that fire in her eyes.

“You need to tell her everything,” Ted said.

“I want her to get to know us a little bit before I tell her the entire unvarnished truth. One bombshell at a time.”

There was a long pause. “Don’t wait too long, Elaine.”

“I won’t.” Her stomach twisted in knots, and she wondered how she would find the right words under these circumstances.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she said warmly.

“It will be okay.”

“I hope so.”

She hung up and stared into her mirror for a long time. Ted was optimistic by nature, and she loved that about him. But sometimes life simply did not work out as planned.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SADIE

Saturday, October 3, 1942

Bluestone, Virginia

Sadie tried to pretend that night months ago in Malcolm’s car never happened. It was easy enough during the days when she was busy doing piecework involving sewing dresses and mending torn sleeves. Or even pulling weeds in the garden and then canning. She always kept busy to quiet her mind.

In the evenings, she and her mother listened to the radio, paying close attention to the news on the war. Johnny had left Norfolk, Virginia, on a transport ship in early September, and it had taken two weeks to cross the Atlantic. He said he had never heard about seasickness but sure was an expert now.

He was in southern England and was living in a camp full of soldiers. He said he’d been lucky to get a tent that he split with three other men. They shared a small heater, which came in handy, as England was normally wet and chilly.

Johnny had worked on the heavy bombers, repairing the damage inflicted by German Luftwaffe and flak from antiaircraft guns. He counted planes each morning as they took off with a crew of ten men and flew south. They were bombing enemy targets mostly within occupied France. He always made it a point to count them as they returned. Most days, half the planes did not return.

More and more boys from the valley had signed up for the army and had left town. The war brought more piecework, as boys preparing to ship overseas needed uniforms hemmed, waistbands taken in, and rank sewn on. Each time Sadie got a uniform to work on, she thought about Johnny.

Sadie read Johnny’s letters over and over to her mother, and as she did, her mother’s needle would stop sliding in and out of the fabric while she listened. Her mother hoarded each word as if it were gold and never tired of hearing what Johnny had said. There was still no word from Danny, but there had also been no telegram from the army saying he was dead or missing.

There had been no contact from Olivia Carter and, more importantly, no word from the sheriff. She thought about Olivia a lot, knowing she was hurting over the loss of her child. Sadie understood that dropping by Woodmont was not an option, but she had hoped to see her when in town buying supplies.

Sadie was nurturing that hope as she parked the old truck in front of the mercantile store and carried in a crate of tomatoes. This was the last of the season and the best she had to offer. The last of the bruised and overripe tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash would all be canned in the coming days.

She passed by a truck and noticed a young woman was sitting inside. As Sadie hefted her crate and shifted the weight off a splinter digging into her palm, she looked at the woman. Bright, wild green eyes that all but overtook the small pale face stared at her. Sadie paused and returned the woman’s gaze, realizing suddenly she was the girl from the hospital in Lynchburg.

Sadie’s heart beat faster as she took a step closer to the truck. She had thought a lot about this girl over the last few months, wondering if she had survived whatever had happened in that place.

As she drew closer, the woman folded her arms over her chest. She made no attempt to roll up the window, and when Sadie was within a couple of feet, the woman looked down. She was shaking her head and fidgeting, like the underside of her skin was crawling with ants.

Sadie stopped and took a step back, hoping the woman would realize she was no threat. But the woman never looked back at her. “My name’s Sadie,” she said. “What’s your name?”

Gaze still anchored on her lap, the woman did not speak.

“Can I offer you some ripe tomatoes? I got a few extras I’d be glad to share.”

The woman looked up at her with a sadness that felt as deep as the caves that burrowed into the mountains. She slowly shook her head and then looked away.

Finally, Sadie turned toward the store and, balancing her crate on her knee, opened the door. Bells rang overhead as she stepped inside the store. Mr. Sullivan was behind the counter, boxing up an order for a tall, broad-shouldered man. Thankfully, there was no sign of Ruth.

She settled her crate on the end of the counter and glanced around the countertop for an old magazine. There was a Harper’s Bazaar that dated back two years, but that did not dampen her excitement.

“That will be two dollars, Mr. Black,” Mr. Sullivan said.

The man fished change and a crumpled bill from his pocket and carefully counted it out. She recognized him from the hospital. He had been dragging that girl toward the front entrance.

“Mr. Black, my name is Sadie. Is that your daughter in the truck?” Sadie asked.

Black did not spare her a glance. “What of it?”

“I just said hello to her. She seems nice.” That was not exactly what she meant, but she did not think she would win any points with a stranger by saying his daughter looked lost and sad.

“Stay away from my Sally.” He scooped up his purchases. “The last thing she needs is a friend like you.”

Sadie waffled between retreating and fighting. “You don’t know me.”

“I know your type.”

As Mr. Black turned around, he regarded Sadie. His gaze hesitated, as if he might know her. He shook his head and strode out of the store.

“I’m trying to recall where Mr. Black lives in the valley,” Sadie said to Mr. Sullivan.

“About ten miles from here. He doesn’t come into town that often.”

“I’ve never seen his daughter before.” She glanced at a page in the magazine, as if she were just making conversation.

“I don’t think I’ve seen her since she was a little girl. Pretty little thing but simpleminded.”

Did that explain the odd look in the girl’s eyes? “She doesn’t look much older than me, but I never saw her in school.”

“She never went to school. No point, I suppose.”

Sadie was smart enough to realize that whatever was happening in the hospital was not good. “She looked smart enough to me.”

Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “Did you come in here to gossip about the Black family or sell me tomatoes?”

“I came to sell tomatoes.”

Mr. Sullivan reached under the counter and set a stack of older magazines on the counter. “These are for you.”

“Me? When did you start giving me magazines?”

“They are from Olivia Carter. She was in the other day and left them for you.”

Sadie smoothed her hand over the magazines, catching a hint of Miss Olivia’s perfume. “She left these for me?”