“Pregnant,” Libby said.

“Really?” Elaine’s face lit up with excitement.

“Don’t do that around me,” Libby said. “It’s way too soon; trust me.”

Elaine gently took her hand in hers. “Can I get a little excited if I promise not to show it?”

“Okay, but that goes for Colton and Ginger too. No victory dances.” She cleared her throat and sat up, doing her best to ignore their terribly hidden goofy expressions. “How is Lofton?”

“Going to have one hell of a hangover,” Elaine said. “Which serves her right.”

“She’s worried that you don’t love her,” Libby said. “She thinks I’ve replaced her.”

“You don’t replace one child with another,” Elaine said. “You already know that.”

Elaine was right. Even if this baby made it to term, she would never forget the three other children she had carried, loved, and lost. “You can’t give me Woodmont. She’s always wanted it.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Elaine countered. “If I gave her the property, she would lose interest because it’s not in her blood. She doesn’t see Woodmont the way we do. I love Lofton, but she has some growing up to do before she’s ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“Give her a break. It’s hard to see the world one way and then find out it’s not what you thought. She’ll grow up, and like me, she’ll realize Woodmont is home. Give her half ownership.”

Elaine regarded her. “I’ll give you fifty-one percent. And if you want to give her the one percent when she turns, say, fifty, then that’ll be your choice. Like it or not, you two are sisters, and you’ll have to work this out.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SADIE

Monday, March 15, 1943

Bluestone, Virginia

Sadie had given birth to her baby girl on Christmas Eve. The labor had lasted for hours, and there had been times she had thought the child would rip her in two. Her mother had wanted to send a neighbor for the doctor, but Sadie had begged her to stay. The last person she had wanted to help her was Dr. Carter.

When the six-pounder finally ripped from her body, she tumbled out in a wash of blood onto the mattress. She was scrawny and wrinkled, and her lips had a bluish tinge. Sadie’s mother wiped the baby’s face and body clean and swaddled her in a tiny blanket. She had moved to lay the baby in her daughter’s arms, but Sadie had not been able to bear to look at the child.

It was going on twelve weeks now since her birth, and Sadie was struggling to care for the child. Miss Olivia had come by weekly with cans of milk and beans, but they had not seen her for the last two weeks. Sadie’s mother had taken to feeding the baby, and despite Sadie’s distress, the little girl was growing like a weed.

Sadie sat in the truck outside the mercantile store with three jars of moonshine left from her stash, hoping Mr. Sullivan would be willing to trade for canned milk and Karo syrup. Come summer, like it or not, she would have to fire up the still and start making deliveries again. The sheriff would be watching, but it did not matter. She needed the money.

She climbed out of the truck, wrapping her frayed coat tight around her body, which had filled out a good bit since the baby. She crossed the street with a cold breeze snapping at her as she entered the shop. It had been six months since she’d last frequented the store, and she hoped today’s visit would raise her spirits.

She started moving toward the front counter but held back as Mr. Sullivan finished an order for the preacher’s wife. Sadie ducked her head and pretended to study a can of beans as the woman chatted about the Sunday service and the songs the choir was going to sing.

When she passed by, she paused. “Sadie Thompson, is that you I see lurking around?”

Sadie set the can of beans down. “Yes, Mrs. Morgan.”

“We haven’t seen you in services since before Thanksgiving. Your mother said you were ailing.”

“I’m on the mend now.”

The woman eyed a figure that surely was fuller and rounder than it had been. “Good. Hope to see you in church this week.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hiding at home was no longer an option, and soon folks would figure out there was a baby in her mother’s house.

As the woman left, Sadie approached the front counter. “Morning, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Sadie, where have you been these days?”

“Like I told Mrs. Morgan, I was ailing.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.” She reached in her pockets and pulled out a jar of moonshine. “I was hoping to make a trade. Canned milk and syrup for a couple of these.”

“What do you need the milk for?”

“Seems to be the only thing that settles my stomach these days.”

His frown deepened. “Have you seen Dr. Carter?”

“No need for that; the worst of it is over.” Which was a big fat lie.

“I might be able to sell a few jars,” he said.

“Sheriff Boyd don’t know about this, so I’d be careful.”

“I can find my way around Sheriff Boyd.”

Smiling, Sadie set the jars on the counter. “I figure that’ll do me for seven or eight cans of milk and syrup.”

Mr. Sullivan set the jars behind the counter but did not regard her with his usual frown. Instead his expression softened just a bit. “Have you heard from your brothers?”

“Johnny writes often. Danny did send a letter saying he was in Italy. But not much more than that.”

“War’s bad,” he said, more to himself.

“Yes, sir.”

It did not take long before the order was boxed. She offered her thanks and left the store. As she crossed the street, the sunlight caught the shiny metal of a black roadster. Her belly tightened, and for a moment she did not move as she stared at the car. Memories from last spring flooded through her mind, and she thought for a moment she might get sick.

The front door opened, and Malcolm stepped out. Still looking innocent and fresh faced like Mickey Rooney, he settled his hat on his head and turned her way. The instant their gazes tangled, he paused. His eyes narrowed, and then he grinned.

“I didn’t recognize you right off,” Malcolm said.

Sadie tightened her grip on the box of canned goods. “I recognized your car right off.”

He looked back, a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. “It does hold fond memories, doesn’t it?”

Sidestepping the comment, she asked, “What are you doing in town?”

“My cousin and his wife invited me. Olivia has been after me for months to visit, but frankly there was always something more appealing to do.”

“That so?”

He leaned closer. “Now that I see you, I think this weekend might not be as boring as I thought. If you still have that green dress, we could find something fun to do.”

“I burned that dress.”

He stilled. “That’s a crazy thing to do.”

“Seeing as what you did to me while I was wearing it, it wasn’t crazy at all.”

The smile in his gaze dimmed. “I didn’t do anything to you.”