Mrs. Talbott was right about one thing. People love gossip more than truth. Even if the Reverend believes me, half the town won't. Maybe not at first, but truth has a way of winning out eventually.
Lena wanted to believe that. Wanted to think justice and truth mattered more than lies and gossip, but experience had taught her otherwise. Before she could respond, Ruthie appeared in the doorway. Pa, Miss Lena, there's someone coming up the road. Jonas stood, his expression shifting to something wary.
Expecting anyone? No. They moved to the yard as a horse and rider came into view. The man was middle-aged, dressed in a fine suit that marked him as someone from the city, not a local farmer. He dismounted with practiced ease, tying his horse to the fence post.
Mr. Hale. His accent was refined, educated. My name is Reed Mercer. I'm looking for a woman named Lena Crowell.
I was told she might be here. Every muscle in Lena's body turned to ice. Reed. Reed Mercer. The name from her nightmares, the man she'd spent two years running from.
Jonas must have seen something in her face because he stepped slightly in front of her, a subtle but protective gesture. Who's asking? Reed's smile was pleasant, practiced. I'm a business associate of Miss Crowell's late husband. I heard she was in the area and wanted to pay my respects, see how she's faring.
It was a lie. Every word a lie wrapped in civilized courtesy. I'm faring well, Mr. Mercer, Lena said, forcing her voice steady. Thank you for your concern.
Now, if you'll excuse us, Surely you can spare a few moments for an old friend. Reed's eyes, cold, calculating eyes that had never anything resembling friendship, fixed on her. It's been so long, Lena. I've been worried about you. I don't recall us being friends.
Lena's hands were shaking. She clasped them behind her back so he wouldn't see. Now, now, no need to be hostile. I simply want to talk. Reed glanced at Jonas.
Perhaps somewhere private? Anything you have to say can be said right here, Jonas said flatly. Reed's pleasant expression flickered, revealing something harder underneath. Mr. Hale, I appreciate your hospitality to Miss Crowell, but this is a private matter between old acquaintances.
She's not going anywhere with you. I wasn't aware Miss Crowell needed a keeper. Reed's tone sharpened. Or has she misrepresented her situation to you as well? It seems to be a pattern with her.