31

PERLA LAY IN BED staring up at the ceiling. She was wearing her favorite, somewhat threadbare nightgown that felt so soft against her skin. She laced her fingers across her belly and thought about what joy Will and Laura’s announcement brought to them all.

Unlike her own pregnancy all those years ago. She remembered the night she went to Sonny—Arthur—as if it were yesterday. It was not long after he’d confided to her about his wife. She’d been so heartbroken for him, and somehow knowing he was beyond her reach had finally allowed her to admit she loved him. She supposed the hopelessness of the situation left her feeling as though she had nothing to lose.

At dinner that fateful evening, Arthur was quiet with none of his usual joking. Imogene noticed something amiss, but he brushed it off, said he was nothing worse than tired. Perla followed him out onto the porch when he headed out to his room in the barn that evening.

“I wish I could do something to help,” she said.

Arthur smiled like an old man who knew it was too late for him to change the trajectory of his life. “You do help. Having you as my friend helps more than you could know.” He reached out and touched her cheek.

Even now Perla could feel the electricity of his touch. She’d never experienced anything like it before that night. He seemed to notice it too, because he pulled his hand back and pushed it into his pocket.

“Some things can’t be helped,” he said before walking out to the barn.

Perla went to bed, but more than an hour later she still lay awake, restless and uneasy. She wanted something she couldn’t define—not as young and innocent as she was—but it chafed at her and rubbed her senses raw. Finally she climbed out of bed and slipped outside into the cool night air.

A light burned through the cracks in the barn. Perla crept across the barnyard, pebbles and twigs digging into the bottoms of her bare feet. She paused at the door, open just enough for her to see Arthur sitting on the edge of his cot, head in his hands. She stretched out her own hand and felt the rough wood. She hesitated, then pushed against the door.

Arthur’s head jerked up. His eyes were dark, almost liquid in the faint light from a lantern. He stood and cleared his throat.

“Perla.” Her name was thick on his tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t stop thinking about how hard this must be for you.” She ducked her head. “I can’t stop wishing I could help.”

Arthur lifted a hand, then let it drop. “You can’t. And you oughtn’t to be out here in the night like this.”

Perla raised her chin. She could feel the cool air slipping under the hem of her nightgown. “It doesn’t matter. You’re my friend and I care about you.” She stepped inside and eased the door closed behind her.

Arthur looked stricken in that moment, but when she reached out to touch his cheek, he groaned and pulled her into his arms. Perla had never known such forbidden bliss.

Of course, as soon as it was over, she realized she’d never known such guilt and pain, but she determined to hide her agony from Arthur. He was ashamed enough all on his own. She’d kept her chin up and thought she’d fooled Imogene. Although now that Perla was a grandmother and soon to be a great-grandmother, she wondered. Imogene had probably seen right through her.

Perla rolled to her side and curled her knees. She could pull the right one up more easily now and she was grateful for that. She was also grateful Sadie and Ella knew the worst of her story. She lost her innocence to a married man, and although God had forgiven her a long time ago, she finally felt that Sadie had as well. It was a good feeling.

“Ta-da,” Ella crowed. Gran and Aunt Sadie looked up from the movie they were watching. “My Appalachian Blessings quilt series is done.”

“That’s lovely. Now what do you do with them?” Sadie asked.

“Sylvia plans to do a show along with another quilt artist she represents.” Ella stood back to study the last piece in the series. “I should probably go, but I never did enjoy those things. Makes me feel funny to see all my work displayed like that for people to pore over. I always feel like the flaws are suddenly really obvious.”

“I wouldn’t mind going to a show. How about you, Mother?”

“I’d . . . love to.” Gran thought a moment. “Where?”

“At Tamarack in Beckley. The opening reception is Saturday afternoon.”

“A date,” Gran said, clapping her hands.

The drive to Tamarack passed in a whirl of talk and laughter. Gran’s ability to speak improved daily, and she seemed livelier than she had in a long time. Ella didn’t even have a chance to feel nervous about her work being on display. They parked and walked into the circular building with its odd, spiky roofline.

Once inside, Ella felt the butterflies take flight. Gran, who still used a walker, reached over and squeezed her hand as though she understood. They walked past several display areas with jewelry, fine furniture, and gorgeous scarves before they came to the art gallery. Ella wished they could cruise on by and get some ice cream, but she took a deep breath and turned in at the door.

Her Appalachian Blessings series graced the wall to her left. There were five pieces, and at first glance Ella thought maybe they looked okay. Maybe they even looked pretty great. Sylvia swooped down on her before she could zoom in on any flaws.

“You came,” she squealed. “I might have been willing to put cash money on you not showing, but gambling has never been one of my vices.” She hugged Ella and kissed her cheek, then gave Gran and Sadie hugs. “Reinforcements—good plan.”

Sylvia hooked her arm through Ella’s and walked her over to the first quilt piece, a white church on a hill surrounded by a grapes-and-vines border that did seem to rustle in an imaginary breeze, thanks to Aunt Sadie’s help. Ella smiled. This might be her favorite. She had half a mind to give it to Gran.

Sylvia released Ella and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. She slipped a Sold sign into the slot displaying what Ella thought was a ridiculous price.

“It sold? But the show only just opened.” Ella felt a moment of panic. She wasn’t certain she wanted to let this piece go after all.

“Sweetie, they’ve all sold. We’re thirty minutes into the show and they were gone within the first ten. This could make your career.” Sylvia made a sweeping gesture at the hangings and the crowd admiring them. “You keep producing like this and we’re going to have to increase prices significantly.”

Ella swallowed. She was already a little uncomfortable with the prices they’d been charging. She didn’t need to charge more. She wasn’t sure she wanted the attention her work seemed to be bringing.

Sylvia patted her on the arm. “I can see you’re overwhelmed. You and your family enjoy the show. Several other artists have items on display.” She cocked her head at Ella and gave her a half smile. “You’re talented, my dear. You might want to get used to people appreciating it.”

The three women circled the room, admiring some oil paintings on the far wall, pottery displayed on stands in the middle of the room, and finally a series of duck decoys that looked like they might startle and fly at any moment.

Ella glanced at the price on one of the decoys and gasped. “If I start thinking too much of my art, all I have to do is compare myself to this guy. No way will I ever be able to charge that kind of money.”

“You never know,” said Sadie, peering at the tag. “Hmmm, we know this name.”

Ella looked at the placard. Seth Markley, Hinton, WV. She jerked her head up and searched the room. There, in a far corner, leaning against the wall, Seth looked back at her, his eyes inscrutable. Ella sort of half waved at him. He peeled away from the wall and walked over to them.

“I didn’t know you were an artist.” Ella hoped that didn’t sound rude. She thought it might have sounded rude.

“Never really thought of myself as an artist. I just like to carve things and decoys have a practical use, so . . .”

“Do people actually put these in the water?” Ella looked back at a carving labeled WOOD DUCK. She wanted to reach out and stroke the feathers, which looked so soft and real.

“They could, but I guess most people buy them to look at. I make them to be used, but sometimes your intent doesn’t matter. People will do what they want no matter what you intend.” He smiled and picked the decoy up. “Go ahead—touch it.”

Ella stroked the tail feathers with a tentative finger. While it wasn’t soft, it did have surprising texture and curves that drew her finger along. “It’s beautiful.”

Seth’s face turned rough. “Thanks.”

Ella realized Gran and Sadie had drifted off to look at a painting. She almost panicked, although she couldn’t say why. Maybe because she now knew Seth was an artist, which made him more attractive and more intimidating all at once. They stood looking at the decoys, an uncomfortable silence building. Finally, Seth cleared his throat.

“Do you hate these things as much as I do?”

“More,” said Ella.

“C’mon, they’ve got bad food in the next room, then we can go shopping.”

“Shopping?” Ella knit her brow and looked around the gallery. She guessed she could afford a piece of art now that she knew all her quilt hangings had sold. Though not a decoy—she wasn’t doing that well.

“Not in here, out there.” Seth pointed to the retail area outside. “I’m thinking you need one of those coal figurines shaped like the state or maybe a black bear.”

Ella laughed and started to say she couldn’t since she was here with Gran and Aunt Sadie, but she spied them chatting with Sylvia, who caught her eye and made a go-on motion. So Ella did.

Seth walked Ella, Gran, and Sadie to their car an hour later. He’d offered to buy them dinner, and as tempted as Ella was, she knew Gran had to be tired. Seth opened Ella’s door and shut it behind her with a heavy click. She lowered the window.

He leaned in, looking at her. “What would you say to a tour of the hunting preserve now that Keith’s wrapped up the last details? We can go tomorrow afternoon when no one’s hunting.”

Ella wasn’t sure if he was asking her out or just being nice. “Sure, I’d like that. Now that I know Keith’s not the enemy.” She laughed to let Seth know she was joking.

“No, Keith was never the enemy,” Seth said. “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

Ella smiled, though she wasn’t entirely sure what Seth meant. He arranged to pick her up the next day and slapped the top of the car as Ella started the engine and pulled out of the lot.

Gran sat in the passenger seat, grinning like a possum. “I like that young man.”

Ella sighed. “He is pretty great. So what did you think of the pottery?”

She steered the conversation toward anything but Seth, and thankfully her aunt and grandmother let her. But as she drove, she imagined she could feel the weight of the handblown glass kiss Seth had bought and tucked in her pocket with a wink. Maybe he did like her. Maybe it was time she let him know she liked him.

Sadie cleared her throat, interrupting Ella’s thoughts. “I found Arthur Morgan.”

Ella felt her grandmother go still in the passenger seat.

Sadie leaned forward and settled a hand on Gran’s shoulder. “I found some information about him online.”

Gran didn’t speak, but Ella, glancing at her aunt in the rearview mirror, couldn’t contain herself. “Tell us about him.”

“He owns Tug River Natural Resources, a company involved in mining, natural gas, and timber. It would appear he’s done quite well for himself. There’s very little biographical information about him on the company website, but there is an old photograph, and one of the senior executives looks a lot like Arthur. His name is Christopher Morgan.”

Gran squeaked. Ella darted a look at her.

“Yes,” Sadie continued. “I feel confident he’s my half brother—quite possibly named for you, Mother.”

Then it clicked in Ella’s mind. Gran’s middle name was Christine.

Gran closed her eyes, and Ella could tell she was searching for words. “Will you . . . seek him?”

Sadie eased back into her seat. “I’ve thought about that a great deal. I found this information a few weeks ago, but chose not to share it until I’d decided what to do.”

Ella held her breath and suspected Gran was doing the same.

“I’ve decided not to contact him. At least not now. Seeing his photograph—knowing where he is—it’s enough for the moment.” She laughed softly. “He’s lost almost all his hair—likely has since that picture was taken. I think it might have been the color of mine. I suspect my brother will lose his, as well. I wonder if he minds.”

Ella glanced in the rearview mirror again. Sadie looked wistful and reached forward to squeeze Gran’s shoulder once more. “I even discovered a write-up in a company newsletter about how everyone in the organization is expected to pass an annual physical. As proof that not even the owner is exempt, they published Arthur’s vitals. It would seem I come from healthy stock on the paternal side.” Sadie sat silent a moment. “Mother, you and Papa have been enough for me, and I feel strangely . . . at peace. I feel as though I can rest in the knowing and be satisfied with that.”

A tear trickled from Gran’s eye and she nodded. “Yes, peace.”