Page 17 of Unforgiven

Lowering his voice, he continued. “Maybe so much, you start to believe you have the right to do whatever you want and be forgiven. Like maybe your sins aren’t all that bad. You might even convince yourself that twenty-four months ain’t a real long time to be behind bars.” His jaw hardened as he averted his eyes. “But it is. Three days feels like a long time. And even those first three hours feel too long.”

It was taking everything Lott had to not tremble. “Is all this talk because you don’t want me around Melonie?”

“It’s one of the reasons. My sister might not want to listen to me and she might never want to believe a thing I say. But she’s precious to me, and I don’t want her to get hurt.” His eyes turned to ice. “If I begin to think that you’re doing anything less than respecting her the way she deserves, I’m going to step in. And then I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that she’s free of you.”

Lott swallowed. “That sounds like a threat.”

“You’re wrong, boy. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. You’d best not forget that.”

• • • •

Later, long after Seth Zimmerman left, Lott’s parents grilled him about their conversation. Then Bethanne came downstairs, they had supper, and Lott did his chores in the barn. After that, he lay in bed and thought about Melonie and her parents and how they didn’t like having much to do with Seth. He remembered the man’s voice and the pain in his eyes. Finally, he thought about his own family. The way his mother greeted Seth. The fact that Elias had asked Seth to come over.

A dark feeling grabbed ahold of Lott and pulled hard. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, he was afraid that some of what Seth had warned him about did have merit. Maybe he had taken a wrong turn. Maybe he had been thinking about and attempting to do some things that he shouldn’t. And maybe Seth had been right that some of what he’d been doing did have consequences.

He wasn’t anxious to discover what those were.

7

After a bout of nightmares, Tabitha had woken up to the season’s first frost. It was a cloudy, dreary day and the wind was blowing. October was already hinting that their winter was going to be a long one.

The wool shawl she wrapped around her shoulders felt like tissue paper as she hurried to the barn to milk the cow and feed the chickens. She worked as efficiently as she could so they could go back to sleep. Bessie the cow seemed particularly pleased when Tabitha closed the barn door again.

Back in the house, she washed the eggs and put the milk into a Mason jar in the refrigerator to allow the cream to rise. She’d skim the top and separate the cream later and then eventually make yogurt and butter.

When everything was clean and neat again, she finally poured her first cup of coffee of the day. The fire she’d lit in the fireplace before she’d gone to the barn provided a welcome warmth to the living room, and after retrieving another blanket from the closet, she wrapped it over her legs and took a sip of the warm drink.

It was impossible to not take a moment to give thanks for her blessings, as she did each morning. She had so many things to be grateful for these days—the house, her animals, the money her crafts brought in that enabled her to live without too many financial worries. But most of all, she gave thanks for peace.

There had been so many mornings when Leon had woken up in a mood and taken it out on her before the sun had completely risen. He’d been so cruel, and that cruelty had transformed her life. She’d become a person she hadn’t known she could be, someone who was timid and nervous and desperate.

Tabitha was sure that if Mia Rothaker hadn’t visited her in the hospital and assured her that she could leave Leon and still be safe, she would’ve never left him. Leon’s rages had gotten worse and worse. She would’ve been dead now.

As it was, she would carry the scars from his last beating for the rest of her life.

As dark thoughts filled her again, Tabitha had to admit that she would’ve done anything to find her freedom. Even things that she knew were wrong. She should be ashamed about that, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be. When fear ran rampant in a person’s life, it overtook most everything else.

Her lawyer had assured her that such a thing was natural. Mia had sat Tabitha down with a counselor friend of hers and talked her through something called Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. According to that, one’s body and brain sought food and water and safety before many other things. Even before something as basic as shelter. And that desire to live free of pain was so strong that a person could develop the strength and the will to fight or flee or even do things one wouldn’t have thought possible in “normal” circumstances.

Tabitha had listened to the counselor’s words with a combination of confusion and hope. All that had been laced with a hefty addition of renewed faith. She’d prayed for so long for Leon to get better. Or for her to be safe and to shield her baby from harm. When she’d lost the baby, her faith had wavered . . . but then she had gotten stronger and left Leon.

When she’d been released from the hospital, she’d been taken to a safe house in the middle of the night. Jeanie and Marv, the folks who had run the house, had been godsends. They’d let her heal and rest for several weeks. Little by little, she’d begun to feel more like herself.

The worst day of her life had enabled her to have many more days of life. That didn’t mean she lived without worry. But it did mean that she could wake up without the gnawing sense of dread that had been a constant presence during her marriage.

Perhaps that was why she might be wary around Seth but she didn’t automatically assume that he was a horrible person. All sorts of things could make someone do something unexpected.

Even something most people found unforgivable.

A scratching at her front door brought her to her feet. Carefully she went to the door and peeked out through the peephole. No one was there. But then the noise came again, and she hurried to a window and looked out.

That’s when she saw the dog. A skinny thing with matted blond fur and brown eyes. And soaked from the morning’s storm.

After grabbing a towel from the closet, Tabitha pulled open the door. The animal flinched in response but didn’t move. He shivered, looking at her but too afraid to approach, and she felt a fresh burst of pity flow through her.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know how you’re feeling. I really do.”

The dog stared up at her, silently beseeching.

---