Page 60 of Protecting Her Secrets

“Skylar? What a pretty name.” Luther takes one of her hands in both of his, his wrinkled and watery eyes sparkling.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Walker talks so much about you.”

I look down proudly at my wife and bring her back to my side. She looks beautiful in a long denim skirt with a slit up the center that goes to mid-thigh. She paired it with a black, long-sleeve shirt that fits tight to her body and has a square neck. It’s sexy without being overt. There must’ve been hair products in her bag as well because her damp curls are perfect tight ringlets instead of the wild mane she has had since she got here.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. Feels good to have a change of clothes.”

“Were you not planning on staying, dear?” Martha makes herself at home, making a pot of coffee while Luther sits on a bar stool at the island.

“I need to talk to you two about that. Let’s get that coffee served, and then I can catch you up,” I say.

“Walker,” Skylar protests, no doubt wanting to keep the situation private, but that’s not how small mountain towns work. It’s hard living in a remote area with limited resources, so we stick together. It can be annoying at times, but I’ve learned to take it for what it is—love.

“It’s all good, sweetheart.” I release her and pull out the sugar and powdered cream I have left, since I threw a temper tantrum at the store and never did get the produce and dairy I needed. Remembering I have a loaf of sourdough, I get that out and my last jar of jam from this past summer.

If Skylar was surprised I make bread, I can’t imagine what she’ll do when she finds out I like to can and make jams. Is that something she’ll help me with this year? Will she find it as relaxing as I do? Or will she find it boring? Our life in Bakersfield consisted of hanging out on the river or going to bars, movies, and restaurants. I can’t imagine that changed much for her after I left. Now, all I can offer her is baking, gardening, hiking, and, in the summer, when all our chores are done, a trip to one of the many lakes around here.

Is that enough excitement for her?

“Is that from Mardough, Walker?” Miss Martha asks.

“You know about his sourdough starter?” Skylar asks.

“Mardough is the son of my starter, Herculyeast.”

Skylar laughs and helps me carry everything to the living room. Curiosity is evident on my pseudo-grandparents’ faces as we settle in. I’ve been nothing if not boring and predictable since we met, and I can imagine this is making them uneasy, but they need to know trouble might be coming. With them being myclosest neighbors, they’ll be part of one of our exit plans, but only as a last resort. It’d kill me if something bad happened to them over this.

“Well, the anticipation has been properly built up, so why don’t you tell us what’s going on?” Luther rests his forearms on his thighs, ready to dig into whatever problems need to be fixed.

It kills me to watch Skylar retreat into herself as I speak, and even when I give her the opening to tell her own story, she doesn’t take it. Instead, she stares down at her cup of coffee.

“Excuse me, son. I need to interrupt you for a second,” Martha says, stopping me from finishing, but I was near the end anyway. Not even the interruption grabs Sky’s attention, but Martha’s words do. “Look at me, sweet girl. Now I want you to hear me and hear me good: do not be embarrassed by any of this. You are a survivor.”

“I should’ve left a long time ago.”

“Wrong. That man made you believe you had no choices. He broke you down until you didn’t believe you deserved any better. That’s not on you; that’s on him.” She grabs my hand. “But you’re one of the lucky ones. You found a man who sees you for the shining star you are and who will keep lifting you up until you believe it yourself.”

“I am lucky.” She gives me a small smile.

“Our stories aren’t much different. From the outside, I was—what do you kids call it? Oh yeah, a boss babe.” She smiles, doing a little shoulder shake that has us all chuckling. “But at home, I was married to a man who treated me like I was nothing. He sucked away all my value until I felt like a shell of a human. I knew it was wrong, and I had no intention of meeting up with anyone in person. But I was desperate for a few kind words, maybe someone to secretly share my hopes and fears with, so I joined a dating website and met Luther. He slowly chipped away at my outer shell until he learned the truth.”

Luther nods. “The second she told me what her loser husband was like, I bought her a plane ticket and a fishing rod. She used the plane ticket, but the rod is still hanging in the garage.”

“I gladly accepted small-town life, but I still do not want to touch worms and sit on a boat for hours.” She rolls her eyes before turning back to Sky. “It took a month of planning to get out here because I had to hire a lawyer and put in my notice at work, all without him finding out. Then, one day, instead of going to work, I left divorce papers on the table, packed two suitcases, and used that plane ticket. So when I say I understand, I really understand. But you have to let go of all that guilt, baby. You made it out.”

Skylar scoots over on the sofa and curls into me. “You’re right. I made it out.”

Luther steps in. “Now, I know what’s happening is scary, but Walker did the right thing. Culver Springs takes care of its own, and since you’re Walker’s wife and our newest resident, you’re part of that. By the end of the day, everyone will know your story and will be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And no one will think any differently of you. This town has been known to take in more than one person down on their luck and needing a helping hand,” Martha says.

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. He might give up on me someday, but if he ever found out about the baby. . .”

That gets Miss Martha’s attention. “You’re pregnant with his baby?”

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