“Just like his father. Abel. Don’t let those uncles of Gray’s make you think differently. Knew Gray’s granddad, knew Miriam, so don’t know where Olly, Frank and Charlie got their brand of ornery. Miriam could be ornery but not like that. All the Codys could be wild but when they settled, they settled and that was it. Olly, Frank and Charlie are a mystery for the ages. Didn’t know, down under the surface of what they show everyone, it wasn’t all good and that no way would Miriam step out on her husband, I wouldn’t believe they were Codys.”

She was right about that.

“Abel, he was pure Cody,” she went on. “Fair. Patient. Controlled. But you threaten something or someone he loved, it’d rile him, rile him enough to take action. But he would not mete out unjustifiable justice no matter how angry he could be. See my son grew up like his father.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

She drew in breath then her eyes slid from mine to my ear and she announced, “Talked to Prisc.”

Oh God.

“What?” I asked.

Her eyes came back to mine and she repeated, “Talked to Prisc. Priscilla. She’s a friend of Cecily Sharp.”

“I know. I’ve kind of met her.”

“Good girl,” Eleanor said quietly but my back went straighter and I replied, “I disagree.”

Eleanor held my eyes for a long time and it was like she was psyching herself up and I would know why when she again spoke.

“I understand that, Ivey, but sometimes folks do stupid things for equally stupid reasons. That doesn’t mean they aren’t good people.”

Well I knew that was a fact. I’d had ten years of living it.

I fought against holding my breath but I did hold my tongue.

Eleanor didn’t.

“Don’t know you, what I do know of you, I know you’re a good gal. Know my son loves you. But I don’t know what he’s told you about me so I don’t know if you want to hear this and, even if you’re polite enough to let me to have my say if, once you hear it, you’ll care. Abel didn’t. Miriam didn’t. And Gray didn’t. Then again, they didn’t let me get close enough to share. Don’t know you but I’ll tell you what they never let me tell them.”

And with this preamble, she launched right in.

“Abel wanted children, not just a son, a passel of them. Before we got engaged, all through when we were engaged and after we got married, he talked about it all the time, filling the house with Codys. His brothers might be hard to take but he loved them. They grew up close, had good times, family times, brothers being wild and getting into trouble times. Six people in this house, I used to love coming here. My parents both died when I was young, raised by my aunt who never married so I never experienced anything like that. Those men and Miriam, way she was. It was loud, always something going on. Someone in trouble. Someone telling a joke. Someone laughing or fighting or up to something. Abel, he wanted that, he wanted to fill this house again with that. And me, well…” she hesitated and looked to the barn, “I couldn’t give it to him.”

Shit.

There you go.

Shit.

“Eleanor –” I started and her head turned back to me.

“Norrie,” she corrected me softly then continued. “Lost babies, again and again, lost them. You know that?”

I nodded.

She nodded after me.

Then she kept going.

“Each one, I felt it. I hope you never know, Ivey,” she leaned in, “but I felt it.”

I kept my peace. It was hard, she felt it and I felt her words but I kept my peace. And I did this because I sensed that was what she needed from me.

She leaned back, drew breath and went on.

“Abel felt it more. Hurt worse, can’t tell you how bad it hurt, right to my soul, to lose my babies then have to watch Abel trying to pretend he wasn’t hurting worse than me. Each one I lost, feeling that, watching that, having it settle in me, I asked myself what do I do? What do I do?”

She looked to the barn again and told me what she did that I already knew.

“I left. I thought, if I did, he’d find someone who wouldn’t give him that hurt but who would give him what he wanted most in this world.” Her voice dropped to a whisper when she finished, “I had no idea what that was, was me.”

Oh God.

I closed my eyes.

When she spoke again, I opened them to see hers on me.

“By the time I heard he hadn’t moved on, by the time I figured out I was for him what he was for me and he didn’t care he didn’t have a house full of sons and daughters, just as long as that house had me, it was too late. I came back, I stayed and I tried, but it was too late. I knew, that hurt he was feeling when I lost my babies, it was losing those babies but what I didn’t see was most of it was watching me lose them, knowing my hurt. I was too late understanding that too.”

When she didn’t speak for awhile and I knew she was done, I said gently, “I’m sorry, Norrie.”

“Me too, Ivey, me too.”

Yes, she was sorry. Very sorry.

God.

I nodded.

She again spoke.

“I told you that because I want you to know. What you do with it,” she shrugged, “up to you. I lost Gray with his father; I’ve come to terms with that. Wake up, every day, live with it and I don’t like it much but I made a stupid decision based on stupid reasons that were emotional and I lost my boy with my man. I also tell you that because I reckon there are reasons Prisc did the stupid things she did. But now, what’s gone down, she’s not liking what she’s feeling and she wants to do right. She couldn’t go to Gray or you, definitely not Miriam and probably not anyone else in Mustang. So she came to me.”

Here we go.

“And she told you?” I prompted.

Norrie didn’t hesitate. “She told me she lied about seeing you go off with your brother, she didn’t. She told me Cecily was the one who cleared out your stuff. She told me she, herself, had seen your note to Gray because Cecily showed it to her. And she told me that Cecily took all of it to Buddy and Cecily told her and Courtney that Buddy burned your note and tossed your stuff in the garbage.”

I figured this and now all the blanks were filled but, just like with Casey, I hated to have it confirmed. I hated knowing that all the stuff I left behind, stuff I bought with money I earned, was thrown in the garbage. I hated that Cecily, Priscilla, the unknown Courtney and the despicable Buddy Sharp read the desperate and sad note I wrote to Gray where I told him why I was leaving, that I hoped I’d be back and just how much I loved him.

And I hated knowing it was long since discarded ash.

“She also told me she didn’t like it then and tried to talk Cecily and Courtney out of it but Cecily is Cecily, Courtney is Courtney and she got nowhere. Before the plan was put into action, they froze her out. She learned her lesson, not the right one but the one they were teaching her, and she got on board. She’s never liked it and now, Gray’s barn going down, those horses going down with it, she can’t live with it. So she’s told me and she’s also gone to the station and told Lenny. It’s just information to him, he can’t do anything about it, just closing the loops but she did that too. She’s frozen out now from Cecily and Courtney but she no longer cares. Learned the hard way that no friendships are better than toxic ones.”

I guessed that was right though I still didn’t understand what motivated Priscilla. Then again, I hadn’t had very many friends but I lucked out in the fact that the ones I had were the best kinds to have.

“I don’t know what to do with this, Norrie,” I told her, she tipped her head again and gave me another small smile.

“Nothing, something, whatever you want. But you deserve to know and you deserve to have the option to do something if you want. So now you have both. It’s your choice.”

I nodded.

She stood and I knew by her manner she was done, likely keen to get away before Gray came home so I stood with her.

“Best go,” she muttered.

“Right,” I muttered back.

She looked up at me. “Thanks for giving me time, Ivey.”

“Thanks for taking the time to come and talk to me, Norrie.”

She again studied me and the small smile back. The sad one.

Then she whispered, “Glad Gray found a good, strong one.”

Oh God.

She kept going.

“Hold on tight, Ivey.”

“I will,” I promised and I would, I knew that definitely.

She nodded and moved toward her car.

I called, “Norrie,” and she stopped and turned back. “I’ll tell Gray what you told me.”

She shook her head. “Not why I told you that, sweetheart.”

“I know, but I’ll still tell Gray.”

She held my eyes then she nodded again. “Okay, Ivey.”

“Be well,” I said softly.

“You too and stay safe.”

It was my turn to nod.

She moved to her SUV, got in, started it up and drove away.

I watched the lane.

Then I went inside to check on my cakes.

They were out and on the wire rack cooling when the backdoor opened. I turned to it to see Sonny had swung his upper body in, hand still on the knob.

“You good?” he asked, his eyes sharp on me.

“Yeah, Sonny. I’m good,” I answered quietly.

“Lived through Abel losin’ her,” Sonny announced and I blinked.

He wasn’t done.

“Lived through him bein’ stubborn and not taking her back.”

I drew in breath. Then I nodded.

“Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do even if what he’s gotta do is a fool thing to do.”

“I guess that’s right,” I replied.

“Know it is,” Sonny returned but he wasn’t done. “When I thought history repeated, ticked me off. But it didn’t. So what you learn from this, girl, all ‘a this shit, and where you find it in you to lead Gray, is that this shit is life. You got it worse than others but everyone has their crosses to bear. You bear ‘em then you keep on keepin’ on and you do it together. ‘Cause shit always passes and you got enough sweet, it always sweeps away the bitter. You and Gray, this’ll be done and you’ll taste your sweet.”