was dead. Not that she would miss him, but it was still unsettling to think the man with whom she had shared something so important as a baby was no more. “Poor Fern.”
Her father sighed and looked down at his steepled hands. “Yes and no. Their marriage wasn’t going well. If he hadn’t ended up in that ditch, I’m pretty sure she would’ve moved out on him.”
“Fern wasn’t happy?”
Her mother traded a guilty look with her husband. “I hate to speak badly of the deceased, but that man was bad news. I just wished we had all realized it sooner.”
Guilt swamped Vi. All this time she had been afraid of spoiling Fern’s happiness when she could’ve saved her sister heartbreak. How different would all their lives have been if she had been brave enough to face Fern’s anger all those years ago? Fern would have forgiven her, eventually. Instead Vi had allowed Robert to ruin both their lives.
“Is there a reason you’re asking?” her father asked.
Vi couldn’t meet his eyes. She wouldn’t survive seeing the love that was there now turn to disgust once she told them the truth.
“Violet?” he prodded gently.
She chickened out and asked a question instead. “Did she remarry? Fern, I mean. Is she happy now?”
“She did,” her father said slowly. “To Joe Rydahl. A real good man, solid, steady, well liked. He moved into town not long after you left and took on the position of assistant postmaster. After Robert’s death, he asked Fern out. They got married . . . well, it’ll be three years in May.”
Vi smiled then, truly happy for her sister. “I’m glad.”
“You’ve got a little niece, Vi,” her mother added, a sparkle in her eyes. “Claire. She’ll be two next month, and the sweetest little thing. She reminds me of you.”
“Poor Fern,” Vi said with a regretful laugh. “I was a hellion growing up.”
“No, you weren’t,” her mother said firmly, giving her the look Vi remembered so well. Half-fond, half-exasperated. “You and your sister were different, to be sure, like the sun and the moon. One calm and gentle and the other all fire and light. But you were my little sunbeam growing up, and I never regretted having you.”
Vi’s eyes filled. “I’m glad. But I’ll forever regret all the pain I must have caused you.”
“It wasn’t easy, not knowing if you were okay or just pretending,” her father said, putting his arm around Vi’s mother, who had started crying like Vi. “What would make it a whole lot easier to understand is if you told us why you left. Was it something we said or did or—”
“No! It wasn’t anything like that.” She took a deep breath and blurted out the words she should have said five years ago. “I was pregnant. And Robert was the baby’s father.”
Her parents froze, stunned, by the looks on their faces.
Tears blurred her vision again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was . . . terrified.”
Her father recovered first. “Did he . . . were you . . . Damn, but I wish I had known while he was still here. I’d have killed the bastard with my bare hands.”
Her fingers balled into fists in her lap. How easy it would be to let him think the worst, and how wrong it would be.
No more lies, Vi. “It wasn’t rape, Dad. I . . . I didn’t . . . that is, I was a willing participant at the time.”
“Oh, Vi.” Her mother sighed and closed her eyes.
“I know, I’m an awful person. And I’m so, so sorry. But I didn’t think Fern and he would get married! She told me she was through with him.”
Her mother’s eyes were filled with disappointment when she looked at Vi again. “I wish you had told us. It would’ve saved everyone a lot of heartache.”
“Your sister would’ve been shocked but all right in the end,” her father added.
“We all would’ve stood beside you, Vi. But you never even gave us a chance,” her mother said, sounding sad now.
“Would you have made me marry him?” The thought had haunted her all these years and still made her feel ill.
“At fifteen? Absolutely not,” her father said, aghast. “You were a child. What he did was criminal. He manipulated you, Vi. It was not your fault. None of it was.”
“But why would he sleep with me if he loved Fern?” The fifteen-year-old part of her couldn’t understand that part. It didn’t make sense.