Evan heaved his bag over his shoulder and carried his case in his hand, reaching him before he could change his mind and walk away.
“This had better be good. This is the second time in two months someone’s asked me to meet them off a plane. Last time didn’t go so well.”
Sawyer hadn’t changed. There was still that animosity between the two of them that had always been there.
“Did you know? Did you know about Violet?”
Evan shook his head. “I had no idea, Matt. Truly, I didn’t. I only found out when we were over there.”
Sawyer’s eyes ran up and down his body then lingered on his face. Obviously trying to decide if he believed him or not. Finally his shoulders sagged a little. “Well, that’s okay, then.”
He turned toward the exit. “What is it you want to talk about, Evan? We’ve never exactly been friends.”
Evan stomach churned. He wanted to get this over and done with. He should have done this years ago—but Sawyer hadn’t been around.
His throat was dry and his mouth parched. Nineteen hours of travel could do that to you.
A red neon sign caught his eye and he said the last words in the world he thought he ever would. “Sawyer, let’s get a beer.”
Sawyer raised his eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
They waited a few minutes while the bartender got their beers then sat down at a table in the corner of the bar.
“So what’s the story with you and Violet?”
Evan felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Sawyer was her brother. It was an obvious question. He took a quick swig from his bottle then put it back down on the table. Maybe he should have waited. Waited until he’d drunk a few more of these before talking to Sawyer. “Nothing. I’m not here to talk about Violet.”
“You’re not? What do you want to talk about, then?” Sawyer looked confused.
“Helen.”
“What?”
He looked across the table at Sawyer. He had the same pale green eyes as his sister. It was kind of disturbing.
“I need to talk to you about Helen.”
“You’ve left it kind of late. It’s been six years, Evan.”
“I know exactly how long it’s been.” His words were curter than he’d intended. But he could feel the pressure building in his veins. He had no idea what Matt’s reaction would be.
Sawyer’s finger was running round the top of his bottle. As if he was trying to decide what to say next.
It was now or never.
“Helen told me she wasn’t feeling well.”
Sawyer’s head shot straight up. “What?”
There was no need for any preamble here.
“That day—of the mission—I was checking the inventory and Helen said she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent.”
Sawyer’s eyes fixed on the table. “And what did you do?”
There was silence for a few seconds. He’d started now and he had to finish. No matter what the outcome.
“Nothing, Sawyer. I did nothing.” His finger traced a circle on the table of the wet outline from his bottle. “I have no excuse. I didn’t pick up on it until later. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t remember what she’d said until it was too late.”
“And you’ve waited six years to tell me that?” The tone in his voice was clear.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“Sorry would have been a start.”
“You think I’m not sorry? You think I haven’t gone over and over this in my head? That if I’d stopped and asked Helen more questions that day she might still be here, still be married to you?” His voice was rising and heads were turning in the bar.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could go back to that day and that throw-away comment and stop. Stop and ask her what was wrong, why she didn’t feel great. If there was anything else. If there was a possibility that she was pregnant.”
Sawyer leaned back in his chair. His fingers hadn’t moved from the top of his bottle. “You think you’re the only one, Evan? The only one who hasn’t gone over that day time and time again, wondering if there was anything different you could have done, different you could have said? Welcome to my life, Evan Hunter.” He picked up his bottle and took a long slug.
Evan hesitated. “Violet said...Violet said you had no idea Helen was pregnant.” He met Sawyer’s eyes. “For a long time I thought you did know. I thought you and Helen might have been keeping the news under wraps. I’m sorry.”
Sawyer stared at him for the longest time. “I know. Violet told me.” He took off his baseball cap and flung it on the table.
“She told you?”
Sawyer nodded.
“What else did she tell you?”
He shook his head. “Only that. I knew there had to be more to the story. But she only told me that you thought we’d kept you out of the loop. She also told me she put you straight.”
Evan felt a little flutter of relief. And he couldn’t help the wry smile on his face at the mention of her name.
Sawyer straightened up. “Let me be frank. I agonized over Helen’s death for six years. She was the light of my life. My reason to get up every day. When I married Helen I truly believed that we would grow old together. That we would end up with a pair of rockers out on our porch.”
Evan smiled. He could almost picture the scene in his head.
He leaned across the table. “The only person I blamed for Helen’s death was me, Evan, not you. I should have figured out my wife was pregnant. I should have stopped her going on that mission. I should have been able to save her. Not you. Not anyone else. Because I was the person she trusted most.”
The color was building in his cheeks, the blood obviously pumping in his veins. But he stopped and took a deep breath. “But you know what? It’s been six years. And I’ve got past it. I’ve had to get past it. Because there’s a whole other life out there, Evan. And I know that Helen would have been the first person to tell me that.”
Evan listened to the words. Even he could see the change in Sawyer. “Callie?”
Sawyer nodded and took another swig from his bottle. “Callie.”
There was an inevitability about all this. A natural way for this conversation to go.
The tightness that had been in his stomach for the past six years was finally starting to unfurl.
“I didn’t get it, Evan. I didn’t get everyone else’s loss. I was selfish. I was too focused on myself. Then I met Callie and my whole world changed.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance of something like that again. I didn’t think I’d ever deserve it. Being with Callie has changed everything for me. I’ve got a reason to get up in the morning again.” He paused. There was regret written all over his face.
“When I think about what Violet has gone through on her own I feel so helpless. And so angry at myself. She’s my sister. She needed me and I wasn’t there.”
Evan nodded slowly, raising his eyes. “Kind of angry with you about that myself.”
Their eyes met. In quiet understanding.
And they sat for a few moments in silence.
“About Violet...” Evan started.
“Yeah, about Violet,” countered Sawyer.
“What are we going to do about that?” The words hung in the air between them.
Sawyer took a final slug of his beer and stood up, stretching his back and sticking his baseball cap back on his head. “Guess you’re going to have to stop hating me so much if you’re going to be part of the family.”
Evan raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never hated you, Sawyer.” He stood up too and threw some bills on the table. “I just never liked you much.?
??
Sawyer threw his head back and let out a laugh. They walked toward the door.
Evan put his hand on Sawyer’s arm. “Violet? Where will I find her?”
Sawyer quirked his lip and touched the peak of his cap. “You’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIOLET WALKED SLOWLY along the path. It was another beautiful day in Atlanta. It seemed as though the sun had been shining constantly since she’d got back.
Almost as if something was trying to remind her that she should still be in Africa.
The garden was quiet and she was grateful. The last few times she’d been here her mom and stepfather had been with her. They needed time and a place to grieve too, and the memorial garden was probably the most appropriate place.
But she was still trying to adjust. Trying to adjust to sharing her grief with other people. She was used to the calm of the garden, the tranquility. The first few times her mom had come with her it had almost felt like an invasion of her privacy.
Her family was still tiptoeing around her. Even Sawyer. Which was strangely uncomfortable.
She wasn’t quite sure if it was what she’d told him or the presence of Callie in his life that was keeping him so even-tempered. But he’d changed. Changed in a good way.
It was good having her brother back in her life. And he was slowly but surely finding a path back into the DPA. Which was just as well, as she’d taken a leave of absence for a while.
The director had been very understanding. He’d told her to take as much time as she needed, had offered her counseling and let her know that any career path within the DPA was open to her.
Violet approached the little granite plaque. It was attached on the wall next to hundreds of others. Sometimes she stood and read them all. But today she was only interested in her own.
She ran her fingers along the letters. Feeling the bumps and outlines beneath the pads of her fingers.
Daisy Connelly.
Born May 16th. Died May 16th.
A little flower lent not given, to bud on earth and bloom in heaven.
There was a lump in her throat—there would always be a lump in her throat when she came here—but today, for the first time, she wasn’t crying.