MY TOMORROW Chapters 11-13

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was the time of the strawberry moon hanging low in the sky and the summer picnic was a day away. The Ozark days grew hotter, the air thicker, as Rocky Corners bustled with preparations for the annual Founders Day picnic. This celebration held just before the Fourth of July, was a cherished tradition. Flags waved from every pole, and window boxes overflowed with blooms of marigolds and petunias. A cheerful buzz filled the air as townsfolk painted storefronts and polished fences, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic clinking of tools. The basket dinner held at noon and garnered money for the upkeep of Rocky Corners. It was a festive time for all.

Sadie stirred from a restless sleep, her skin aflame with irritation. The relentless itch of poison Ivy stretched across her arms, neck, and parts of her face. Even her puffy eyes burned, as if the heat of the day had seeped into her very pores. She hesitated to scratch because it seemed to make the rash spread and her torment grow. Sliding into a lightweight dressing gown, she made her way to the kitchen, the hem swishing against her ankles.

The kitchen was alive with activity. Florence, wearing her usual faded calico dress with a crisp white apron, stood by the stove, deftly turning out fried pies. The scent of bubbling berry filling mingled with the earthy aroma of the bread dough Lilian kneaded nearby on a floured board. Lillian, her gray-streaked hair tied back in a bun, glanced up as Sadie entered. Florence glanced at the girl too. Both women froze.

"Good heavens, child!" Florence exclaimed, her lorgnette swinging from it's ribbon. She hurried to Sadie concern etched into her lined face. "You've gotten into something, haven't you?"

Lillian set down the rolling pin, and followed her sister, her frown deepening as she examined Sadie's rash-covered arms. She and Florence exchanged a knowing look. "Poison ivy," they both muttered.

"Chickweed salve would help, but I'm fresh out." Lillian glanced at the clock. "Do you think Elijah's at the office yet?" She glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty.

Florence shook her head. "Not officially. Office hours don't start until eight. Where did you get into poison ivy, Sadie?"

The itch brought tears to Sadie's eyes. She brushed at them, frustration filling her. "It must have been the cemetery. I pulled weeds from the fence and some of the headstones yesterday."

"I was going to get to that, but I've been busy with my pickles," Lillian admitted, frowning. "Stay away from that place," she warned Sadie.

"Well, no sense in waiting," Florence declared. "Get dressed, Sadie. Lige needs to see this."

The doctor's office, a modest wooden building with black shutters, was already abuzz. Two patients waited ahead of Sadie. Florence explained the situation to Elijah. His frown puckered his face.

"That's what was bothering you last night?" he asked, exasperation clear in his tone. He ran a hand through his black hair. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscled forearms, and a light blue cravat hung loosely at his neck. "Well, I'll be with you in a bit." He stalked off to a room to care for old Mr. Peterson.

Sadie noted discontent in his voice as she sat with Florence. Their get-together had not gone as expected. And no wonder. She wanted a family. Elijah did not.

Elijah returned from treating the last patient, his voice tinged with irritation, but his eyes softened when they met Sadie's. He beckoned her into the examination room. Elijah examined her skin, listened to her heart, and went to the medicine cabinet in the far corner. There, he found what he was looking for and returned to Sadie. "I'm glad we caught it early before you scratched so much that you infected your skin." His blue eyes filtered over the girl he loved, and he saw her discomfort. A pang of guilt hit his heart at how he was conducting himself. Why did love have to be so hard?

He shook the jar before opening it. "This should help soothe the rash," he said, his voice gentler now. Using a small wooden spoon, Elijah scooped out the lotion and began applying it to Sadie's arms. The coolness of the ointment brought instant relief, but it was the tenderness in his touch that sent a shiver through her. Sadie's heart thudded in her chest, and she struggled to keep her thoughts from racing. He worked in silence; his brow furrowed in concentration. Sadie risked a glance at his face, noting the sharp angles softened by an unspoken tenderness. He looked at her like she was something fragile yet vital—a flower needing sunlight after a storm.

With each movement, Sadie breathed deeply as the warmth of the man's touch invigorated her skin. At that moment, she knew she would forever be in love with Elijah John Brownstone. Because of this love, she would never pledge her heart to another, never feel the same about any other man, and she would die a spinster.

The more Elijah rubbed the lotion onto Sadie's skin, the more uncomfortable he grew. His mind went crazy with the longing for Sadie Danley. It was then and there that he knew he did love her. He loved everything about her: her voice that melted over him like hot butter, her deep ginger hair hanging like satin ribbons, and her beautiful, expressive eyes that came alive when she spoke.

"I'll give you this jar," he said, capping it and handing it to her. "Use it several times a day. Shake it well before each application. And, Sadie, don't scratch. It'll only spread the oils and worsen the rash. I know a man who tried to burn poison ivy once and the smoke caused him an intense reaction…even in his eyes, he almost went blind!"

Sadie's eyes grew large at the information, and she nodded, her voice catching as she answered, "I promise, Elijah."

"I'm sure Aunt Lillian has chamomile tea. Have her fix you a cup, it has calming properties."

Elijah nodded. "Poison ivy can cause a lot of trouble. I don't want you going around the cemetery brush again—or any brush around here. Missouri's known for all kinds of irritating and noxious weeds we have to contend with. It's better to stay completely away from the fields." After a moment, he added, "Please."

Sadie nodded. "I wasn't in the fields, but I promise." The sting of tears made her want to cry, but she held them in quite well.

He walked her out of the examination room and back to the front. "Aunt Florence, I'm giving Sadie a jar of burdock and plantain lotion. Give her chamomile tea to help with the unpleasantness of the itch."

Florence looked at the jar of lotion and asked Elijah, "Does it have yarrow leaf in it?"

Elijah nodded. "It's Lillian's recipe." For the first time all morning, he smiled, his mouth curving sheepishly. "It works like a charm!"

Florence agreed and said she would make another batch whenever his jar was empty. With that, she took Sadie's arm and turned back home. "Does she need to return?"

Elijah eyed Sadie. "Not unless she gets the rash infected. I gave her strict instructions. See that she listens."

The older woman nodded, looking at Sadie, who looked like she would cry at any moment.

Elijah turned on his heel and called the next patient.

***

Back at the house, the kitchen was a whirl of preparations. Five picnic baskets lined the counter, each packed with plates and utensils. Lillian fussed over the details, ensuring everything was perfect for the fundraiser. "I've started the baskets, Sister. I'll let you and Sadie do your own baskets, but I wanted to get a head start on the extras we always take."

"Why are you making extra baskets?" Sadie asked, looking at the baskets in a line.

"One year old Man Decker bought Susan Slope's basket. Her egg salad sandwiches were spoiled, and he never bought another basket again!"

"I can't blame him." Florence laughed. "The poor man turned green!"

"And Susan was horrified and quit offering a basket. She decided that making the wicker baskets is her skill, not cooking." Lillian shook her head. "We need all the money we can muster, so I try to ensure the food is edible and appealing."

Florence clucked her tongue at her sister. "Now you know sometimes we can't help it if we can't cook! Mother had a terrible time teaching me, remember the burned biscuits every time I baked them?"

Lillian's eyebrows shot into the air. "I remember the smell…the house took days to clear out that awful smell!"

Florence huffed and turned to the sink.

Sadie hid her smile and offered her help but was gently shooed away. "Rest," Florence insisted.

Sadie gladly agreed. "I'm going to read for a few minutes. I'll be back to help later."

The humid summer air clung to Sadie as she relaxed on the porch and the rash burned under the sweat, a reminder of Elijah's concern. But before she opened Little Women, she decided to walk over to the schoolhouse. Passing by the community garden, Sadie spotted Caroline hunched over the bean plants, her rounded belly evidence of her approaching due date. As Caroline picked the green beans she kept an eye on Brady. Brady played in the dirt, pushing a little toy truck.

Sadie called a cheerful greeting, but Caroline's reply was curt, her scowl deepening as she rubbed her lower back. Sadie paused briefly, then continued on, her mind already drifting back to the gentle care Elijah had shown her.

The humid air was thick, and sweat had trickled down her face and back when Sadie got to the schoolhouse. Smells of chalk dust and Smells of chalk dust and books mingled with the moist air inside. Approaching her desk, she noticed it was not in the order she had left it. The papers left neatly stacked were array, and the middle desk drawer was slightly open. Someone had been at her desk. She opened the middle drawer, but nothing seemed out of place. When she pulled the side drawer out, the notes she had placed there were gone. Books mingled with the moist air inside. She inspected the inside of books on her desk, flipping through the pages, thinking she might have forgotten that she had stuck the notes inside for safekeeping. The notes were gone.

Eyes squinting, Sadie looked around the little room. With a heavy sigh, she bolted to the bookshelf. The lesson plan book was missing from the top shelf! She always left it between the history book and the extra children's readers. Panic overtook her, and she whirled, blurry eyes searching all the shelves and tables. She knew the lesson plan book was not in her desk.

Taking a deep breath and swiping at the tears burning her eyes, Sadie tried to calm down. There was a reasonable explanation. The book was here, just not where she had left it. She would find the lessons, and all would be well. But who would move the book? And why? She thought of the school board members; perhaps they wanted to look over all the plans Sadie had made for the upcoming months when school started. Possibly, Horace had borrowed it and hadn't returned it yet…

Pushing the positive thoughts aside, negative ones took over. All the work I've done to set goals and outcomes for the children! The research and ideas I've included for three months, now lost. Shaking her head, she wouldn't accept that. But with a sinking heart, she left the school, defeat on her heels. 

Walking back home, she thought she might buy a lock at the hardware store and have Walking back home, she thought she might ask Zimri to put it on her desk. She hated to think someone might be snooping around the classroom, but what else could have happened to her notes and the lesson plan book?

She planned to speak with Zimri when she saw him again. On the short walk home, she thought maybe something fishy was happening. The barbed wire that lay tangled in the grass on the playground had to have been placed there by someone. And now her notes were missing. Did someone want to sabotage her? Elijah had already voiced his opinion about the matter, and now she possibly agreed.

When Sadie returned to the house, the rhythmic sound of hammering and sawing greeted her, sharp and steady against the morning air. She followed the noise to find Zimri hard at work on the new library room Florence had envisioned. The scent of freshly cut wood mingled with the day's warmth, and the soft haze of sawdust hung in the sunlight streaming through the open windows.

The new room was spacious, with partitions marking out space for ceiling-to-floor bookshelves. Zim was bent over a sturdy oak frame, his hammer striking nails with practiced precision as he secured the first shelf. He straightened as Sadie stepped through the doorway, his eyes widening slightly as he took in her blotchy, irritated red skin.

"Well, now," he said, leaning on his hammer and shaking his head. "You sure tangled with something, didn't ya? Looks like a good case of poison ivy to me!"

Sadie nodded sheepishly, brushing her stray hair from her flushed face. "The doctor confirmed it early this morning. I learned my lesson—no more pulling weeds and vines in the cemetery, I promise."

Zimri chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that echoed in the bare room. "Good call, Miss Sadie. That cemetery ain't worth sacrificing yourself to the green menace."

Sadie managed a soft smile, her face itching even as she spoke. "I'll leave the heroic gardening to someone else. By the way, Zim, will you put a lock and key on my teacher's desk in the classroom…I'll buy the lock."

"Why sure, Sadie. I think I've got a lock in my toolbox, so no need to purchase one." His questioning look led her to explain.

"I put confidential information in the desk, and I'd like to keep it locked."

"I'll get to it as soon as possible."

Sadie thanked him and retreated to the porch, her legs heavy and her arms tingling despite Elijah's salve. As she sank into the rocking chair with her book, Zimri's steady pounding resumed, blending with the faint buzz of cicadas and the occasional burst of his good-natured laughter.

 CHAPTER TWELVE

The day arrived for the Rocky Corners Founder's Day summer picnic, and the Ozarks sky seemed poised to meddle with the celebration. Heavy, steel-gray clouds loomed low over the horizon to the west, their edges tinged with the faintest glimmer of sunlight. A stiff breeze carried the smell of rain and earth, ruffling the banners that adorned the bandstand and stirring the faint hum of excitement among the townsfolk. Yet, no one seemed particularly concerned. The picnic grounds were a flurry of activity, with long tables arranged in tidy rows, benches wiped clean of dew, and barrels and crates scattered for makeshift seating. Aromas of warm biscuits, sizzling ham, and fruit pies wafted from nearby food stands.

The bandstand was resplendent in red, white, and blue bunting, with a bold American flag fluttering proudly overhead. The creak of wood and the rhythmic thud of hammers ran out as several men finished setting up horseshoe pits while checkerboards were carefully placed atop barrels for the day's competition. Laughter and chatter filled the air as children rushed to the board swings tied securely to tree limbs and scrambled onto wooden teeter-totters that groaned with the motion of children rising up and down.

South of the main festivities, a small petting zoo drew squeals of joy. Baby goats, lambs, and bunnies wriggled under the soft hands of delighted children. Next door, Dick Payne's Shetland pony, Daisy, awaited her turn in the spotlight. The little brown-and-white pony's harness gleamed with silver bells, jingled softly as she pawed the ground. The bright tinkling sound mingled with the chatter of voices and the occasional bark of a dog, adding to the carnival-like atmosphere.

The program promised entertainment for everyone. David Winters' Nubia band was scheduled to perform under the bandstand awning, and Zeke Laney was slated to deliver the mayor's welcome speech at noon, officially opening the picnic.

Elijah found the sheriff in the office next door to the mercantile. He dropped by to see his best friend before heading to the picnic grounds. "Ross Montgomery! I haven't seen you in a coon's age. I see you're still alive." Elijah's laugh hinted at a close friendship with the rugged rancher.

Ross pushed his cowboy hat off his forehead and pushed his hand toward Elijah. "Doctor! Good to see you again, too. Is that snow on the rooftop?" Laughter rang through the sheriff's office.

Elijah's laughing mouth dropped into a concerned frown. Racing to the mirror on the wall, he combed through his dark hair with fingers, searching for the gray hair Ross alluded to. There was none. Turning back to the rancher, he shook his head. "No snow today!"

Andrew Crowe held the deputy badge in front of his his trusted friend. "We need to keep things under control today—less pickpocketing, fewer brawls. That's the goal," Andrew said, pinning the tin star onto Ross's well-worn leather vest. The star caught a glint of sunlight from the office window, shining as brightly as the gleam in Andrew's eye. He sank back into his desk chair, satisfied.

"Congratulations, Ross," Elijah offered the rancher.

Ross stood tall—broad-shouldered and towering almost a foot over Andrew. His gray eyes, sharp and steady met Andrew's with an amused tilt. "I'll do my best," he promised, his deep voice carrying the easy confidence of a man who could handle himself in a scrape. "Though it's been a while since I've had the chance to stretch my fists in a proper rumble." A roguish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he folded his long frame into a chair.

Andrew chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, try to keep it civil…and keep your eyes off my sister, if you can manage it."

Ross laughed, throwing his head back and scratching the back of his neck with a calloused hand. "Now, that might be the hardest part of today," he admitted, his grin widening. The truth of it was no secret: Ross was sweet on Abigail Crowe, and the feeling was mutual, though the pair had yet to make anything official. His ranching responsibilities often kept him far from town, but today he'd resolved to make an effort.

"When are you finally going to ask her to get hitched?" Andrew took the liberty of asking, leaning forward with a raised brow. He’d known Ross since they were boys, and he couldn't imagine a better match for his sister.

Ross leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes softening as he replied, "Funny you should ask. I'm planning to bid on her dinner basket today. Figured we could have ourselves a nice, long talk."

Andrew smirked. "Do I need to give her a hint?"

Ross shook his head with an easy laugh. "I can handle it, thanks." Confidence underlined the twinkle in his eye and the slow, satisfied smile.

Elijah shifted in his seat. "Thinking of settling down, Ross? Fill that ranch house with lots of little ones?"

The three men laughed together. Suddenly, Andrew stopped and looked at Elijah. "And what about you, Doctor Brownstone? It's time for you to think the same thing. Find a wife and settle down. Leave that circuit to someone else and stay in town."

"Funny you said that," Elijah admitted. "I've been thinking the same thing. But I'm not sure I'm keen on marriage."

"All you gotta do…" Andrew said, crossing his long legs on the desktop, "is agree to everything the little lady says."

"Wait a minute," Ross drawled, sitting up straight. "You never said anything about that…"

Laughter once again rang loud and clear throughout the jail.

***

Sadie woke to the soft golden light of morning streaming through the lace curtains. The faint scent of Elijah's lotion lingered on her skin, a welcome reminder of his care. To her relief, the angry red spots on her face was fading, leaving her complexion nearly clear.

Downstairs, the air was sticky with the impending storm. Lillian and Florence moved about the kitchen, their chatter and laughter blending with the clatter of pots and utensils. They were dressed in calico dresses, bonnets hung on their backs, and ready for the picnic.

"There you are!" Florence's voice carried a note of relief. She wiped her hands on her flowered apron and turned to greet Sadie. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Lillian paused, a jar of pickles in her hand. Sharp eyes scanned Sadie's face and arms. "The lotion is working wonders. That rash looks much better."

Sadie offered a small smile. "The itch is nearly gone. I'm feeling better, thank you."

"Good news indeed. The food's ready, so go ahead and prepare your dinner basket." Florence grinned.

"Today's the day," Lillian's voice had a singsong lilt to it. Looking at the jar of pickles she held, "My pickles are going to win that blue ribbon!" She kissed the jar lid and tucked it into her basket.

"Oh, I can't wait!" Sadie's smile lit her face.

A sharp knock interrupted them, and Sarah Ann's cheerful face appeared around the screen door. "Yoo-hoo, it's just me!" She swept inside a bundle of printed picnic programs in hand. She looked lovely in a sage green dress with a matching sash tied about her waist. "Sadie, you look almost as good as new!" She turned to Florence, her expression glowing with purpose. "Zeke asked me to deliver these. This year's picnic promises to be unforgettable. And Florence, I'll announce your community library project—it's about time this town had a proper place for books."

Florence's cheeks pinked. "Thank you, Sister. Let's hope the library becomes as popular as you think."

"It will," Sarah Ann said with confidence. She leaned closer, her tone conspiratorial. "The weather isn't promising though. The clouds out west look ominous."

"Positive thoughts, dear Sister," Lillian interjected. "We'll have sunshine until the day is done."

By noon, the picnic grounds buzzed with excitement. The chatter of families and the shrill laughter of children mingled with the rhythmic clop of hooves as Dick Payne's pony trotted around the makeshift corral. Beneath the towering shade trees, clusters of older folks fanned themselves, the dappled sunlight casting shifting patterns across their weathered faces.

Sadie and the sisters added their baskets to the long table of food, where Sue Ellen presided with a tight-lipped smile. When she saw Sadie, her smile faltered, replaced by a sharp glare.

"Elijah told me what happened to you," Sue Ellen said with a sniff. "Maybe next time, you'll steer clear of trouble and avoid the poison ivy." She shoved a numbered card into Sadie's hand, her disdain palpable.

Sadie's fingers curled around the card, her voice steady. "I plan to."

Sue Ellen turned her attention to the next basket. Sadie walked away, her head held high, though her cheeks burned and not from the poison ivy.

The clang of the town bell silenced the crowd as Zeke Laney stepped onto the platform, his broad shoulders framed by the swaying banners above him. "Welcome, everyone, to our town's Founder's Day Picnic!" His deep voice boomed over the gathering. "We've got a fine day ahead of us, full of music, fellowship, and, of course, good food." Pastor Thomas Horton opened the day with prayer.

Sadie stood with Florence and Lillian, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. She spotted Caroline and Andrew nearby, their son, Brady, wriggling in Andrew's arms. Across the way, Horace lingered near Sue Ellen at the basket table, his face lined with quiet resolve. The friends she had made recently were also in the crowd with their families, each eager to get the day started.

As the basket auction began, Sadie watched Elijah approach, his presence warm and grounding. She shivered with the memory of their last meeting and braced herself. His arm brushed hers as he leaned close.

"What did you pack for us, Sadie?" His smile was teasing, his eyes tender.

"Us?" she replied, her tone light despite the heaviness in her chest.

"Sadie, I'm bidding on your basket. I want to have lunch with you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She turned her head to look into his face. "You sure?"

"Yes. I apologize for hurting you the other day. I hope you'll forgive me."

Sadie's thoughts came quickly and easy. "I know you were just being honest. For that, I thank you. And, yes, I forgive you."

When her basket was announced, Elijah's bidding was swift and unyielding, outmatching two other contenders. he strode to claim it, the pride in his step unmistakable. He took her arm, and they made their way through the crowd to a table close to where Sarah Ann and Zimri sat with Florence and Lillian. They passed Ross and Abby, sitting together beside Caroline and Andrew, sitting with Horace and Sue Ellen.

Rubbing his hands together, Elijah was ready to eat. "Let's see what you packed for us!" he said, opening the basket lid. His expression shifted from delight to shock. "Sadie…" His voice was strangled as he pushed the basket toward her.

She stepped forward, her breath catching as she peered inside. Her carefully packed lunch was ruined with dead crickets; their grotesque forms scattered among the sandwiches and lemonade.

Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't understand! I just packed this this morning!" She turned to Elijah, her voice breaking. "I give up!" Overwhelmed, she fled the table, the crowd's murmurs rising behind her.

Elijah bolted after her, leaving the ruined basket on the table. Florence hurried over, her sisters and Horace close behind her. She peered into the basket, her face blanching with shock.

"Who would do such a thing?" she demanded, her voice trembling with indignation.

Sarah Ann's lips pressed into a tight line. "This is no accident. Someone put those crickets in her basket!"

Andrew stepped forward, his jaw set. "We'll get to the bottom of this." He turned as Ross stepped up next to him.

As the sisters returned to their seats, Horace's gaze lingered on Sue Ellen and Caroline, who sat at their table, unperturbed and sipping their lemonade. A shadow passed over his face, his thoughts unreadable.

Something was very wrong in Rocky Corners, and Horace silently vowed to uncover it before Sadie was driven away for good.

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Elijah strode after Sadie as she fled the picnic grounds, her skirts billowing like sails caught in a storm. He caught her arm and turned her to face him, his grip firm but gentle. Her tear-streaked face was framed by auburn hair tumbling loose from its pins, glinting copper in the sunshine.

"Sadie, I don't understand any of this any more than you," he said, his voice low and imploring. "But I know one thing—"

"No, Elijah! Just let me go!" she interrupted, her voice breaking. her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as she twisted in his grasp. Tears fell freely, leaving damp trails on her flushed cheeks and she was acutely aware of the curious stares from the picnic revelers. Yet Elijah's hold didn't waver.

He said nothing, only tightened his arms around her trembling form, his fingers splayed across the back of her calico dress. The muslin was soft, worn smooth from many washings, and he noted absently the faint scent of roses clinging to her. Slowly, her struggles ceased, and her rigid frame wilted against him. With one hand he smoothed the wild strands of red hair from her face, wishing he could bear her anguish himself.

"Come," he murmured, guiding her to a nearby bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, casting patterns over the weathered wood and offering a reprieve from watchful eyes.

He settled beside her, their knees nearly touching, and whispered into her hair. "I'm getting to the bottom of this once and for all."

Sadie pressed her face against his chest, the rough weave of his linen shirt absorbing her quiet sobs. A faint scent of whiskey and pine clung to him, grounding her. After a moment, she dabbed her tears with a handkerchief, the edges embroidered with delicate blue forget-me-nots.

"Why even bother, Elijah?" she whispered, her voice raw. "Just let me go. I'll return to Indiana, where I belong. Living here isn't working."

Elijah tensed, his jaw tightening as he took her hands in his. Her small fingers were cold despite the warmth of the day. "No, Sadie. Don't talk of leaving. This town needs you. The children at school—Tommy, Sammy, Michael—they need you. My great-aunts depend on you…" He hesitated, his heart constricting. His words of endearment remained unspoken, caught in the tangle of guilt and fear.

"I don't want to disappoint anyone," she said, trembling. "But my heart is breaking. I've prayed and tried to face this with grace and compassion, but it's only getting worse. Someone was in the schoolhouse, and now my notes on the children are missing, and the planning book is gone! I've worked so hard making lesson plans for three months. Now they're missing!"

Elijah's brow furrowed, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Shaking his head, he said, "Stealing your work would make you look incompetent and cause you to do more work." He knew well enough who bore the brunt of the blame. His mother's biting disapproval and Caroline's relentless schemes had made Sadie's living here nearly unbearable. It was time to confront them both.

"Elijah," she said suddenly, lifting her tear-filled eyes to his. "Do you have feelings for Abigail Crowe?"

Her words struck him like a blow. "What?" he blurted, his voice sharp with disbelief. "I told you, Sadie." He shook his head, humorless laughter escaping him. "Ross was just talking about seeing Abby today!"

Sadie blinked, startled. "But Caroline said…"

Elijah's laugh turned bitter. "Caroline," he growled, the name a bitter taste in his mouth. "Abby is her closest friend and she's always wanted me to marry Abby."

Sadie's lips pressed into a thin line as she shook her head. "So, she lied. Her hatred of me…it's relentless. She won't stop until I'm gone."

He exhaled heavily, the weight of his failure to protect her settling like an iron band around his chest. Taking her hands once more, he looked into her eyes, his resolve hardening.

"Promise me you'll stay long enough for me to fix this. I'll speak to Andrew and, if necessary, my father's lawyers. This ends now."

Her voice was soft yet resolute. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then," he said, swallowing hard, "if you're still set on leaving, I won't stop you."

She studied him, her grip tightening on his arm. "Promise me if this doesn't stop, you'll let me go."

He nodded solemnly. "I promise."

And as Elijah spoke, a new determination surged through him. The chaos surrounding Sadie would end—whatever it took.

***

Sadie's heart lifted, light as a feather, as Elijah's words reassured her about Abby. Relief washed over her, though a twinge of guilt flickered in the corners of her mind. If she couldn't have Elijah for herself, she didn't want any other woman to marry him. It was selfish, she admitted, but it was the unvarnished truth. And truth mattered above all else.

For years, she'd carefully buried her feelings for Elijah. She resolved to keep them hidden still. Whatever happened with the mysterious barbed wire and the dead crickets incidents, she would decide whether to stay in Rocky Corners or return to Indiana. For now, she would cherish this moment of clarity and friendship.

Sadie smiled warmly at Elijah and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. I feel better. Let's go back to the picnic. We need to see if Lillian's pickles won the contest! And…" She paused, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm not letting anyone run me off so easily." Rising to her feet, she waited for his response.

A grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. He leaped to his feet, grasped her hand, and said, "That's the spirit. Let's go!"

The picnic grounds were buzzing with anticipation as they joined everyone. The makeshift stage was a humble affair of wooden planks atop barrels, but it carried the weight of excitement as the judges prepared to announce the winners. Lillian stood with the other entrants, her hands nervously twisting her apron. She caught sight of Sadie and Elijah weaving through the crowd, and Elijah gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. Lillian's tight shoulders relaxed as a smile flickered across her face.

Elijah guided Sadie toward Florence and Sarah Ann, who stood under the shade of several trees. The judges, Austin Knight, Henry Harbourt, and Audrey Lowe, huddled together, their papers and pencils in hand. The two men nodded earnestly at Audrey's suggestion, their expressions dancing with approval and dissent. A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd as the deliberations continued.

Finally, Audrey stepped forward, holding her paper high like a herald. "Folks, we have no entries for sweet pickles or relish this year," she called in her best booming voice. "All submissions were dill pickles. And here are the winners for this year's contest."

Clapping and cheers rose as the contestants were invited onto the stage. Lillian joined the other women, each clutching hope tightly. A hum of speculation rippled through the crowd as the judges conferred one last time. The moment was electric with anticipation.

"Fourth place goes to Liza Akehurst!" Audrey announced.

Liza, her graying curls escaping a neat bun in the rising humidity, stepped forward to shake Austin's hand as Henry handed her a green ribbon. She lifted it high, beaming at the crowd.

"Third place goes to Phoebe Clayburn. Judges noted the delightful hint of sweetness in her brine—a unique twist!"

Phoebe, a sturdy woman with a quick smile, stepped forward to claim her yellow ribbon. Her cheeks flushed with pride as she waved to the crowd.

"Second place, a most dubious place of honor, goes to Laura Lamott!" Audrey's voice was jubilant, but Laura's expression shifted from eager expectation to thinly veiled disappointment.

Laura Lamott stepped forward, her head held high despite the hint of a furrow forming between her perfectly arched eyebrows. Dressed in a tailored navy-blue walking suit with a high lace collar and a delicate hat perched at an angle on her carefully upswept hair, she radiated a poised elegance that set her apart from the more modestly dressed townsfolk. A native of New York, Laura had brought a touch of sophistication to Rocky Corners whenever she married her husband, a man deeply rooted in the Ozarks. Now the local Women's Christian Temperance Union president, Laura's sharp intellect and progressive ideals made her a formidable figure in town.

"Thank you, Audrey," Laura said in a refined tone, her voice smooth and measured as she accepted the red ribbon with a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It is always an honor to participate in this beloved community's traditions, even if one must occasionally yield to another's…interpretation of excellence."

Elijah whispered in Sadie's ear, "Oh no, Laura Lamott is unhappy. Look at her face. She's very competitive and expects to win at most of what she does."

Sadie whispered back, "I see that look on her face. But that means Lillian won!"

Elijah quickly nodded, his grin widening, as Laura returned to her place with her ribbon. Despite her impeccable posture and graceful movements, there was a stiffness to her demeanor—perhaps a silent vow that next year would be hers to claim.

"And now," Audrey declared, drawing out the suspense, "our grand prize winner for the best dill pickles in town is…Lillian Lamberson! Come claim your ribbon!"

Again, the crowd erupted in applause as Lillian hurried forward, her face alight with joy. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she held the shiny blue ribbon high. The judges congratulated her warmly, and Audrey gave her a playful wink. "Lillian's pickles have a little kick to them. Care to share your secret?"

Blushing, Lillian smiled broadly. Her bonnet, slightly askew, framed her flushed face, and tendrils of damp hair curled against her cheeks in the humid air. "I can't share all my secrets," she said with a twinkle, "but I will say this: a little red pepper in the brine, just for a short time, gives the pickles a special spark. And that…" She paused, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, "…works perfectly with my other secret ingredient."

Spectators laughed and cheered as she kissed the ribbon and started down the steps, her pride radiating like sunlight.

Then, in a flash, her foot missed the bottom step. With a gasp, Lillian toppled forward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Her bonnet slipped off, and the cherished blue ribbon fluttered from her hands, crumpling into the grass. The festive air turned heavy with shock as cries and gasps rippled through the crowd.

Sadie froze, her hands flying to her lips. "Oh no, Miss Lillian!"

Elijah was already moving, his face a mask of concern as he pushed through the stunned onlookers toward Lillian. The moment of triumph had turned to calamity, and Sadie's heart clenched as she followed close behind, praying for the woman who had just basked in her moment of glory.