Page 60 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

Had Libby meant to use those words? Keith had talked about his violent father, but what would have made Winnie hide? Bailey Rae thought about pressing Libby on the point but worried she would clam up. Or worse yet, grow stressed and agitated, losing the conversational thread in the tangle of dementia.

The need for answers had to take a back seat to concern for this fragile lady. “Winnie sure did know how to pinch a penny and track expenditures. I remember recording sales for her in elementary school as a way to practice my math tables.”

Libby chuckled, her face animating at mentions of the past. “She was always looking for ways to keep you occupied and out of trouble. You were a sweet child, although it was tougher to see at first because of all the acting out. Kind of like June did when she first arrived as a teenager.”

And there it was again, the hint of something different in the past from what Bailey Rae had been told. “When June came to Bent Oak as a teenager?”

“That’s what I said,” Libby answered smartly. “The night the old barn burned to the ground.”

Now that story she remembered. A massive summer storm had blown through with lightning striking a tree and the barn. Uncle Russell had been critically injured. Winnie had hated discussing that dark time in their past. “Such a tragedy they didn’t know there was a drifter sleeping in the hayloft.”

“A drifter ...” Libby’s gray eyes flickered with shadows of confusion, like cataracts coating her memories and making them hazy. Until one day, they would fade altogether. “Russell kept us safe from him, though. Like you did too. I mean, like Winnie did. You’re not her.”

Her words tumbled on top of each other, and she trembled until she dropped a stitch. Her face creased in confusion, and she fidgeted in her chair.

Bailey Rae rested her hands on top of Libby’s. Guilt pinched over pushing too hard and upsetting the delicate balance. “You don’t have to say anything more.”

“Yes, I do.” Libby’s gaze settled, locking in on Bailey Rae’s. “Winnie loved you. I hope you know that. She may have had you call her ‘aunt,’ but she considered you the daughter she and Russell never had.”

Bailey Rae nodded, her throat too tight for words. She missed Winnie with a sort of homesickness that would never go away. “She was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“To many of us.” Libby held up her crocheting. “They thought this was a baby blanket for Thea’s grandson, but it’s really a vest, like the kind they wore back in the ’70s. I made one for Winnie to wear on a date with Russell. I thought you might like one for the next time you see that nice young man ... Officer ... Um, Officer ...”

And just that fast, Libby was fading again as she struggled to remember Martin’s name. Still, Bailey Rae treasured the moment of connection all the more for its rarity. Losing Winnie had taught her too well not to take an instant for granted. “I would love to have one.” Bailey Rae angled forward to kiss her cheek. “Thank you. He’s not my boyfriend, though.”

“That’s what Winnie used to say about Russell.” Libby tucked away her yarn. “Now let’s have some cake.”

Rather than remind her they’d already eaten, Bailey Rae cut another slice. She’d come to Thea’s home in search of answers, not expecting Libby to fill in surprise details. And again, those answers spurred more questions. Not the least of which was, what had brought Winnie and Libby to Bent Oak decades ago?

And why did it feel crucial to get answers before leaving?

By suppertime, Bailey Rae had finished restoring order to half of the cabin, if not her thoughts. In replacing books and knickknacks, she’d uncovered another $1,473. The little safe—tougher to break open than expected—held another $10,000. No paperwork, though, that gave a clue to Winnie’s life before Bent Oak.

Maybe if she searched the barn again. Bailey Rae grabbed the bug spray on her way outside. Libby had grown agitated when discussing the night the old barn was struck by lightning. Could there be a clue in that somehow? The new structure had an apartment and office in back. Bailey Rae had searched the files and letters there, but not with her newfound insights—and questions. She made a mental note to scan the papers later to save space when she moved into the Airstream yet keep them available for reference.

Halfway across the yard, she caught sight of an unfamiliar sedan turning off the back road onto the long drive. Unease whispered through her, and she hated whatever had disturbed the sense of safety she’d felt here growing up.

“Skeeter,” she called, then whistled. She pulled out her cell phone in case she needed to text for help. In fact, maybe she should do that anyway.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, messaging Martin and sending him a photo of the vehicle. She’d lived without fear for so long, thanks to Winnie and Russell, she’d almost forgotten how quickly security could be ripped away.

As the silver sedan drew nearer, she saw the rental car plate on front. Gia sat behind the steering wheel.

Bailey Rae puffed the bangs off her forehead with her sigh of relief and texted Martin a follow-up. She tucked the cell into her back pocket and walked to the sedan just as it parked under a tree.

Gia stepped out from behind the wheel and slammed the door. “I hope you don’t mind my stopping by. I promise not to keep you.”

“Of course it’s fine. What can I help you with?” As she stepped closer, she could see the mottled yellow of the fading bruises on her face.

Gia held out a baggie with some kind of treats inside. “It’s not much. Just peanut butter fudge as a token of thanks for everything you and your friend did for me—and for Cricket.”

“Thank you so much. I love peanut butter fudge.” Bailey Rae took the bag with a smile, her gaze skipping to the sedan and finding it empty. No child hid under a blanket. The past threatened to push through. “Where is your daughter?”

Gia tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Cricket’s still at the day care provided by the women’s shelter. They’ve been such an incredible help. They even lined up a job for me at a church day care where I can bring Cricket at a discount.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you.”

“I have an apartment and a no-contact order on Ian.” She rocked back on her heels, chewing her lip. “It’s the right thing to do, but it’s scary knowing the risk of him harming us increases right after leaving.”

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