Page 61 of The Way Back Home
“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said.
“Thanks. We think so.” The man extended a gloved hand. “Brian McCain.”
“Noah Ziegler.”
They shook.
Brian’s brows lifted. “Ziegler? As in the farmers market?”
Noah nodded. “That’s the one.”
“My wife loves that place,” Brian said with a grin. “What brings you by?”
“Home for the holidays,” Noah explained. “I work at a therapy ranch in Kentucky—Hopewell. My mom mentioned the good things you’re doing here and suggested I check it out.”
“Ah.” Brian laughed. “Professional curiosity. Want a tour?”
Noah hesitated. He could go home and sit with the silence—or he could learn something useful.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’d be great.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TEAGAN
The color drained out of Mary’s face, and she gripped the corner of the counter for support. With her free hand, she crossed herself. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she murmured. “It cannot be.”
Teagan smiled patiently. Mary was taking it better than she’d expected.
“Tom! Tom!” she yelled back to the kitchen, refusing to take her eyes off Teagan, as if she were afraid she’d disappear. “Come out here now!”
Other patrons turned curiously at Mary’s desperate plea. The place was packed, every booth filled, every spinnable stool at the counter occupied.
A harried waitress turned to see what Mary was gaping at and promptly dropped her tray, sending ceramic plates and glasses shattering against the floor. “Sweet Mary, Mother of God,” she said.
Tom, the owner, pushed through the swingingdoors. The bustling diner was now quiet enough to hear a pin drop. When he saw who stood before Mary, his eyes grew wide, his lips parted.
“Teagan McKenna.”
Customers whispered excitedly back and forth, several of them pulling out their cell phones. Saughannock was an old town. And still a relatively small one. There were plenty here who recognized that name, knew her face, even if they had never met her personally. Teagan McKenna had been big news.
“Somebody, call the sheriff,” someone mumbled.
Teagan fought the urge to squirm under the attention. This was what she had come for. The more people who knew of her return, the faster this would be over.
Not that she had any clue what she would do when it was. She hadn’t allowed herself to think that far ahead. Half of her didn’t expect to see the sun rise tomorrow; the other half knew that if she did, it wouldn’t matter anyway. She could think of absolutely nothing to look forward to, except not being a harbinger of danger to those around her.
“Never thought we’d see you again,” Tom said, his eyes holding a telltale sheen of moisture.
He’d been so kind to her once. He’d given her a job and paid her in cash under the table. Ensured she had at least one hot meal every shift. “Forgot” to lock the door to the back room in case she needed a place to stay.
Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Teagan stopped him. She knew that he had known—or strongly suspected—what had been going on backthen. Knew by the look in his eyes that he harbored guilt for not doing more. For not speaking up. She could have told him that it wouldn’t have done any good.
Her fingers rested lightly on his forearm. “It’s okay, Tom.”
“A news crew is on their way,” someone said from over by the window.
Teagan looked at Tom. “Do you want me to leave?”
