Chapter 22 #2
Jackson didn’t turn and face me right away.
He just leaned against the door, his shoulders hunched.
And when his eyes met mine, his brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, I saw the battle waging inside of him, the fight between what he knew he had to do and what he wanted to avoid at all costs.
He didn’t have to say it but I knew, and the idea of selling his grandmother’s quilts floated between us, unspoken but undeniable.
My heart cracked a little more. “Jack…you can’t do that. You can’t! You love these quilts. You promised her. You told me you would never sell them.”
“I don’t want to, Leigh, but I’m running out of options here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The loans, the commitments, the people who believed in me…it’s all on the line. These quilts could save everything.”
“We’ll find another way. We will. I promise.”
Jackson flung open the closet door and pulled one of the quilts out of the box. “This one is worth thirty thousand dollars. Thirty thousand dollars! And that’s probably a conservative estimate. I hate that my mind keeps going there. But this quilt…these quilts…are the answer to my problems.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing. “Jack…no. I can’t let you do this. There’s got to be another way,” I said. But doubt gnawed at me. I knew the sacrifices he’d made to make the expansion work, the loans he had taken, the promises to others he had made.
Jackson looked at me, his voice trembling now. “I don’t want to do it, Leigh.” Jackson held up the end of a quilt. “This…is the only way.”
“We’ll find another way,” I repeated, though the words felt hollow now.
The doubt that had been creeping in all day had finally gripped me.
The quilts were so much more than fabric and thread—they were his family, his history, his grandmother’s love stitched into each seam, a piece of her soul.
And I knew the emotional toll it was taking on him to even consider this.
Just two weeks ago, we had celebrated the grand opening, basked in the promise of what the farm could become.
The idea that against all odds, it might actually work.
He got soft commitments to join the co-op from a few landowners and was on the cusp of something incredible.
But it’s funny how fast life changes, how it slaps you in the face.
How you can be up one day and then down the next. But you can’t anticipate a tornado.
I felt dizzy, as though the ground beneath me was giving way.
I staggered forward, trying to steady myself as Jackson sank to the floor.
He pulled his knees to his chest and held his head in his hands.
Quiet sobs escaped him, each one a crack in the foundation he had built.
My heart shattered as I sank to the floor beside him, my arms wrapping around him as I held him tight.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I repeated. Because I didn’t know what to do, what else to say.
He had been strong for me, for everyone else. And now our rock had broken.
“I’ve failed everyone who was counting on me,” he choked out, his voice cracking, and it was more than I could bear.
“No, Jack, you didn’t fail,” I said as my own tears fell. “You did it. You created something real, and we’re so proud of you.”
He shook his head once. “None of that matters,” he whispered. “None of it.”
“You did not fail,” I said, cupping his face, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Don’t you dare say that! This isn’t the end. We’re going to fix this.”
Jackson pulled back to look at me, his eyes dark with pain, but then something shifted.
His gaze softened, just a little. “I love you, Leigh,” he said and before I could answer, his lips crashed into mine, desperate and hungry.
It was as if he was trying to pour all the love he had into that one kiss—like he needed something to hold on to before everything slipped away.
I kissed him back with everything I had, with all the strength he had given me. It was my turn to comfort him, to pour back just a little of what he poured into me, to remind him that we weren’t done yet. That we were in this together. That I wouldn’t give up on him. On us.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead on mine, his breath shallow. “I can’t see my way out of this, Leigh. I’ve tried and I can’t.”
I didn’t want it to be true. But it was.
And as I felt the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat strong but strained, his breath deeper but labored, the sound of his pain pierced my heart.
I knew then that I would do anything to take away his pain, to go back and push away the storm if I had to.
And in the silence that followed, I knew what I had to do.
As I walked toward Carly’s house, I half expected to change my mind.
That my feet would stop moving forward. That the weight of the decision I had made would eventually stop me in time.
But with each step, certainty crystallized within me.
Crossing over this invisible barrier was it, my linchpin.
Moments of our becoming are never easily identified.
They often come unexpectedly, like stumbling upon a choice—a golden pinkie ring, a deer in the road, a truck full of flowers—that alters our lives in the most profound way.
We learn to carry on, to make the best of the relics we gather along the way, even if there’s a price to pay.
I raised my fist and knocked with a sound that seemed too loud, too jarring in the early morning. Carly opened the door almost instantly, swinging it open without thought. She tilted her head and widened her eyes when she saw me.
“Is there something wrong with Jack?” she asked with a hint of worry in her tone. In the background, I heard the faint sounds of Benny playing along with cartoons on the television. Carly stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
“I need your help,” I said.
Carly’s brow furrowed deeper.
I drew a deep breath, the spring air cool and sharp in my lungs, then exhaled it slowly, feeling the finality of what I was about to confess. There would be no going back after this.
“My real name is Leandra Wildes. I’m an escaped convicted felon.”
Carly’s face froze. It was only when she blinked that I knew she’d heard me. She sank into a chair, her mouth falling open, breathless with shock.
“Does Jack know?” she finally asked.
I sat in the chair next to her, the wooden slats creaking. “No. That’s why I’m here.”
She drew back suddenly, her hand pressed against her chest. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to…hide you or something?”
“No,” I said firmly. “I want you to turn me in.”
“What?”
“I need you to turn me in.”
Her lips curled as if this were a joke, but the seriousness on my face wiped the smile from hers.
“For Jack. The insurance company is dragging their feet with his claims, and even when it comes through, it looks like it might not be enough. That farm means everything to him.”
“I don’t need you to lecture me on the importance of his farm and business. Nobody understands that more than me. He’s using my land.”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you. He appreciates that you did that for him.”
Carly’s face hardened. “And don’t talk to me about him either. Who do you think you are? I knew there was something not right about you. You come here and jeopardize him and his business. I should call the police right now.”
“Good! That’s what I want you to do.”
She crossed her arms. “Why? Why do you want me to turn you in?”
“There’s a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to my capture and arrest. I want you to turn me in and give Jack the reward money for the farm.”
Carly stared at me, her mind racing as she tried to grasp the full scope of what I proposed. “And that’s supposed to make everything right?”
“The reward money combined with the insurance money should be enough.”
“That’s not what I mean. What about Jack? Have you thought about him? How he’s going to feel about you lying to him?” She swallowed hard. “He loves you.”
“I know,” I said softly, my heart aching in the truth of her words. “I love him too. Which is why I’m doing this. For him.”
“I knew you were trouble but not this kind of trouble,” she said, her voice easing the tension, if only slightly. “I wanted you gone but not like this.”
“Take care of him for me,” I said, handing her Officer Madison’s driver’s license. “When you call, tell them you have this.”
She took it, reached her hand over, and placed it on mine as she picked up her cell phone.
I found Tibb first when I arrived back at the farm.
He was sweeping up glass in the new building, and the sharp sound of the broom scraped against the floor.
I walked inside, my footsteps heavy against the dust- and glass-smeared floor.
He didn’t look up, but the movement of the broom slowed, then stopped.
He finally turned to face me, already knowing. “Now?” he asked.
“Now.”
He leaned the broom against the wall, his hands lingering on the handle. “I’ve been meaning to come talk to you about it, but since the tornado, everything—”
I cut him off. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Tibb rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes drifting to the floor as if searching for something he couldn’t find. “What’s the plan?”
“I talked to Carly. She’s helping me.”
“Carly? What can Peanut help you with?”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “Turning myself in.”
Tibb’s face paled, his expression frozen, his body rigid. “No, Leigh. No. This…this…”
I stepped closer to him, my voice steady. “This is my plan.”
“When I said you needed a plan, that’s not what I meant,” he said, the words rushed. “I didn’t mean for you to turn yourself in. There must be a better way.”
“He needs the money, Tibb. This is the best way.”
Tibb’s jaw clenched as he processed this information, remembering the reward. Then the sadness moved into his eyes. “How much time do you have?”