Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stay calm.
Sip your tea.
Under no circumstances fight with Dad.
Hannah gripped her thermos and pasted a smile on her face as Neil pulled into her parents’ driveway. “You sure you don’t want to leave me here and wander around town before we head out to the ranch?”
“Lass, we agreed visiting your parents was our first stop before heading to the ranch, especially with today being Father’s Day,” Neil answered, cutting the engine of the truck Will had arranged for them when they landed in Bozeman this morning from Scotland.
“Come on. We don’t have to stay long. Remember the treat awaiting you after. ”
When Neil bribed her with food, the world was ending.
Then again, he knew she was a little shaky.
What he didn’t know was that the new black Ford F-150 truck Will had picked for them from the ranch smelled like Ben, and she’d had a ball of strong emotion lodged in her throat the entire way to Sanctuary Springs.
He must have used it recently, but his smell was the same.
Leather from his saddle, that earthy smell that came from working with animals and being outdoors, and the spicy scent of his skin she’d never forgotten.
She was definitely better off inhaling more lavender essential oil and thinking about her favorite potato chips.
“I’m telling you. Wait until you have Old Man Roy’s Crispy Spuds.
They’re life-changing. The universe clearly agrees since we’re arriving the day after he dropped off a fresh batch at Pioneer Pantry.
I called ahead and told them I’m reclaiming my family’s allotment. My parents never ate them.”
She and Sarah would rush over after school to pick up a bag, and if it had been good weather, they’d run to the playground and dangle on the swings as they munched on them, doing their best to make the most noise as they crunched. God, how they’d laughed.
“You and these potato chips. I know you said Old Man Roy grows the potatoes himself, but you don’t usually act crazy about junk food.”
“They’re not junk food. They’re pure love in chip form.” She took a gulp of her newly concocted homecoming tea. “One last thing. When I put my hand to my jaw, that’s your sign to yawn. One of those good jaw crackers.”
He laughed as he swung out of the car. “Jaw cracker, huh? You’re already speaking Montana while I’m trying to trim my Scots down.”
Was she? As she looked at the simple two-story white house she’d grown up in, all she could feel was that never-ending sense of sadness.
She glanced up to the front room on the second story.
Seventeen years. It felt like yesterday, but it had been seventeen years since Hannah had held her big sister’s hand for the last time.
Fourteen was too young to die. Hannah could still feel Sarah clutching her hand before she passed, as if she’d been trying to say she loved her one last time.
They’d always held hands, running to school or dashing off to play at a town picnic. It’s one of the things I miss most.
Now all she had left were memories and the rare flickering lights, and that didn’t seem fair.
She gazed almost angrily at the overgrown bushes and empty spaces where flowers like tulips, sweet William, peonies, nigella, irises, snapdragons, calendulas, and yarrow used to dazzle.
Given Hannah had spent the last six years in Scotland, both the flower and herb gardens had disappeared, a task she’d fully taken over from her mother after Sarah died.
Talk about another crying shame in a long list of them.
Her mother had retreated behind her bedroom door, numbed by antidepressants and whatever else her father had given her that kept her in bed for months on end.
His hair had turned gray overnight, and he’d grown sullen.
He’d blamed himself for not being able to save Sarah, while Hannah had tortured herself wondering why she’d been spared.
She’d tried to hold everything together, handling her mother’s duties of cooking, cleaning, and laundry, but while domestic tasks might make a home, they didn’t make a family.
Theirs had been shattered.
Her need to heal had become an obsession after Sarah’s passing.
She had an affinity for flowers and plants, but after conventional medicine hadn’t helped Sarah, she’d turned to them more fully, enthralled by the tales of healing she read, the miracles herbs could do.
Even as a young woman, Hannah had vowed to do all she could to heal what came her way.
If only she could heal her relationship with her parents.
She’d done what she could for herself, but her past felt like millstones around her feet sometimes.
She scrubbed her face to shake off her malaise, pushed the door open, and hopped out, knowing Neil was giving her time.
Maybe her Father’s Day gift would help begin to bridge the rift between them.
She could do this. She had to do this. There was no ignoring her father, especially if she was coming back to work as a healing professional. Scotland had taught her the importance of maintaining good relations with local doctors.
Not that she’d ever been on good terms with her father, especially after she went into herbalism instead of medicine.
Dragging herself toward the front door, she was sure a smile was frozen on her mouth.
Neil knocked when she nodded. She heard something like china rattle inside.
Her mother did like to serve tea and cake to guests.
Another few beats and her father opened the door, her mother hanging back with wide, uncertain eyes.
God, they still looked so old and worn. Sarah’s death had aged them both, and the hard times after had only made it worse.
The remaining thread of white hair Dad combed over the bald spot on his narrow head had thinned more.
Dark circles had taken up residence under his brown eyes along with his silver spectacles.
He wasn’t wearing his lab coat since it was a Sunday afternoon, but a simple green sweater and black slacks, while her mother had obviously gone to the beauty parlor.
The effort meant something, and the sight made Hannah’s throat tighten with emotion.
Her mother’s short white hair was hairsprayed in waves designed to add volume.
The clothes she’d chosen were a floral-patterned cream blouse with a navy skirt.
Except she was barefoot, which was strange because her mom prided herself on being well turned out.
Hannah suddenly felt grubby wearing her traveling clothes of a long navy tunic and comfy yoga pants. “Hi, Mom. Dad, happy Father’s Day. Here, I brought you something.”
“That wasn’t necessary, Hannah.” Her father took the present and set it on a side table before closing the door behind them. “I’m Dr. Montgomery. You must be the Scot I’ve heard so much about.”
“Neil Drummond,” he said, shaking her father’s hand, looking like a giant compared to his slender, five-ten frame.
“And I’m only half Scottish. My mother is from the Highlands.
Met my father on a barley grain exchange in Minnesota.
Stayed there on his farm and raised a big family.
Summers in Scotland with her family were our reward for good schoolwork. ”
Her father lowered his glasses, as if he were studying a glass slide of E. coli under his microscope. “Doesn’t stop you from wearing a kilt, being only half, huh?”
“I’m proud of both my heritages,” Neil replied affably. “I’ve heard you have the best book collection around, Dr. Montgomery. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an entryway filled with so many old books.”
“Hannah’s probably told you that I’ve been loaning out books to people I know since my wife and I moved here from Denver to set up my practice. The bulk of my collection is in the room next to my doctor’s office out back. You’re welcome to check out three books a week.”
“Is the book catalog still on the old desk beside the checkout log?” she asked, tilting her head to catch her father’s eye.
He didn’t meet it. “It is. You might have been off having adventures in Scotland until they decided to run you out, but around here, things are the same as they ever were. If you end up staying here and helping Will McAllister with that crazy notion of his, you’ll find out.”
His tone was so cutting, she recoiled. They shouldn’t have come.
Neil turned to her mother when an awkward silence ensued. “Mrs. Montgomery, Hannah’s told me so much about you.”
“Silas—who is this man?” She backed up against the wall, pressing her palms against the faded green wallpaper. “I don’t know him.”
“Sure you do, Mom,” Hannah said, putting her hand on Neil’s arm before crossing and hugging her gently. “I’ve sent you lots of videos with Neil and me. I’ve told you about him—”
“He’s a ‘friend’ of Hannah’s.” Her father shot her a reproving look before stepping in front of her and taking her mother by the arm. “Go sit down, Martha. That fall you had this winter still has you as frail as a baby bird.”
“I didn’t know you fell, Mom,” Hannah said, wishing he wouldn’t block her.
“Your father doesn’t like anyone knowing,” her mother replied. “Right, Silas?”
“Knowing doesn’t help much.” He started leading her away. “We get along fine on our own.”
“But Hannah is here now.” She went along with him a few steps before pausing, her green eyes a little cloudy. “My goodness, you still look so much like Sarah. I always wonder what she’d look like if she were still here. Oh, Silas. Don’t you see? She’d be all grown up like Hannah.”
Tears started to slip down her mother’s cheeks, and Hannah’s throat closed.
Sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she wondered whether Sarah would still be so thin or whether her sister would have filled out like she had.
Then sometimes she wondered if she’d ever stop speculating on something that would never be…
God, even knowing Sarah wanted her back in Sanctuary Springs was a small comfort.