Chapter 87
Turned out that once Sheriff Adams started talking after his arrest, he couldn’t stop, desperate to be a man unburdened of things he had no choice but to carry for the rest of his life.
Anna didn’t feel sorry for him. His choices had been his own, but at least he’d pleaded guilty to all charges, and the town, reeling from the shock of it all, was saved the scandal of a protracted trial.
Harper’s Creek was a hardy place, though, Anna thought as she locked up the small, freshly painted office.
Resilient. That was part of what she’d come to realize she loved about it.
The rain had come and washed all their sins away, or maybe, when the shock of the truth had faded, there was just a collective sigh of relief.
She looked up to where the sign that Todd was making for her would go and felt a thrill of excitement.
The Harper’s Creek Chronicle. Local news for local people.
She’d considered going back to college—a different one, but college all the same—but that time was done.
She was nearly twenty-three, and this was where she wanted to be.
One day maybe she’d write the long-form piece on the true story of the Farmhand that a couple of New York editors wanted from her, or even a book, but for now, both she and Harper’s Creek needed to recover.
The last thing anyone here wanted was to be flooded by outsiders, ghouls come to stare.
It was time to make Harper’s Creek home.
Summer was fading to autumn and there were the first hints of crispness in the warmth as she strolled up Main toward the church.
Mom was at work, Callie was back in school, the long summer vacation over, and once Anna got Grandma home, they’d maybe watch a movie for a couple of hours before the others got back.
Her scooter was now in the shed until Callie was old enough for it, the town having gifted Anna a car as a thank-you.
She in turn had gifted that to Mom as a trade-in for her old one.
Seemed fair. Mom had sacrificed enough for them over the years.
Sacrifice. Anna thought about that word often.
She was thinking about it now as she pushed open the church doors.
It was warmer inside, and welcoming, and she could see Grandma, who had sacrificed so much, down at the front, staring up at the cross, that strange wistful smile on her lips that was her forever expression these days.
“Anna.” Pastor Keene, tidying Bibles into stacks on a side table, smiled at her. “How are things going with the paper?”
“Jeannie’s signed up for advertising and is going to run a recipe column. Nearly ready to start putting together the first issue.” She looked across to her grandma. “She been okay?”
“She always is.” He put down the last Bible and studied her.
“And how are you? Now that things are settling? Any news from New York?” It was strange, this friendship she’d formed with Pastor Keene.
She’d gotten past his awkwardness, and now that all her anger was gone, she saw him for what he was. Devout but a good man.
“Yes.” Anna took a seat in the back row.
Grandma was in her happy place, and there was no rush to get home.
“The police matched DNA from the night of the attack with one of them. He then confirmed the names of the other two I’d given.
They’re hopeful between that and the video they’ll have enough to press charges.
” Her memory of the men who’d raped her—no longer the thing, she could say the word without a visceral reaction now, learning slowly to let go of a guilt that had never been hers—had come back within days of what happened in the basement.
The party, the three young men who worked at some hedge fund in the city, coked-up, looking for a good time.
She remembered saying no, and then they gave her the spiked drinks and the rest happened.
Once she’d told the police in New York their names, Todd making sure they listened, the police had taken it from there.
She found she felt quite distant from it now.
If it came to trial, she’d attend; if it didn’t, she’d have to find a way to let it go.
The counseling would help. Time had finally moved on.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Pastor Keene said.
Anna looked at the large cross and how Grandma, who hadn’t spoken a word since that night in the basement, stared up at it with such joy. It meant that she was still in there somewhere. She hadn’t been totally pushed out.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Anna asked softly. “She means so very much to me.” She couldn’t explain why. No one would believe it. Not even Pastor Keene, although if she was ever going to tell anyone and hope they might understand, it would be him. Maybe one day.
“Look at her.” He leaned in, smiling, also watching Grandma looking up at the cross. “Perhaps she’s a little different now. Not who she once was. But her spirit is in there. She knows she is loved. She looks pretty content to me. And she has so much faith. That gives her strength.”
“Amen to that,” Anna said. If only Pastor Keene knew how much strength Grandma’s faith had given her.