Where Willows Grow by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page A

him. His heart lifted. Annie? But the frantic cry, ‘‘Daddy! Daddy!’’ identified his pursuer. He spun, dropped to one knee, and captured Dottie as she flung herself against his chest. His hat fell off and landed upside down in the dirt beside him. The hug turned almost desperate as he cradled Dorothy’s head in his wide hand and held her against his pounding heart.
    ‘‘Dottie-doll, I’m gonna miss you somethin’ fierce.’’
    ‘‘Don’t go, Daddy, please? I’m sorry. I won’t be mean no more.’’
    A lump filled Harley’s throat, nearly choking him. ‘‘Dottie, I gotta go. An’ it’s got nothin’ to do with you being mean. I gotta get some money for our farm. Can’t grow crops without rain, an’ there’s no more rain in Kansas.’’ Harley set Dottie in front of him. ‘‘But I’ll be back. Maybe sooner, maybe later, but I won’t be gone forever.’’
    ‘‘Daddeeeee . . .’’ Dottie began to wail.
    ‘‘Listen, darlin’, I need you to be a big girl and help your mama while I’m gone.’’ His fingers curled around Dottie’s narrow shoulders. His chest ached with each heave of those skinny shoulders. ‘‘You remind your mama that Jack can tote the milk cans from the ’fraidy hole, and you help in the garden.’’
    ‘‘I w-will, Daddy.’’
    ‘‘Do you promise?’’
    Dottie nodded, her tangled blond hair flying around her face. Her chin quivered. ‘‘I promise. An’ you’ll come back, right, Daddy?’’
    Harley clutched her to his chest once more, breathing in the scent of her sweaty hair. His throat convulsed. ‘‘I promise, Dottie.’’ He cupped her head in his hands and kissed her forehead, both tear-damp cheeks, and the top of her head. Rising, he pointed to the house. ‘‘Go on, now.’’ His voice turned gruff, roughened by emotion he could barely contain. ‘‘And be a good girl, you hear?’’
    Dottie nodded again, tears still raining down her pale face. She picked up Harley’s hat and handed it to him. He plopped it on his head, chucked his daughter beneath the chin, and headed for the gate. When he reached the bend in the road, he heard her call, ‘‘I love you, Daddy!’’
    He turned to walk backward, lifting his hand in a wave. ‘‘I love you, too, Dottie-doll!’’
    Anna Mae heard every word between Dorothy and Harley through the open kitchen window. Her fingers gripped the sink edge so hard it hurt as she battled the urge to run outside, race down the lane, and throw herself against Harley as freely as their daughter had. But her fingers didn’t let go. Not even when Harley finally turned forward again and the sight of his retreating back conjured memories of another leave-taking—her brother, Ben, marching off to join the Army. She hadn’t been much older than Dorothy.
    What if this was the last time she saw Harley?
    Come back, Harley. Please come back .
    But the words remained confined to her heart, and of course he didn’t hear them. A weight pressed against her chest. Even if he heard, he wouldn’t heed them. He’d made up his mind, and once Harley decided on something, there was no dissuading him. There never had been.
    She found her voice and called, ‘‘Dorothy! Come on in here now and eat your breakfast!’’
    Dorothy released the gate post and turned slowly, shielding her eyes with her hand as she peered toward the house. Then she looked back at the road.
    ‘‘Dorothy! Now!’’
    The stern tone set Dorothy’s feet in motion, but the child scuffed slowly, head down, shoulders slumped. Anna Mae shifted her gaze so she wouldn’t have to watch her daughter’s heartrending journey to the house.
    The moment Dorothy stepped into the kitchen, she ran across the floor and wrapped her arms around Anna Mae’s middle, snuffling against her mother’s apron. Anna Mae gave her a loving pat, then set her aside. ‘‘Come on, Dorothy. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed, then you need to eat some breakfast.’’
    ‘‘Don’t