Free The Truth About Love and Lightning by Susan McBride

filling with tears. “So why can’t this be real? Maybe he was on his way when the storm hit and got caught up in it. Or what if he made the rain? What if the twister was his way back? You used to say that was his gift. So what if that gift brought him home?” Her slender hand reached for Gretchen, grabbing hold of her sleeve. “You’re the one who made me believe all those things in the first place. Were they all lies or was any of it true?”
    Any words caught fast in Gretchen’s throat. How exactly was she supposed to respond to that? Tell her vulnerable child that those stories were gross exaggerations?
    “My sweet Abigail,” she said, deciding to take the path of reason. She grasped Abby’s arms, holding on tightly. “If this man is Sam, why didn’t he contact us sooner? Why would he wait until now when he’s had forty years to do it?”
    “I don’t know.” The girl sighed, drawing away and shaking her head. “Whatever kept him away must’ve been something powerful, something beyond his control. Still, he must have heard me every time I wished for this. All those candles on every birthday cake.”
    Wishes aren’t magic, Gretchen wanted to remind her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Because she had shared with Abby what Lily Winston had shared with her: larger-than-life tales of Sam’s lineage, of the men who’d come before him and the mysticism surrounding them. But if that magic were real—if it were true—was it strong enough to bring someone back from the dead, or wherever it was Sam had gone?
    “We know nothing about this man, only that he needs our help,” she insisted, trying to calm Abby down, finding herself the voice of reason simply by default. “Sometimes even strangers can look like those we love and miss.”
    “He must have an ID, a driver’s license, something,” Abby said and looked ready to pick the man’s pockets.
    But Gretchen caught her arm. “Baby, there’s nothing there,” she told her. “We already checked.”
    Abby backed off, heading over to a nearby wing chair. With a heavy sigh, she slumped into its arms, tilting her head against its high back. “Please don’t look at me like I’ve lost my mind,” she said, gazing up at her mother. “Because I haven’t, I promise.”
    “I don’t think that at all,” Gretchen said.
    “Goodness knows, you’re no crazier than the rest of us,” Trudy remarked and wandered over to the chair, standing beside it, showing her support for Abby.
    “Maybe we’re due for a miracle,” Bennie added, not about to be left out of things.
    Oh, boy.
    Gretchen crossed her arms tightly, cursing the timing that had brought the injured man to the farm and Abby home on the same day. She was afraid of what such a deep-seated longing could do to Abby when she was already in such a churned-up state. The girl was fearful that she’d lost Nate, frightened about having a baby, and now she’d begun to convince herself that her long-lost daddy had come home to take his rightful place—a place that had been kept wide open and waiting for forty years.
    “As lovely as miracles sound, we can’t jump to conclusions,” Gretchen said, picking her words carefully. “What if he awakens clearheaded and tells us he was merely passing through, that he’s someone with a family who’s missing him?”
    “If he does, then I’ll stop wishing for things I can’t have,” Abby replied, the strain in her voice all too apparent. “But until then, there’s nothing wrong with hoping, is there?”
    “No,” Gretchen said, her heart nearly breaking. “I guess there’s not.”
    Abby sighed and patted the arms of the chair before pulling herself upright. “You’re right. I’m really tired. I think I’ll hit the sack.” She kissed her aunts on their cheeks before she gave Gretchen a hug. “How about I see you all in the morning?”
    “Goodnight, lamb,” Trudy said, and Bennie added, “Sleep tight.”
    Abby gave the unconscious man one