I wasn’t prepared to hear her admit he’d treated his boys so poorly, and thankfully, she didn’t give me a chance to respond.

“I miss my boys. They rarely come around these days.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “I keep telling Wyatt to bring you to the house for lunch on a day when Bart’s not around, or arrange for us to meet at a restaurant in Ewing, but he insists your schedule is too busy, and when I pester Max to let you off, he always has an excuse.”

She clearly thought Wyatt and I were still dating, four months after we’d broken up. Why hadn’t they told her the truth? “Mrs. Drummond—”

“Call me Emily, dear. Mrs. Drummond is much too stuffy.”

“Emily, Wyatt and I…” But something held my tongue. If the lies or evasions had come only from Wyatt, I might have written it off as his usual mysterious behavior, but Max? Was the fact that Emily thought Wyatt and I were together keeping me safe? That made no sense, especially since Bart thought I was seeing Marco. “Max is right. It’s been especially busy lately with all the construction crews coming in. This is the first half day I’ve had off in weeks.”

“And you came here to see me?” She placed a frail hand on her chest. “That means more to me than you could possibly know.”

Now I was filled with guilt. Damn Bart Drummond. I wanted to ask her about Heather, but if I jumped right into the questions, I’d look like a jealous lover—a crazy jealous lover since Heather was dead. Which made me wonder if Emily knew the truth. Although the news was all over town, she didn’t get out frequently, and Bart clearly didn’t feel the need to keep her informed.

“Has Bart told you much about the bones they found?” I asked, picking up my teacup and taking a sip.

“Not much. He thinks they came from Floyd Bingham.” She curled her nose. “Nasty man.”

“I thought so too.” When she gave me a curious look, I added, “Marco told me how awful he was.”

“It’s a wonder that Todd survived living in that hell,” she said. “I couldn’t believe his stepmother didn’t take him or Rodney.”

She didn’t know about the rumors about Floyd’s wife? Or she didn’t believe them?

“Emily, do you have any idea about the identity of the person they found buried out there?”

“Bart says it was likely an ex-employee of Floyd’s. He didn’t believe in firing people. Once you worked for him, you were his for life.” She made a face. “Which makes it all the more strange that his wife ran off.”

“Emily,” I said before I could stop myself, “do you really think he’d let her go?”

Sadness filled her eyes. “No… I suppose he didn’t.”

Just how sheltered was Emily? I knew Wyatt had come back to Drum because of her, and both he and Max had spoken of her fragility from the cancer. But did it go deeper than they let on? Was she emotionally fragile too?

I found myself thinking of what Abby had said about Mitzi, and how her husband had acted like I had the potential to break her.

Seems to be a weirdly common ailment in these parts.

“Do you think his wife is buried out there?” she asked, her voice breaking. Then horror filled her eyes. “Rodney! Oh, that poor dear boy.”

“No,” I rushed to say. “They didn’t find a child. I asked. Marco confirmed it.” But I was sure he was buried somewhere.

Her eyes sank closed and she set her teacup on the tray. “I had nightmares after he disappeared. I dreamed of my own boys going missing. I dreamed of Rodney being buried in the ground.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “He was friendly with Max and Marco, although Bart didn’t like it much. I saw him during my room mother functions at school. He was such a quiet boy. He had a haunted look. Too many kids in these parts do.” Tears swam in her eyes. “I asked Bart to put up a reward to find him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said it would be unseemly, and it could cause a war with Floyd. He was already dealing with enough trouble from Hank, he didn’t need to go courting any more. And that poor boy was never found.”

“I’m sure that must have been very hard for you as a mother. Especially since your son was friendly with him.”

She gave me a tight smile. “Bart accused me of smothering the boys for a while after that. I had a hard time letting them out of my sight. Wyatt was easier—he was twelve, goin’ on twenty-two.” She chuckled. “Kids seem to be in such a hurry to grow up, Wyatt in particular. But soon Bart put a stop to my fussin’ and decided to send Max off to summer camp in North Carolina. Wilderness training. Said I was makin’ him into a sissy and it would toughen him up.” She shuddered.

“Did he want to go?” I asked, in disbelief she would share all of this with me.

“Oh, dear. No. Wyatt was loud and boisterous and larger than life in everything he did, just like his father wanted. But Max…”

That was so unlike the Wyatt I knew; I had a hard time imagining it. Wyatt was quiet and withdrawn. Was that a result of his break from his father or his time in prison? Maybe both.

A soft smile covered Emily’s face. “Max… he was more easygoin’. Less intense. Bart called him a momma’s boy who needed toughening up. But Max went to camp because his father had asked it of him. He would have done anything to make his father proud, but I knew he was scared. So I snuck behind Bart’s back and offered to send Marco to camp with Max, unbeknownst to Bart. His mother was hesitant at first—no one wanted to face his wrath—but I convinced her in the end.”

“Did Bart ever find out?”

“Good heavens, no,” she said, picking up her tea again. “And Max never mentioned Marco while he regaled us with tales of his adventure. He had his father’s attention for three days, and those were three of the happiest days of Max’s life.”

I stared at her in shock. “Mrs. Drummond—I mean Emily…why are you telling me this?”

She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “Because while Bart has been a good husband, especially in our later years, he’s been an equally terrible father.”

“Again, I have to ask—”

“Every bad thing that has happened to my boys is because I didn’t protect them from him. I let him convince me that he knew best. That he was makin’ them into real men. By the time I realized what was happenin’, it was too late. I was trapped, and so were they.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. I had no money to support myself let alone both boys. And if he’d found me, he would have taken them from me. So I stayed to keep them close. And over time, they convinced me they were glad we had stayed. That they had the life I wanted for them, and that I’d given them that by staying.”

“Emily…” I said, not knowing how else to respond.

“I’m not sure what Wyatt’s told you about his childhood or his relationship with his father, or with me for that matter, but my boys haven’t had an easy life. I did the best I could. I’m sure the boys have kept you away from me because of Bart. Worried about what he might do to you.” She tsked. “He would never approve of you for a wife. Just like he didn’t approve of Heather. Only you’re as sweet as molasses and Heather was a viper.”