The Beautiful Now - M. Leighton

Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25

Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Epilogue

THE BEAUTIFUL NOW

M LEIGHTON

CONTENTS

The Beautiful Now Copyright Description Rights 2004 Chapter 1 1984 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 2004 Chapter 5 1987 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 2004 Chapter 9 1989 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

2004 Chapter 15 1989 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 2004 Chapter 19 1989 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 2004 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Epilogue Dear Reader Your Free Book! Connect With Me!

Acknowledgments Other Books By M. Leighton YA and PARANORMAL About the Author

THE BEAUTIFUL NOW

A Novel By M. Leighton

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2017 M. Leighton All rights reserved. Cover photo by michaeljung www.depositsphotos.com ISBN: 1976544890 ISBN-13: 978-1976544897

DESCRIPTION

Dane James worked my stepfather’s fields. He was the boy next door. Strong. Hardworking. Forbidden. From the moment we met, we were starcrossed lovers—always wanting, never having. We loved each other for most of our lives, but right from the beginning destiny had other plans. She knew we would fall in love. She knew we would fall apart. Over and over again, like the curse of a recurring nightmare. Or the hope of a familiar dream. Our past was tumultuous. Our future was bleak. But the one thing we always had was the beautiful now. Until that was taken from us, too.

Sign up for my newsletter and receive a FREE BOOK, as well as exclusive sales and giveaways. Don’t worry, I won’t spam your inbox:) You can also catch giveaways and exclusive opportunities in my READER GROUP. For more information about me, my books, or how to reach me, please visit my website. Look me up out there! I’d love to hear from you!

RIGHTS

First Edition Copyright 2017, M. Leighton Cover photo by michaeljung http://www.depositphotos.com http://www.mleightonbooks.com

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

This book is dedicated to all those who have been hurt by someone close to you. There is light and hope and love at the end of the tunnel.

Where there is hate, there is misery. Where there is forgiveness, there is healing. Where there is love, there is…everything.

And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. – 1Cor 13:13

2004 32 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 1

I

don’t intend to slow down when I see the Welcome to Shepherd’s Mill sign; my foot just hits the brake. It’s a reflex, like jerking your hand back that first time you touched the pretty orange coils on the stove. It’s a muscle-memory response to remembered pain. And, boy, do I remember the pain. I swore I’d never come back here. But surely, after all this time, things are different. Surely. Not that it matters. The reason I’m darkening the streets of this lost little town is sitting right next to me in the car, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. No place I wouldn’t go. No risk I wouldn’t take. No depths I wouldn’t sink to. Even if it means coming back here. That’s what mothers do.

Well, not mine, but that’s why when I was about Celina’s age, I promised myself that if I ever had a daughter I would love her more than anyone or anything else. I’d never put money or status or a man above her like my momma did. I couldn’t imagine not keeping that promise. Celina is my world. Casually, as if I’m not nearly paralyzed by fear, I accelerate again. Just as casually, I glance at her to see if she noticed my moment of panic. She may only be fourteen, but her eyes, a green so much like my own, are every bit as discerning as an adult’s. Maybe even more so. Leave it to me to produce a child who’s like a mini Dr. Phil with boobs. “Why are you doing this, Mom?” she asks, and not for the first time. “Why are you really doing this?” Long ago, I made the mistake of telling Celina why we never visited this place. Well, sort of. I would never tell her the whole truth. Some truths make life more difficult, and I do my best to spare her from those. But I did make the emotional decision to tell her how much I hated where I grew up. It was reckless and totally regrettable, and now that slip has come back to bite me right in the ass. She knows I’d never come back here unless the situation was dire. And the situation is dire.

I just won’t tell her how dire. She has enough on her plate. When I don’t answer right away, she draws her own conclusion, and the guilt and heaviness in her voice break my heart. “You’re doing this because of me, aren’t you? You just won’t tell me.” The small oval of her face is so beautiful, yet so pale. She looks exhausted and her eyes don’t shine like they used to. They haven’t in a while. That is why we’re here. I’m determined to do all I can to restore that shine, whatever the cost. Monetary or emotional. “Baby girl, I’m doing this for me. And for your grandmother, too. Although she’d never admit it, she could use some help and it will be good for us to mend our relationship. You’re just tagging along because I’m so awesome and I would never deprive you of that awesomeness. I’m considerate like that.” I grin over at her, the half-truth slipping easily from my lips. I’m sure lying to your child isn’t often the most advisable route, but my only goal in life is to protect her. Even if that means a few fibs along the way. “Why not just bring her to Maryland to live with us then? You hate it here.” “The only way she’d leave this town is in a body bag, so someone has to be crazy enough to come to her. And that person is me.” I send her my best crazy eyes. “Because you know how I am. I’m

loco en la cabeza.” That earns me a smile. Since she started learning Spanish, it’s always made her laugh when I use what few words I know. She says my Southern accent thickens when I try to speak a different language. I don’t hear it, of course, but she swears it’s true and it usually makes her laugh. I may or may not use that to my advantage at certain key times. Okay, I totally do. I’m shameless in my efforts to amuse her. Or distract her, depending on the need. There is a short pause, during which I really hope she’s going to let this drop. I’m not entirely surprised when she doesn’t, though. Celina is nothing if not tenacious. She’s like a gorgeous, delicate little pit bull. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Why won’t you tell me?” As I drive slowly down Main Street, a street I’d hoped never to have to see again, I reach out with my right hand to cup Celina’s cool, silky cheek. My heart swells with a combination of unending love and unbearable fear. All teasing is set aside when I answer her. “Because you have enough to worry about without me adding to it. You’re my child. You’re not meant to carry my burdens.” “But what if I want to?” Oh Lord God. She’s so selfless. So amazingly selfless and

loving. I don’t know where she gets it. I gulp at the knot gathering behind my tonsils. I laugh and make jokes as often as possible, but most of the time I feel like I’m one second away from tears. “Sweetheart, I love that you want to, but it’s my job as your mother not to let you. It’s my job to make life as carefree as I can, while I can. There will come a time when I can’t protect you from the pains of life, but right now you’re my baby. My sweet, sweet Celina. I’d take a bullet for you if it meant saving you from one more second of pain.” “It’s not like I’ve lived a sheltered, painless life, Momma.” I suppress a grin at the exaggerated wryness written on her face. It reminds me that she’s a teenager. Lest I ever forget it, I think sardonically. “I know you haven’t. You’ve had more hurts already than some people do in a lifetime. But that’s why I want to protect from all the ones I can. I’d put you back in my stomach if I could, so be glad shielding you is as bad as it gets.” “Mom! Gross!” I snigger at her response. She stretches “Mom” into two disgusted syllables—mah-ahm. “Seriously, Celina, try not to worry about it. Just be a normal fourteen year old. Well, as normal as you can be whilst sharing my DNA.” Her voice is so small I almost don’t hear her

reply. “I can’t even remember what normal feels like.” Another wave of intense sadness washes through me. When I look right, I see the bowed head and downturned mouth of my little girl. Times like these I wonder that my heart isn’t literally splitting in two, right down the middle, neither half ever to feel healthy and whole again. “You’ll see it again, honey.” Please, God, let her see normal again. “And you’ll remember how boring it is.” Please help her through this. I hope I sound convincing, but I have my doubts when Celina just nods. I wonder if she can see right through me, inside to where I feel anything but confident. I wonder if, in reality, I’m as transparent as the bug-spotted windshield in front of me. “And until you do, we can meet in my old room every night before bed and laugh about Grandma’s pants. I bet she wears old lady pants. And old lady underwear. You know, those really big ones that go way up over her stomach. Like to her armpits.” I wrinkle my nose at Celina and she wrinkles hers back, and at the same time we both say, “Ewwww.” After a minute or two, she sighs heavily. Loudly. Dramatically. Typical teenaged angst. “I guess it’ll be fine. Things can’t get any worse.” I won’t tell her that things can always get

worse, and I certainly won’t tell her that they often do. She doesn’t need to know that. I’ll keep her from learning that as long as I possibly can. I wish someone had done the same for me. But, alas, life hasn’t stopped showing me for twenty long years, beginning with the day I moved here when I was twelve. “Buck up, pretty girl. You never know. This might be the best thing to happen to you.” I sniff noisily, inhaling the smell of fresh-cut grass, sunshine and something sweetly unique to Shepherd’s Mill as it pours through the open window. “Smell that?” I haven’t smelled that particular combination in fifteen years. It almost makes me nauseous now. “What is it? Did you poot?” “Celina Holland, no, I did not poot. That, young lady, is the smell of a fresh start.” I sniff again, grimacing. “And probably a little bit of cow manure.” Celina shakes her head and closes her eyes. “You’re so weird.” “That’s me. Weird but awesome.” We both fall quiet and, as we roll through the heart of Shepherd’s Mill, I try to see the town as Celina sees it, all bias aside. The sidewalks on either side of Main Street are empty and all the shops still bear CLOSED signs in the windows. There are no cars parked in the slots

that dash the curbside like stitches, and there are no sounds to speak of. It’s actually a little eerie if you don’t know the people here. All that’s missing is tumbleweed rolling across in front of us to complete the ghost-town appearance. That would be misleading, though. This town is very much inhabited. But in this case, the ghosts are devils and they’re all in church. “Where is everybody?” Celina is used to the hustle and bustle of a bigger city. She was already dreading moving to a small town, but this…this is probably really freaking her out. “In church.” As if on cue, just as we’re approaching the only place of worship in town, the front doors burst open and a throng of people gushes out, pouring over the concrete steps like water over rocks. I know from experience they’re waiting for the pastor to make his way to the exit so he can shake the hands of his flock as they leave. I’ve always thought it was his last attempt to try to convince them not to do sinful things at least for the rest of the day. Far as I could tell, it never worked, although I have to give them credit for going to the one place that has any chance of turning them into decent people. The first ones out turn to watch us as we pass. I resist the urge to scrunch down in my seat in

shame. I’m sure they’ll draw their own conclusions about why Brinkley Sommers has returned after all this time, and with a child no less. Just thinking about it causes me to cast a rebellious eye their way, throw up a hand, and wave as if I don’t know what they’re thinking. As if I don’t know what they’re like. I actually laugh at the shocked expressions I see overtake face after face. Once upon a time, that would’ve bothered me. But not now. They don’t know that they can’t control me anymore. They don’t know that I don’t live and die by their rules anymore. They don’t know me. Not anymore. Finally, we make our way past the graceful white building. I give the place one last glance in my rearview mirror. I wish I was seeing them in my rearview mirror because I was leaving this town rather than returning to it, but… My wistfulness is interrupted by my daughter’s scream, which jerks my attention back to the road in front of me. “Moooom!” Reflexively, I grip the steering wheel, straighten my arms and slam on the brakes, barely missing a farm animal that’s walking casually across the paved street. “Oh shit! What is that?” Celina’s leaning

forward, hands braced against the dash, staring out the windshield. “It’s a goat,” I answer breathlessly, my heart thudding like a bass drum. “What does it look like?” “Why is there a goat in the middle of the road, in the middle of town?” I turn a wry smile toward my only child. “Welcome to Shepherd’s Mill, sweetheart.” I can’t help laughing when she covers her face with her hands and groans. I know just how she feels.

1984 12 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 2

“E

www, Brinkley, you’re so gross!” Lauren Stringer. The most popular girl in school. Why did she have to be the one person Momma insisted that I make friends with when we moved here a couple of months ago? She was awful. Just awful. Why did she have to be the one? I knew the answer. And I knew it didn’t matter how awful Lauren and her cronies were. I had my orders and they were non-negotiable. From the first day of school, I could see how things were going to be. “You’ve got to stop with this attitude, Brinkley,” Momma had said when my initiation into Shepherd’s Mill Middle School didn’t go as well as she’d hoped. “We’re rich people now and you have to act like it, young lady. That means bein’ nice,

keepin’ your mouth shut and, for God’s sake, stop playin’ in the dirt!” At the time, she’d been referring to the alreadysoiled toe of my brand new, whitest-white Nike. All I’d done was scuff up some circles in the dusty driveway while I was waitin’ for the school bus. It was just dirt. It’s not like I was playing in poop or something nasty like that. Regardless, that type of thing was now against the rules. Evidently being rich meant I could never get dirty again. I sighed even as I thought about it. I hoped the sacrifices we were making would be worth it in the end. But so far, I couldn’t see that they were. Of course, as much as I could tell, I was the only one making sacrifices. Momma was on cloud nine. It had always been just Momma and me. I never knew my father and ever since I could remember, my mother had wanted to land a rich man, someone who could make all her troubles go away. Troubles like having to work two jobs to make ends meet and having to struggle to buy school clothes for her daughter when she’d really rather be buying something nice for herself instead. She thought money was the answer to everything, and I suppose it could look like a problem-solver when you didn’t have it. Whether it was or was not remained to be seen, but she was still trying her best to teach me that it was. I wasn’t convinced, though. Up to that point, it had only managed to be a pain in my ass.

I wasn’t supposed to say “ass” anymore either. The no cussing and the not getting dirty rules had all started in April when she finally got what she wanted—her dream wedding to a rich man— and we’d moved halfway across the great state of South Carolina to a town called Shepherd’s Mill. Now, as she so constantly reminded me, all we had to do was play the part so she could keep the man. According to her, that meant (in addition to watching my mouth and keeping clean) I had to first make all the right friends and then learn to act like them. That’s what she was doing and she expected the same of me. So I was friends with Lauren Stringer and her gang because they were the kids of the biggest “somebodies” in town. That’s what Momma wanted me to do. And she was all I’d ever had, so I wanted to make her happy. I was always obedient and did exactly as she asked, right down to the letter whenever possible. Even if it meant making and keeping friends that were hollow-souled devils. I got my first real taste of their black hearts during my twelfth year of life on a pretty summer day down by the river. “Ewww, Brinkley, you’re so gross!” The words rang out into the sunny afternoon like shrill church bells signaling my funeral. At first, I thought she was joking. She sort of laughed when she said it, so I smiled even though I

had no idea what she was talkin’ about. But then when the others started laughing and sneering and pointing, I realized that she wasn’t joking at all. Lauren Stringer was calling me gross and I didn’t even know why. I rubbed a hand through my wavy blonde hair, half-expecting to find mud or a spider or something like that. I didn’t find anything, though. I’d kept good and clean, just like Momma made me promise to do. Next I swept my fingers over my small nose and wide mouth, checking for wetness or stickiness of any kind. Didn’t find anything there either. I looked down at my blue and white shirt, the stripes dizzying in the bright sun, and didn’t find anything gross on it either. No bugs or mustard or spit or boogers. Nothing. But still they laughed. Harder. Louder. Pointing and backing away like I was suddenly radioactive. “Ohmigod, she’s bleeding and she doesn’t even know it!” Cassie Shields’ squeal was half in delight, half in horror. I hadn’t liked Cassie the moment I met her. She had her head farther up Lauren’s butt than any of the others. Everyone did at least a little bit, but Cassie was the worst. Well, maybe not everyone. There was actually one boy who didn’t cater to Lauren Stringer like the others did. He didn’t seem to care who she was, what she did or what she thought. His name was Dane James.

I liked him right away, even though, according to Lauren, I shouldn’t have. She was quick to fill me in on the ugly details of the cute boy after he joined us earlier that day. When he took the lead on the way through the field and everyone else rushed to walk beside him, Lauren hung back. She was too good for that. Or so she thought. And because she hung back, I hung back, too. Because that would make Momma happy. “His father works the fields. He’s your stepdaddy’s foreman,” she’d whispered. Her tone implied that being the son of a worker was an awful thing to be. Like my mother, Lauren could get a lot across in her tone alone. “He’s our age, and he’s cute, but he’s just a common boy. Not like one of us.” “Why did you invite him then?” I was unwise in the ways of town royalty and how it functioned. “He’s the only one who can get a key to the back gate so we can get down to the river.” She’d rolled her eyes as she explained, as if to say, Duh! See what I mean about that tone? I’d nodded, as if that made perfect sense, even though it hadn’t. But what she was implying had. She was implying that while Dane was cute and useful, he was otherwise not good enough to really be one of “them.” Not like me. My mother had married into the “them”; therefore I was instantly good enough. I was a “them” now and we were an

“us,” and Dane James would never be either. As the day wore on, I was glad she invited him. I liked that he came even though he didn’t really fit in. I liked that he walked and everyone followed. I liked that he stopped to pick up a turtle and move it out of our way so it wouldn’t get stepped on. I liked that he didn’t pay much attention to Lauren, too. It was as if he was born with an immunity that the rest of us didn’t have. I really liked that about him. But most of all, I liked his eyes. They were a pretty color. Like the darker shades of autumn—rust and brown and green with a little bit of gold sprinkled in. He’d glanced at me a few times. Well more like looked. His eyes didn’t just keep on going the way they did when he glanced at the others. They stopped on mine, held them. Gazed into them. It did funny things to my stomach when he looked at me that way. Made it flutter, kind of like I was both nervous and excited. The way I always felt on the first day of school when I put on my only new outfit, or on Christmas morning when I ran into the living to see if there were any presents under the tree. Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking at him or his eyes when the others started making fun of me. “Ewww, Brinkley, you’re so gross!” The words were all around me, swinging from the trees and dangling from the leaves. They laughed in the breeze and mocked in the sun.

My brain was scrambling to figure out what I’d done to gross them out, but it wasn’t until I followed their rude pointing that I understood. I leaned forward and looked down. Down, down, down to below my waist. That’s when I saw the dark red stain leeching away from the crotch of my spotless white pants. Well, they used to be spotless. My heart rate tripped up a few notches. Although I was pretty sure I knew what it was, it still scared me. I mean, my mother had had “the talk” with me, but it was still a shock to see blood coming from that area. It took me by surprise. Awful, awful surprise. “She might be dying! Or she might be contagious! Ewwwww! Everybody run!” Lauren squealed theatrically. “Run!” And, of course, they ran. Like a herd of sheep. Mindless sheep. Followers. Something I was learning this town was full of. They ran after Lauren, bleating in panic the whole way—baaah baaah baaaaad Brinkley—leaving me standing, all alone and bleeding, beside the river on a hot and humid summer afternoon. They all ran. All except one. Dane James. He didn’t move a muscle, just stood there, staring at me with those funny eyes of his, chewing

on a stem of what looked like wheat. That one thin stalk made him look older than his years. Cockier, too, like some sort of television cowboy or something. Or maybe like a knight in shining armor, only he was wearing plaid and denim instead. I choked back tears of utter humiliation for as long as I could, counting the seconds until I could find my legs and flee, too. But my legs wouldn’t work and the dam wouldn’t hold. The raging waters pressed hard against a weakness in the façade until they found a crack in my resolve. They pressed and pressed until they made their way out. And when they started flowing, nothing on earth could stop them. Not even Dane James. All the stress of the move, of my new home and my new father, of my new school and my new “friends,” butted heads with the pressure from my mom, and the concussion of it all brought me right to my knees. The joints just gave up and crumbled under my slight weight. I sort of slithered to the ground, a lot like a Slinky, and buried my face in my hands, and I sobbed. I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed some more. I couldn’t hear anything except the empty sound of humiliation around me, so it was easy to forget that I wasn’t alone. It was when my tears finally began to dry that I remembered Dane James was there.

Dane James, The One Who Stayed. I wished he hadn’t. I just wanted to die in peace. Because I was certain I would. Momma had taught me long ago that social death was right next door to actual death. I was sure that held especially true in a town like Shepherd’s Mill. I was also sure that I’d just suffered a death of epic proportions. I left my face pressed against my palms, hoping he’d go away, but I could no longer ignore him when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Hesitantly, I turned my head to peek between my shaking fingers. I saw a face. A beautiful face. Dane James was squatting beside me, gnawing on his piece of wheat, working it between lips that I suddenly found fascinating. From between them, words oozed out like sweet, sweet honey. “I’m Dane,” he said softly. “I know who you are.” I sniffled brokenly. “You’re Brinkley.” “I know who I am, too.” I didn’t mean to be sharp, but I was still raw from shame. He grinned. “Don’t pay any attention to Lauren. Or her friends. They don’t mean shit.” He stood and offered a hand to help me up. “They’ll probably do the same thing to her one day.” God, I hope so! Part of me hoped he was right and that she got the same treatment, only worse. Something truly

horrific, like in the movie Carrie. Something public and bloody and everlasting. And I hoped I got to see it. Even though that wasn’t likely to ever happen, not really, that simple statement—they’ll probably do the same thing to her one day—was enough to calm me. Not all the way, but enough that I gave Dane a tentative smile and let him help me up. While I dusted off my knees, I watched him shed the red plaid shirt that was tied around his waist. Without a word, he reached over to tie it around mine. As I watched him work the sleeves into a knot and then let the ends hang, I wondered if anyone had ever actually exploded from embarrassment. Just exploded and died on the spot. I abandoned the thought, however, when I glanced down and saw the wisdom of what Dane James had done. The long sleeves of his shirt obscured the growing stain between my legs, the arms dangling in just the right place in front of my crotch, and the body part of it covered my backside completely. Now I just looked like a tomboy. A clean tomboy, though, and I was okay with that. Better a tomboy than a leper. And just like that, Dane James saved me. Or at least it felt that way. “Thank you.” Shyly, I peered up at him from underneath my lashes. A casual shrug was his only

reply. He acted like it was no big deal that he stayed behind and salvaged what was left of my dignity. And maybe to Dane it wasn’t (he did have his Lauren immunity after all). But it was a big deal to me. A very big deal. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.” And so he did. We walked back the way we’d come, only we were alone this time. Side by side we walked, close enough to touch if Dane had tried. Only he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to, but I sure did. I wanted to touch him, to hold his hand or brush my arm against his. But I didn’t touch either. I was too shy to be so bold. I just walked at his side, enjoying the warmth I could feel coming off the boy to my left, his quiet strength comforting me in ways I didn’t really understand. I found that having him beside me chased away the stinging memory of the sheep, the oppressive thoughts of my mother, and the impossibility of my stepfather and this ridiculous town. All of it, just gone. So when Dane James started to talk, I became a willing participant of his world rather than a reluctant participant of my own. He told me about Stanley, the turtle he’d earlier moved out of the way so he wouldn’t get stepped on. “He lives down by the river. Most days I take him mushrooms to eat.” “I like turtles.” That was actually a lie. I didn’t like turtles at

all. They reminded me of big snails with less slime and prehistoric feet. But this turtle was different. This turtle was beloved by Dane James; therefore it was beloved by me as well. “I like most animals. Especially dogs.” “Do you have a dog?” “No. I’ve always wanted one, but my dad won’t let me have one.” I was furious at his father and I’d never even met him. “I wish I had a dog, too.” And at that moment, I did. Just so Dane James could come to my house and pet him. “But at least I have Stanley. Until he leaves anyway.” “What will you do then? If he leaves, I mean.” I was already mourning the loss of Stanley the turtle. I couldn’t quite comprehend the why of it. All I knew as that Stanley was important to Dane James, and Dane James was suddenly important to me. Dane shrugged in that way he had, but this time there was something sad around his fall-colored eyes. “I guess I won’t have anything anymore.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything at all. I only knew that if I could make his eyes not look sad anymore, I would. They made me feel sad, too. They made me hope that Stanley the turtle never left. It made my stomach hurt to think that one day this boy, The One Who Stayed, might be all alone.

“You said your dad wouldn’t let you have a dog. What about your mom? Ask her. Maybe she’ll talk your dad into saying yes.” “My mom is dead.” Dane’s voice was as flat as the hard-packed dirt of the path beneath my feet. “How did she die?” It never occurred to me not to ask. “She killed herself.” At my involuntary gasp, he added, “With drugs.” “Why?” Dane shrugged again, but I could tell a difference in this shrug. This one didn’t say he didn’t care; this one said he was just helpless to do anything but shrug. We walked in silence for a couple of minutes. I silently wished that I could share my mom with him. She had her faults, but I loved her and I wanted Dane James to have a mom to love. But then he interrupted my thoughts again and I was glad to leave them behind. “Wanna race to the edge of the field? I’ll give you a head start.” At his offer, I stopped to look over at him, happy that he’d changed the subject. It made my arms and legs feel heavy to walk beside his sadness. Rather than answering, I just took off like the devil himself was chasing me. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Not that it mattered. Dane was at my side and then overtaking me within

seconds. What I noticed, though, was that he slowed down once he flew by me, slowed down enough that I could keep up with him and we could reach the edge of the field at the same time. Neither of us declared a winner, although we both knew it would’ve been Dane by a landslide. If he’d even halfway tried, that is. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to beat me. He just wanted someone to run with him. I was a little bit in love with Dane James by the time we reached my driveway. When he turned right at the end of it, leaving me to walk the last few yards to the house by myself, he smiled over at me before he continued on down the road. “See ya later, alligator.” “After while, crocodile,” I replied, grinning back at him. It seemed silly, but it made me happy for some reason. He made me happy for some reason. And as we parted ways, for the first time since we’d arrived in Shepherd’s Mill, I felt something other than alone.

CHAPTER 3

W

hen I walked into the house, Momma and Alton Peterson, my stepfather, were sitting on the couch in the living room. I didn’t like looking at them together. I didn’t know why exactly; I just knew it made me uncomfortable. To me, they were an odd couple. My mom was young and beautiful, like one of my collectible dolls with her pretty blonde hair and her dark green eyes. But Alton didn’t look like any of the Ken dolls I used to play with. He was older and he looked more run-down than Momma, like he’d been left in the closet under a bunch of shoes for too long. His hair was already turning gray on the sides and I thought surely he should be somebody’s grandpa. Momma said he was “only” thirty-five, but to me he was old.

I watched for a few seconds as my mom crossstitched on a pillow. Alton sat to her left with his arm slung around her shoulders. His eyes were closed and his fingers were rubbing the upper part of her chest. Not her actual boob, but too close for my comfort. I wished he wouldn’t do things like that when I could see. It gave me the creeps big time. He wouldn’t dare do something like that in public, but I was quickly learning that Alton was a different person behind closed doors. The polite mask he wore for the world to see was a far cry from the way he really was. I was pretty sure that was the case with everybody in Shepherd’s Mill. Everybody except Dane James. “Hi, honey,” Mom greeted absently, barely glancing up from her pillow. But when she did, she did a double take. “What on earth are you wearing? Whose shirt is that?” Of course, she would notice my clothes first thing. We had a part to play and at that moment I was failing. I sighed. Considering the way she freaked out over the dirt on my Nikes, I dreaded to hear what she would say about my pants when I showed her. “A boy’s.” “Why are you wearing a boy’s shirt tied around your waist? You look like a ragamuffin.” I glanced

over at Alton. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of him. It was embarrassing to begin with, but discussing it in front of my gross stepfather just felt…wrong. When I didn’t answer right away, Momma prompted me. “Brinkley, did you hear me? What’s with the shirt?” My cheeks stung as I thought about the stain between my legs, and how Lauren and her sheep had reacted. “I’ll tell you later.” Mom set the pillow on her lap and frowned up at me. I had her full attention now. “You’ll tell me now, young lady.” Again I glanced nervously at Alton, who hadn’t bothered to open his eyes or stop rubbing my mom’s chest. At that point, I was okay with it, though. If he was distracted, I wouldn’t have to worry about him seeing my predicament. That was a plus. Hurriedly, I lifted the arms of Dane’s shirt so that Momma could see my bloody pants, but I quickly let them drop again in case Alton bothered to look up. That is, if he would’ve bothered to stop molesting my mother right in front of me. Blech! Momma smiled. “Awww, my little girl’s growing up. Becoming a woman.” At that, Alton’s head snapped up, and when I glanced over, his gaze was trained on me. I shivered

at how icy it was. My stepfather’s eyes were a dark blue, like the deepest, coldest part of the ocean. They were just as intimidating, too, like scary things lurked just beneath the surface. I never could hold them for very long. They made me feel uncomfortable for reasons I couldn’t yet grasp. So, as always, I looked away after a few seconds. “Can I just go to my room? My stomach hurts.” And it did. It had begun to throb, a deep ache that was spreading across my lower abdomen and down to the tops of my thighs. “Of course. I’ll bring up the heating pad. Change your clothes and I’ll wash up what you’re wearing so you can give that shirt back to its owner. What did you say the boy’s name was?” “Dane. His name is Dane James.” At that, my stepfather began to pay very close attention to me. His hand stilled and he sat up straighter. “What were you doing with Dane James, Brinkley?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he barked my name again, making me jump. “Brinkley! Answer me!” “A bunch of us were, uh, out playing in the fields.” I didn’t want to mention the river since we weren’t supposed to have a key to the gate that allowed us to get down that far. Alton frowned. “You shouldn’t be hanging around with that boy.”

“Why? He’s nice.” “What did I tell you about talking back to me?” I felt the blood drain from my face. I could imagine it seeping down my neck, past my chest and back into my pounding heart. “Y-you said not to do it.” “Then what are you doing now?” “I was…I was just explaining. Dane is—” “I don’t want an explanation. He works here and you are to stay away from him. End of discussion. Am I making myself clear?” I clamped my lips shut and nodded once, curtly. “Can I go to my room now?” “Yes.” Eagerly, I turned and started up the stairs, but Alton wasn’t finished. The forbidding boom of his voice caused me to falter and I tripped on the first step. “I mean it, Brinkley. Stay away from him.” I righted myself, nodded again, and kept climbing. Little did I know…little did we all know that asking me to stay away from Dane James was like asking me to stay away from air or water or life or love. It was impossible.

CHAPTER 4

I

was playing Atari in my room when I heard the first one. Tick. I didn’t think much of it. I figured it was either a sound effect from the game I was playing—well, the game I was losing—or a skip in the cassette tape I was listening to. It was when I heard the second one, a much louder one, that I realized it wasn’t the game or the music. Tick. Quickly, I hit the red stop button on the controller and turned down the volume on my boombox so I could hear better. As I listened, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. There was the squawk of the frogs around the pond off in the distance, the soft hiss of cool air pouring from the vent next to my bed, and the electronic buzz of

my black and white television. Nothing unusual, and certainly no ticking. Until I heard it again. One more sharp tick. I jerked my head around. The sound was coming from my window. I was instantly afraid. I’d watched too many scary movies and my imagination was far too vivid to write it off as something innocent. My brain automatically conjured up all kinds of bloodthirsty creatures lurking outside in the dark. But then I remembered I was twelve years old, too old to really believe that. After at least a full minute of talking myself down, I began to rationalize and became more curious about the noise than afraid of it. Well mostly. I pushed myself upright and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I listened to the silence. A tiny part of me still secretly prepared to hear a roar or claws ripping into the side of the house, something terrifying and monstrous. My heart thudded heavily as I eased my feet onto the floor. I was fully prepared to bolt if I heard growling. But I didn’t, so I made my way slowly toward the window. I reasoned with myself as I moved, listing possible explanations (other than monsters) for the noise—a tree branch scraping the side of the house, some debris blowing through the yard, some

nighttime bug snapping its hard-shelled body against the glass. My fingers only trembled a little when I pushed the curtains to one side and peered through the tiny slit. At first, all I saw was half my face and the bright glow of the television behind me. But after a few seconds, after my eyes adjusted to see past my own reflection, I managed to look out into the night. That’s when I saw that there was, in fact, something in the yard. And that the something was actually a someone. It was Dane James. The One Who Stayed. I recognized him the instant my eyes focused on him. I thought I’d probably recognize him anywhere, in any amount of light. If I didn’t recognize the way he looked, I’d recognize the way he made me feel. Even in the night, in low light, from this distance, through a pane of glass that reflected my own face, I felt happy and warm and somehow relieved. Dane was standing right where the crescent of the outdoor light faded into the darkness of the trees. He looked a little like a ghost. Some sort of product of the night, an arm maybe or some other kind of projection, reaching just enough into the light to grab me. And he did grab me. Somewhere way down deep in my stomach. I

felt him like a flutter in my belly. The boy who saved me with his red plaid shirt and his autumncolored eyes was at my house. Standing in my yard. Throwing rocks at my window. And I was excited to see him. In that instant, I didn’t care that my mother would freak if she knew Dane was out there. I didn’t care that my stepfather would kill me if he saw. I didn’t care that it was probably highly inappropriate for a young girl to be opening her bedroom window to talk to a worker’s boy in the middle of the night. I didn’t care about any of that. I only cared about talking to Dane James, The One Who Stayed. I only cared about how thrilled I was that he had come to see me. I flipped open the lock at the top of the window and pushed up the heavy pane, sticking my head out enough that I was pretty sure no one in the house could hear me talking. “What are you doing here?” I loud-whispered down to him. “I came to check on you.” “Why?” He shrugged. “To make sure you were okay.” I didn’t respond immediately. For a few seconds, the humiliation of “the event” returned full force and choked out anything I might’ve said like a tight fist trying to strangle me. I wished he would just forget the whole thing.

After a deep breath and a swallow, however, I finally managed to respond in an audible voice. “I’m fine.” “Then come on. Let’s go.” “Go? Go where? It’s the middle of the night.” “I know it’s the middle of the night. Who cares?” “I care. I’ll get in trouble.” “Don’t be a chicken.” “I’m not a chicken.” Even as I replied, I shoved my chin up a notch, nearly cracking my head on the window. “Good. Then come on.” I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t let any boy, much less this boy, talk me into sneaking out of the house, but I knew in my heart that he wasn’t talking me into anything. I wanted to go with him. Wherever he was going, I wanted to go, too. I didn’t even care where it was. Impulsively, before I could think twice and change my mind, I agreed. “Give me one sec.” Hurriedly, I closed the window and, with my pulse pounding, I threw off my nightgown and pulled on a pair of yellow shorts and a tank top with pink and yellow butterflies on one shoulder. I pushed my feet into my white Nikes and hoped we weren’t going somewhere they’d get dirty. Momma was still fussing about the last time she had to clean them.

I crept down the stairs, pausing at every creak in the wood until I was finally able to make my way onto the carpet and race through the dining room into the kitchen. I knew I’d have a better chance of getting out the back door without anyone hearing me. The front door groaned when it opened, sort of like an old ghost that was too tired to do much haunting. Once I’d eased open the deadbolt and turned the knob lock, I cracked the door just enough to squeeze out and then quickly shut it behind me. I stopped on the little concrete stoop and took a deep breath before I moved another inch. I could still turn back… It wasn’t too late. Yet. Just then, a gust of balmy night air whipped around the corner of the house, ruffling my loose blonde hair and tickling my nose. I inhaled slowly, another long, deep breath. To a girl who’d felt something like a prisoner since coming to Shepherd’s Mill, the darkness smelled like freedom, freedom to be myself again, even if just for a little while. In the middle of the night. Where no one could see, no one but a boy who didn’t care about my chains or the people who held them. He only cared about me. He just wanted someone to run with. I took off, racing around into the front yard. As I ran, something in the back of my mind warned me

that Dane would spell trouble for me, but I ignored it. I ignored it like I wanted to ignore my mother and her silly rules. I ignored it like I wanted to ignore my stepfather and his snobby friends. I ignored it like I wanted to ignore the whole stupid town and the person they were trying to force me to become. I didn’t stop running until I was practically on top of Dane James. He reached out to stop me with his thin, lanky arms. I didn’t know if I was breathless from running or breathless from his touch. He was finally touching me and it felt so nice. “Where are we going?” I huffed. “This way.” He tipped his shaggy dark brown head toward the fields, letting his hands fall away from my arms. I missed the warmth of them instantly. Dane turned toward the driveway and took a single step forward. I was going to follow, but he stopped and looked back at me, so I stopped, too. As casually as if he were reaching for a napkin or a piece of candy from his grandmother’s peppermint dish, he reached out and took my fingers, lacing them with his own. I held on tight as he gently pulled me along beside him. I knew then that Dane James could lead me anywhere and I’d gladly follow. “Where are we going?” I asked a second time,

trying my hardest to keep my cool and ignore the funny feeling in my stomach. “Into the field.” “Why?” He shrugged again. I thought of his shrugs. And his hands. And his funny colored eyes. And then I thought of his lips. “Do you need a new piece of wheat to chew?” “I don’t chew wheat. It’s prairie grass. How come you don’t know the difference between wheat and grass?” “I haven’t been here that long. This is the first time I’ve ever even seen wheat,” I defended. He seemed to accept that as a good enough reason. “Prairie grass is sweet, kinda like watermelon. My dad hates for me to chew it.” I glanced over at him, at the way he seemed not to care too much about the things the rest of us did, like what Lauren Stringer thought or what his dad wanted. I figured him chewing the grass had more to do with his dad hating it than with the way it tasted. I couldn’t know for sure, but I had a hunch. I doubted a boy like Dane James cared much about the rules. He sure made me care a lot less about them. That much I knew. After a few seconds of silence, we crossed the driveway and stepped into the edge of the field. I glanced over my shoulder, back at the house I’d

just left. “How’d you know which window was mine?” Dane paused long enough to point in the opposite direction, out over the wispy tops of the growing grain, to one of the barns. “I can see it from my room. Mine’s the one with the light on.” My eyes followed his hand and found the single dot of yellow off in the distance. It emanated from the second level of one of the barns that sat out in the center of my stepfather’s field. It was one of many—barns and fields—that Alton Peterson owned. “You and your dad live up there?” He gasped in mock horror. “Oh shit! What would Lauren say?” I slid my gaze over to his profile and laughed when I saw that he was smiling. He was joking. About Lauren Stringer. It made him something like a superhero in my eyes. I liked it. I liked him. “I’m sure she knows.” “I’m sure she does. She knows everything, right? Or at least she thinks she does.” I smiled wider. Yeah, I liked Dane James a lot. We fell silent as he stepped into the field. He tugged me along behind him and I gladly followed

him through the waist-high ocean of feathery crop. It swayed in the moonlight, silvery waves tossed gently back and forth by the warm night breeze. I held out the hand that wasn’t curled in Dane’s and let the thin stalks trail between my fingers. Their fluffy caps tickled one palm as Dane’s calloused skin warmed the other. I drew in a gulp of air and held it in my lungs. Something about the night felt perfect and…valuable, like it was special in a way I wouldn’t see much of in my life. I sure hadn’t up to that point. I didn’t want to let it go, so I held it inside me, trapped with the sweetly-scented air, for as long as I could hang on. Until I had to let it go. In the moment I exhaled, I knew being with Dane James was right. Even though I’d get in trouble if I were discovered, I didn’t care. I couldn’t. Somehow with this boy I didn’t know, who had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen, getting in trouble seemed small. And he seemed big. Bigger than life. He was worth the risk. I didn’t really understand it, but I knew it intuitively. My weakness for one boy, for the one wrong boy, was already taking hold. He needed me as much as I needed him and the rest didn’t really matter. Dane led me deep into the field, so deep I was beginning to worry that we were going to get lost. We’d come so far I couldn’t even see the light from my window anymore. The farther we walked from the house, the darker the night appeared to grow.

The faint glow of the moon overhead was our only light and Dane James was my only measure of security. He was all I had to hold on to. He was my anchor. He was my compass. Dane slowed to a stop right in front of a dark lump in our path. I had to stare at it for a few seconds to realize it was a rock. A big one. It didn’t stand much higher than my chin, but its flat surface was bigger around than the hood of a car. It reminded me of a giant hockey puck that had been thrown down in the middle of the field. A life raft in a sea of nothingness. Releasing my hand, Dane climbed up onto the boulder. Once he was up there, he leaned over the edge and wiggled his fingers at me. “Come on,” he urged. I knew I could probably climb up by myself. Maybe Dane knew that, too. But I liked holding his hand, so I took it. Maybe he liked holding mine, too. He didn’t care how rich or poor he was, so why should I? I knew my mother did. And my stepfather. But at that moment, the only thing I could bring myself to care about was how much I liked this boy and how it made me feel when he looked at me. I followed Dane up onto the rock, which was still warm from the heat of the sun pouring onto it all day. He released my hand to stretch out on his

back, belly up to the stars. I did the same. Our arms touched from shoulder to wrist and I thought I could feel Dane’s pinky finger brushing up against mine. I wished quietly that he’d hold my hand again, but he didn’t. He just lay there beside me, silent and strong. I stared up at the midnight sky. The stars were more plentiful and more obvious than I’d ever seen them. Maybe it was the fact that we were immersed in darkness that made them seem brighter. They sparkled and shone like diamonds on black velvet. Or maybe it was the boy beside me, making me notice them in a way I never had. I couldn’t be sure. I only knew that I’d never seen such a dazzling sky. “Do you come out here a lot?” I whispered my question. Not because I was afraid anyone could hear me, but just because it seemed like I should. Like a loud noise might shatter the moment, the night, the stars. Us. “Yeah.” “How did you find it?” I knew it wasn’t tall enough to be seen over the tops of the wheat until you were right up on it. “I’ve always known it was here. You can see it plain as day when the field is empty. Plus we have to be careful of it when we harvest. It’d tear the combine and the trucks all to hell if we hit it.”

“Why don’t they just dig it up then?” “Too deep. It’s like an iceberg. Only a little of the top sticks up where you can see it. What’s under the ground is a lot bigger. Too big to dig up.” “It’s even bigger under the ground?” “Yep. My dad says this rock will always be here. There ain’t no moving it. It might not look like much from up here, but it’s what you can’t see that matters.” I thought Dane must be like that rock. I knew people looked at him and just saw a poor worker’s boy, not of much importance. But deep down, where their eyes couldn’t see, he was a lot more. Something told me he was everything. I thumped my palm against the rock, feeling its solid sturdiness. I bet Dane would be hard to move like this, too. Stubborn. The rock didn’t care about the wind and the rain, about the storms that raged around it, and I figured Dane didn’t either. He’d go on being Dane, ignoring Lauren Stringer and chewing his piece of prairie grass, no matter what people said or thought. He was strong and unmoving in ways they weren’t, in ways they didn’t understand. “Why did you bring me here?” I had to ask. I felt his shrug. His arm rubbed along mine, the tickling friction causing the little hairs on my skin to stand up. I turned my head so that I could look at him in the dim light.

“Look up,” he said, almost like he could feel me looking at him. So I did. I pulled my eyes away from him, hard as it was, and got lost once more in the fathomless sky and infinite sprinkling of stars. “I wanted you to see how big the world is. How much bigger than Lauren Stringer and her stupid bunch of friends,” he explained. “Is that why you come here? Because of Lauren Stringer and her stupid bunch of friends?” His laugh was decidedly bitter for a kid. “No. I don’t give a shit about those girls.” I grinned at his repeated use of cuss words. Momma would give me what-for if I talked like that. We were rich ladies now and rich ladies didn’t say those words. Dane James didn’t care about rich or ladies, though, and that made me like him even more. And I was already getting dangerously close to a crush. Actually, if I was being honest, I was probably already knee-deep in one. “Then why?” His pause stretched on and on, but eventually his sigh broke the night in one long, forlorn sound, like the howl of a lone wolf. “I guess because everybody else cares about them so much. Coming out here reminds me how big the world is, too.” I knew then that as much as he tried to pretend otherwise, he was still affected by people like Lauren Stringer. The people who meant something in a town like this. I’d already known it was unfair

and ridiculous, as unfair and ridiculous as it was that my mother wanted me to be friends with them just because of who they were. It was because of people like them that a really nice boy who lived over the barn would come out here, to a rock in the middle of a field, in the middle of the night, just to lie on his back and look up at the stars. And remember that, somewhere else, maybe names and families and jobs don’t matter. But that place wasn’t here. Because in Shepherd’s Mill, that’s all that seemed to matter.

2004 32 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 5

“Y

ou didn’t tell me Grandma was rich.” Celina stands in the V of the open car door, staring at the house I grew up in. “Or that this place was so pretty. It’s like Tara.” I don’t tell her that while it looks like Tara on the outside, it’s the devil’s playground on the inside. Or at least it was. Maybe things have changed now that the devil is gone. Even now I have to admit it’s striking—wide front door, enormous white columns, sweeping multi-level porches—but I will never be able to separate that from what lies just behind that breathtaking façade. I will never be able to separate the wolf from the sheep’s clothing. I’ll hide all that from my daughter, though. I’ll guard every scar and cover up every old wound if it

means Celina can find wholeness here. “I guess it just never came up. Besides, it was Alton’s money.” I have to work to keep the disdain from my tone. “Hey, why don’t you bag up all the road trip trash? I’ll be right back.” Celina doesn’t argue. She just sits back down in the passenger seat, takes the plastic convenience store bag all our goodies came in, and starts cramming candy wrappers, burger papers, and empty water bottles into it. She’s a good girl. On any given day, I’d walk through fire for her. I make my way toward the house. I parked at the bottom of the drive for just this reason—to give me time and space from Celina for this part. I mount the front steps and raise my hand to knock on the door. Of its own accord, it pauses just before my knuckles can meet the cool wood, as though my body is giving me one last chance to turn back before I go too far. Determined, I grit my teeth. Knock, knock, knock. And then I wait. A few seconds later, I hear the rattle of a lock snapping open and then I’m face-to-face with my mother. She doesn’t look surprised to see me so much as she just looks displeased. I guess I don’t need to ask if she’s happy that I’m here. I can plainly see the answer to that question. That much

hasn’t changed. I guess some things never change. Like her face, for instance. She must’ve had work done. Good work, because she has hardly aged a year, much less fifteen. Her hair is still a halo of short blonde waves that shows off her cheekbones, and her figure is still as trim as it ever was. But it’s her eyes that reveal the real lack of change. They’re filled with the exact same shade of green disappointment that I remember. She still hasn’t forgiven me. “Hi, Momma.” “Brinkley, what are you doing here?” “Cutting right to the chase. Okie dokie. Well, I’m not here for me, so you can get any thoughts like that right out of your head. I’m here because of my daughter.” My mother leans to her left so she can see around me. “Is that your car?” Disapproval is plain on her face. She probably wouldn’t even get into a car that looks like my beat-up old Mustang with its Bondo’d passenger door and faded canvas top. “It is.” She makes a sound of disgust in the back of her throat and I purposely ignore it. I don’t want to fight in the first five minutes. “It’s a miracle you made it here.” I hear the car door slam, so I know she sees Celina. The sad thing is, her expression doesn’t

change. Not one iota. I can’t address that right now, though. I’m running out of time. “Momma, she doesn’t know I didn’t tell you we were coming. Can you please, please, please pretend that we already worked this out? I told her we were coming to help you.” Mossy eyes snap back to mine and narrow. “You brought her here under false pretenses?” “Of course, I did. What was I going to do, ask you? You’d have said no.” “You don’t know that.” “Yes. I do.” “Yet you did it anyway.” “I did, Momma, because this is important. She’s important.” My mother’s quiet for far too long, giving me plenty of time to become antsy. Celina’s slow footsteps are getting closer and louder by the second. Although she’s not hurrying by any means, she’s not dawdling either. I made the very large bet that, somewhere deep inside, my mother still harbors some amount of love for me and, therefore, will for my daughter. I hope I didn’t overestimate her. Since becoming a mother myself, I can’t imagine not loving your child, not doing anything and everything for their health and welfare and happiness. Then again, I’m not my mother, no matter how

hard she tried to make me into exactly that. Finally, she gives in. “What do you want me to say?” My legs melt in relief. I sag against the doorframe. “You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t act all…just don’t act like yourself. Pretend you’re happy to meet her. Can you do that?” When she says nothing yet her lips thin, I feel compelled to work harder to sway her. “She’s your granddaughter. And she’s nothing like me. You’ll like her. Just give her a chance. Pleeeease.” I feel like a little girl again, desperate to talk her into something that would be common sense or common decency for most people. Katherine Peterson has always had her own way of viewing things, though. Most of which I’ve struggled to understand. “Fine, but I expect an explanation as soon as possible.” “You’ll get one. Just let us come in and make her feel welcome. Then we can talk.” She gives me a glare and then looks past me again to Celina. She manages a smile. Sort of. “You must be…” I hurry to fill in the gap. I’d forgotten that she doesn’t even know my child’s name. “This is Celina, Momma.” Celina stops beside me and stretches out her hand, her lips breaking into a smile. “It’s nice to

meet you.” My mother frowns for a second, her eyes darting from Celina, to her hand, to me, and back to Celina. Finally, she winds her fingers around my daughter’s. I feel the need to exhale, as though a huge hurdle—the first of many more to come—has been crossed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Celina. Won’t you come in?” She stands back and nods us in. She gives Celina a half-smile as she passes. That smile dies when her eyes land on me, though. She won’t be happy with me for doing this, but I have my reasons. I just hope the woman who spent hours outside on Saturdays teaching me how to ride a bike, and the woman who played Candyland with me until she was pink in the face is still in there somewhere, buried beneath years of snooty luncheons and hundreds of pairs of highdollar shoes. I follow Celina into the living room. She sits on one end of the couch and I opt for the other end. Momma takes the chair across from us, sitting just on the edge of it like it’s a throne. It’s a throne and we are her subjects, which is fitting since she has viewed herself as a bit of a queen since she married Alton Peterson. “You didn’t mention when you called how long you’d be staying, Brinkley.” I feel the muscles in my face tighten. I

should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to let this slide gracefully. I grit my teeth, but force a light, bright smile. “I’m not sure yet. Until we find a place of our own.” “A place of your own? You’re moving here?” I have to hand it to my mother. She actually took that one pretty well. She didn’t screech or pass out or swallow her tongue. Yet. “Yes, Momma. I told you that twice already.” I wave her off with my hand and loud-whisper to Celina from the corner of my mouth. “Grandma’s memory sure ain’t what it used to be.” For a second, I actually wonder if real steam is going to pour from my mother’s ears. There’s also a vein in her forehead that I’ve never seen before, and it’s standing up like a snake under her skin. What’s that about? Bemusedly, I wonder if she’d faint if I were to walk over there and press on that vein with my thumb. There’s bound to be a lot of blood flow to a vessel that large. The longer I stare at it, the bigger it gets. It actually seems to start pulsing with her fury, so I force myself to look away. I hold back a smile. Honestly, I never expected this conversation to be fun or satisfying in any way, but as it turns out, hoodwinking the queen and watching her try to hide a holy fit is quite

pleasurable. “We won’t be under your feet a minute longer than we absolutely have to be, though. We’re looking forward to finding our own place, right, Celina?” Obediently, my daughter nods. With the movement, I notice the light from the window glistening in the fine sheen of sweat that has erupted on her brow. Her skin is waxy and pale, and she looks exhausted. Even her breathing is shallow. The momentary joy of my mother’s discomfort is quickly eclipsed by Celina’s welfare. “I think I’ll show Celina my old room, if that’s all right with you, Momma. Maybe she can take a quick nap. It’s been a long trip.” My mother looks relieved to be off the hook. “Of course.” The three of us stand, and I take Celina’s hand and lead her toward the stairs. It’s clammy, and I have to fight the urge to pick her up and carry her like my baby. Because she is still my baby, even though she thinks she’s too big to be carried, or for me to treat her like she’s my world. Truthfully, in this case, it’s probably for the best, though. She’s already taller than me and I’d probably get us both killed if I tried to pick her up. I ascend the steps slowly, giving Celina plenty of time to take them at her own pace. At the

landing, I turn right. I’m so focused on my child that the barrage of unpleasant memories making the turn to my old room causes is pushed to the background of my mind. I’m sure I’ll think about them later, relive them later, but right now my biggest concern is the girl behind me. Stepping into my teenage bedroom is like stepping back in time. Kind of like moving to Shepherd’s Mill was all those years ago. It was like progress never happened. Same thing here. It’s like the years haven’t passed. Everything looks exactly the way I left it fifteen years ago. I expected that Momma would’ve turned it into a sewing room or a trophy room or a giant ant farm, anything other than the place where her shameful daughter spent her nights. I can’t quite figure out why she didn’t. My grand exodus from Shepherd’s Mill wasn’t exactly a point of pride for her. I catch myself before the frown that threatens my forehead takes hold. “Wow! It shrunk,” I tell Celina, smiling at her. “It was at least four times this size when I lived here. Of course, it had to be to hold my larger-thanlife personality.” For that, I receive an eye roll. I’ll take it, though. It’s when she becomes too weak, too fatigued, too ill to joke and play and tease with me that my concern escalates to a dangerous level.

I walk to the bed and pat it dramatically. “Come, lay your pretty head on the very mattress where I dominated Frogger for three years in a row.” “What’s Frogger?” I sigh theatrically. “Youth really is wasted on the young. Frogger was only the most amazing Atari game ever created.” “What’s Atari?” I throw up my hands. “Take a nap. I can’t handle this kind of disrespect right now.” Celina shakes her head at me, but I see the curve tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so weird.” I get that a lot. “You think anyone over twenty is weird.” “Everyone over twenty isn’t weird. They’re just old.” “I really don’t want to throw you out the window right now, but…” I purse my lips and tilt my head as though I’m still considering it. “You exhaust me.” “Then sleep, my child. Sleep. Sleep. Sleeeep.” With my best Transylvania accent, I wave my hands like I’m hypnotizing her. She curls up on her side, reaching behind her to pull the comforter across and up to her chin. I give her a smile and blow a kiss, which she ignores, before I leave and close the door behind me.

I take a brief pause on the other side of the wooden panel, letting my eyes fall shut as I picture my beautiful little girl on the bed, in the house, in the town that I hated so much growing up. I hope I did the right thing. Please, God, tell me I did the right thing. I push away from the door and head back downstairs, my heart filled with intense maternal love and a chaotic flurry of all sorts of other emotions. As I round the landing, the view from the hall window catches my eye. Beyond the glass are the fields. They stretch out like a pale ocean. For miles it seems they stretch, contained only by the dark tree line in the distance. The forest looms around the edges of the fields like a protective parent with outstretched arms, corralling her wayward children. Those fields remind me of one thing, one person. My heart rumbles with love and hate, regret and remorse, longing and fear. All things light and dark crash and tumble through me, and I’m reminded of something I learned long ago. Something I learned the hard way. If living in Shepherd’s Mill, South Carolina taught me anything it’s that life is, if nothing else, an unpredictable mixture of the bitter and the sweet. As I descend the stairs, a name for this turmoil rolls through my mind on a loop, over and over and

over again. Dane James. Dane James. Dane James. I even find myself whispering. “Dane James. Whatever happened to you?”

1987 15 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 6

I

heard the rumble of the engine get louder as the truck got closer. The crunch of rocks under tires became more pronounced as it approached, but I didn’t care. I didn’t turn around to look and I didn’t stop walking. I just hunched my shoulders, tucked my chin against my chest, and kept going. When I heard it slow down as it got closer to me, I thought for a second about turning around to shout, Go away! Leave me alone! There was not a single person I wanted to see or talk to at that moment. But that was before I heard the voice, the voice of the one person I hadn’t considered I might encounter on the road at that time of night. “Need a ride?” Dane James. I’d never been so relieved. But I’d never been

more embarrassed either. That’s why my tone was sharp and clipped when I answered. “No.” I couldn’t help that waspishness any more than I could help the size of the moon or the temperature of the air. There was a long pause as I kept walking. Part of me hoped he’d take the hint and go on. But another part of me needed him not to. When he finally spoke, I could hear the grin in his voice. “You sure about that? I could drop you off at the rock if that would make you feel better.” The thought of the rock, our rock, and of being there with him, was too painful to think of, especially on a night like this one. It didn’t help that, when I whipped my head around, I saw his face highlighted by the dashboard lights. He looked like a phantom. A beautiful phantom that I couldn’t touch and couldn’t have, and for a second, I was mad at him for even existing. Bitterness churned in my gut. Damn him! Damn this town and everyone in it! “Dane James, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night? Driving, no less!” I knew I sounded like a prude as I chastised him, but Momma had drummed propriety and obedience into me so relentlessly, I hardly had to think before I spoke anymore. Hardly.

“This is a farm use truck. I’m allowed to drive it.” “On a farm. Not on the wide-open roads. And haven’t you already been in trouble for this a couple of times?” His grin was incorrigible. “It’s only a problem if I get caught. So I won’t get caught.” “Won’t get caught again, you mean?” He shrugged before he turned the conversation back to me. “Seems like I should be asking you what you’re doing out here, walking by yourself in the middle of the night.” He slowed to a stop. I did, too. I stepped over to the open window and, when his eyes raked over my face, I wished I hadn’t gotten so close. Not close enough for him to see my tears. Dane’s lips thinned in fury. “What the hell, Brinkley? Whose ass am I gonna have to kick?” To my utter humiliation, even as I shook my head, my chin began to tremble. For the second time in a few short years, Dane James was going to be the one to witness my shame and, evidently, I was powerless to stop it. I heard the gears protest as Dane slammed into park and got out of the truck. Something about the way he moved, like he couldn’t get to me fast enough, made me think he was as afraid as he was mad. I waited for him to come.

I wanted it. Needed it. Craved it. He walked around in front of the headlights and took me by my upper arms, turning me to face him. When I wouldn’t meet his eyes, he took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced me to. Then he looked at me. Just stared. Everything that was going through his head was showing up in his eyes. Or at least it seemed to be. He was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and like he wanted nothing more than to touch me for the rest of his life. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted to see because it was what I was thinking. For as long as I’d been in Shepherd’s Mill, all I’d ever wanted was Dane James. And he was the one thing I couldn’t have. I burst into tears right there on the spot. I couldn’t take his tenderness. I just couldn’t take it. Why do you have to be forbidden? Why can’t you be the one? In a voice as soft as the night breeze on my skin, he demanded, “Tell me what happened.” My voice broke. “I hate this town.” “I can’t help you there. I hate it, too. But what happened to bring the waterworks?” I sniffled and used the heel of my hand to wipe errant tears from my cheeks. “I didn’t want to go

out with him to begin with.” I looked back up at Dane just in time to see the change in him. I saw rage, pure and fiery. I could feel the quiver in his muscles as he tried to hold his temper in check. His voice was even tight with the strain of it. “Who? Go out with who?” Dane and I ran in different circles. Different worlds. Lauren no longer needed him to gain access to whatever she wanted, so the chasm between Dane and me had grown wider with time. He was as oblivious to the goings on in my life as I was of his. Until something happened. Usually something bad. It seemed that in times of pain, Dane and I found each other. It’s like we were joined by something much more important than the roles we had to play in this godforsaken town. I knew if he’d been the one in pain, I’d have rushed to his rescue. Just like he was rushing to mine. Lines and worlds and classes didn’t matter when we were hurting. Dane and I…we were transcendent. Even though we didn’t speak or associate, there was something between us, something strong and beautiful, that we could never break. And neither of us tried. But that didn’t change things out in the rest of the world. In the world of Shepherd’s Mill, we were

as far apart as two people could possibly be. That made me angry all over again. “It doesn’t matter. Just take me home, will you?” Before he released me, however, I met his eyes. They were dark and fathomless in the night, and I knew I owed him more than just my anger. “Please.” I could see him deliberating, probably between going to beat the crap out of something, and doing as I asked. But in the end, his loyalty to me won out. “Sure. Hop in.” He opened the passenger door and helped me into the truck then rounded the front again to scoot behind the wheel. The air inside the truck was warm, like a cocoon, and it smelled exactly like its driver—like summer nights and pine trees and soap. Neither of us said anything for a couple of miles. It was like Dane knew I needed space and he was giving it. There were no sounds other than the grumble of the road beneath us and the muffled sound of Bryan Adams crackling through the busted speaker in the dash. I waited for what felt like ages for Dane to speak, but he didn’t. After all this time, he knew me. Still. And just like he knew I needed space, he probably knew I’d start spilling my guts eventually. He just had to bide his time, and Dane was, if nothing else, patient. At least he was with me. “I told her I didn’t want to go out with him,” I

blurted. “Who are we talking about?” “My stupid mother. She kept after me to go out with Taylor Kraus. I didn’t really want to, but she kept on and on and on until his mother said something about me coming over. Then I couldn’t say no. I went to watch movies at his house a few times, which was fine. I mean, I guess it was okay.” I felt Dane glance over at me, so I studied the fingers that I fiddled with restlessly on my lap. “He seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t like him that way. But tonight…tonight…” Dane didn’t say a word, but the tension as he waited for me to finish hung between us like a curtain, stiff and unforgiving. I couldn’t continue. I was too ashamed. Too embarrassed. That’s when he prompted me. “What happened, Brinkley?” I could hear the dread in his question. He was thinking the worst. Thank God it wasn’t that. I turned to look out the window, a sigh waving out from between my lips like a white flag of surrender. “It’s not what you think. It wasn’t…that. His parents are gone for the weekend. I didn’t know that until I was already over there. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone. But I didn’t know, so…” Another sigh. “He put the moves on me. I told him no. He didn’t try to force me or anything. He just

told me that if I wasn’t going to put out, I could just leave. He wasn’t going to waste his time on a girl like me if I wasn’t going to give him something in return.” “A girl like you? What the hell does that mean?” “I guess I’m not good enough.” I knew Dane was all too familiar with the concept. The thing was, he didn’t care. But I did. I had to. It was the way of life in Shepherd’s Mill, and my momma had raised me to live and breathe it. “He wishes he could have a girl like you.” He twisted his fingers around the steering wheel, wringing it like maybe he was wishing he could be wringing Taylor Kraus’ neck, then spat, “Asshole.” I found the thought strangely comforting. Not Dane strangling Taylor, but him protecting me. I knew there was nothing either of us could do about our feelings, but just knowing that Dane was out there, maybe at the rock looking up at the same sky I was seeing, always brought me a sense of peace that nothing else could. And deep down, I knew that if I needed him, like really needed him, he would come. He would always come to save me. “I thought at first he was joking. I mean, who says things like that? Out loud!”

“Inconsiderate shit-for-brains,” he supplied vehemently. “But he wasn’t joking. At all. That’s really all he wanted me for. A girl like me. I guess that’s all I’m worth. The only thing I have to offer a guy like him.” Before I could let those words sink in, I shook them off. I didn’t want to think about that part of the night anymore. “Anyway, he wouldn’t bring me home, so I walked.” “What the hell does a guy like that know about what you’re worth? He’s a snot-nosed rich kid who’s never had to work for anything a day in his life. He doesn’t even know how to appreciate a girl like you.” “A girl like me.” Resentment churned in my stomach. “You mean a girl whose mother is a golddiggin’ whore? You mean a girl who grew up poor, but was always taught to pretend not to be? You mean a girl who has popular friends only because of who her mom sleeps with at night? That kind of girl?” The words dripped from my lips like acid, and they burned everything they touched “Brinkley, what the hell? Who’s been feeding you this shit?” I jerked my head toward him, eyes blazing. “You mean who’s been feeding me the truth? Because that’s what it is, Dane. It’s the truth. My mother is a whore. Because she did marry Alton

because of his money. And she did raise me to act like we weren’t poor. And I do only have friends because of who my stepfather is. There’s no denying it because it’s all true. I’m one step up from white trash. I’m just pretending that I’m not. No marriage or bank account or country club will ever change that.” My chest was heaving by the time I got done. Dane, however, seemed to calm. “Money, popularity, the right last name—those things don’t define who you are. You aren’t your mother. You don’t have to live your life according to her mistakes or her beliefs. You’re Brinkley Sommers. You’re smart, beautiful, funny. Be your own person. Don’t let any of them dictate your decisions. And don’t let any of them, don’t let anyone in the whole damn world, tell you what you’re worth.” I heard what he was saying, but I didn’t believe it. Long before he even called them out, the truth of Taylor’s words had already been etched onto one dark corner of my soul. Taylor just shed light on them. “Besides, you’re not that much like her. Even your ass is better.” “My ass?” “Yep. You’ve got one helluvan ass. I bet your mother never had an ass like that. She sure as shit doesn’t now.”

It took a few seconds for his words to penetrate, and when they did, I couldn’t help smiling. As always, Dane knew exactly what I needed. As always, Dane was what I needed. “You’ve looked at my mom’s ass?” He grinned. “Your mom’s kinda hot. I might’ve checked out her ass at the grocery store a time or two.” Laughing, I angled my upper body toward his, a wilting flower desperate for the heat of the sun. “Are you serious?” He shrugged his wide, wide shoulders. “I’m a guy. A teenaged guy, no less. It’s what we do.” “Disgusting,” I murmured with a shake of my head, even though I felt better than I had all night. Maybe better than I had in a lot of nights. It seemed like just as I was feeling better, I was home. The trip went by too fast. Our time together was already over. Dane dropped me off at the end of the driveway so the truck’s loud rumble wouldn’t wake Momma. As he pulled away, I walked reluctantly toward the porch. Then I paused. Right in the middle of the driveway, I paused. For a second, I actually reconsidered going in. I wished with all my heart that I could turn and chase after Dane, that I could spend the rest of the night

with him instead. And maybe the night after that. And the night after that. But that would be a disaster, of course. My mother would have a fit. Not because she was a prude. It wasn’t that at all. She didn’t much care about my virginity. Her only concern was who took it and what happened after that, a fact she reiterated once again not long after I crept through the door. “Who was it that dropped you off?” She was in the living room, just letting the curtain she’d pulled to the side drop as she stepped away from the window. “Huh?” I played dumb to buy some time. I hadn’t made up a lie to tell, to excuse the fact that Dane James rather than Taylor Kraus brought me home. It never occurred to me she might’ve been watching. I mean, seriously, what were the odds that she’d be looking out the window at just the right time? Not very good ones, I bet, but good enough that she won and I lost. “You heard me, young lady. Taylor doesn’t have a truck. And neither does his father. I distinctly saw a truck pull out of our driveway and turn left. And left goes…” I could see the wheels turn. She was piecing it together on her own. Our driveway emptied onto Route 16. Route 16 went two ways—right went

back to town, left went to the fields, to Peterson land. The only people who went that way were either making deliveries or working the land. Or they lived there. And the truck went left. “Who dropped you off, Brinkley Renee?” Her voice had become stern and shrill, which was unnerving. There was really no reason that she should’ve been so upset. Well, no rational reason. But I guess to someone like my mother—who saw only dollar signs and social statuses—this was cause for alarm. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. “Dane. Dane James brought me home.” “Why?” It was like she couldn’t even conceive of a single reason that I might’ve found myself in his company. I, on the other hand, could’ve listed a dozen reasons I wanted to be in Dane’s company. I didn’t mention any of them, though. That would only make things worse. But I could’ve. Very easily. He was kind and sexy and soooo good-looking. And he was nothing like the people I spent most of my time with. That was undoubtedly what she objected to the most. “Taylor wouldn’t bring me home, so I walked.” “What? Why not? What did you do?” There was a time when I would’ve been surprised by her jumping immediately to the conclusion that I was the one at fault. In fact, there

was a time when she wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion at all. But those times had passed. I knew where her priorities were—pleasing her rich husband, fitting in with the wealthy socialites, living the life she’d always wanted—and they sure as hell weren’t with me anymore. Momma was on a mission, and not even her daughter was going to stand in her way. I made a pact right then and there that if I ever had a daughter, I would always choose her first, over everything and everybody else. “I refused to have sex with him. How ridiculous am I?” Sarcasm seeped from my tongue. I saw my mother’s lips thin and tighten as she processed what I’d said. When she finally spoke, she edged her way close enough to me that she could take my arms in a semi-maternal way. “There are worse things than losing your virginity to Taylor Kraus.” She paused to look hard into my eyes. “You are still a virgin, aren’t you?” “Mom! Of course, I’m still a virgin!” “Well, it’s the eighties. I had to ask.” No. She didn’t have to ask. If she knew me at all…if she bothered to know me instead of only taking an interest in the disparity between what I was doing and what she thought I should be doing, she wouldn’t have had to ask. “Well, you needn’t concern yourself. I’m still a virgin. And I plan on staying that way for a while.”

I pulled slowly away from her, the emotional distance between us never so great or so hurtful. “Not that my opinion matters,” she began, doing her best to look timid and caring, “but Taylor Kraus comes from good stock. If he got you pregnant, he’d do right by you. His father would see to it. You wouldn’t have to worry about what would become of you or your baby. You’d have security. For the rest of your life, you’d have security.” My mouth dropped open. I wasn’t sure which part of that insane speech I wanted to, needed to, address first—the fact that she might be encouraging me to give my virginity to Taylor Kraus or the fact that she was insinuating I should use a baby to secure a rich husband. It was no secret between us that she’d done whatever she’d had to do to land a wealthy man. Now she expected the same of me. Most mothers dreamed of their daughters finding true love. Mine dreamed of me finding a millionaire. It didn’t matter that I wanted to go to college, to make a life for myself that didn’t require a man to finance it. She’d already told me Alton wasn’t paying for that and I wasn’t smart enough to get a scholarship. The only other logical conclusion—at least to her and half the other people in this backwater, antiquated, chauvinistic town—was to

marry for it. “Mom, do you have any idea how completely screwed up everything you just said is?” “Why?” She managed to look offended. “Because I want to go to college. I want to make a life for myself. I don’t want to have to depend on any man.” “That’s a wonderful dream, Brinkley, but it’s just that—a dream. I’m trying to help you keep your feet on the ground.” “So I should sleep with someone and settle, is that it? That’s your advice?” “Should I be telling you to wait for love? Should I be filling your head with nonsense that will get you nowhere in life when I could be giving you advice that will save you and your children a lifetime of heartache? Is it so wrong that I want the best for my child and my grandchildren? Is that so awful?” How could she turn that around and make me feel guilty? How? Love, that’s how. Momma knew I loved her. She was my mother and she was all I’d ever had, and no matter how much I disagreed with her ways, I would always do my best to make her happy, make her proud. And she knew it. I’d always do what she asked of me. Except give my virginity to Taylor Kraus. Hell

would have to freeze over first and I was pretty sure snow wasn’t in the forecast down there. “No, of course not, but encouraging me to sleep with a guy and not even worry about getting pregnant just so I can trap him and have myself a posh life in a town like this is…is…God, Momma, that’s twisted! Can’t you see that?” Harrumphing at the perceived slight I just dealt her, she backed away, wounded. “I do apologize for having a good life, for giving you a good life. I’m sorry that I want the same for you and yours. I’m obviously a monster.” The sad thing was, she wasn’t a monster at all. I knew that, in her mind, she really thought she was doing what was best for me. And for herself as well. Can’t forget that. She thought the answer to all problems was money, so she did what she had to do to get it. Even if it meant marrying it. Prostituting herself, even though I knew she’d never see it that way. But I saw it that way. And others did, too. Even more would if they could see the way Alton treated her around the house, always pawing at her and treating her like his own personal sex toy. Of course, I guess maybe she was. But Momma would never admit that there was anything wrong with what was between them. She believed what she believed, end of story.

Even now, she was actually hurt that I didn’t see her words as sweet and caring, that I didn’t regard them as sound advice. She couldn’t understand why I thought her decisions were anything less than perfectly acceptable. How could she be so deluded? What had happened in her life to make her this way? Mom had never told me much about her past. It was obvious she didn’t like talking about her childhood and both my grandparents were dead, so I had no one else to ask. Evidently, they’d been very, very poor, though. Things must not have changed much when she met my father. She rarely talked about him either. I don’t know if it hurt her to remember him or if she was glad he left. I would’ve liked to know more, but it upset her when I brought it up. She wouldn’t talk about his parents either, other than to say I was better off without them anywhere near me. I had no choice but to take her word for it, and eventually I just stopped asking. It didn’t really matter now anyway. Getting answers wouldn’t change a single thing. I sighed, tired and defeated for the moment. It had been a long night, and now I just wanted to forget about all the stupid societal rules and regulations around here and just be myself. Even if it was only temporary and it had to be done alone, in my room. “You’re not a monster, Momma. I just…I just

had a bad night. I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure. Go to bed. That’s what I’m gonna do.” I gave her a quick kiss to the cheek, smiling into her still-hurt eyes, and turned to make my way upstairs. I couldn’t handle one more second of that conversation. Not one more second. It made life seem…bleak. Pointless. Hopeless. Most of the time I felt claustrophobic in Shepherd’s Mill anyway. Tonight, it felt a million times worse, like the very people in it were trying to choke the life out of me. Trying to choke my every dream and desire. And maybe they were. According to my mother, the only dreams safe enough to hold on to were the ones involving a rich man who would rescue me from my troubles. I went upstairs and changed into black spandex shorts and a half-shirt that said On The Brink across the chest. I flicked on the power to my boombox and my room was instantly filled with the soft sound of Madonna. My footsteps were muted thumps as I crossed the carpeted floor and settled down on the cushioned window seat that faced east. The night looked so dark beyond the cool pane of glass. Anonymous, like there could be anything out there. And like I could be anyone out there. Anyone I wanted to be. Out there could be love and happiness, not just money and status. Out there could be a normal life, away from all the

Shepherd’s Mill crap. I just couldn’t get to it yet. Three more years… I just had to survive it for three more years. I could be a rock until then, couldn’t I? I could hold onto my own thoughts and ideals and beliefs until then, couldn’t I? I thought I could if I was strong enough. If I were a rock. A rock. A rock. A rock… Like the memory itself oozed from my brain in a warm trickle that pooled right in the center of my chest, I thought of the rock in the middle of the field and the boy who had showed me how big the world really was. Dane James. The one person who didn’t change no matter how much I did. The one thing that was solid no matter how much everything else shifted. He was a rock. Strong and steady. True. And that night, he felt like my rock. I thought of that summer day when he stayed with me. He was The One Who Stayed when everyone else ran. I thought of how good he was, deep down, in all the ways that mattered. I thought of how kind he was to me earlier, even though he had no reason to be. I wasn’t very nice to him in

school. I mean, I wasn’t cruel or rude. No one was really cruel or rude to him. He was gorgeous, which meant the girls secretly wanted him, and he was kinda cool in his I-don’t-give-a-shit way, which meant the guys secretly respected him. But it wasn’t enough to make him an insider. There was still that unspoken rule that the upper crust could only admire him from a distance. Or in the dark. Workers only really associated with their kind, just like the rich kids only associated with theirs. And we were on two different sides of that fact. He was a rock and I was as fluid as the ocean. He knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, while I took on the form of whatever contained me, whoever I was around. He was his own man. Already. And I had no identity, nothing of my own. Dane James was Dane James and he didn’t apologize to anyone for it. And I was…nobody special. That’s when I saw him. Like the night, or maybe my sheer want of him, had produced him out of thin air. Out of smoke and shadow and dark, forbidden things. I leaned in close to the window, close enough that my nose touched the glass. I wanted to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. I prayed they weren’t. And I was filled with nervous excitement when I saw the reality of the vision. It was real.

He was real. Dane James was standing in my yard.

CHAPTER 7

T

he years melted away and I was twelve again, desperate for Dane James and all that he represented. And just like that night three years ago, when I looked out and saw him below my window, blending into the dark, thrilling me with his mere presence, I was seeing him again. Only he wasn’t wearing a grin the first time. At least not like this one—a grin that said he was happy to be breaking the rules again. A grin that said for me to come and let him take me away for a while. A grin that could get a girl in trouble. A grin that could get me in trouble. Dane had changed clothes. He’d traded in his jeans and T-shirt for shorts and a tank top. He looked equally good in either, like the designer had his body in mind when the fabric was cut. And he’d obviously walked over. I could see

the piece of prairie grass sticking out from between lips, lips that I found myself thinking about way too much. My heart tripped over itself as I unlocked my window and pushed it up. “Dane James.” My tone was much more teasing and light this time. I couldn’t hide my pleasure at seeing him. I didn’t think I even wanted to. “What are you doing out there in the middle of the night?” His answer was a shrug. I loved it when he did that. It said he didn’t care about rules or convention or propriety. It said he didn’t care what people thought or said or did. It said he just cared about coming to see me, no matter what the world might have to say about it. God, I loved that shrug. Aside from watching that stem of grass twirl between his lips, it was probably my favorite thing. That and his eyes. “Come down here, Brinkley Sommers.” He mimicked my use of his full name. I couldn’t help smiling. Everything inside me was smiling. My mouth had no choice but to follow suit. “Why?” “Because I asked you to.” I could hear his rich laugh all the way up at my window. It sent a fine spray of cold chills skittering over my skin, like mist from a bottle of perfume—sweet and sultry and intoxicating. It felt just as good and smelled

twice as nice. Because my time with Dane James had a smell, a taste, and a texture. Like all my favorite things wrapped up into a package of sensation, delivered right to my nerves every time I saw him. Even in school. There was just never anything I could do about it. Until tonight. Because I asked you to, he’d said, an answer that was cocky and funny and self-assured, just like Dane himself. I’d have been willing to bet he didn’t get turned down very often when he asked a girl to do something. And I had no desire to be the first. He was here for me. For me. Not because I did or didn’t put out, not because of who my stepfather was or wasn’t, and not because society dictated that he should or shouldn’t be. He was simply here for me, Brinkley Sommers. And I wanted him to be. Here. With me. For me. I wanted to spend the dwindling night with Dane James. More than I’d ever wanted anything else, which made no sense, of course. It wasn’t like we’d been dating for years. Or that we’d even spent much time together. The thing was, there had hardly been a day since I was twelve years old that I hadn’t thought about him. Maybe I had fallen a little bit in love with him

that first day so long ago. And maybe I’d never outgrown it. Or maybe I was just crazy and desperate and unbalanced. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care why. I only cared about what was. I just felt. So when he asked, I didn’t even pause. I just made my way down the steps and out the kitchen door. Once I was outside, the wind on my face and freedom in my hair, I had no regrets. The only things I wanted, needed, was Dane James. And the dark. When I rounded the corner of the house, I saw that Dane had moved there to meet me. I stopped and looked up at him. He’d already grown so much from that twelveyear-old boy. He was a good foot taller than me, and a good three or four inches taller than most of the guys in our class. He was already filling out, too, with muscles thickening his chest, shoulders, and arms. It made my insides feel warm and sticky just looking at him. That wasn’t good, I knew, but I liked the way it felt. At that moment, I didn’t care how “acceptable” it was to want Dane James. I just knew that I did. Without a word, he reached down and laced his fingers with mine, tugging me forward to lead me across the driveway, through the field, and out to the rock. The rock.

Our rock. Wordlessly, I followed. I knew I probably always would. When we arrived there, Dane hopped effortlessly up onto the boulder. I wished for a second that I had a rewind button so I could watch him do it all over again. It was fluid and masculine and every bit as sexy as summer in the South. Just like Dane himself. Bending slightly at his waist, he extended his hand toward me. I took it and he hoisted me up like I weighed a bucketful of nothing. But I was expecting his help, not to be pulled up so fast, so I squeaked in surprise. “Wow, you’re strong!” “I work for a living, remember?” His lips quirked up into an easy grin. I couldn’t see much else since the moon was less than half full, but I could see Dane almost perfectly, like my brain had somehow memorized his features enough to put the pieces together even in dark. And it was doing exactly that. I thought I could nearly see that sweet maple gaze of his fixed on me. But more than that, I thought I could feel it. We stood like that, on top of the rock, face-toface, our mouths mere inches apart, until he took a step back and sat down. He patted the hard surface beside him, his palm making a slapping sound, and I obligingly sank to sit at his side.

He said nothing for a long time. Neither did I. Finally, I had to ask, “Why did you come to my window tonight?” “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Just like all those years ago. “Does your dad know you come out here like this, at all hours of the night?” Again, Dane shrugged. “I don’t know. If he does, he’s never mentioned it and he doesn’t try to stop me. Probably doesn’t even care, so…” “And if he did, it wouldn’t matter, would it? Not to you.” He slid that sexy grin over to me and shrugged. God, I loved that shrug! And that grin. And those eyes. A little shiver rippled through me. How could a boy, a boy who was all wrong for me in every possible way, have this sort of effect on me? That answer seemed easy enough, even though it was no answer at all. Not really. Because he was Dane James. That’s how. He was my kryptonite and my wildest dream and my most forbidden fruit. He was everything I wanted, and all that I couldn’t have. And he had his hooks in. Deep. It was easy to see that he could be a problem for me. Would be a problem for me, like an

unhealthy habit. An inconvenient vice. An unbreakable addiction. That gesture was clearly all the answer I was going to get, so I asked another question. “So what were you doing out tonight? Driving of all things.” “Life’s too short not to break a few rules.” “Rules and laws are two different things.” “What? No!” His tone and his smirk were laced with sarcasm. “You’re a smart ass.” Again with the shrug, but before I could get irritated, he smiled my way and leaned into me, bumping my shoulder with his. When he pulled away, I had the overwhelming urge to climb into his arms and never look back. “So?” I prompted him for a real answer, unwilling to give up until I got one. “What were you out doing?” Rather than satisfying my curiosity right away, Dane stretched out on his back, linking his hands behind his head and crossing his feet at the ankles, totally ignoring me. That’s when I realized he wasn’t just being difficult or cool; he was hiding something. I quickly put two and two together and got the answer he wasn’t very eager to give. I gasped. “You were with a girl, weren’t you?” He frowned over at me. With his face toward

the sky, I could see it fairly well in the low light. “What’s wrong with that? I’m a guy. It’s what guys do.” While yes it was what guys did, it felt wrong for some reason. Just wrong. Dane wasn’t supposed to be sneaking around with other girls. But he wasn’t supposed to not be sneaking around with other girls either. I didn’t like to think of him doing anything with other girls, no matter how innocent. And I knew by his reaction that what he’d been doing earlier wasn’t innocent in any way, shape, or form. He didn’t have to tell me so for me to know. I could see it right there on his face. And that made it so much worse. The thought brought me an undue amount of distress, almost like I had a claim on him, which I didn’t, and he’d betrayed me, which he hadn’t. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want a claim on him, as irrational as that would be. Although I rolled my eyes with as much nonchalance as I could muster, I couldn’t keep the defensive disappointment out of my voice. “Of course, it’s what guys do. I don’t know why I even asked. I should’ve known not to expect anything different. Not even from you.” I hated that I sounded so bitter, but that was how I felt. Bitter about the situation, about the town, about life and fate and rules and society. Just…bitter.

Dane sat up. “Don’t do that,” he warned quietly. “Don’t do what?” “Don’t compare me to everybody else. Don’t lump me in with them. I’m different. You know that.” And I did. Or at least I thought I did. “You used to be.” “I still am.” “So you were just taking her for ice cream, then? Is that it?” I genuinely hoped that’s exactly what he’d been doing with her. Imagining anything else was downright uncomfortable. Even though it shouldn’t have been. Dane gave me a steady look. “Why does that matter? What difference does it make what we were doing?” It shouldn’t make any difference. I shouldn’t have cared that he was with another girl at all, much less what they’d been doing. I shouldn’t have. But I did. “It makes a difference,” was all I said. “So it’s all right that I was with another girl, just as long as I wasn’t what? Kissing her?” Something dropped into my stomach, something like a cold, leaden ball that caused my guts to twist up into a tight knot. “Is that what you were doing? Kissing her?”

Why was I close to tears? Why did I feel panicky? I had no right to feel anything other than mild curiosity. But that wasn’t what this was. Mild curiosity was what I felt when I asked Lauren where she got the cute shoes she wore to school the week before. Mild curiosity was what I felt when Alton said he had a present for me and it wasn’t even Christmas. Mild curiosity was what I felt when Momma told me four years prior that she was dating a new man who might be “the one.” Those were incidences of mild curiosity. This was not. When I didn’t answer, Dane asked another question, one that made me feel even worse about my jealous streak. “You were with someone else tonight. Did you kiss him?” I swallowed hard. “Yes, but I didn’t want to.” “But you did. Kiss him, I mean.” “That’s different.” “The hell it is. Do you think I like picturing you with other guys?” His voice was harsh and a little breathless. I could tell he was getting worked up. Just like I was. “Why do you picture me at all?” The silence that followed my question was filled with Dane’s deep pants as he decided whether to let his temper rev up or forced it to throttle down.

He didn’t answer until he could do so calmly. He had more control than I did. “Maybe because I had a crush on you when I was a little boy and part of me wishes you were still that little girl.” Dane James had a crush on me? And he still did? Is that what he was saying? My heart stuttered along in my chest, every ounce of my being clinging to the happy hope that I was understanding him correctly. “What makes you think I’m so different now?” “You don’t even talk to me now, Brinkley. You haven’t in years.” “You don’t talk to me either.” He couldn’t deny that, so he just shrugged. The gesture that I normally loved, I suddenly didn’t love so much. Dane wrapped his arms loosely around his bent legs and looked straight out into the dark field surrounding us. “You’ve been here long enough to know how it works. Hell, you already knew that day at the river. You’re an insider, the cream of the social crop. I’m an outsider, the son of a worker. Why would I waste my time trying to talk to you in public when I know what will happen?” A stab of intense guilt and shame sliced through my heart. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true. But I couldn’t. As unfair and ridiculous and archaic as it was, that was the way of society in Shepherd’s Mill. To those who lived

here, this was the whole world. And what Dane had described was the way the world worked. You either lived here and abided by the rules, spoken and unspoken, or you left and didn’t come back. There was no in-between. And for the next three years, until we turned eighteen, we were trapped here. Prisoners to a caste system we had no say in and no way around. Not even a rebel like Dane James could buck the structure of it. He could fight it, but only so much. For the most part, he’d just be banging his head against an unforgiving brick wall. The only escape for people like us, people who were reluctant hostages rather than willing participants, was the night. It hid a multitude of sins. And out here on our rock, in the middle of a field of wheat, we could be anyone. Or no one. We were the only people who existed. At least until the sun came up. I determined in that very minute that I would make the most of my time with Dane James. Whether a night or an hour or a stolen moment at a football game, I knew he was worth every second I could get with him. “Do you ever think about kissing me, Dane James?” I asked the question impulsively, and the instant the words were out, I could’ve just crawled into a hole to die. I was the stepdaughter of one of the

wealthiest and most influential men in town, I was friend to all the most popular people in school, yet I felt as insecure as I’d ever been a day in my life. And all because I was asking a worker’s son if he ever thought about kissing me. Maybe it was because I knew he was better than me. He was better than all of us. His answer was soft, but it hit me hard. “All the time.” “Then where have you been these last three years?” “Right here. Where I’ve always been. Where I always will be.” “Always will be? I thought you had dreams bigger than this town.” “They’re just dreams, Brinkley. Reality is a whole different story.” “You could leave, you know. When you graduate high school.” “I could,” he agreed noncommittally. “But you won’t.” He shrugged again. This time that shrug made me feel sad. “I can try.” “Dane,” I said and then stopped. I didn’t have anything to say. At least nothing that I was brave enough to say. I had no more questions that had pat answers, no more observations that I could make. I had nothing but

the desire that danced through my veins. I wanted him to look at me. And I wanted to look at him. Just for a little while. When I didn’t continue, Dane James turned to face me, his autumn eyes flashing onyx in the dark. At night they were different. He was different. We were different. And so was the world. “If we do this, it won’t change anything.” Rational, mature words from a rational, mature guy. I knew it. He knew it. But it still made my chest ache to acknowledge it. I nodded. “I know. So why did you come to my window?” His chin rested on his deltoid, his eyes still glued to mine. “I couldn’t not come.” “Why?” He shrugged that one shoulder again. “I don’t really know. Why did you come with me?” I mirrored his words and his action. “I don’t really know.” But that was a lie. I did know. I came because I had to come. Because he saved me three years ago and he saved me again that night. And every second that I was with him, he saved another teeny tiny part of me from dying in that town. He saved me from being suffocated, converted, brainwashed. He saved me from Shepherd’s Mill. He saved me

from my mother. He saved me from myself. “Brinkley?” He leaned back on his hand, stretching one leg out in front of him. His body, bigger than life in that moment, listed toward mine the slightest bit. “Yeah?” “Do you think about kissing me?” I gulped. For a split second, I considered lying again, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not over this. “Sometimes it’s all I can think about.” And it was. I tried not to think about him, but I did anyway. I thought about him a lot. More than I would ever have admitted to myself until right then. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I watched him at school when no one was looking. I watched him at the bus stop when he couldn’t see me. I looked for him in the fields when I went out into the front yard. And I dreamed of him. More nights than I could count, I dreamed of him. So yes, I thought about kissing Dane James. I thought about being with Dane James. For real. In public. But those were just dreams, too. Different than reality. But this—tonight, right now—isn’t a dream. I was there, alone in the night, with the object

of my forbidden desires, and all I wanted was to feel his mouth against mine. As if he knew the directions of my thoughts, Dane leaned toward me. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he drew closer. Just before our noses touched, he turned his head enough that his lips brushed mine. Softly. Chastely. Almost like he was testing the waters. The fit was perfect, like our mouths were made to be right there, just like that. Melded together. Giving and taking. Sharing. We stayed that way for more heartbeats than I could count, and when he pulled away, I almost begged him not to. He only sat up to change the angle of his mouth, though, and when he returned to me, it was so that he could give me my first real kiss. The only real kiss that mattered. Dane James’ beautiful lips were firm and warm and just the right amount of persuasive when he urged mine apart. I relaxed into his chest and opened for him, shivering at the feel of his silky tongue slipping in to explore mine. I inhaled, breathing him in with the night air and the freedom I could only fantasize about, and I promised myself that I’d sneak out with this boy as many times as he came to my window. We didn’t have a future. We couldn’t possibly. We both knew it. But we had the now. The beautiful now. And that was better than nothing.

CHAPTER 8

I

couldn’t stop smiling. Despite the way the night had ended with Taylor, despite my mother’s twisted views on love and marriage, despite the hopelessness I’d felt earlier, I was on cloud nine when I walked back through the door just before dawn. Dane and I had spent what felt like hours kissing on the rock in the field. Our rock. We hadn’t talked much after I accidentally touched him below the waist. Well, maybe it wasn’t so accidental. I wanted to touch him. Maybe more than I could ever remember wanting anything. And so I had. Just the memory of his fierceness, of his control, of how much he wanted me made me shiver. But he’d resisted.

Me. Us. That. For both our sakes. And I appreciated that. I think, in a way, that’s why we didn’t talk much after that point. We hadn’t needed to. Everything else in the world had sort of faded into the background, seeming far less significant when his lips were on mine. I think we’d both discovered that it was infinitely more pleasurable to battle our attraction to each other than to think about and talk about all the other battles we couldn’t win. When he’d told me that he had to get me back, that the sun would be rising soon, he’d walked me right up to the kitchen door, brave as always. He’d kissed me there, too. Bold as hell. He didn’t appear to care that we could get caught or that he and his father could lose their livelihood as well as their home if my stepfather found out. It seemed that Dane wanted his lips on mine one last time more than he wanted assurances about tomorrow. And I knew exactly how he felt. I wanted the same thing. I drifted through the door, closing it silently behind me and making my way through the kitchen. I stopped at the edge of the den to take off my shoes and carry them with me to my room. I tiptoed quietly up the stairs, stepping on the outside edges of each riser to avoid the squeaks that I’d

memorized over the years. I turned right at the landing and eased open my bedroom door, slipping through and leaning back against it once I was safe inside. I gasped in surprise when I heard my stepfather’s voice. I jumped so violently that I dropped my shoes. “Have fun out there?” I scanned the dimly lit interior until I located Alton Peterson sitting in the papasan chair in the corner. He flicked on the small lamp that sat on the edge of my dresser. It cast a wedge of light across his face so I could see his expression. My heart sped up, pounding on my chest wall like hoofbeats on packed dirt. “I…I don’t…I didn’t… What are you doing in here?” I watched as he slowly pushed to his feet. He stood staring at me for a few seconds before he moved. I watched, nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as he started toward me. He skirted the bed, his tread silent as his toes dug into the thick carpeting. He didn’t stop until he was only a couple of inches from me. Too close. Way too close. “Did you sneak out to see Dane James?” “I didn’t sneak out,” I replied, jacking my chin up rebelliously to give truth to the lie. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not your mother.” His voice was soft, but held a thread of…something

that made me want to shrink away from him as he edged in closer. His eyes held mine, making me increasingly uncomfortable. I held my breath when he reached toward me and took a strand of hair from the side of my neck, lifting it to rub between his fingers. “I…I didn’t sneak out. It’s hot in here. I went outside where it’s cooler. I didn’t realize that was against the law.” My stepfather bent his head enough to bring my hair to his nose and inhale deeply. It was a long, slow, creepy sound, like he was trying to inhale me. “Good. Because I told you to stay away from him, didn’t I?” I would’ve backed farther away, but the door was behind me. I had nowhere to go. In the back of my mind, I realized that not all things in the night were fun and hot and sexy. Some things were oddly terrifying. And I was oddly terrified. I nodded. “I still don’t know why, though. There’s nothing wrong with him.” “Some girls have a nose for trash. It’s a shame, really. A pretty girl like you, you could have a bright future. You just have to control yourself. Put your…charms to use on better men.” He laid the strand of hair down on my chest, the backs of his fingers grazing the swell of my breast. “If you care anything about yourself, your mother, your future,

about him, you’ll stay away from Dane James. He could ruin you. And I could ruin him. That’s too many lives down the tubes for a crush. For him.” He paused before breathing extra emphasis on the next word. “Sex with him isn’t worth all that, now is it?” My mouth had gone dry as a bone and my knees literally shook trying to hold me upright when they really just wanted to buckle. I stared up at my stepfather’s face, into his cold blue eyes, and I prayed that he’d leave. Just go. I saw something in them that made my stomach clench in fear, and I knew that if he stayed, I was in trouble. He was looking at me the same way Taylor Kraus had looked at me earlier in the evening. Only there was a ruthless streak in this man. Ruthless and perverse. I held my breath, making every muscle in my body as still as I possibly could. We stood like that for a long time—me quaking in my skin, him watching me like I was dinner. When he finally spoke again, I jerked, accidentally banging my head against the door. “Next time,” he said, letting his eyes travel down to my chest. Purposely and so slowly it made my skin crawl, my stepfather brushed the backs of his fingers over my nipple. In a low steely voice, he growled, “Wear a bra.” He leaned away, reaching around me to twist

the knob. He glanced over and raised his eyebrows, like he was asking if I was going to move. I shuffled clumsily to one side to let him out. Breathing had become a challenge, but I managed to hold it together until he’d closed the door behind him. Once he was gone, however, I let my legs give up the fight and I crumbled to the floor. I don’t really know how long I stayed that way, but Dane was right. Sunrise hadn’t been far away. It wasn’t until hues of gold and pink and orange were pouring onto the pale carpet that I relaxed enough to fall apart. I slumped over onto my side, a boneless heap of fear and anger, and I cried myself to sleep.

2004 32 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 9

I

don’t have to go far looking for my mother. She’s standing in the living room doorway, waiting to pounce when I come down the steps. “What is the mean—” I shush her with a finger to my lips and crook that same one for her to follow me. Thankfully she does. I don’t need her going off and running her mouth where Celina could hear her. Could hear us. I walk through the dining room and make a right before I reach the kitchen. Alton’s study, which is blissfully empty of the man. I doubt my mother would agree, but the world is a much better place without him in it. Before I close my eyes, I take a deep breath and cast a look of gratitude heavenward. And then I turn to face my seething mother.

“How dare you put me in this position? How dare you show up here, after all this time, after all that’s happened, unannounced, and put me on the spot like that? How dare you—” “She’s sick, Momma.” That shuts her up. I can almost hear the click of her teeth as her mouth slams closed. After a few seconds, she asks much more calmly, “What?” “She’s really sick.” “What’s wrong with her?” All of a sudden I feel drained. Utterly drained. I’ve dreaded this day, this reunion for weeks. As soon as I talked to the doctor and made the decision to come here, I began to dread it. I just don’t think I knew how much it was affecting me. I feel as though every muscle in my body has been clenched for fifteen years and now I’m too weak to hold them taut anymore. My lungs deflate and I more or less dissolve into the chair in front of Alton’s desk. “She has aplastic anemia.” “What’s that?” “It’s complicated. A bunch of medical terms and scary, depressing shit.” “Brinkley!” she warns. “Basically, last year, she got cut on some glass at the park and contracted a staph infection in the wound. The only drug it was sensitive to was chloramphenicol. One of its rare side effects is

aplastic anemia, which is when your bone marrow stops producing blood cells. That means she’s very susceptible to bleeding and infections. She stays really tired all the time, short of breath, has a lot of headaches. Stuff like that, and when she gets sick with something a healthy kid would kick in a few days, Celina has it for weeks or months. Something like the flu is potentially life-threatening for her.” “Is it contagious?” My mouth falls open and I gape at my mother. It takes me several astonished seconds to even find my tongue, which is normally the first thing to work in any situation. “You can’t be serious.” “Why not?” Fire explodes in my belly and my own fatigue is forgotten. Rage burns through me in a wild, hot blaze. “You disgust me.” The words are out before I can stop them. I’m genuinely appalled. I’m also pretty proud of myself for only saying that. A long train of insults flitted through my mind, but I didn’t say even one of them. And the only reason is because of my daughter. We do need to stay here. For at least a little while. And I’d do anything for Celina, even if it means biting my tongue when I’d really like to cut my mother to shreds with it. Momma raises a hand to her throat like I just dealt her a grave and completely unexpected insult. “You can’t talk to me that way in my own home.

Don’t forget that it’s you who came to me.” She pauses imperiously before demanding, “Apologize. Right this minute.” I swallow all the things I’d like to say to that, along with what’s left of my pride, and I do as she asks. I even manage to lower my eyes in a submissive way, but only so she can’t see the disdain glaring out at her from them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just…I’m just tired. You didn’t deserve that.” After a few seconds, when she says nothing, I dare to look up. She’s clearly mollified by my act, as well she should be. That was good. Damn good. I surprised even myself. I probably deserve an award for that performance. That was some Oscar-worthy stuff right there. “Fine. Just don’t let it happen again. I won’t tolerate it.” After a beat, she adds, “I hope you haven’t raised your daughter to be this disrespectful.” I feel the press of my lips against my teeth as they want to thin, but I keep them loose and force them into a contrite smile. “I didn’t. She’s a good girl. It won’t happen again. I’ll watch my tongue, Momma. I promise.” “Good. Now, what is it that you’ve brought Celina here for then?” I’m purposely vague. At least for now. I have to take this one slow step at a time. “Medical care.”

“Couldn’t you get her help in…wherever you lived?” It’s almost comical that in fifteen years, my mother hasn’t bothered to find out where I was. “Maryland. We lived in Maryland. And yes, they had medical care there, but there are some really exciting therapies being developed at Duke. It’s not the type of sickness where she can get a shot or have a surgery and it goes away.” “You think they’ll be able to cure her?” “I hope so. She’d already progressed to needing transfusions, but they’re not as effective as they were early on, so… We need to see the specialists to find out what the next step is.” Momma nods. At least I see some compassion in her eyes. Surely the snobby selfishness that plagues most of the residents of Shepherd’s Mill hasn’t killed off all her humanity. “Well.” My mother sniffs in that haughty way that warns me I’m not going to like what comes next. Makes me want to rip her pert, upturned nose off. “You can stay here as long as you need to, but no funny business. You’ve caused this family enough pain.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’ve caused this family pain? What a stinky load of horseshit. Before I can respond with my thoughts on that, however, the beautiful, china-doll face of my daughter flashes through my head, and I roll over

and play dead. “No shenanigans. Scout’s honor.” I hold up two fingers in a peace sign. Momma slaps them down. “Scouts are boys, for one thing. And it’s three fingers, not two. I swear to goodness. You haven’t changed a bit.” That I actually take as a compliment. Although I have changed—quite a bit, in fact—from the moldable, sheep-like girl I was before I left this town, she thought I was rebellious. Bullheaded. Stubborn. Too stubborn to fit into a society like this. The fact that she still sees those traits in me is the first nice thing she’s said to me in going on fifteen years. I tuck my hands behind me and interlock my fingers, suppressing a smile. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t let us stay, so this is a good sign. A very good sign. For all her bluster, she’s still Momma. And for all the heartache she’s caused me, I’ve missed her. “Get your things. Put your daughter in the third bedroom. It’s quieter. And, for heaven’s sake, change your clothes before dinner. You look like a street urchin.” I glance down at my jeans with a hole in the knee (my favorite ones) and my lime green tee with Slice written across the front. I want to point out that at least my sneakers are clean, mainly because they’re black, but still…

However, I don’t. No sense poking the bear on day one. She turns and walks stiffly toward the door, but I stop her before she can disappear. “Momma?” She stops and angles the upper half of her body back at me. She arches one brow, clearly still miffed. “Please be nice to Celina. She…she’s had a tough go of it lately. She could really use another person in her corner.” Color stains her cheeks, so before she can get really good and mad, I add, as sincerely as I possibly can without getting down on all fours and kissing her ass, “Please.” Momma’s nostrils flare in irritation, and when she pivots to fully face me, my optimism flags. I think for a split second that this is never going to work. I shouldn’t have come back. I should’ve tried to think of something, anything else. But, thankfully, her words belie her expression. “She seems to be a lovely girl. Why on earth wouldn’t I be nice to her? She’s my grandchild.” I exhale. She’s my grandchild. That’s what I wanted to hear. What I needed to hear. That there is some attachment, some connection she feels to her. While I hoped against hope that I could still depend on Momma, I wasn’t one hundred percent certain. I wanted her support. Needed her support.

Even if it’s like this—grudging—I need it. For my daughter. For my sweet Celina. I’d do anything for her. Even this. “Thank you, Momma. Truly.” She scoffs at me. “Really, Brinkley. Don’t be so dramatic. What did you expect?” “I don’t know. I guess I was just nervous. It’s been a long time.” “That it has.” She waits semi-patiently for me to finish, so I let her off the hook. “I also wanted to say I…I’m sorry. For your loss.” I just can’t bring myself to say, I’m sorry Alton is dead. I actually felt like doing a cartwheel in our apartment when I read the article about his passing from a fatal brain aneurysm. But I don’t tell her that. To my mother, it was a loss, and I can at least be sorry for her. “Thank you.” She nods graciously and walks away. I let out a breath when she’s gone, my optimism returning. Maybe this can work. Maybe, after all this time, more than just Celina can find healing here.

1989 17 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 10

“W

ait, what? You think Dane James is hot?” Cassie Shields was staring down the hall at him like he was a piece of chocolate pie with extra whipped cream. “Everyone thinks Dane James is hot, you dumb ass.” That was news to me. Maybe because I’d always seen something special in him, I missed the moment in time when everyone else started seeing it, too. And that bothered me. Even though I’d kept my distance since that night I came back from the rock to find Alton in my room, in some way I still considered Dane James to be mine. If we were in a different town, and I had a different family, he would be mine. And I would be his. My heart didn’t seem to care that we weren’t in

a different town, or that I didn’t have a different family, or that he wasn’t mine. It only knew that I was his, that he owned me, whether he wanted me or not. “Okay, fine. Whatever, but him being hot doesn’t change anything.” I wanted to add, Does it? But I dared not. I couldn’t risk Cassie seeing that it mattered to me. “It doesn’t make him marriage material. Or even take-him-home-to-meet-Momma material. But it sure as hell makes him take-me-now material.” She made a guttural noise in her throat, a sound that told me she was on the prowl. I panicked. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Who would risk it?” “Ummmm, every girl in school.” She swung to face me, frowning. “Where have you been? This is not news, Brinkley.” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just never thought Dane James was an option. That’s all.” “Well, let’s see.” She started ticking off items on her perfectly manicured fingers. “He’s hot. Check. He’s the quarterback, and a kick ass one at that. Check. He’s hot. Double check. He’s pretty much running your step daddy’s operation now, so all the important people treat him like a prized stud horse. Check again. And he’s hot. Did I already

mention that? Because he is. So hot.” I gulped. “He still isn’t one of us.” She sent a glare over to me. “God, when did you become such a snob?” “Me?” I was incredulous. “Who’s a snob?” Lauren’s face appeared between my head and Cassie’s, and she, too, stared down the hall at Dane. “Look at the ass on that boy.” I turned to look at my best friend (who also happened to be my worst enemy at times). “Not you, too.” “Not me too what?” “You’re not on this Dane James kick, are you?” “Not really. He’s hot, but he’s all wrong.” “That’s what I was just telling Cassie and she called me a snob.” “You are. But that’s not the point. Just because he isn’t one of us doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him from a distance.” I saw her wink at Cassie. “Or maybe even up close and personal a time or two. I’d be happy to slum it for a guy like that. At least when no one is looking.” Cassie and Lauren laughed, bumping hips in agreement, while I stood by watching, completely confused and utterly dismayed. What would happen if Dane suddenly came off the no-fly list? I’d have to watch all my friends go after him, listen to them talk about him, imagine all sorts of awful

things, yet never be able to say a word. And never be able to walk the halls with him myself. Even if the town accepted him, I couldn’t. Alton’s ultimatum still rang in my mind. Unless he were to approve of Dane in a strange turn of events, he would always be off-limits to me. Even at night. I felt sick. I supposed I’d seen the signs. Dane James had exploded. Any time his name was mentioned, I took note. He’d become sort of a hero among the have-nots, and he was even well-tolerated among the haves. To his work peers, men decades older than him, he was admired and respected for his knowledge and his strength alike. To his social peers, he was almost idolized. Dane was like a Minor League Baseball player who’d been called up to the big show. And to the affluent, the people in Shepherd’s Mill who “mattered,” he was the prized stud horse that Cassie mentioned, a diamond that had been awaiting discovery in the pasture. His sensation around town only intensified when he started playing football. He was smart, quick, and agile, yet had some size to him, so it was no big surprise that he did well. At least not to me. Then again, I’d seen the remarkable traits of Dane James since I was twelve years old. After three games of the town watching him throw touchdown after touchdown, he was officially a star and everybody wanted a piece of

him. Suddenly, he was good enough for the guys to befriend him and good enough for the girls to be seen with him. Well, all the girls except for a few. Girls like Lauren Stringer and Cassie Shields were still forbidden, by mothers, fathers, and society, to do much more than cheer for him or to say hello in passing. After all, the elite of Shepherd’s Mill had to maintain some kind of standard, and a guy like Dane James, no matter how smart, how capable, how valuable, or how talented, would just never be good enough. Keeping him in his place was their way of maintaining order in a time of chaos. I just never thought any of my friends would want him. He’d always been invisible to them. At least I think so. Maybe all this was just invisible to me. Dane James was my blind spot. I doubted I could be trusted to see clearly, to be rational when it came to him. “I heard, like, fifteen different girls asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance.” Cassie made the statement, and I could almost see the challenge in her eyes. Lauren’s reply was weak, uninterested. She was already bored with the conversation, and probably with Dane. “Is that right?” Angel Reynolds, probably the nicest girl in our clique, arrived just in time for Lauren and Cassie’s departure. “What are we talking about?”

“Brinkley can fill you in. Come on, Cassie. Let’s make a round through senior hall before last period.” I was grateful they were leaving. All the talk of Dane was making me a nervous wreck. When they were out of sight, Angel turned to me, her smile gentle and kind, a lot like the girl herself. Of all of us, she belonged the least. Her parents were both lawyers, so she was an insider for sure, but her heart was pure in ways that the rest of us couldn’t claim. Not even me. As much as I’d hoped it wouldn’t, this town and the people in it had polluted mine. “So what’s going on now?” I smiled at the way she asked. It was like she was saying, What now? It’s always something. And it was. There was always some sort of drama surrounding Lauren and Cassie. Lauren especially. She was like the ringleader. That much hadn’t changed since the day I moved to Shepherd’s Mill. “Oh, they were just talking about Dane James. Somehow he’s become the hot thing and I didn’t know it.” “I’m not surprised.” “By what?” “That you wouldn’t see it.” Suddenly, I felt a bit defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?” After looking left and right, Angel lowered her

voice. “I know you’ve always had a thing for him. For you, he was always a thing.” My mouth dropped open and I balked. Not because I was insulted, but because I’d been that transparent. “I most certainly—” Angel leaned in and grabbed my arm. “I won’t tell. I haven’t told anyone yet, have I? Your secret is safe with me.” “But I…I…” When Angel just kept smiling at me, I gave up trying to fumble through an elaborate denial. “How did you know?” “I know you. And I see the way you look at him when you think no one is watching.” An embarrassing blush rose to my cheeks. “It’s the same way he looks at you.” My belly flipped over at her words. “He does?” “He does. He has for years. Probably since you moved here.” Maybe Dane James really was as much mine as I was his. Maybe he still wished things could be different, too. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Alton would kill me if I ever did anything about it.” “You won’t be young forever. And I totally get the feeling he’ll wait for you.” She gave me a reassuring pat, like she knew I was in need of it, and then she looped her arm through mine. “Now that that’s out of the way, who should I ask to the dance? I still don’t have a clue.”

I was happy to launch into a different discussion. Dane James was never far from my mind, but knowing he wasn’t far from the minds of other girls made me far too uncomfortable, especially when there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Better not to even consider it.

CHAPTER 11

T

he Sadie Hawkins dance. I hadn’t been looking forward to it, per se, but I hadn’t been actively dreading it either. Not until word spread that Dane James had accepted an invitation, but wouldn’t tell anyone who it was. They just planned to arrive at the dance and surprise everyone. Who knew Dane had a flare for the dramatic? I certainly didn’t. It seemed there was a lot I didn’t know at that point. We’d only been there about thirty minutes, but it was easy to see that practically every eye in the gymnasium was turning toward the door every few minutes. Everyone was waiting for Dane to arrive. Everyone was wondering who he’d be with, and I was no exception. I was all dressed up in a black and gold metallic

cocktail dress. My hair was a mess of blonde curls piled on top of my head and my makeup had turned out just right. All evening, I’d had the feeling that I was going out with Dane James. Truthfully, that was just my deepest desire, because in reality, I was going with Chad Gentry. I’d dressed for Dane, though. I’d made myself up for him. I’d even squirted some perfume in my cleavage. Just for him. I wasn’t going with Dane James, but I wanted everything about me to make him wish I had. I wanted him to want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. It didn’t matter that I didn’t ask him, that I couldn’t ask him; it only mattered that I’d wanted to. As I danced to yet another slow song, I wished, not for the first time, that Lauren hadn’t gotten sick. Although she really was a terrible person, she was a fixture in my life because of who we were. Somehow I’d have felt more comfortable, more prepared for this if she’d come. She had a way of making things that felt like a big deal seem like nothing much at all. And this felt like a big deal. A big, heartbreaking deal. But Lauren had called and told me she was sick and had to cancel, so I was stuck trying to keep Chad Gentry’s hands off my butt while I pointedly watched the door. “If you’re bored, we could go to Mission Pointe,” Chad whispered into my ear, trailing his lips along the shell. I shivered, but not in the good

way. Not in the way I’d have shivered if it were Dane’s lips brushing my ear. Even my skin could tell the difference. “I’m not bored.” I tried to sound convincing, but in truth, I just wanted the night to be over. Right after I saw who Dane James showed up with. “You sure as hell act like it. The only thing you’ve done since we got here is stare at the door.” I defended myself with an answer that was sharper than I intended it to be. “Everybody is staring at the door.” “Who gives a shit who Dane James is bringing? I don’t see what the big deal about that guy is anyway. So he can play football. He’s still a commoner.” I felt my lips purse and I purposely ignored Chad. If I wouldn’t catch hell for it later, I’d probably have slapped him right across that smug mouth and then found my own way home. But my mother would give me more grief than that brief moment of satisfaction would be worth. So I held my tongue, I moved my feet, and I continued to watch the door. I needn’t have been so intent on watching, though. The way the crowd started to buzz around us about ten minutes later left me in no doubt of what was happening. Dane James had arrived with his date. They hadn’t even come through the gymnasium doors yet, but there was already so

much murmuring it sounded like a movie star had been spotted. Everyone had stopped to watch the spectacle and, again, I was no exception. My heart was in my throat as I stared through the backlit opening and waited. From where I stood, he came into view first. Almost in slow motion, first one half of his body was revealed and then the other. Since the dance was semi-formal, he was dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a slender black tie. He was wearing what half the other guys in attendance were wearing, but he stood out as if he were bathed in bright light. Dane wore the simple suit so, so, so much better than the others. His skin was tanner, his neck thicker, his shoulders broader. He was tall and fit and every bit a man already, unlike most of his peers who just seemed…less. Less impressive, less confident, less mature. But not Dane. Dane James was all man. Gorgeous, charming, forbidden man. I was completely enthralled by him, right up until I saw his date appear. Then my thrall turned to shock. And betrayal. On his arm was none other than my best friend, and the girl who called out sick (supposedly), Lauren Stringer. The murmuring grew louder, but I barely heard

it over the thud of my heart. It was beating twice as fast as normal. It made my chest hurt and my face sting, and all my dizzy head could think was, Why? Why? Why would he do that? Knowing she was my best friend, why? Knowing at times I abhorred her, why her? Knowing the way things were for me and the way she felt about him and his class, why? Why would he do that? Why would he choose her of all people? And Lauren…she’d lied to me. On purpose. I had no doubts about that when her glistening eyes met mine and I saw the satisfaction in them. Why would she do this? What was she trying to prove? Lauren didn’t know I liked Dane, of course. No one did except Angel. She just knew he was the hottest catch in school, and that was all she cared about. Dane James wasn’t good enough earlier that morning, but clearly something had changed. Lauren must’ve suddenly decided that he was. No doubt she had to have what everyone else wanted. That was part of the lure of being rich and influential, right? To have what everyone else wanted? Well, now she did. Lauren was one of the few who could do whatever—or whomever—she wanted. She and her family were untouchable. The reigning royalty of Shepherd’s Mill. They made the rules the rest of us had to live by. Even when they themselves didn’t.

Lauren’s family was the authority in Shepherd’s Mill society. Old money. The oldest, in fact. The rest of us just had to try to keep up, socially and financially. But even if they all decided that Dane James was suddenly acceptable, I knew it wouldn’t matter for me. I knew that I would be the only one still forbidden to associate with him. I knew that would never change. No matter what Lauren did, no matter what her parents deemed acceptable, no matter how amazing Dane proved himself to be, my mother would never change her mind for two reasons. One, Alton would forbid it. He hated people like Dane for some reason. And two, she only wanted me dating potential husbands. She would never approve of Dane. I stood motionless, dumbstruck, as they made their way to where Chad and I stood on the dance floor. It only made matters worse that I finally noticed how amazing Lauren looked. Whatever kind of rot she housed in her soul, no one could deny she was beautiful. Exotic-looking with her black hair and seafoam eyes, her dress was blood red and skin tight, and she looked magnificent in it. And right at that moment, I wanted to die. With my plain blonde hair and my grass green eyes. Wearing my not-one-of-a-kind dress. I just wanted to evaporate. Cease to exist. They looked incredible together. Every girl

there could see why Lauren would choose Dane. And, looking like she did, every guy could understand why Dane chose her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t understand it. I had no idea why he would say yes. When they stopped in front of us, I managed to eke out a casual observation that I hoped didn’t sound too petulant. “I thought you were sick.” I avoided looking at Dane. I didn’t want to see what was in those russet-colored eyes of his. I didn’t want to see his desire for Lauren. I didn’t want to see his ambivalence for me. Because surely that’s what I’d see. And I just couldn’t take it. “It was supposed to be a surprise. Duh,” she replied snottily. She turned her face up to Dane and gave him her biggest smile. “We knew everyone would flip out if all this awesome walked in at the same time.” I tried to ignore the way she was rubbing her boobs up against his side. And the way he had his arm slung over her shoulders. I tried to ignore the way my stomach sloshed uneasily, too. The last thing I needed was to puke in public. “You look beautiful, Brinkley.” Dane. By calling me out, he was forcing me to acknowledge him, which I really didn’t want to do. I could actually feel him looking at me, like a flame held too close to my skin.

Heating it. Burning it. Marking it. I turned chilly eyes up to his warm, autumn ones and I gave him a short, forced smile. “Thanks.” I glanced quickly away, back to Lauren who was infinitely preferable to interact with at the moment. If I didn’t get the hell away from them, I feared I’d end up in tears. Or losing my dinner. Somehow, it was easier to accept that I could never be with Dane when my peers couldn’t either. Somehow, it was easier to accept that he was kissing other girls when I didn’t hang around any of them and have to listen to the details. Somehow, it was easier to accept…before tonight. But this…this was torture. This was too close to home. This felt like he was cheating on me, and in my heart, he was. He knew this would hurt me. But he did it anyway. And that hurt even more. I plastered on a smile, shaking off my upset as much as I could until I could tend to it in private, and I wrapped my arm around Chad’s waist, leaning in for effect. “Well, Chad and I are leaving. We already had our pictures made, so… See ya!” “So soon? Where’re you off to?” Dane asked pointedly. I loved the sharp edge to his voice. It was soothing to my torn-up insides, soothing in that way that revenge sometimes feels. I wanted him to be

bothered. I wanted him to be as bothered as I was. “Mission Pointe.” Chad piped up to supply the answer before I could. I had no intention of letting him take me there, but once I saw the look on Dane’s face, I decided to let it ride. I just smiled and kept my mouth shut. Eat your heart out, asshole! “Is that right?” Dane’s smile, however, had gone tight and insincere. Now who wasn’t happy? Chad nodded and held up his hand for a high five. I gritted my teeth and slid my gaze to Dane, almost daring him to smack it. I found that those perceptive eyes were narrowed on me. They bored right into me, or maybe right through me, as he slowly lifted his hand and slapped it against Chad’s. “I guess we’ll see you later then,” Dane replied, not even looking at Chad. “Or not.” Chad laughed like he’d said something funny. He hadn’t. That or I just wasn’t in a humorous mood. Dane and Lauren at Mission Pointe? Making out like two beautiful rabbits? I couldn’t even tolerate the thought of it. I made no comment. I couldn’t speak past my stomach, which was lodged in my throat. I just swallowed repeatedly, trying to force it back down to where it belonged. When I finally trusted myself to say something,

I just looked at Lauren, told her I’d see her later, and took Chad’s hand to drag him toward the doors. I needed out of there. Fast. Chad tugged on my hand. “Slow down, baby. It’s not that long of a drive.” He was under the mistaken impression that I was in a hurry to get to Mission Pointe. He couldn’t have been more wrong. I ignored him. I didn’t say another word until we’d been on the road for a few minutes. Only when we were coming up on the turn that would take us to my house did I speak up. “Left here, Chad.” He turned a confused look in my direction. “Why?” “I’ve got the cramps. I’m gonna have to take a rain check.” I could tell by the set of his jaw that he wasn’t fooled. And he wasn’t happy. “You’re shitting me.” “I’d never shit you.” He made a scoffing noise. “You’re nothing but a dick tease, you know that, Sommers? Taylor was right.” I ignored that, too. I didn’t want to talk about Taylor. I didn’t want to think about Taylor. I didn’t want to think about any guy. They were all nothing but trouble. Trouble and lies and heartache. Chad mumbled something under his breath, but

he turned as I asked him to. He’d barely put the car in park before I was out the door and stalking toward the front porch. “You could at least kiss me goodnight, Brinkley. Don’t forget you asked me to this dance.” I paused, a little stab of guilt making its way into the red haze of my anger and disappointment. I wasn’t considering actually kissing him until I saw the curtain in the living room shift. Momma. She was watching. And if I let Chad leave angry, I’d never hear the end of it from her. So, with teeth gritted, I turned on my heel and went back to Chad, and I let him deliver a disgustingly wet, tongue-laden goodnight kiss. One was more than enough to make my point, however, so I pushed him off, hunched over and grimaced like I was in pain, all for the benefit of my prying, spying mother. When I walked in, she didn’t even try to pretend she hadn’t been watching us. She was smiling brightly, hopefully. “How’d it go?” “Really great,” I answered with a subdued smile. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. What happened? What did you do?” Of course, as always, it would be something that I did. My mom didn’t think there was anything that I couldn’t put up with for the right man who

had the right future and the right bank account. I swallowed my irritated sigh. “Cramps,” I said, folding my arm over my abdomen. Her expression immediately softened. “Oh, my poor baby. Ruined her night. Go on up and change. I’ll bring the heating pad and hang up your dress.” I nodded and walked slowly toward the stairs. I knew that Alton was sitting on the sofa. I could feel his eyes on me. I wanted to turn and scream for him to stop watching me. I hated his looks. Sometimes they held contempt, sometimes suspicion, but sometimes they held things that no man ought to be thinking about his stepdaughter. I’d mentioned to my mother what happened that night in my room, the night Alton scared the pee out of me with his close talking and inappropriate touching. Although she paled noticeably, she’d defended him, saying that he was just looking out for me, that I’d misinterpreted what happened. I knew I hadn’t, though. A grown man should never touch a young girl the way he had for any reason. Ever. Now I steered clear of him. Gave him no reason to come to my room, or even speak to me about anything other than the mundane, polite, everydaylife kind of stuff. I kept my gaze trained forward and I mounted

the steps, locking my bedroom door once I was upstairs. I’d begun doing that after the night I found Alton in my room. I never felt quite comfortable at night anymore. I doubted I ever would. Not unless there was a locked door between me and whatever sick thoughts he had going on behind those cold blue eyes. I tore off my dress and slipped into sweatpants and a tank top, doing my best to put thoughts of Dane and Lauren out of my head. Nothing worked, of course. Seeing them together was all I could think about. It was hard enough to watch him walk the halls at school every day surrounded by a gaggle of girls, but to see him with one, just one— touching her, smiling at her—and to have a face to put with the nightmares I had of him kissing someone else… Well, it made the fact that I could never have him, that we could never be together more real. And I’d much rather have pretended that one day…one day…we could. I knew that was silly. Probably nothing more than the by-product of an unresolved crush. I mean, it had to be, right? I couldn’t have real feelings for Dane James. We’d only kissed once. Well, technically, it was a night full of kissing, but still. It took more than that to fall in love with someone, didn’t it? I didn’t know much about love. Obviously. But the tightness in my stomach, the ache in my chest,

and the pain in my soul told me that I had much more than a crush on Dane James, whether my brain believed it or not. I went to my little window seat and drew my legs up under me, teetering between feeling like I hated Dane for bringing Lauren, like he’d somehow done it on purpose, and wishing beyond reason that he would come to my window and tell me that it was nothing, that he only had eyes for me. I couldn’t even bear the thought of him taking Lauren home, of him kissing her on the front porch steps or, worse, taking a detour to Mission Pointe instead. I was soul-deep in those thoughts when I heard a soft knock. For a split second, my heart stuttered, thinking it might be Dane. But I quickly realized that the knock was an actual knock on my actual door. I got up to answer it. It was my mother, bringing me two ibuprofen and the heating pad. “Why do you keep your door locked?” She acted kind of miffed that she had to wait for me to open it. I gave her a sadly exasperated look. “You know why, Momma. You just don’t believe me.” She cupped my face. “Alton’s a good man, Brinkley. It’ll be my dying wish that you end up with a man as good as he is, one who will take care of you and your babies. I know you don’t understand it now, but I’m trying to do what’s best

for you. I always will.” I nodded. There was no arguing with her. There was no arguing with anyone in this town. They all seemed to believe the same kinds of things about money and worth and happiness. She bustled in, hung up my dress, and then walked back to the door where I was still waiting to lock it again once she left. “G’night, Mom.” I mustered up a smile just for her. She was Momma and, flaws and all, she was all I had. She leaned in to kiss my cheek, patted it once, and then left me in peace. I didn’t know if I’d ever understand the way the people of Shepherd’s Mill thought. Or if one day they would brainwash me into believing the same things. Age did funny things to people. So did being poor. It scared me to think of what, of who I might become if I didn’t get out of here soon. I locked the door behind my mother and resumed my seat at the window. I leaned my forehead against the cooling glass and stared out at the empty night, wishing that Dane James would come and rescue me.

CHAPTER 12

I

’d already abandoned the window seat in favor of lying across the bed, staring out at the big, full moon while a song about loneliness filled my room with musings from the deepest part of my heart. I was all alone in a town of crazy strangers and the one person I could relate to had left me. Or at least that’s how it felt. He’d defected to the other side, all because they could finally see that he was something special. But I knew it from the first time I met him, long before anyone else gave him the time of day. I knew it and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I felt like I knew a lot of things that no one else knew—things about my stepfather, things about my mother, things about Shepherd’s Mill and her patrons. Some days, I felt like I was the only one

who had her feet on the ground. But that in turn made me feel like I was the only one who didn’t really know what was going on. Like I was missing something. I couldn’t understand it. How could an entire population of people be so blinded to the truth, to reality, that they believed that money and power was what made people either worthy or unworthy? Maybe I was the blind one. Maybe that was how the world worked. Maybe I was in the minority for a reason. Maybe I was the deluded one. The sharp tick of rock against glass caused me to jump. A single breath later and it had my heart racing like a runaway train while my stomach filled up with butterflies. Dane. He’d come for me. Maybe he was my hero after all. I ran quickly to the window, praying that sound hadn’t been a product of my imagination. Or the product of too much wishful thinking. But when I pulled back the curtain, I could see the bright silvery moonlight spilling over his dark head and broad shoulders. It was like a waterfall of mercury cascading over midnight granite that had been carved into the shape of a man. My heart sank when I saw Dane’s face, though. It was stern, his customary devil-may-care grin

curiously absent. I raised the window. “What are you doing in my yard in the middle of the night, Dane James?” My tone had a decidedly chastising flavor to it. By the sound of it, I should’ve been clucking my tongue and pointing my finger, like an angry schoolmarm or a disappointed grandmother. I hated it, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I was angry. I was disappointed. “I’m here for you,” he said simply, still no smile. “I can’t go anywhere,” I told him. That wasn’t entirely untrue. I really shouldn’t be sneaking out with him. Alton warned me what would happen. But if I were being honest, if it hadn’t been for Dane’s arrival with Lauren tonight, I’d have risked it in a heartbeat. It would’ve been stupid and inconsiderate, but I’d have probably done it just for a few more minutes with him. It scared me a little to think about what all I’d be willing to do for more time with Dane James. “Can you come downstairs for just a minute? Or do you want me to come up?” Him? Come up here? I hadn’t even considered that, but the idea that he had gave me a shiver. What else had he thought about? What had he pictured happening in my room? I couldn’t help wondering if Dane could get up here. He was nearly a foot taller, and with his

strong arms and long legs, maybe he could. Maybe he could use the railing to climb from one porch to the porch on the next level. I did like the thought of him in my room, in my space. Where I slept and dressed, and where I kept my darkest secrets. This is where came to take out my deepest desires and examine them. This is where I turned them over and over in my hands like dark, shiny pebbles. It would be so intimate to have him here, close enough to touch. Sharing the same air that I breathed when I dreamed of him. But if Alton found out… No. I couldn’t even start thinking in that direction. It made me all hot and flushed, but also more than a little bit scared. If he were ever discovered in my room… There would be hell to pay. Pure. Hell. Besides, I was still angry with him for showing up with Lauren. “No, I’ll come down,” I said hurriedly. “Hang on.” I closed the window before I changed my mind. I paused briefly in front of the mirror to inspect my appearance before heading downstairs. In the low light, my green eyes looked black and too big for my face, and my lips looked bee stung, no doubt where I’d been worrying them with my teeth since coming up to my room and having plenty of time to think about Dane with Lauren. My hair was okay, though. The curls piled on top of my head shone

like a tangle of loose gold rings. My appearance would have to do, at any rate. My main concern at that moment was to get downstairs, find out what Dane wanted, and then get back upstairs and into my room, undetected. I carefully turned the lock in the knob on my door and eased it open, thankful that the hinges didn’t creak. I paused to listen, my ears attuned to any and all signs of life downstairs. I made sure it was deathly quiet before I headed that way. I slipped out of my room, pulling the door shut behind me, and made my way noiselessly down the steps. I even breathed through my slightly parted lips so I’d make less noise. Once in the kitchen, I unlocked and opened the door. Much to my surprise, Dane was right there, waiting on me. I glanced behind me to make sure my stepfather hadn’t awakened and come down the long hall that separated the kitchen from the master suite. I saw no one, though. Heard nothing. I pushed open the screen and stepped out into the night. I stepped out to Dane James. “What do you want, Dane?” “Did you go?” he asked without preamble. “Did I go where?” “To Mission Pointe?” I tossed my head back a little. “What business is it of yours?” He grabbed my upper arms with his big hands,

the fingers meeting around them they were so long. “Dammit, Brinkley, you know what I mean. Did you go?” “No!” I hissed. “God!” Dane relaxed. I felt it in the lessening of his grip and I felt it in the breath he exhaled as it feathered my cheeks. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. “Jesus. Thank God.” He stayed that way for a few seconds before raising his eyes to look at me. “I could barely even be nice to Lauren after you left.” “Be nice? Then why the hell did you take her?” I was angry all over again, bitterness flooding my insides like a deluge of storm water filling an empty drain. There was a pause before he answered. He searched my eyes for…something as thumbs made small circles on my skin. “For you. I did that for you.” “How was that for me?” It was becoming a struggle to keep my voice down. “I thought if I could change things just enough around here, that maybe…maybe things would be different for us.” “Change things? What things?” “Me. If I could change me. Just enough to make me acceptable to them. I thought then that maybe…” My heart swelled right inside my chest, like a

sponge taking on water. He did this for me. For us. He thought of us as an “us.” And he took Lauren so that we could really be an “us.” For real. In public. Where the eyes that mattered could see. But Dane didn’t know what I knew. I knew there could never be an “us.” I dropped my eyes away from his, shame filling me. Shame that I wasn’t strong enough to buck the system. Shame that I would allow narrow-minded people to keep us apart. Shame that I hadn’t found a way to fight Alton and my mother. I reached to lace my fingers with his where they dangled by his side. I knew there was a time when we could be together. The night. When the world shrank to the size of two people alone in the dark. When the town was only as big as an “us.” “Take me to the rock, Dane.” My whisper held an infinite sadness as I squeezed his fingers, holding on tight. He didn’t speak until his pause had drawn on so long that I looked up. I didn’t want to dissect what I saw in his eyes. It hurt too much to think about it. So I just stared up at him, stared until he nodded and tugged me close to his side, arm to arm, skin to skin. Wordlessly, we set out across the moonlightdappled yard. I think we walked in silence, not because neither of us had anything to say, but because whatever we said wouldn’t change

anything. I clung to his hand like he might disappear if I let him go. I clung to him like I knew that we only had the night. Because we did. But at least we had that. He’d come back to me, come back for me. Right now—that had to be enough. We both knew that, despite the progress he’d made by showing up at the dance with Lauren, the odds were stacked against us. In the end, all we would ever have was the now. The beautiful now.

CHAPTER 13

S

omething had changed after the night of the dance. Something was different. Dane and I had spent what hours we could that night on the rock, kissing and clinging, wishing we could be two other people in some other town. But we’d done that before. That wasn’t what was different. I wished the difference were that things had changed, but they hadn’t. The very next morning after our night on the rock, my mother had gone on and on about how I needed to pursue things with Chad, but if I couldn’t make it work, she knew of a few other boys who would be acceptable mates for me. Boys who could secure a good future for me. It was like being bred to the best stallion in the barn. A couple days later, Alton had made a comment

about how Dane might know wheat now, but he was still a worthless piece of shit. I had no idea what happened that day, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t even care. I knew deep in my bones that no matter how high Dane rose, what a bright star he became, he would still never be permitted in my sky. Not until I was out from under their thumbs. But something was still different. Something had shifted between Dane and me. Before, we’d spend our time on the rock and then go back to our lives. We still wanted each other, but neither of us did anything about it. But this time was different. This time, a sense of desperation had set in and I knew it wouldn’t be enough to have that one night with Dane James and then go months or even years without spending time with him again. I knew I would do whatever I could, whatever I had to, to see him again. Soon. I needed more. More time, more kisses, more nights. As many as I could get. Stolen moments at school, longing looks across the football field, a blink of his bedroom light before it was snuffed out for the night—it all fed my thirsty soul, but none of it was enough. I wasn’t sure I could ever get enough. I kept an antsy feeling, like I was just going through the motions, waiting for something. And that something was Dane James. Nothing else could compare. And nothing else could quench my desire for even a few minutes with him.

“So then we’re going. Don’t forget, Brinkley.” It was Friday, which meant football and parties and social schedules teeming with activities. “Forget what?” “The party. Angel’s house. Tonight after the game. You can ride with Chad,” Lauren reminded me. I glanced across the sundrenched schoolyard to the table where Chad sat. As if he knew we were talking about him, he looked up at me and winked. I gave him a small smile and looked away. One would think he’d have dumped me after the dance, but evidently that kiss had been enough to keep him interested. My mother would be thrilled. I, however, was not. “I’m going with Chad?” “God, Brinkley, just give it up and sleep with the guy. You need to pop that cherry and get on with living life.” To this, I said nothing. “Whatever. But why can’t we ride together?” “Dane will be taking me.” I could hear the smile, the satisfaction, the boasting in her voice long before I looked at her face. “Oh.” I tried to school my expression. “Chad’s not gonna strip you down the second you get in his car, for God’s sake. Get a grip, Brinkley.” I let her believe that my reluctance was wholly

related to Chad and his advances. Part of them were. I had no desire to spend any amount of time kissing him or fending him off, but that was only part of it. A small part, even. The far bigger part had everything to do with Dane. As Lauren and Cassie chatted about what they would wear, I let my mind drift back to the night Dane had come to my window, when he’d told me that he was doing this—seeing Lauren—for us. I drew as much comfort from that as I possibly could and tried to look forward to seeing Dane at the party. That was at least a little bright spot in an otherwise nasty-looking weekend forecast. Going to the football game helped a little. As I was walking across the field in front of the bleachers, I kept looking out, searching the jerseys for the right number. For Dane’s number. And when I found it, I saw that he was turned toward me, watching me unabashedly. He didn’t have to worry about getting caught. For one thing, he had his helmet on. To anyone who looked, it probably seemed like he was looking into the stands. Or looking at Lauren who was walking in front of me. But I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was looking at me. Not only did he nod the tiniest bit when I finally found him, but I could feel the heat of his gaze all the way across the field. It set fire to the kindling that was always ready and waiting to be lit when it came to Dane James.

Lauren found us a place to sit. I decided I quickly realized I liked football games. I could watch Dane as much as I wanted and no one would be the wiser. Every eye in the stadium was focused on the field, and they were all so far away, I could’ve been looking at any of them. No one knew that I had eyes for only one. Several times, Dane would look up in our direction. Once Lauren waved and he waved back. I tried not to let it upset me. Of course, he would see her wave; she was sitting right beside me. But still, it stung for some reason. I didn’t want there to be any question that it was me on his mind. Me and only me. I knew then that seeing him at the party would likely be as uncomfortable as it would be needful, but I knew I would go. It was like being so thirsty you’re willing to risk drinking tainted water. The night might be tainted, but I needed to see Dane. Needed it. And I’d take a minute here or there, whenever I could get it. Just to be in the same room with him, to watch him, even from a distance, would keep me from withering. Just over an hour later, I was regretting my decision to go to Angel’s party. Not only was Lauren all over Dane, showing him off like some sort of trophy, but Chad was constantly touching me—putting his arm around my shoulders, sliding his hand around my waist, kissing my temple. It

grossed me out, but I was a little more willing to tolerate it because I saw Dane glancing in our direction. A lot. And I could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t like what he was seeing. But I was okay with that. I didn’t like what I was seeing with Lauren and him either. The longer we were together yet apart, the more we watched each other. I knew he was feeling that way, too. I could see it in the way his eyes strayed to me so often. I could see it in the longing that burned in them. In the beginning, I was concerned with being caught, with who might see me looking at Dane, but I began to crave his glances so much that I stopped wondering or even caring who saw. And that was dangerous. I tipped up the red plastic cup I was holding and there was nothing in it. I turned to Chad and held it up. “I’m empty. You want anything?” “Nothing that would fit in that cup.” His leer would’ve made a dirty old man proud. I smiled, or at least I think I smiled, and walked off. I had no idea how to even respond to that, so I just…didn’t. I had other things on my mind. One other thing. I made my way to the keg, trying not to turn and look at Dane. It was as I was reaching for the tap that long, tanned fingers intercepted it. I looked up and my heart tripped over itself.

It was Dane. Part of me knew it would be. He couldn’t stay away from me any better than I could stay away from him. Because something had definitely changed. I was relieved and excited and gratified that he’d followed me to the keg. That he’d been watching me so closely that he knew the moment I left Chad. A slow, coy grin curved my lips. I wondered how long we could keep this up without bursting. Without exploding into a spray of heat and want, like an ancient, carnal geyser releasing what boiled and bubbled beneath the surface. “What are you doing?” “Pouring you a beer.” He winked as he explained, aiming the spout at my cup. We watched each other as cold liquid seeped slowly out of the tap. I wished it were an even slower pour, like molasses slow. I wanted to stay here forever, watching Dane James over a keg of beer, getting lost in the sparkling warmth of his eyes. “Do you always blush when someone pours you a beer?” I tucked my chin, cheeks burning even hotter. I hadn’t been aware of my blushing. I hadn’t been aware of anything except this boy and all that he made me feel. All that he made me want. “No. Not always.” “No? So it’s just me then?”

My stomach gave a hot squeeze and I felt my eyes widen in disbelief. Dane James was flirting with me. At a party. With lots of people around. While he was on a date. And so was I. I knew no one else could hear him; he wasn’t talking loud enough. But still… It was unexpected and scary and thrilling. So very, very thrilling. I cleared my throat, glancing left and right before returning to his gaze. “Maybe.” “Does your ‘maybe’ always mean yes?” Rather than answering right away, I reached over and put my hand on his. I loved how he got so still, and how his eyes lit up like he wanted to drag me off somewhere and finish this tantalizing little dance we’d engaged in. I grinned when I felt cold liquid pour over my hand. That’s why I reached out. To stop his pour. He hadn’t even noticed that my cup was almost full, a fact that made me happy in a strange and exhilarating way. It was proof I had the same power over him that he held over me. And it was increasing with every passing second. “Oh shit! Sorry.” I felt curiously giddy. “Don’t be. You obviously had…other things on your mind.” I held his eyes as I sucked foam from the rim of the red Solo. Two could play this game.

I lowered my cup and licked my upper lip. Dane’s eyes watched my mouth the whole time. I’d never felt sexier. More beautiful. More wanted. And just for being me, Brinkley Sommers. He was the one person who couldn’t have cared less about my parents or my wealth or my social status. All too soon, I heard my name. It pricked my ears like an unwanted siren signaling doom. It was Chad, speaking from somewhere behind me. He’d be looking for me and I didn’t want him to find me here. That could cause a lot of trouble. Trouble we didn’t need. I wanted desperately to reach out and touch Dane, to beg him to leave with me, but I didn’t. I simply swallowed a sigh and another mouthful of foam and said, “Thanks for the beer.” I turned around to walk away. I had to force myself not to look back. If only I could’ve put him out of my mind as easily as I got him out of my sight. No such luck, though. If anything, my little run-in with Dane James over the keg seemed to have created some sort of invisible tether between us. Wherever he moved around the room, my eyes seemed to go right to him. I was hyperaware of his laugh above the rest of the noise and the warm sensation that made me suspect his eyes were on me. It was like I could feel him across the distance. Unfortunately, that made it even more difficult to put up with

Chad and his fifteen hands. After an hour of moving and removing, dodging and evading his excessive PDA, I needed a breather. When Lauren approached, dragging a noticeably bored Dane James, and offered a respite, one that included the object of my obsession, I was quick to jump on it. “Who’s up for raiding the hot tub? We’re going.” “I’m in.” I agreed before I really considered what I was agreeing to. I saw Dane. I saw opportunity. And that’s all I saw. “Hell yeah.” Chad followed his response with a whoop of delight. “Cool. You guys can wear…whatever you want. We’re going to change.” To me, Lauren said, “Angel’s got a bunch of suits.” She looped her arm through mine and off we went to the stairs. Lauren was right. Angel had at least a dozen swimsuits. I chose a pretty one-piece with high-cut legs and a daring neckline. Lauren chose a bikini that looked more like pink scraps of shiny fabric than a purposefully made piece of clothing. We grabbed towels from the bathroom and headed outside to the hot tub. The lights were on in it, giving the three occupants an eerie glow. I only really noticed one, though. My eyes went straight to Dane James, who was sitting in the far corner with his arms spread out along the edge, looking

every bit like a luminous god of the night. His eyes were on me, too, and they took my breath away. I purposely looked away from him as I dropped my towel onto a chair and walked to the spa. Lauren got in and snuggled up to his side, so I got in between him and Chad. Naturally, Chad scooted closer to me. I sucked it up, however, because I was sitting next to Dane in a pool of warm water, and I could almost feel the energy of his attention, like it mixed with the bubbles and caressed every inch of my skin. Chad, Lauren, and Michael, the other guy in the hot tub, talked and laughed. Dane and I sat quietly, listening, trying not to stare at each other too much. Beneath the turbulent waters, I could feel him beside me, drawing me like gravity. I wanted more than anything to move closer to him, but I didn’t know how. As though he’d read my mind, Dane leaned up once to grab his cup of beer, which was sitting on the edge of the spa. When he relaxed back, he was a little bit closer to me. His arm along the back of the tub brought his hand to within a couple of inches of my shoulder, and his presence just seemed…bigger. Quickly, I glanced up at his face. He was watching me. Hungrily. Just like I was watching him. His move only made me need his closeness

even more, and the alcohol had made me a bit brave. Without giving it a second thought, I leaned up to grab Chad’s cup. I took a sip and glanced back over my shoulder at Chad. I smiled. “You don’t mind, do you?” “God, no! Drink as much as you want.” I knew that would be his answer. He wanted me drunk. But me? I only wanted nearer to Dane. My pulse tripped up a notch as I returned to a spot slightly left of where I’d been. To my left was where Dane was, everything I wanted. Having him this close was tempting beyond that which I could resist. I had to get closer still. I had to touch him. Even if it was just a brush, I had to. It felt as necessary as breathing. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, I inched a tiny bit closer to Dane. Then I saw the muscles in his shoulder shift as he edged toward me. Centimeters that felt like miles. I breathed more rapidly, laughed more robustly. I was giddy with the danger of what we were doing, and with the undeniable effect Dane James had on me. Chad and Lauren seemed to follow, like they gravitated toward us, and we toward each other. For once I didn’t mind, though. I didn’t care about my right side, only my left. My entire being was focused on what lay on the side of my heart, and how I was gradually getting near enough to touch.

I sipped Chad’s beer, pretended to participate, and beneath the bubbles, I finally felt my knee brush against Dane’s. A bolt of sensual lightning skittered through me and I swallowed a gasp along with the cooling night air. He pressed his leg toward me; I shifted mine against his. The rasp of hair over my silky skin echoed through my body like he was touching me everywhere at once. I set my hand down, below the surface, and braced against the seat and moved a little closer. Seconds later, Dane dropped his hand as well, and I felt it glide along mine. His fingers found mine, first his pinky and then the rest of them, and he stroked them, toyed with them, touched them as I longed to touch him. And as I longed for him to touch me elsewhere. My belly was heavy with want and I nearly moaned when Dane flipped my hand over and began to rub my palm with his thumb. The pressure was stunningly delicious and as innocent as a caress could be. Drunk with the desire for more of him and emboldened by the alcohol buzzing in my head, I inched closer still, until I felt Dane’s hand along the side of my leg. Our moving fingers grazed my skin and electricity shot up the inside of my thigh. I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted for Dane James to stand up, ignore everyone else in the

whole town, pick me up, and carry me to a bed. The impulse to do something drastic was almost more than I could bear. I let my mind wander to that scenario. I felt myself being lifted in his strong arms, held against his muscular chest, then lowered onto a feather-soft bed. I felt his long fingers peel away my wet suit. I felt his cool lips press passionately to mine. I felt his weight settle between my legs, his languid movements creating friction right where I craved it most. But then, like someone threw a cold pitcher of beer in my face, I felt the touch of another hand. It came to rest on my thigh and slipped inward, to a place that I only ever wanted Dane James to know. I stood up so suddenly, water sloshed over the edges of the tub and everyone reached for their drinks. “Sorry. I think I’m done, though. It’s so hot it’s making my head swim.” I swayed for effect, and pretended that I couldn’t feel Dane’s eyes on my face, my breasts, my stomach where I stood only inches from his hands and his mouth. If only things were different. If only he wasn’t forbidden, or we were alone. I would sit down on his lap, wrap my arms around his neck, and I’d vow never to let go. But things weren’t different. And we weren’t alone. So with a quick glance in his direction, I announced, “I’m going to get dressed.” Over my

shoulder to Chad, I said, “I’m ready to go whenever you are.” With that, I climbed out of the tub and made my way to Angel’s room. On shaky legs and with trembling fingers, I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom nearest the kitchen to shed my wet suit. Once I dressed, I turned on the water at the sink and let the frigid stream pour through my fingers. I splashed a few handfuls onto my face. I wasn’t sure if I needed to cool off or sober up, but I suspected that my inner turmoil, the warmth in my head, and the ache in my belly, had nothing to do with hot water and beer, and everything to do with a guy. I knew it years ago, and I’m proving it now. Dane James is dangerous for me. And I’m helpless to resist him. As much as I wanted to stay in the bathroom rather than fending off Chad’s advances on the way home, I knew I couldn’t. In fact, he could be right outside the door, waiting to ambush me. Cautiously, I crept to the door, slowly turning the knob and easing it open to peek through the crack. When I saw no sign of Chad, I stepped out. That’s when I saw him. Not Chad. Dane. He was leaning against the wall beside the open pantry door, watching. Waiting.

I felt my face flush and my belly heat with pure pleasure. All that I’d been feeling in the hot tub came back with a rush, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with white-hot desire. We stared at each other for a few seconds and then… I don’t even know what happened, how it happened. Before I knew it, my back was pressed against the inside of the closed pantry door and Dane was everywhere. His fingers were weaving into my hair, his body was pressed tight to mine, his mouth was hovering less than an inch away. I couldn’t see him in the dark, but I could feel him. God, how I could feel him! I felt every warm puff of air fan my cheeks as he tried to control himself. His struggle was almost tangible. He trembled with it, and so did I. It was intoxicating. “Brinkley.” That one word, that one whisper, so desperate, so pleading, was like gasoline to an already-raging inferno. I wanted him to kiss me. I needed it. He had to. My very existence seemed to hinge on it, like I might disintegrate if he didn’t press his lips, his body, his soul to mine and hold me together. And then, like the answer to a prayer, Dane James crashed down on me, a beautiful, chaotic wave of want and need. His lips met mine in a collision that sealed our fate. This…this burning… this flame we couldn’t stay away from made it

official. We could no longer resist. Whatever was between us had become like air or water. Or fire. Licking and blazing. Consuming. Or maybe it was like a drug, this thing between us. I’d seen documentaries about people doing crack for the first time, how it suddenly became an obsession—getting more, more, more. For the first time in my life, I knew how that felt. I knew how it felt to be addicted. And I knew how it felt to want something so badly you’d do almost anything, risk almost anything to have it. Just a little taste, a little touch. And from his kiss, the way he held me, the way he touched me, I knew Dane did, too. Even though this would go nowhere good, would go nowhere at all, we couldn’t stop it. I had no idea how giving in to it would change things. Or maybe I did. Maybe I just didn’t care. I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his broad, strong back, holding him close, close, closer. I couldn’t get close enough, not without ripping his clothes and climbing inside with him. I moaned as his tongue slid along mine. I felt the heat of it, the rasp of it as though it was gliding over my nipples, slipping between my legs. Like his solidness, I felt his kiss everywhere. One long arm wound around my waist and lifted me, pressing me hard against the door. Dane’s

thick thigh wedged between mine. The touch of it, the press of it, right there, was nearly more than I could take. He moved his body along mine in a rhythm that I understood on some instinctive level, and I met him at the crest of each wave of it. Over and over, we crashed into one another, rubbing and sliding, skin alive, nerves on fire. My head was light with the need for oxygen, but I didn’t ask him to stop. I wanted him more than I wanted to breathe. When Dane finally lifted his head, he was panting, too. Breathless. His voice was gruff when he confessed, “I’ve wanted to do that since before the game started.” Some rational part of my brain came back online, but it was far away and the voice of it was weak. “W-we could get caught.” Even I could hear the lack of concern in my own words. Dane James was the only thing I cared about, and I believed I was the only thing he cared about, too. He didn’t even bother to answer. Not with words. He just bent his head to mine and pulled my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently until I opened to him again. Nothing after that really mattered. All of life had boiled down to a few stolen seconds in a friend’s pantry, just like it did when whenever we met at the rock. We were all that mattered when the moon was high and the

night was young. Time was ours and ours alone, for just a little while. But this time, these seconds, were different. Nothing would be the same after this. Nothing. “Go straight home,” Dane whispered as he trailed his lips across my cheek to my ear. “I need to see you. And touch you. Alone.” I could hardly think clearly enough to speak. “You are seeing me. And touching me. And we are alone.” I tilted my head to one side to give him access to my neck. He accepted, nibbling his way down to my collarbone. His teeth and tongue sent lava pouring into my belly. “You’re teasing me?” There was laughter in his tone as he murmured against my skin. “What if I am?” “There’s punishment for that type of behavior.” He centered his lips on my chest and kissed his way down to the part in my shirt. My back arched like it was a bow and he controlled the string that pulled it tight. I’d never wanted anything so much in my whole life. Not ever. But…there were consequences, and if we got caught… Alton’s words taunted me. Coming to my senses, I nudged Dane back, instantly missing the close contact when he obliged. He took my hands in his and kissed the knuckles. “Our rock. Give me an hour.”

“An hour then.” He kissed me one more time, like he was trying to make sure I wouldn’t change my mind. He needn’t have worried. “You’d better go while you can.” He backed away so I could open the door. I paused before I made my escape. I didn’t want to go. And I knew Dane didn’t want me to go. But there, in Angel Reynolds’ pantry, with a party going on downstairs, we both knew there was no other choice. As if sensing my hesitation, Dane added, “I’ll meet you there.” I nodded. I knew the coming hour would be the longest of my life.

CHAPTER 14

A

fter feigning the need to puke and “barely making it” to the grass, Chad was more than happy to rush me home and drop me off at my house without a goodnight kiss or groping. I smiled all the way to the front door. I crept into the house quietly, but before I could mount the stairs I heard my mother’s sleepy voice. “Was that Chad?” I swallowed a sigh and rolled my eyes. “Yes, Momma.” “Did you have fun?” I thought of my leg pressed to Dane’s as hot water gushed and bubbled around us. I thought of his kisses and his touch and how his body flattened against mine had felt. I answered honestly. “Yes, Momma. Very much.” “Good girl.”

I waited to hear if she was going to ask anything else, but she didn’t. Within a minute, the roar of Alton’s snore broke the stillness, and the softer, lighter rumble of my mother’s sang behind it. I made my way upstairs, feeling every bit like a caged lioness. My every thought, my every nerve was concentrated with laser focus on one objective —getting to Dane. I paced back and forth across my bedroom floor, trying to give Momma and Alton a chance to get back into a deeper sleep. Back and forth I went, my eyes following my reflection in the glass of the window. But it wasn’t me I was looking at; I was picturing the fields beyond. They seemed to hold everything in life that made me happy. Dane James. Memories made with him. Dreams spun with him. My growing love for him. And our rock. The life raft in the turbulent sea of my world. I held out as long as I could, tried to wait the full hour, but everything in me was straining. Straining, straining, straining to get to Dane. To see his smile, feel his arms, hear his voice. When I could stand it no longer, I retraced my footsteps back downstairs. I tiptoed through the kitchen, eased open the door, and breezed out into the night. The instant I was away from the house,

however, I took off like a shot. All I could think of, all I wanted was Dane. To get to Dane. Overhead, the moon was full and round, a beautiful crystal ball in the sky. It poured a softly brilliant light onto Dane, allowing me to see him long before I reached him. It drenched his long hair in silver and bathed his broad shoulders in mercury. He was standing on our rock, tall and strong, like a lighthouse on a rocky shore. He was the beacon I ran toward, the one who would guide me home, give me safe harbor. Take me to the place I belonged. That was with him. I belonged with him. Dane bent as I neared, offering his hand. I ran the last few feet and I took it. With amazing ease, he swung me up onto the broad surface of the boulder and pulled me straight into the circle of his arms, crushing me against him. I felt as elated as I felt fulfilled, like I’d waited my whole life for this very moment. I clung to him. Dane’s lips tickled the side of my neck where his face was buried. “Why does it feel like I haven’t seen you in a thousand years?” I was breathless. “I don’t know, but I feel the same way.” Dane leaned back enough to take my face in his

hands. For long, intense seconds, all I could feel was the warmth of his hands, the cool of the night, and whatever was shining from his gaze. He searched my eyes, for what I didn’t know, but he held me captive as he drew slowly closer. Closer, closer, closer. Neither of us looked away until our noses were nearly touching and he set his forehead against mine. I felt as much as heard him exhale. I knew what he was feeling. I knew that kind of relief. It felt as though I was always holding my breath, always waiting for the moment when I could see him again, when I could be with him again. And then I could exhale. And then everything would feel right. And then everything would be okay. At least for a little while. I knew that feeling. For me, it had a name. Dane James. He was my relief. He was my exhale. He was my rock. And now he was here. We were together. And we had the night. Suddenly, I was frantic, impatient, overwhelmed with the need to take him in. All of him, like if I could absorb him, or be absorbed by him, I’d be whole and complete. “Dane.” My voice was a whisper, carried on

breath as eager to touch him as I was. My hands, my mouth, my skin—I wanted every part of me to be in contact with every part of him. I leaned in. He bent down. His lips found mine. My soul found his. Our legs were a tangle, our tongues a hot twist. We were hungry hands and greedy lips and frenzied moans. We touched and clung. We kissed and tore. Fingers gripped, palms smoothed, mouths devoured. Neither of us could get close enough fast enough. This was all that mattered. We were all that mattered. Dane James and me and this night. There was no yesterday. There was no tomorrow. We had the now, and we both knew that might be all we’d ever have. My clothes were peeled away with sweet intensity. I felt the urgency in Dane’s fingers, knew precisely what he was feeling as he shed them. He was in a rush to get back to me, to get back to my skin and my warmth. And I was in a rush to feel him again. For a single deep breath, cool night air chilled my skin. I watched with wide, rapt eyes as Dane backed away to undress. He was strength and grace and every manly thing I’d ever imagined, wrapped in beauty and covered in flawless skin. My breath was caught and, before I could inhale again, his hot, hard chest was pressed to

mine. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart. It tapped a heavy thump against his ribs and echoed from his chest into my own. Our bodies spoke a rhythm only we could understand. The tempo surrounded us and we moved with it, moved to it. He left me long enough to spread his clothes out onto our rock, and every second without him was almost painful. An urgency, a violent and desperate need coursed through me, turning my blood to fire. It burned away all reason, all caution, all hesitation and left behind only the necessity of Dane. He felt necessary to my heart, to my head, to my very existence, and nothing in the world mattered except him. Being close to him. Having him against me, around me, inside me. When he returned to me, he paused only long enough to brush his thumb over my bottom lip. “Brinkley, there’s nothing I want more in my life than to be with you, but I want you to be sure.” There was a tremor in his touch, but not in his voice. His body was racing toward pleasure, but his heart…his heart was racing only toward mine. “I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” I didn’t even bother trying to hide what I was feeling. My soul was as naked before him as my skin was. Then I was floating. I was in warm arms, against a warm chest, soaring through the cool air before being pressed down onto clothes that

smelled like the man of my dreams. It seemed everything happened all at once, but each individual moment, each individual touch was being sketched into my memory with the indelible ink of desire, of obsession, of love. The brush of his hand on my cheek. Satin. The whisper of his lips on my breast. Silk. The slick of his tongue on my thigh. Magic. Lips and hands and kisses and touches. He was everywhere. I was bathed in Dane James, cloaked in his passion, and he set my body ablaze. But more than that, he set me free. He set my heart free. He set my mind free. He set my love free. It poured from my feverish limbs and heated the night air around us. Every murmur of Dane’s lips against my flesh thrilled me. He whispered and he moaned and he promised me his heart with every second that passed. I’d never been as mesmerized as I was in those long, perfect minutes. The ache inside me rose. It rose and climbed and clawed to fever pitch, and I was desperate. Desperate for him. More of him. All of him. Instinctively, I wound my legs around Dane’s hips, needing something I had no name for. It was more than just him physically taking me; it was more like his possession of me. Emotional,

physical, spiritual—I wanted to be his in every way possible, and this was the one thing I could give him to prove I was. I wanted to share something with him that I would never share with another—a purity that I could only give away once. It was the one thing that could come close to matching the purity of what I felt for him. Such love. So much love. Dane James gave me what I wanted, and he took what I wanted him to have. And together, we were perfect. I gasped the moment he entered me. Not in pain, but in passion. There was only a tiny pinch, followed by bright stars and velvet skies and flashing colors behind my eyes. Every part of me, from my soul to my nerve ends, felt the intense pleasure of being marked by him this way. But Dane went still. Completely still but for the kisses he was sprinkling over my face as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again. Not ever. I swear to you, Brinkley. I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so sorry.” His voice trailed off and I felt a sanguine smile curve my lips. I began to move beneath him. “You didn’t hurt me. I wanted you to make love to me. And you did. You loved me, Dane James.” At that, he lifted his head and peered down into

my eyes. “I’ve loved you every day for the last five years. You’ve had my heart since you moved here. This is just a formality.” “But what a wonderful formality it was.” “Was?” A chill raced through me when his mouth twisted up into a cocky grin. “Oh, baby, it’s not over yet.” I didn’t ask what he meant. I didn’t have to. He showed me. Dane James showed me love that night. Love of the heart, love of the body, love of the mind. He loved me from the inside out, and I loved him right back. I knew I belonged to him in a way I’d never belong to anyone else as long as I lived. I just didn’t know how much that could hurt me in the end.

2004 32 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 15

I

work on getting Celina’s things unpacked and her room set up while she sleeps. I have no idea what Momma’s downstairs doing other than cooking. Probably pounding shots of vodka. She was never a drinker, but I’d say this would be enough to turn anybody into a lush. At least for a night. I know I sure as hell could use a little alcoholic assistance. For a second, I actually consider sneaking into my room and raiding my suitcase for the bottle of tequila I brought with me. It’s nearly as old as Celina, but I brought it because…well, Shepherd’s Mill. ’Nough said. But, alas, I reconsider. It’s not worth waking Celina up for. I go back to unpacking until I hear the regal voice of my mother, calling us for dinner. “Coming!” I reply as cheerfully as I can

manage. I lever myself up and head around the stairwell to my old room. I open the door quietly and whisper, “Celina, you awake?” “No, I’m asleep. Why wouldn’t I be asleep? It’s so quiet here.” Her words drip with sarcasm. “So what you’re saying is I’m noisy. Is that it?” Celina angles her body toward me and slants a mocking eye in my direction. “A wrecking crew is quieter than you, Mom. Do you drop everything?” “Drop it like it’s hot, drop it like it’s hot, drop it like it’s hot,” I start rapping, to which my daughter covers her ears and begins to plead with me to stop. “Why are you even up here? Shouldn’t you have helped cook or something? Something downstairs?” “I offered. And I was brutally rebuffed for my efforts, thank you very much.” Celina rolls back on to her side, facing away from me, but I can still hear her plain as day. “I can’t imagine why.” “So droll. What’s that supposed to mean?” “Momma.” More derision as she sits up and turns to look at me. “You can order takeout like a pro, but actual cooking?” “My spaghetti sauce—” “Comes from a jar.” “My Asian stir fry—” “Starts out frozen.”

I try again. “My tacos are—” “From a box labeled ‘Taco Bell’.” “Dammit!” I deflate visibly. “Just what are you saying?” “I love you, but you can’t cook. I’m sorry. It’s just not your strong suit.” Celina slides off the bed and makes her way to me, throwing a conciliatory arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay. We survived. Besides, who needs to cook with so much food out there that’s already prepared, just waiting for two lovely ladies like us to order up?” She says the last —order up!—exactly like the fry cook at Waffle House does. I smile down at her. “That’s my girl. Waste not, want not.” We make our way down the stairs. My mother is standing at the bottom, casting a disapproving look up at us. Celina and I stop a few feet from her, and Momma scans us from head to toe. “Is that what you’re wearing?” I glance down. I’m wearing the same jeans and tee I was when we arrived. Celina, too. “What? We’re still clean.” “Clean. Yes.” How can someone make that sound like a bad thing? How does one actually sneer over the word “clean”? I hike my thumb over my shoulder. “Want us to go put on a couple of prom dresses? Twenty bucks says there’s at least one still hanging in my closet.”

“Don’t be a smarty pants.” “Better than old lady pants.” I elbow Celina and she sniggers. It’s all I can do to hold back my own laughter. “You haven’t changed a bit, Brinkley. Honestly.” I sigh. “I have, Momma. This is just me being me. Us being us. I’d hoped after all this time that would be enough.” To that, she says nothing, but simply turns away and heads back to the kitchen. I loop my arm through Celina’s and we follow her, but stop at the dining room. “Wow! Who else is coming to dinner?” Celina’s eyes are wide as she takes in the grandeur. The table is covered in fine linen and covered silver platters and bowls and a tureen. There are three place settings replete with chargers and sterling napkin rings, fresh cut flowers in a delicate crystal vase in the center, and long, slender candlesticks flickering silently down either side. It really does look like she’s entertaining for royalty. Maybe I’ve forgotten a little bit of what life here was like. Well, in some ways. In other ways, I’ve never forgotten. Not one single moment. “No one that I know of. Just us.” She turns a disbelieving look toward me. “All this? For us?”

I nod and pat her arm in sympathy. “It’s part of the show. You’ll get used to it.” “Not likely,” she says under her breath. “Where should I sit?” “Let’s see where Grandma sits. You take one side; I’ll take the other. Like castling the queen.” I wink and Celina nods. We’ve both loved chess since she was old enough to play, so she gets my reference. As if on cue, Momma comes bustling out of the kitchen, smoothing an imaginary hair back into place (as if one would have the nerve to step out of line!) and takes her place at the head of the table. I assumed she would, but I know better than to base an action on an assumption. “I just made things I had on hand. I…I wasn’t prepared. I haven’t been cooking much since Alton passed, so…” “It’s perfect, Momma, and it smells delicious.” My mother nods and we all sit. Immediately, she picks up the meat platter and hands it to me. I take a slice of pork tenderloin for my plate and pass the rest on to Celina. Next she sends me mashed potatoes, then peas, then stewed carrots, then a basket of rolls, then a dish of butter, all of which I add to my plate before passing along to my daughter. With each item that comes her way, Celina’s eyes get bigger. “Grandma’s a pretty impressive cook, right?”

“This is amazing.” I see Momma’s lips curve. “I bet your mother never cooks like this for you, does she?” Celina shrugs. “We always have a big Thanksgiving dinner. And Christmas.” “She’s just used to having at least one burnt dish in the mix. Two if the Macy’s Day Parade runs long.” I wink at my daughter and she grins. “This is nothing to poke fun at, Brinkley.” “I would never poke something I wasn’t intimately familiar with, Momma.” She ignores that and continues with her lecturing. “You should make it a priority to provide good nutrition for your family.” “I do. It just usually comes from someone else’s kitchen.” She shakes her head. “What am I to do with you, Brinkley?” “Look at it this way, Momma. Celina will eat better while we’re here than she has in her entire life. Well, with the exception of when she was breast-fed. Now that’s some nutrition.” “Brinkley!” “Mom, gross!” I smile at my mother and child as I cut a piece of pork and stab it with my fork. “It’s good to be home.” After dinner, I volunteer to clean up the mess.

Celina helps me clear the table. In the kitchen, she whispers as she deposits dirty dishes into the sink, “So, she’s a little uptight, huh?” She keeps her voice low and glances over her shoulder as though she’s expecting my mother to pop around the corner at any moment, like a ninja queen. “I think we could manufacture diamonds if we could find some coal to stick up her butt. We could be rich, hon. Filthy, stinkin’ rich. Emphasis on the stinkin’.” I wink at her and she wrinkles her nose. “You’re so gross.” I shrug and she shakes her head, but I can see the corners of her mouth curl. My mother would die if she could hear this conversation. She’d swear I’m not actually a grown-up, but I wouldn’t expect otherwise. She’d never understand my relationship with my daughter. She’d never understand what it’s like to laugh with your child or have fun with your child. She’d never understand what it’s like to be a friend when she needs to talk or a shoulder when she needs to cry. I’m still Celina’s mother, and I’m still the disciplinarian, but I vowed long ago to have a better relationship with my little girl than the one Momma and I shared. It’s the only vow I’ve never broken. The other two were made when I was young. I swore I’d never let Dane James go, and I promised I’d never come back to Shepherd’s Mill when I left. I guess two out of three ain’t bad.

MY SLEEP IS EVEN MORE fitful than I would’ve expected, and I expected it to be bad. Being back in my old room is hard. The ghosts are more alive than I ever would’ve dreamed possible after all these years. I mean, it’s been fifteen years. That’s almost half my life ago. So much has happened since I left here, so much has changed. How could it be so fresh, so…poignant now? I stare up at the ceiling, the familiar pattern of white swirls like curls of smoke from my past, etched in paint. It has to be this room. This room, this house, this town. And the fields that spread out in each direction, visible from every window in the house. I think the fields make it harder. Seeing them again, seeing the ocean of wheat waving in the wind, is like turning the clock back to when I was a teenager. All I can see when I look at them is the rock hidden from view and the boy who met me on top of it. Of all the good, what little there was, and all that bad that happened while I lived here, ninety percent of it disappears from my mind when I think of Dane. I’m left with just Dane. The memories. The questions. The regrets. I throw back the covers and leap from the bed

like something bit me. Still in my pajamas, I head downstairs for a cup of the coffee I smell brewing. I have no doubt my mother still makes a great cup of the best gourmet beans that money can buy. The food and drink are a couple of the advantages of staying here for a while. I make my way to the kitchen, dawn’s early light dusting every surface with gold. The room is empty, but there’s coffee on, so I make myself a cup and head to the front porch to enjoy the rising of the sun. I take a seat on the cushioned rocker and settle in to watch the thick fog lift. It’s especially dense this morning, obscuring the wheat halfway down the stalks. I don’t need to see the tips to remember exactly what they look like, though. If I close my eyes, I can picture with crystalline clarity how the slender stems erupt into woolly heads, how they bend and sway with the slightest of winds. And I know precisely how they feel against my skin. As it always did when I looked out at the fields, my mind wanders to Dane. I stare out in the direction of the barn where he and his father used to live. I wonder if it’s empty or if the new foreman lives there. I happened to see another obituary from Shepherd’s Mill several years ago, and Zane James’ name was in it. Dane’s father died of a heart attack. There was just a short paragraph about how he was survived by one son and how the memorial was

closed to the public, and that was pretty much it. That was my one and only thread of contact with my old life. I would order a newspaper from here a couple of times a year. I would scour it for names I recognized. I saw a few wedding announcements over the years, one or two deaths, a couple of births, and, of course, the full page tribute to the life and times of Alton Peterson when he died. Otherwise, it never contained anything I really cared about. I never admitted it to myself, but what I really wanted was a tie to Dane James, a window into his life, but he was one of the many, many people I never read a word about. He never made the papers, not that I should’ve expected him to. Except when his father died. He was a single sentence in an obituary. That’s all he ever meant to the people in Shepherd’s Mill. I see movement in the field across from where I sit. A lone figure drifting through the fog like a wraith. It looks to be a man, appearing and disappearing in the haze. He’s tall, well-built, and something about the way he moves sends a familiar ache zinging down into my stomach. I sit up a little straighter, my heart tapping wildly against my ribs. But then a breeze blows and the fog parts a little, and I see the back of his head a little better— short, dark hair—and the feeling dies. Number one, I feel sure Dane James doesn’t live here anymore, not since his father died. Not in this town and

certainly not in this field. And number two, he would never have cut his hair. Dane loved his long hair, said it showed everyone in town that he didn’t care what they thought and that he’d never conform. I loved that about him—that rebellious streak. I envied it and admired it, probably more so because I knew I could never be that carefree. However, I think it made me love him a little bit more that he could. I watch as the man walks farther and farther from me, and just before he dips completely out of sight, he turns. He’s too far away and too deeply hidden for me to see him clearly, but my stomach drops as though he’s standing right in front of me, looking into my soul with fall-colored eyes. Surely it can’t be Dane James. Surely not. I jump when the door behind me opens. I turn to find my mother standing behind my right shoulder, holding the coffeepot. I press one hand to my racing heart and use the other to raise my cup to her. I sneak a peek up at her face. I’m not surprised at all to see that she’s glowering down at me. I don’t know what set her off this morning. Probably just my presence here. Some things never change. She wilts me with her eyes for a few more seconds as she refills my cup, then, without a single word, pivots on her heel and goes back inside. I

guess I should be glad she isn’t majorly depressed since Alton died. She’s still got plenty of fire, and all of it is directed toward me. With a sigh, I wrap my fingers around the warm mug and turn back to the fields. They’re empty but for the heavy, hazy blanket making its way slowly away from the wheat tops. The man is gone now. And so is the feeling that I knew him.

1989 17 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 16

F

rom the warm safety of Dane’s side, I watched the sky begin to lighten. The more the deep midnight blue turned to the slate of impending dawn, the heavier my heart grew. I didn’t want the night to end, and yet it was. Our now was over, and who knew when we might get more time together. I fought back tears. They felt irrational. My mother’s voice in my head told me not to be so upset about just a boy. According to her, there were plenty to choose from, all with bright futures and sterling pedigrees. But I didn’t want any of them. I wanted this one. And so I was upset to think that it could be days or even weeks before I could be with him again. The mere idea of that caused my chest to ache.

I felt Dane’s lips brush my temple. “Where’s your head at?” His voice was a whisper carried on the weaving stalks of wheat. “I have to go. It’ll be dawn soon.” “I wish you could stay.” “I wish I could, too. I wish we could stay here, on this rock, in this night, forever.” “We’ll have more. In fact…” Dane eases his arm out from under me enough that he can sit up and stare down at me. I memorize his beautiful face, the warm eyes, the perfect mouth, the way his hair falls down around his jaw. “Can you come to the river today?” “Don’t you have to work?” “Yeah, but everyone gets a break.” A break. A few minutes in the middle of the day, hidden away where no one could see us. It seemed terribly unfair that we’d have to settle for a few paltry scraps, but I would. I would settle for any moments, no matter how brief, that I could get with Dane James. Only in the day, it would be harder for me. I squeezed my eyes shut when I thought of the consequences of getting caught. “I…I can’t. If Alton were to catch me…” Dane wasn’t bothered. “Tonight then. When everyone is asleep, turn off your light. When I see it go out, I’ll head this way.” He was absently stroking the skin just under my

chin with the pad of his thumb, looking down at me like I was the sun and the moon and all the stars in his sky. There was no worry or concern in his eyes. He didn’t know what could happen if we got caught, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. He wouldn’t understand. Well, actually, he would. He knew the way people in this town felt about him. I just didn’t want to be a constant reminder of it. And I didn’t want to be the reason his eyes stopped flashing so carelessly. I didn’t want to be the one to add concern and burden to them. Dane didn’t have an easy life. I wanted to give him what little peace I could, and if that meant shielding him from Alton’s threats, that’s what I would do. I would bear the fear of them alone. “Hey, you still with me?” Dane prompted me when I didn’t respond, one side of his mouth tilting up into a grin. “Yeah, I’m still with you.” I’ll always be with you. I’ll always love you. And one day, I’ll never have to leave you. “So tonight?” I nodded. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t stay away from him any longer than that. At that moment, I didn’t even know how I was going to get through the day without seeing him, much less an entire twenty-four hours. “Come on then. Let’s get you dressed. The

sooner the day comes, the sooner the night will come.” I let Dane help me up and, together, in the increasing brightness, we put our clothes back on. I watched him pull his jeans on over his thick thighs. I watched him button and zip them over his flat stomach. I watched his abs flex and shift under his skin as he raised his arms and tugged his shirt over his head. And I watched him rake his fingers through his long strands when he was finished. When I realized he’d caught me staring so unabashedly at him, I blushed and looked away, but not before I saw his lips split into a breathtaking smile. I pulled on my own clothes as quickly as I could, and when I was bending to reach for my shoes, I noticed he was still standing there smiling at me. “What?” I asked. “I’m just imagining how this is gonna look in instant replay.” “How what will look?” He stepped over to me and slid his arms around my waist, sending chills rolling down my arms. “You. Putting clothes on this perfect body. The wheat and the sky as your backdrop. The look on your face.” “What look?” Dane raised his hand to brush my cheek. “The look I spent the whole night putting there.”

My cheeks stung again, but this time from something other than embarrassment. This time they stung with pleasure. Pleasure at his words, as well as the remembered pleasure he was referring to. “I’ll never forget it. Not as long as I live,” he said, softly brushing his lips over mine. “Neither will I.” And I wouldn’t. I knew I wouldn’t. Whatever happened next, whatever the future held, I would always consider this night with Dane the most perfect night of my life. Dane kissed me in earnest then, his lips teasing mine open, our tongues tangling in a wet twist that made me want him all over again. He pulled back so suddenly, I gasped. “What’s wrong?” “Jesus. We have to get you home or you won’t make it home at all.” “Why? What happened?” “You,” he answered simply. “You happened.” At the edge of our rock, he jumped down and held his arms up toward me. I fell into them, much like I fell in love with him—effortlessly. And he caught me, held me so tenderly with his incredible strength, and I knew in that moment that he meant what he said. He would never hurt me. Not on purpose. I just prayed I’d be able to say the same thing. He held me for a few seconds, and we stared

silently into each other’s eyes. We said all the things we didn’t have time to say, all the things we hoped we’d one day get to say, and when he set me on my feet, he took my hand and wordlessly led me back through the field. When we neared the place where we’d be in full view of the house if anyone bothered to look outside, I pulled him to a stop. “I’ll go on from here. Go get some sleep.” “Are you nuts? I’m walking you home.” He started walking again. I stopped him again. “No, seriously. You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Dane took my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “After what just happened on that rock, there’s no way I’m not walking you home. Not gonna happen.” I could see the stubbornness in his eyes, that very rebelliousness I loved showing up to challenge me. I was torn. I adored his sense of propriety. I could guarantee that not one of the boys Momma picked out for me would feel this way after having sex. In fact, most of them would probably just stick me in a cab and send me on my way. But not Dane James. He had more class than all of them put together. But he didn’t understand how dangerous this

could be for him. How dangerous I could be for him. Alton had given me one simple rule. Stay away from Dane James or else. He might as well have just asked me to stop breathing. I waffled for a few more seconds before giving in. I didn’t think anything I could say would change his mind anyway. “Just to the driveway, okay?” With a satisfied smile, Dane kissed our joined fingers and started across the field again, keeping me close at his side. At the edge of the driveway, I stepped ahead and turned back toward him. He was still smiling, and it was still steeling myself. I loved him. I loved him more than I had a right to love anything. “Thank you,” I began, biting my lip to keep my chin from trembling. Suddenly, I was devastated. “For what?” “For everything. This night was perfect.” Dane’s smile turned gentle as he cupped my face. “And it was just the beginning.” I nodded, trying to hold it together. “Try not to worry. The people in this town don’t matter. One day I’ll make you see that.” I nodded again, hoping he was right. He kissed my forehead before starting to back away. “See ya later, alligator.” His voice was quiet in the stillness, but I could hear him perfectly.

I didn’t know why my heart was breaking, but it was. Still, I managed a smile for Dane James as I returned with, “After while, crocodile.” That was our beginning. And this felt like our end.

CHAPTER 17

I

took great care in being quiet when I reentered the house. I took three breaths between every step and I avoided every board I’d ever known to creak. What I noticed when I got to the bottom of the stairs, though, when I was nearly home free, was that I only heard one snore—my mother’s. Alton’s coarser rumble wasn’t mingling with hers in the stillness. That meant he was awake. And waiting somewhere for me. I tried not to panic, but I could feel my heart rate increase as my brain scrambled for a way out of this. I scanned the living room, looking for something, anything that might give me an excuse for being down here or being up. My eyes lit on a book I’d been reading. It was lying face down, open, on the end table. I doubt anyone had noticed

it. Before I could second-guess my actions, I flew across the living room, flung myself onto the couch, grabbed the book and dropped it onto the floor as though it had slipped from my fingers when I fell asleep. Hurriedly, I pulled the blanket off the back of the cushions over me and pretended to be asleep. I inhaled as deeply as I could through my nose to calm myself, and I counted backward from one hundred. Ninety-nine. Inhale. Ninety-eight. Exhale. Ninety-seven. Inhale. Ninety-six. Exhale. I continued until my breathing was deep and even, and my body relaxed. I don’t know what number I fell asleep on; I only know that I jerked upright with a start when I felt a slap on the top of my foot. I squinted at my mother who was standing at the end of the couch, glaring down at me, a fuming Alton towering behind her. I sat up and glanced around, a bit disoriented, which went well with my ruse. The sun was pouring through the side window in the living room,

assuring me I’d slept for at least a couple of hours. “What’s wrong?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. “What are you doing down here, Brinkley?” It was my mother’s stern, you’re-in-trouble-younglady voice. “I couldn’t go to sleep, and it was hot in my room, so I came down here to read. I guess I fell asleep.” I bent to pick up my discarded book, making a point to dog-ear some later page before I laid it on the coffee table. “What’s wrong?” I asked again, playing the sleepyhead card. Momma glanced back at Alton, who was staring at me with eyes narrowed in suspicion. When she turned back to me, she was still frowning. “Nothing. We couldn’t find you, that’s all.” “Why were you looking for me? Has something happened?” I knew exactly why she was searching for me. Alton had discovered I wasn’t in my room. Why? Because he’d gone up there looking for me. Maybe to see if I’d snuck out. Maybe for something else. A shudder passed through me and I played it off as a cold chill. When she didn’t respond and Alton only continued to scowl at me, I tossed off the blanket

and put my feet on the floor. “Well, I’m going back to bed for a while.” I stood up and made a show of yawning. “What time is it anyway?” “Fifteen till eight.” I nodded and moved toward the stairs, glad that I’d fallen asleep and I was too groggy to be freaking out. I would later, though. I knew I’d probably wake up in a cold sweat thinking about how many ways it all could’ve gone wrong, and what that would mean for Dane. “Don’t let me sleep past eleven, Momma.” That was the last thing I said to them before I reached the top of the stairs and proceeded to lock myself in my room.

L ATER THAT NIGHT, a new routine was born. If I’d needed confirmation that Alton suspected I was lying, his change in habits gave it to me. I spent the afternoon at Angel’s helping her clean up after the party. We ordered pizza and watched a movie, and all I could think about was Dane. Being with him. Getting back to him. Saving him from me. When I got back home, I excused myself to go to my room and read before bed. Neither Momma nor Alton argued. So far, so good.

I waited until midnight before I cracked my door and listened for their snoring. Usually, they both went to bed around eleven and were dead asleep by twelve. Only the house wasn’t quiet but for their snoring as it normally was. I could hear the television blaring from the living room, and I could tell it was a news channel. That had to be Alton. Frowning, I crept back into my room to wait a while longer. At one, the television was still on. At two, the television was still on. At three, the television was still on. At four, I realized that since all I could hear was static, Alton had fallen asleep in front of the television and the station was no longer playing anything, hence the static. But as long as he was in the living room, I couldn’t risk going down. I went back into my room and locked my door. Not seeing Dane…it felt like pure torture. I walked to the window that looked out over our field, and I curled up in the window seat. I pressed my hand to the cold glass, hoping he could see me, certain he could not. I sat that way until the tears came. This time, I let them fall. I let them fall until the well ran dry, and only then did I make my way to the bed. I slept with the light on so Dane wouldn’t go to our rock and expect to find me there. On that night, he wouldn’t.

Much to my horror, Alton did the exact same thing for the following five weeks straight. Every single night, without fail, he stayed up late watching television and then fell asleep in front of it. If he’d wanted an effective means of keeping me in the house, he’d found it. My hands were tied. My world wilted without Dane James in it. Not being able to see him—see him and talk to him and touch him—was killing me. At least it felt like it was. Between his rising popularity at school, his faux relationship with Lauren, football, and farm work in the evenings, I never saw him. A stolen glance here and there was all I could get, if that. Fate, it seemed, was working even harder to conspire against us. One day, I walked down to our rock after dinner. I didn’t care who saw me as long as Dane did, and he came to meet me. Only he didn’t. Either he wasn’t home or he didn’t see me, because I sat there on that rock all alone for two hours, crying for the boy who was never really mine to begin with. I watched the sun set, felt the warmth of its attention fading from my face, and made myself get up to go home. It was as I was getting ready to climb down off the rock that I had the idea to reach up and take out one of my earrings and leave it

behind. I didn’t know if Dane would find it, or what he’d think if he did, but I hoped he’d know that I’d been there, thinking of him, waiting for him, and that in some way I always would be. I cried all the way home, and when I got there, I went right upstairs and slept for sixteen hours straight. And woke up sick as a dog.

CHAPTER 18

“Y

ou’re sick again?” “It’s not like I wanna be, Momma.” I knew she was just worried. I knew because I was, too. I woke up sick two days ago. Had to run straight to the bathroom as soon as I opened my eyes. I’d thought I was getting better, though. I felt almost normal as the day wore on the first and the second day, yet this morning… I found myself curled around the toilet, puking my guts up again. “If you’re not better tomorrow, I’m taking you to the doctor.” “Fine by me,” I managed miserably before I heaved again. I heard Momma sigh and the rustle of her robe just before the water turned on. A few seconds later, a cool cloth was pressed to my forehead and

warm fingers pulled my hair away from my face. She might not always show it, but I knew Momma loved me in her own way. I just had to let that be enough for me. When it seemed I was emptied, my mother helped me back to my room, tucked me into bed, and left to go get me some crackers. They always seemed to settle my stomach. It wasn’t until, like magic, I was feeling better around lunchtime that an alarming thought occurred to me. Momma was downstairs starting a roast for dinner when I bolted up in bed. Pulse racing, I thought back to the last time I had my period. I couldn’t remember having one that month, but I’d noticed I was bloated and kept thinking it was time for me to start. Only I never did. Maybe I wasn’t just bloated. “Oh God. Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod.” I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my head into my hands. Is it really possible to get pregnant from one night of sex? I knew that it was. But was it really possible to get pregnant from your first and only night of sex? I feared that was probably possible, too. We hadn’t planned to do it, and I hadn’t even thought to ask him about protection. I got caught up in the moment. I just wanted him. Needed him. And I wasn’t thinking about anything else.

What if I was, in fact, pregnant with Dane James’ baby? What would that mean? For him, for me, for us? I felt sick, and not from morning sickness. I just felt sick that we’d been so careless. But then a picture flashed through my mind. It was a little girl with the face of an angel and the eyes of her father, staring up at me from within the folds of a fluffy white blanket. I could see her as clearly as if I’d already met her. Part of me and part of Dane James, together in one child. We could be together forever that way. Could I ever really regret that? If I was pregnant, could I really be that upset about it? I loved him, and I would love any part of him, no matter how untimely or unexpected. I lay back in the bed, letting my mind wander to a world somewhere off in the distance. Whether it could ever be real, ever be ours or not, I had no idea, but I liked thinking about it. In this world, Dane was mine and I was his, and we had a baby. In this world, we could go out in public and he could hold my hand and laugh with me. In this world, we lived in the same house and he rocked our little girl to sleep at night. In this world, we weren’t who we are. We were who we wanted to be. My heart rate settled back into a normal rhythm, and I found myself smiling as I thought

about what might be, about what could be. I reached over to the tray Momma had brought up, and I squirreled away some crackers so I could eat a couple before I even got out of bed the next day, because I had to go to school. I had to go to school so I could skip school to sneak to the pharmacy. I’d get a pregnancy test so I’d know for sure, but suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad thing at all to be pregnant with Dane James’ child. In fact, I found myself hoping I was. The next day, everything went as planned. I made it out of the house and to the bus stop without throwing up once. Unfortunately, between the exhaust from the bus and the curvy country roads, I felt sure I was practically green by the time I got to school. It was a no-brainer when I got to homeroom and asked to go to the bathroom that I’d be excused. Mrs. Clark looked at me and cringed. “Yeah, you’d better. You don’t look too good.” I nodded, took the pass, and headed down the hall. I bypassed the bathroom and made my way toward the gym. I could leave through those doors with less likelihood of being caught by a teacher. Besides that, it was on the side of the school closest to Main Street, which is where the pharmacy was. Once I was clear of the building, I cut through the grass and walked behind the row of houses that separated me from the pharmacy. When I finally got there, I kept my head down as I walked through

the door. I hurried along one end of the store, checking each aisle for anyone I knew or anyone who might know my mom or Alton. When I saw that there was only one old lady in the store, I made my way back through the aisles looking for pregnancy tests. Turned out they were at the end of a row with condoms and tampons, in that order. Condoms, tampons, pregnancy tests. I wondered at the logic that went into that placement. I wondered if the people who set up the store said to themselves, “Well, if you don’t use the first one and you don’t need the second one, you’ll surely come looking for the third one.” I surely did. I scooped up a test and hurried as quickly as I could to the checkout, where I all but flung money at the guy behind the register and flew out the door. I tucked the test into my backpack and practically ran back to school. Unfortunately, once there, I read the directions and discovered that the test was only completely accurate when tested on first morning urine. I’d flushed that long ago. I was both frustrated and dejected, but nevertheless, I slipped the box back into my backpack and headed to my locker. There was only one thing I could do. Wait. Wait to find out if my life was going to be turned upside down. Wait to find out if I had the

mother of all bombs to drop on Momma. Wait to find out if I was carrying a little piece of Dane James inside me. Fear nibbled at me. It nipped and bit like a mouse chewing its way through a wall. But despite the fear, I felt an intense excitement. I chose to focus on that as I walked to my second period class. Yes, I could wait one more day to see the results, even though, in my heart, I already knew.

2004 32 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 19

W

ithin a day, a routine develops. I wake and go downstairs to find coffee waiting for me. I take a cup to the front porch and watch the fields for a while, then I go back inside to start the day. It seems that Celina and I are on our own for breakfast, which is actually fine. I don’t know what Momma does in the morning, but she doesn’t fix breakfast and she doesn’t appear to eat breakfast. In fact, since that first morning, she just disappears until the afternoon. I don’t know if she has committees or social plans, or if she’s just out doing…whatever Katherine Peterson does. I have no clue, and I figure if she wants me to know, she’ll tell me. Once my daughter is fed, we pretty much have the house to ourselves for the day. At some point in

the late afternoon, my mother comes back to get dinner started. She’s busy with that until it’s time to eat, which we all do together. She’s very quiet, and I try to keep my conversation with Celina restricted to things that the great patrons of Shepherd’s Mill would deem acceptable. That just serves to remind me how boring these people are. Today, however, is different. I got Celina going with her homeschooling (going to school with all its various sick kids and germs is too risky while her immune system is down) and took my shower. I got out and put on clothes my mother would approve of for the first time in months. I have an appointment at ten a.m. with the human resources person at Lees and Hammer, the CPA firm where I’ll be handling some accounts. Finding such an ideal job —one that pays well, has great insurance, and lets me work from home—was one of the biggest deciding factors for coming back to this town. I need all of those things to be able to take care of my daughter, and Lees and Hammer just so happens to offer them. Today is just the day to get paperwork completed and pick up whatever files they want to send with me. That sort of thing. No big deal really. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Well, I’m not really nervous per se; I’m just uneasy about being back in Shepherd’s Mill. I was dreading leaving the house. I’m not looking forward to running into

people I knew a lifetime ago. But, alas, I must risk it. I smooth my pencil skirt after I get out of the car, and I throw my purse over my shoulder. I remind myself that I’m not the girl who left here all those years ago. I’m a strong, independent woman whose life will not change one iota based on the approval or disapproval of the folks in this town. I tell myself that all the way to the door of the three-story brick building that rests beside the biggest bank in town. I pull open the door and check in with the receptionist. She tells me to have a seat as she makes a quick call. A few minutes later, the elevator dings and an older woman I don’t recall ever seeing steps out. She has brown hair cut into a chin-length bob, and it’s as professional and unimaginative as the rest of her seems to be, from her drab brown suit to her functional black pumps. She makes a beeline for me, her smile stiff but polite, and she stops in front of me and holds out her hand. “Brinkley Sommers.” I take it. It’s cool and bony and the grip is firm. “Yes. Mrs. Griffin?” She nods. “Let’s get you set up.” She turns around and walks off. I assume I’m to follow her, so I do. She takes me to the second floor, to a corner office with a single window. It’s as

austere as its occupant. The paint is a muted beige and the décor is minimal—single chair in shades of brown, single picture of a forest above the desk, and an empty console table along one wall. It makes me wonder if she hasn’t been here long. Or if this is just a bland extension of the woman herself. I’m inclined to believe it’s the latter. She motions to the chair with her hand as she rounds the desk. I sit on the edge, crossing my legs and setting my purse on the floor. “As you know, you’ll be handling several of the corporate accounts. Bruce, the senior accountant over corporate, will be your primary contact. Anything he can’t answer will be taken up by Mr. Kraus himself.” A tiny alarm bell goes off in the back of my mind. When I researched this firm, the only information given was that Nathanial Lees and Michael Hammer had started the business in the early 1960’s and it had been a family business since then, growing through the years until today. Now they’re handling some of the biggest clients in the Carolinas. I didn’t go to school with any Lees or any Hammers, so I figured I’d be safe with whomever in the family the business had been handed down to. But Kraus…that’s a name I recognize. “Mr. Kraus you said?” I hope my voice is

casual and not full of the dread I feel. “Yes. Taylor Kraus is the managing partner here. You’ll be meeting his wife soon. She helps run the business end of things, and she specifically asked to see you when you came in.” I gulp. “Really? And who did he marry?” “Lauren. Lauren Stringer. You remember her, don’t you, Brinkley?” I remain perfectly still even though I want to throw myself on the floor and scream, Why?????? “I do. We went to school together. All three of us did actually.” Mrs. Griffin nods, her eyes sharp on me. “You, uh, you don’t remember me, though, do you?” Oh shit. “I…I…uh…I…” I bumble along, laughing anxiously as I struggle not to squirm in my seat. Finally, I just deflate a little and cringe. “No. I’m sorry, but I don’t. It’s been a long time since I left, though. And my memory…” I tap the side of my head like I’m shaking marbles loose, but my nonchalance doesn’t seem to be helping matters. Mrs. Griffin just continues to stare at me. “My maiden name was Shields. Cassie Shields.” My mouth drops open. “Cassie? Oh my God, I didn’t even recognize you!” At my words, her mouth snaps into a thin line, so I hurry to add, “You look amazing.” Her expression softens a bit at that. Or at least I

think it does. It’s sort of hard to tell. Reading her emotional temperature is a lot like trying to gauge the warming of a polar ice cap. Is that a drip I see? “Thank you. A lot has changed since school.” She doesn’t seem too happy about that either, if I had to guess. Cassie wasn’t fat by any means, but she was a little heavier in school. Her hair was a long flowing mass of sable curls and her eyes were a sparkling blue. I can see the resemblance now that I know who she is, but whatever made Cassie Cassie back then has clearly been remodeled, whether by choice or forcibly removed. She was always one of Lauren’s biggest supporters. Maybe that’s taken its toll after all these years. “I can see that.” I sit, shaking my head and smiling, and when she says nothing else and the silence grows as loud as the tension, I reiterate, “Well, you look great.” That’s not entirely untrue either. She’s trim and evidently successful. And her skin is still fairly taut and unlined. That counts as looking great, right? “You haven’t changed at all. Still the same beautiful Brinkley.” My smile falters. The words themselves are complimentary, but her tone… it’s anything but. I feel like the legs of my hope have been swept out from under me. I’d really hoped that, after all these years, the social divide might’ve shrunk. At

least to some degree. Finding out that it hasn’t, like not at all, is more than a little bothersome. I chastise myself. How in the world did I ever think coming back here was a good idea? There’s too much history here, too much drama, too much bias and elitism, too much…everything. Just too much. Why would I have expected it to be any different now? What the hell was I thinking? But then, like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds, images of my child—the day she was born, her first day of kindergarten, the first time she rode off on her bicycle without falling over—drop into my mind in bursts. My muscles relax, my smile returns, and the reason for all that I do returns with it. My sweet Celina has always brought to my weary soul. “You’re wrong, Cassie.” My voice is light and sincere. “I’m not the girl I once was.” “Then why did you come back here?” “My daughter. My little girl. Everything I do, including coming back here, is for her.” She only nods, but for the first time since I arrived, the pinched, constipated look is curiously absent from her face. After a few seconds, she moves the conversation back into professional waters, but all the while I can’t help wondering about the lives of the people I once knew. And if they’re all as miserable as Cassie Shields seems to

be.

AN HOUR and ten minutes later, I’m placed in another office, but on the third floor. It’s also a corner space, but this one has a wall full of windows and the décor is as posh and attractive as the young girl I once knew was. My surroundings prepare me for who Lauren Stringer has grown up to be. The floors are some sort of dark cherry, the walls a deep, rich cream. A thickly cushioned sofa boasts perfectly plumped pillows and expensive artwork is strategically placed throughout the room. The centerpiece, however, is a gorgeous desk. It’s decorated with swirls of inlaid wood and intricate burl patterns that form a beautiful design that can be seen the moment one enters the room. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a Parnian desk, which likely set her back nearly ten grand, if not more. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I wouldn’t have recognized the voice had I not known to whom it belonged. Its low tones are modulated to reflect the woman of style, success, and sophistication she’s become. It oozes culture and confidence, and it gives me a mental image of Lauren Stringer before I even turn around.

I pivot, tacking my smile firmly in place. I’d rather be set on fire and thrown from an airplane than give her the satisfaction of rattling me. “Lauren!” I feign surprise. I don’t know why, but I don’t want her to think I’ve somehow prepared for this meeting. I stand where I am and let her come to me. Not only do I get to further observe her, but it feels like it tilts the power of the meeting in my direction. That might be crazy and categorically untrue, but the whole situation is weird and I’m doing the best I can with it. So, dammit, she’s walking to me. I watch her as she does. My old high school friend has aged well. Of course. She probably dared Mother Nature to even glance her way. Lauren was always ballsy and entitled like that. Her figure is trim and curvy, sheathed in a black dress with a white wedge cutting in at her waist. Her eyes gleam and her hair is as dark as ever. It hangs to just below her shoulders and is swept to one side. It’s sexy yet professional. She looks like a model pretending to be a smart businesswoman. That’s weird, too. Everything is just weird. She reaches me in a cloud of pricey perfume and leans in to kiss the air beside my cheek. That’s new. When she backs away, I see that her face is as

youthful as it was fifteen years ago. I can only assume she’s discovered the same cosmetic genius my mother found. The guy probably gives a Shepherd’s Mill discount. Or maybe he takes coupons. “It’s been a long time, Brinkley.” “It has, hasn’t it?” “Too long.” “Yes, it has.” “You look well.” “As do you.” Our interaction is like a boring, poorly scripted show on the public access channel. “Would you like a drink?” She makes her way to a bar that’s been cleverly disguised along one wall. She opens up a door I hadn’t noticed and takes out a decanter of something clear. Vodka perhaps? I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I don’t add that it’s not even lunchtime and that I’m not a raging alcoholic. “Suit yourself.” She pours a finger or two into a cut crystal glass, adds a splash of tonic and twists a lime onto the rim, then turns back to me. She sweeps one French-tipped hand toward the sofa and we both walk over and take a seat. She sits catty corner, crossing her legs like she’s doing a photo shoot. I sit all the way back and hold my

purse on my lap. I’m not here to pretend I’m something I’m not, and I’m not here to impress an old acquaintance. All of this boils down to one thing and one thing only. Celina. “So, what brings you back to Shepherd’s Mill?” “I thought this might be a good place to raise my daughter.” Lies. All lies. That’s like saying hell is a nice place to raise your kids. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to tell Lauren the details of my daughter’s sickness. It feels like a betrayal to Celina, which makes no sense whatsoever. But still, that’s how it feels, so I keep the rest to myself. One raven brow twitches the tiniest bit. “You have a daughter? And you brought her here?” I nod. “So you’re married then?” “No.” “But you have a child.” Not a question, a statement. A judgy, loaded one. “Yes.” I resist the urge to cop an attitude and ask her what of it. “Ahhhh.” She nods like something just clicked into place. “Does Dane know?” I frown and my heart rate increases. The mere mention of his name has always been enough to

raise my blood pressure. Even after fifteen long years, it still has the power to do that to me. But this is more than that. Lauren never did anything without a purpose in mind. I’m sure that hasn’t changed, so what’s this about? I don’t know, so I go with an old standby when I’m confused. I play dumb. “Dane? Dane James?” She smirks. “Yes, Dane James.” “Why would he know?” “I just assumed he, of all people, would know.” I feel a light film of sweat break out across my upper lip. “I don’t know what you mean.” “So you two haven’t kept in touch?” “No, we haven’t. Why would we?” “And you have no idea what’s happened to him?” Her tone is downright feline. She’s practically salivating over a salacious piece of gossip. She might as well meow and lick her claws as she waits for bloodshed. “No, I sure don’t.” Although now I’m approximately six million times more curious than I was when I walked into this building an hour ago. I keep that part to myself. Lauren leans toward me, her expression relaxing into one of conspiratorial delight. Bemusedly, I think to myself that I’m a little shocked her face will move this much. I figured as much Botox and filler as is bound to be in it, her

muscles would be basically immobile by now. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you.” I say nothing as I try to maintain my blank, unaffected appearance. After a few seconds, when it’s clear I’m not taking the bait, Lauren’s lips curve into another sly smile and she purrs, “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know about you and Dane. Angel never could keep a secret.” I’m in desperate need of a change of subject, and this is as good as any. “Angel. Wow, I haven’t seen her in ages. Whatever happened to her? Did she marry?” Lauren actually laughs. Laughs! It’s soft, but audible. I guess she knows exactly what I’m up to. I never was as good at these games as she was. Thankfully, she doesn’t push it today. “Angel went to college. Got pregnant. Married a bartender. Devastated the family, of course.” “Of course.” There’s an eye-roll in my words, but it’s anyone’s guess whether Lauren notices. “Not everyone can hold on to a good life when it’s given to them.” “No. I guess not. We all grow up. Change.” “Yes. Some more than others.” More puzzling statements. I just smile, mainly because, if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll reach over and throttle Lauren. She’s more irritating now than she was in high school, and frankly, I didn’t even think that was possible.

I clear my throat and steer the conversation back into less personal waters. “So, this position. Anything you’d like me to know or keep in mind as I get started?” “Just a couple of things. Number one, if you have any questions, bring them directly to me.” “Cassie told me to ask Bruce, so if it’s a bother—” “Disregard Cassie. I’ll be your primary contact.” “Okay. If anything comes up, I’ll come straight to you.” That makes me uneasy for reasons I don’t quite understand yet. “Anything else?” “Don’t screw up. Our corporate clients are very important to Lees and Hammer. Discretion is key and mistakes aren’t tolerated. When it comes to these businesses, we have a one strike policy.” I nod. That seems harsh, but whatever. “Got it.” Lauren takes a sip of her drink then stands, holding out her free hand. I take it. “Then welcome aboard. Let me know if you need anything.” She gives me a polite smile and moves around to her desk. She pulls out the chair, sits down, and immediately starts going through papers like I’m not even in the room. Just like that, I’m dismissed. I make my way to the door and walk out without a word or backward glance. That was weird and uncomfortable and…just weird. And I’m so

damn glad it’s over! I stab the down button at the elevator, suddenly anxious to get home, even though home right now is the same place that once felt like a prison. As I walk, however, I’m not picturing the huge trees that grace the front yard or the vast fields that surround it. I’m picturing a face. The face of a boy I knew a lifetime ago and wondering what kind of man he has become.

1989 17 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 20

M

y sleep was fitful. Not that I was surprised. Whereas with Dane I wanted the night to last forever, this time I wanted it to fly by. I wanted to close my eyes one second and open them the next to find morning creeping through the curtains in my room. But that didn’t happen. I had to tough it out until three thirty a.m., at which point I was so exhausted the only thing I could do was sleep. I was sluggish when my alarm went off, but only for a second. Then I remembered what lay ahead. I got up and raced to my backpack, took out the test, tucked it under my T-shirt and ran to the bathroom. I managed to pee on the stick before the nausea swept in with an unholy vengeance. I’d forgotten to get some crackers in me before getting

up. As I sat on the floor, curled around the commode, I tried to imagine what five minutes would be. Not that it mattered. The little window showed two pink lines before I could even get my second puke out. That didn’t change after three dry heaves, or roughly five minutes. The knock at the door startled me. I shuffled to my feet and scrambled to bury the test in the trashcan. I made a mental note to smuggle it out after my shower, before Momma could empty it. She was a stickler about empty trashcans. God forbid we have company, none of whom ever came to the second floor at all, much less to my bathroom, that might see a tissue in the trashcan. Oh, the audacity! To throw actual trash into the actual trash can. My irritation was in full swing by the time I opened the door. “What?” My mother frowned, clutching her throat as though I’d slapped her. “I suppose that’s the thanks I get for coming to check on my daughter.” I exhaled through my nose, the air hissing like a snake. “I feel like crap, Momma.” I pushed past her and stomped back to my room, fully intending to close the door, but another wave of nausea hit me before I could. Hand over mouth, I ran back the way I’d come and flung myself at the toilet just in the nick of time.

When the heaving was dwindling once more, I rested my head on the lid and just sat there. I didn’t open my eyes when I heard the rustling of my mother’s robe. I didn’t open them when I heard the faucet cut on either. I simply sighed in relief when the cool cloth touched my forehead. “Come on. Up, up. Let’s get you to your room.” Her voice was surprisingly tender, for which I was grateful. I couldn’t handle her at that moment. I felt like my skin and my bones were being torn apart by the tempest of emotion that raged inside me. I just wanted to be alone so I could sort through it all, figure out what to do. I lumbered to a stand and let Momma lead me back to bed, where I rolled onto my side and curled into the fetal position. “Thanks, Momma.” “I’ll be right back.” I listened to her footsteps as she made her way downstairs, and I listened to them again as she made her way back up. I heard her come into my room again and set something on the bedside table, and then I felt the mattress sag when she perched beside me. “Here. Take a sip of ginger ale and a bite of cracker.” I levered myself up onto my elbows and did as she asked. My stomach thanked me. Until I lay back down. I murmured sickly, trying to get out of bed

quickly enough, but before I could, my mother was racing away and returning with the trashcan from the bathroom. Unceremoniously, and much to my horror, she dumped the trash onto the floor and gave me the empty basket to throw up in, which I did. The ginger ale and cracker came right back up, and through my tearing eyes, I saw the blue and white stick strewn just a few feet from me. Momma started to turn away, but I stopped her. “Can you sit with me for just a few minutes?” I was buying time, anything to keep her from seeing what I desperately wanted to remain hidden. She did as I asked, and when I scooted over, she sat in the curve of my body and rubbed soothing circles on my back. Little did she know that nothing could soothe me. I was strung about as tight as a human being could be strung. She started humming, which did actually cause me to relax a little, but I was still completely focused on how to keep her from seeing the incriminating stick on the floor. What I didn’t count on or consider or have any way of planning for, however, was another voice in the room. “What the hell is this?” My mother leaned back just in time for me to see my stepfather standing in the center of the room, holding up the used (and very positive) pregnancy test like a nail he was getting ready to hammer into my coffin.

I closed my eyes, praying this was all just a dream, that it was only happening inside my head, but when I opened them again, both my mother and Alton were staring at me. “Brinkley?” They awaited an answer. I only had one to give them. “I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER 21

M

y mother and Alton spoke at the same time. “Brinkley Renee!” “You little whore!” Momma was taken aback. My stepfather was furious. Me? I had no idea what I was. Other than pregnant. By Dane James. “Please tell me it’s Chad’s.” I looked from my mom to Alton and back again. And then I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. Most teenaged girls had to worry that their parents would disown them if they got pregnant. Not me. I only had to worry about getting pregnant by the wrong boy. “It’s not.”

Alton’s anger was barely controlled when he spoke again. “Jesus Christ, you’d better not say it’s Dane James’.” To that, I said nothing. “You trashy little slut,” he said, coming at me. He actually grabbed my upper arms and started to shake me, but before he could rattle my teeth, my mother stepped in. “Alton, calm down. We can fix this. We can fix this.” When he released me, I crawled to the corner where the bed met the wall, as far from my stepfather as I could get. He stared daggers at me as Momma urged him back, away from the bed. Away from me. “She’ll have an abortion. No one will know. I’ll take her to Columbia. Or Charlotte. To a clinic. You can tell people she and I went to a spa for the weekend. When we come back, no one will be the wiser. She’ll get more serious about Chad and she’ll marry well. It’ll work out fine. You’ll see.” She guided him out of the room, all the while he was cussing a blue streak under his breath, calling me every name he could think of, some of which were even new to me. Before she closed the door, my mother threw me a look that told me to stay put and keep my mouth shut. She needn’t have worried about that, though. Alton had scared me. For a few seconds, I actually thought he might hurt me. The

look in his eyes…it was frightening. I had no desire to be near him, or to push him to that point again. At least not right now. I didn’t feel well and I had a lot of thinking to do. I didn’t see or hear from anyone for the rest of the day. I could hear Momma downstairs puttering around. A couple of times I heard her voice, something about scheduling a time. I assumed it was my abortion she was making arrangements for, as though I’d go along and not have any problem with getting rid of a baby made in love with the guy who saved me from dying inside on practically a daily basis. On and off, I cried. I cried for the untimeliness of the pregnancy, I cried for what might happen next, I cried that my mother hadn’t thought for one second that I might not want an abortion. I cried for myself, my youth, my future. I just cried. I spent part of the afternoon, when I felt better, staring out the window, imagining Dane waiting for me at our rock. And me never showing up. It had been weeks since I’d seen him. It might as well have been a lifetime. If I thought for one second he’d be there now, I’d leave. I’d run out the front door and run to him and never look back. But he’d be in school, where I should be. And then he’d be at practice, and then he’d come home and work. And I’d miss my

chance with him. Again. Only tonight, no one would stop me. I’d already made up my mind that I was going to see him, Alton be damned. The worst had already happened. We’d been found out. There was no reason not to go see him now. I had to tell him about our baby. I showered and dressed with great care, putting on a shirt that made my eyes look greener and my most flattering pair of jeans. Dane would remember this night, this conversation forever. I wanted to be beautiful for him. If I hadn’t been ravenous from not eating all day (and probably from being pregnant), I’d have skipped dinner, but my stomach was growling so vigorously I almost felt queasy. When I appeared in the dining room doorway, neither Alton nor my mother said a word. In fact, Alton didn’t even look up, like he was disgusted by the sight of me. I took my customary chair across from my mother, and I dug in, filling my plate with a huge helping of every item she’d prepared. When I was halfway through and feeling stronger—and braver —I cleared my throat and made my announcement. “I’m not getting an abortion.” If someone had dropped a pin a mile away, it could’ve been heard in the dense and complete silence that surrounded the table. At first, they both just stared at me. Neither said a word.

The first one to speak up was Alton, and he was even fairly calm when he did. “Then you’ll leave.” He said it as though he was informing us that the sun was supposed to come up in the morning. No big deal. Only it was a huge deal. “Pardon me?” He even continued to eat, shrugging when he reiterated. “Your choices are: have an abortion or leave. Up to you.” My mother kept her head down and kept eating. If that’s even what she was doing. It looked more like she was pushing food around her plate with her fork. “Ummmm, no. I won’t be leaving. I won’t be leaving, and I won’t be having an abortion. It’s my body. My baby. I get to make the choice.” “No. You don’t. You won’t be making a fool of me. I promise you those are the only two choices you have.” His anger was coming back. I could see it in the red tinge that was suffusing his face. “You can’t make me have an abortion.” “Then get out. Pack your shit and get out.” I hadn’t expected this, so I had no defense prepared. “No.” Alton slammed his fists down on the table so sharply, so suddenly, so forcefully that it rattled every glass, plate, and piece of silverware. It

sounded like a gunshot, and my mother and I both jumped. “You don’t get to tell me no! You will either get rid of that piece of filth in your belly, or you’ll leave here and never come back.” I was getting angry now, too. “You can’t make me do either! I’m a minor. You can’t put me out on the street.” “The hell I can’t! Try me. Try me, little girl, and see what happens.” Alton stood up so abruptly his chair tipped over and hit the floor with a loud clatter. “I’ll ruin his life, Brinkley. Do you hear me? I’ll destroy him and his father. I’ll dismantle his whole life. How do you think he’ll feel about you then? When you’re all homeless. And he has another mouth to feed. An unwanted mouth to feed. How much do you think he’ll love you when he finds out the mother of his brat could’ve saved him a lifetime of misery, a lifetime of guilt, but she was such a selfish little bitch she couldn’t be bothered to think of anyone else? How do you see that working out, Brinkley?” As if I might not have heard him screaming at me, my stepfather bent down in my face and roared, “Huh? How will that work out for you?” With that, he turned around and stalked off, walking out the front door and slamming it behind him. My mother and I sat in the wake of his fury, the quiet falling around us like fire raining from the

sky. “Brinkley, how could you?” Her voice trembled as though she was close to tears. “How could I what? Make a mistake?” “You’ve ruined everything. Everything I fought so hard to give you, it’s all ruined if you don’t do this. Can’t you see how stupid you’re being?” “Stupid? For wanting a child made in love? How is that stupid?” “Because that child will only be a burden to you. One day, it will be the chain that holds you back, the regret you can never outrun. Is that what you want for your life? You’ll suffer, Brinkley. All alone, you’ll suffer and he’ll be gone. One day you’ll wake up and you’ll have wasted the best years of your life. You’ll be poor and alone, with nothing to show for it.” “Is…is that how you feel about me, Momma? Is that why I was never enough to make you happy?” At least she had the good grace to lower her eyes in shame. But she didn’t deny it, because it was true. I was a burden to her. I was the chain that held her back. I was her one big regret. And Alton was the one who’d saved her from a life of poverty and solitude. Or at least that’s how she saw it. “I’ve done what I could to give you opportunities in life, Brinkley, but if you don’t make the right choice now, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

My heart rose up in my throat, choking me. “You mean there’s nothing you will do to help me. You could. You just won’t.” At that, she brought her eyes back up to mine and said simply, “It’s the same thing.” Momma wiped her mouth, laid her napkin beside her plate, and rose gracefully to her feet. “Have the abortion, Brinkley. Don’t push him. He could make this so much worse for you. And for Dane. If you don’t think of yourself, and you don’t think of me, think of him.” She walked away after that, leaving me the heaviest weight of my life resting on my shoulders. But none of it, nothing she’d said, the weight of it all, the scariness of it all, was enough to make me waver. Not for one sliver of a second. I was pregnant with Dane James’ baby. I could no more kill it than I could kill him. If I had to leave in order to give our baby life, I would. I could be that strong. For it. For the little bundle that would carry a piece of him and a piece of me, for the embodiment of our love, I could be strong. No longer hungry, I pushed away from the table, too. I walked up to my room, my head abuzz with the surrealness of the situation. Of all the outcomes for my life, I’d never imagined this would be the route it would take. I’d thought I might fall somewhere in the middle of what I wanted and what Momma wanted for me. Graduate high

school, go off to college with Dane, even though we’d both have to pay our own way, prove to all the people of Shepherd’s Mill that he was a good bet, and live happily ever after. Vindicated. Accepted. But how would it all pan out now? Could I risk telling Dane? Alton obviously hated him. He would probably love having an excuse to make Dane’s life miserable. And how could I live with myself knowing I was the one who made that happen? I couldn’t. I loved Dane James. I wanted him to be happy. I’d imagined he might be happy with me, but what if that wasn’t possible? Could I live with myself knowing that he hated me for destroying not just his life, but his father’s, too? Could I take that chance? With a hollow heart, I realized that I couldn’t. As much as I wanted a life with Dane James, I couldn’t risk what Alton might do, what I felt he actually would do if given the least bit of encouragement. Reputation was everything in this town. He would protect his with every weapon at his disposal. And, when fighting with me, Dane was the ultimate weapon. The only thing he could use to hurt me or manipulate me. As I sat at the window, watching the sun go down, I began to cry. I couldn’t even tell Dane about the baby. He wasn’t the type of guy who would then just watch me walk away without doing

something. And if Alton found out…his life would be over. So would his father’s. And it would all be my fault. Because I couldn’t stay away from him and, when the consequence of that caught up with me, I was too weak to do the right thing. No, I’d have to leave here without a word to him. I’d have to find somewhere to go and I’d have to start over, make a life for my baby and myself. All alone, just like my mother said. Sometime in the night, after I’d fallen asleep with my face pressed to my wet pillowcase, I felt hands on my legs. I woke with a start to find Alton hovering over me, his face a dark and terrifying landscape in the deeply shadowed room. My door. I’d been so upset after dinner, I’d forgotten to lock my door. With a harsh yank, he spread my legs and jerked until I was half hanging off the bed, wedged up against him. When he leaned down to speak, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re nothing but trash, Elizabeth, but since you’re giving it away for free, I think I’ll have a little taste. See how you feel about having a baby with scum after that.” Elizabeth? Fear, sharp and bitter, sliced through me. “Get off me.” Even my voice was shaken, my heart pounding away at my ribs.

“Oh, I’ll be getting off. Don’t you worry about that.” He lowered himself toward me, so I started to kick and struggle as hard as I could. He was so heavy, though. It was like trying to move a block of concrete. “Alton,” I said, trying to reason with him as my panic rose. “You don’t want to do this. Think of what people would say. Because you know I’d tell them.” “And risk the pretty boy in the field? I don’t think so. I know your type. I know how nasty little things like you think. In a year, you won’t even remember one more man being between these legs. But I will. I won’t ever forget, Beth.” He kissed me then, and I almost gagged. I already felt like I was choking on terror and helplessness, though. “Please, Alton. Please don’t do this.” I was whimpering, but I didn’t even care. I didn’t care how weak I sounded. I just wanted him to stop. “Keep begging, sweetheart. It’ll only make it better for me.” I began to cry in earnest, great heaves of my chest as he tugged at my panties and I tried to push his hands away. I turned my head to avoid his mouth, and my eyes fell on the window. Outside that window was the night, was the field, was the rock that I’d made love to Dane James. He’d taken

my virginity because I’d given it to him. It didn’t matter what Alton tried to take from me, he could never have what I didn’t freely give. It was that thought that flipped the switch on my emotions and blind rage blew through me like a wildfire. I clamped my legs around Alton’s waist and I turned my hands. Rather than swatting his away, I curved them into talons aimed at his sides. I dug in as deep and as hard as I could, my nails ripping into his flesh. I felt the warm ooze of blood as he howled in pain. When he listed to one side, I used the momentary pause to bring one knee up against his belly. In the gap it provided, I reached between us and took one tightly swollen testicle into my hand and, gritting my teeth, I squeezed. That backed him up. Alton grabbed my wrist and tore my hand from himself and rolled away from me. But I wasn’t done. I was nowhere near finished. Nearly mindless in my fury, I climbed on top of him. “If you want me, you’ll have to bleed for it. Do you hear me? If you touch me, I’ll touch you back. Like this!” I scraped my nails down his chest, streaks of blood seeping through the material of his sleep shirt in their wake. I yelled, a wild, ferocious sound that I wasn’t even certain came from my own body. I’d made up my mind that if he raped me, he’d pay for it. I

wasn’t going down without a fight. And without leaving him with scars from me. It was a calm voice that broke the twisted spell that had cursed the darkness in my room. “Alton, leave her be.” I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway, holding the two sides of her robe tight around her. Her back was straight, chin held high, and I knew what it probably cost her to take a stand against him for me. She flicked on the light and I saw Alton glance up at me, his eyes first widening then narrowing. He seemed to calm for a few seconds before his fury returned. I could see it in every line of his face. Both of us heaving, I rolled off Alton and he rolled off my bed. He walked to the door, clutching his sides as he went. He stopped and looked down at my mother for a few seconds before turning back to me. “This changes nothing. Be gone by morning. If I ever hear of this from anyone, ever, I’ll make him wish he was never born.” I stood as he started to walk away, but with all the venom coursing through my veins, I could only think of one thing to say. “I hate you.” I heard his growling, “By morning.” And then he was gone. My mother waited until he was downstairs

before she came into my room. Shaking by then, I sat down on the edge of my bed. She sat beside me. For a few minutes neither of us spoke. I saw Momma reach for her left hand and begin to wiggle her wedding ring off her finger. Without meeting my eye, she placed it against my palm and folded my fingers over it. “Don’t let them give you less than five thousand for it.” She stood up and walked to the door. Before she stepped out, however, I stopped her. “So this is it? You’re siding with him?” “This is my place, Brinkley. I did everything I could for you.” “Momma, there’s more to life than this.” “Not for me. This is what I want. I’ve tried and tried to help you, to make you see, and this is the thanks I get.” “It’s not like I did this, any of this, on purpose.” “Maybe not, but you’re the only one who can fix it. I’ve given you chance after chance after chance.” I heard her take a breath, like she was trying to remain calm. “Take the ring. It’ll give you a better start than I had.” With that, my mother walked out of my room and closed the door behind her.

2004 32 YEARS OLD

CHAPTER 22

I

’m sitting in the sunshine on the front porch, taking a break and sipping a glass of sweet tea. As my eyes scan the fields, I see the very tip of the barn roof, the only part that can be seen from this angle and this distance. Of course, it reminds me of Dane. It would have anyway, but since meeting with Lauren, I’m even more curious about what he’s doing and what’s happened in his life over the course of the last fifteen years. Impulsively, I get up and start down the driveway. Celina just began her algebra, so she’ll be busy for a while. Momma is doing whatever it is she does during the day. So right now, it’s just me and the fields and a brain full of questions. When I step into the wheat, I think back to those early years of my life, how afraid I was that my love for Dane James might be discovered. I

never once came down to this barn. I knew better. Seeing Dane and his father out in the fields, or out in town and speaking was one thing. That was called being cordial or polite. But I knew better than to approach the barn where they lived. The wheat stops suddenly, like a line has been drawn and it knows better than to cross it. A gravel lot extends from that line to the bar, which looms in front of me like a physical representation of all the questions I have. I pause in front of the entrance and look straight up. The main doors are closed, as is the single large one above it. I wonder if Dane James ever opened that door and looked out at the night, or if our rock was the only place he could really see that there was life beyond this town. A shiver passes through me. Being here is like being close to Dane James himself. It’s like being at ground zero for a haunting the place where the bones are buried. The bones that keep the spirit tethered to this world. I shiver again. I’m getting ready to see a part of Dane I never knew. And after fifteen years of being without him, I wasn’t really prepared for how it would feel to be close to him again. I tug one of the barn doors. I half-expected it to be locked, but it isn’t, so I step inside. The interior is dark but for the stripes of golden light leaking

through the slats in the wood. The floor is hardpacked dirt and the back wall is littered with all kinds of scary looking tools. It appears that this particular barn hasn’t held any big equipment for many years, probably not since the foreman lived above it. He probably just kept the truck in here. That old farm use truck that I remember so well. I glance to the left, to the staircase that leads to the second story. I’ve come this far. No sense backing out now. If the new foreman lives here, I’ll apologize, introduce myself, and walk back to the house. No harm, no foul. But if it’s empty… I’ll get to see where Dane James spent his childhood, where he spent all the days and nights that I wasn’t with him. I mount the stairs and try the doorknob at the top. It’s unlocked, so I swing it open, cautiously peeking my head inside. “Hello?” No answer, so I walk further in. The inside is surprisingly clean and sturdy, not really what I expected to be above a barn. The floors are old, but hard wood, and the walls are all sheetrocked. I can’t tell how recently that’s been done. Maybe it was like this when Dane lived here. I have no way of knowing. It’s brighter than I expected, too, with several windows along the exterior wall, facing away from our house. I imagine there are a few behind the closed doors to the left as well. The soaring ceiling has been painted matte

black, as have the exposed pipes and duct work that line it. It gives the room more of an industrial feel than an old converted barn feel. The living area is huge, as is the kitchen area to the right. There is still a small sofa facing the big closed upper door, and a small table in the kitchen, but it looks residual, not like evidence that someone lives here. Clearly no one does. There are three doors to the left, all partially open. I poke my head in the first two. One bedroom, one bathroom, both empty. I walk slowly toward the third door. I know because of the angle of the barn to the house that this has to be Dane’s old room. I know that I’ll be stepping into the place where he slept each night, where he dreamed and fantasized, where he watched my light across the fields. Where he probably wondered what happened to me, and why I just up and left. Even after all these years, my heart aches. I push open the door and I’m surprised to find a desk in this room. The top is covered with papers and folders, and there’s a computer on one corner. While no one lives here, clearly the new foreman uses this as his workspace. I should probably leave. I doubt whoever is running the operation would want me walking around up here, although if that’s the case he should’ve locked the doors. I’ll leave in just a

minute, I tell myself. I just want to be here, in this room, his room, for a few minutes. Just a few. I walk along the walls, from corner to corner, thinking. I stop at the window, just able to make out the house and imagine how the light from my room would’ve caught Dane’s eye. Things might’ve been so different if I’d only been more careful. Maybe we’d have been able to escape this town, go off to college and be together. Maybe we’d have been able to make a life with each other, and maybe Celina would’ve come later, when she’d have had two loving parents instead of one struggling one. I wipe at the tears of regret streaming down my face. That life is lost. And so is the boy who lived here and the girl he watched at night. I turn to leave and nearly run right into a figure standing behind me. Tall, broad, hard as a brick. I gasp and stumble backward, but not too far. Strong hands grip my upper arms, steadying me to keep me from falling. In the wake of my gasp, in that strange silence that follows a moment of terror, a voice rumbles. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Everything speeds up, and everything stands still. Time falls away, and years catch up. Past and present collide, and the concussion is earth quaking. I’d know the voice anywhere, even though it’s

a little deeper now, a little older. And I’d know that face anywhere, too, even in the soft light filtering through the dirty, dusty window. Dane James. Love of my life. Father of my child. The one I walked away from to save. “It’s been a long time, Brinkley.” My heart is thundering, my blood roaring. I can’t breathe, but I also haven’t breathed this easy since I left. I feel relief and anxiety, everything and nothing, all at once. I’m in the eye of a storm. I’m in the center of chaos. “Dane.” I finally manage to speak his name, one single syllable on one shaky breath. He releases me quickly, sharply, as though he suddenly realized whom he was touching. “What are you doing here?” He takes a step back and I get a better look at him. He’s aged beautifully, of course. He was too gorgeous not to. His eyes are the same intense swirl of fall colors, his jaw just as strong, his brow just as wide. His hair is shorter now, though, which surprises me for some reason. I never would’ve imagined him wearing it this way. It’s almost business-like. But seeing it makes me realize it was Dane that I saw that morning in the fog. “Y-you cut your hair.” Clearly, my rapier wit has come out to play.

This guy could always turn my world on its ear. That much hasn’t changed. “Long time ago.” His response is as short and clipped as his hair, and a distinctly uneasy feeling sweeps through me. “Wh-what are you doing here?” “The door was open. It shouldn’t have been.” “Oh. Sorry about that. I was…I was just looking around. Thinking.” “Thinking about what?” “Uh.” I stare blankly, my mind racing. I don’t want to tell him. “Nothing particular. Strolling down memory lane, I suppose.” I am addled, my mind boggled. I feel so unprepared for this, for him. He says nothing, just stands there staring at me. Or more like glowering. The look on his face is anything but pleasant or welcoming. “So, you still live around here?” “Yes.” “Not here, obviously.” I laugh and it’s a nervous sound that makes my insides jitter even more. “No. I just work here.” That catches me off guard, too, and my eyebrows shoot up. “Here? You still…you still work in the fields?” “I guess you could say that. Only I own them now.”

I can’t hide my surprise over that. My mouth drops open and I stare, dumbfounded, at my old flame. A thousand things go through my mind, not the least of which is a nasty little accusing voice that tells me I could’ve avoided this if I hadn’t assumed he was gone, assumed Alton hired a new foreman before he died, and just asked Momma about the state of things. But I didn’t. So here I am. Flummoxed. “You…you… Wow. That’s great!” He shrugs, one big shoulder moving the tiniest bit. I used to love that gesture on him. Now it just seems cold and unconcerned. Just like his eyes. Eyes that were always so warm are now frigid. “You shouldn’t be up here.” “Oh, oh. Sorry. The door was unlocked. I didn’t know…Momma didn’t tell me she sold this place.” “She didn’t.” I frown. “I don’t…I don’t understand.” “Maybe you should ask your mother then.” His tone, the edge to his words, the unhappy look on his face—it paints a compelling picture of what must be going on in his mind. And in his heart. Like an axe to my soul, it becomes clear to me what I’m sensing, what I’m seeing. Dane James hates me. I struggle to swallow the enormous lump

forming in my throat, and I blink back tears that spring up before I can stop them. I look away, toward the window that faces the house I grew up in. “Okay, well, I guess I should get back.” I start to move around him when he asks, “Why did you come back?” He couldn’t sound any less pleased that I’m here. In fact, he sounds a little antagonistic. And I’m crushed. Although none of them were the least bit realistic, I’d harbored dreams about Dane James, about what it would be like to see him again, what kind of reunion we’d have, and what might’ve become of him. Seeing him here, now, like this, is like suffering the death of every one of those dreams, as well as my beloved childhood memories. The boy I loved doesn’t exist. Not anymore. And the man I loved, young though he was, doesn’t exist either. This person isn’t the Dane James I knew. He’s someone else. Someone who hates me. And with good reason. I walk to the window. I’m having difficulty controlling the tornado of sadness and regret and hopelessness ripping through my insides. My chin trembles and I press my lips together to still it. I blink rapidly, praying I can hold everything I’m feeling in until I can get away. Lord God, just

let me make it a little longer. “It’s a long, boring story, and I’m sure you have better things to do than stand here and listen to me drone on about my life.” A brief pause. “Actually, I do.” A kick to that axe in my soul, driving it deeper. “Just let yourself out. Close the main door when you leave, please.” I throw up a hand and utter a chipper, “Will do.” It seems like forever that he stands behind me, quiet and imposing, before I hear the soft scuff of his shoes as he turns to go. I sag against the window when the fall of his feet disappears down the stairs. I’m gripping the sill when I see Dane walk across the gravel lot and open the door of a big, shiny black truck. For just a moment before he ducks inside, he raises his head. He looks right at me, an odd expression on his face. He stares at me for the longest time. And I stare right back. It’s almost like we’re both trying to reconcile the people we were with the people we’ve become. Finally, he folds his long body into the driver’s seat and, seconds later, pulls away. I watch until I can no longer see his vehicle. When it’s out of sight, I crumble to the floor and sob. The Dane James I knew and loved is gone. And so are all the irrational hopes I had. All the one-

days and somedays and what-ifs I’ve nurtured for a decade and a half are gone. Dead and gone.

CHAPTER 23

I

’m sitting on the front porch again when Momma pulls up. I feel like I’m in a state of suspended animation. I do what must be done, but a large part of me is just numb. I think it’s that part that’s here hoping to get another glimpse of Dane James walking the fields. Seeing him yesterday feels like a bad dream and I desperately want a do-over, one that will go much better, one where Dane James won’t hate me, because I have news that I’ll eventually have to share with him, and it would be much better if he didn’t hate me going into it. There’s almost no doubt in my mind now that he will hate me coming out of it. Finding out I’ve hidden his daughter from him for fourteen years won’t endear me to him. That’s why I’ll put that conversation off for as long as I can. I know there will be no hiding from it forever, though. I just

can’t bear to think of it right now. I focus on Momma’s white Cadillac and how it shines like a pearl in the sun. When she gets out, I realize how perfectly it suits her. Her hair is only a few shades darker, and she’s dressed in a deep cream pantsuit with an apricot shell underneath. She looks as classy as she does beautiful. She fits into this life. It’s all she ever wanted, and her contentment shows. From the regal tilt of her head to the perfectly manicured toes poking out from her five hundred dollar shoes, she’s part of the elite crowd in Shepherd’s Mill. Now she doesn’t need Alton to keep her up. She has a rightful claim to the throne, and she’s damn well taking it. Gracefully, she mounts the front steps. Rather than nodding and bypassing me to go straight inside, which is what I figured she’d do, my mother sits primly in the rocking chair beside me, crosses her legs, and exhales like she’s exhausted. “Where’s Celina?” “Doing her English.” Momma gives me the side-eye. “What about your work? Are you finished for the day?” “No. Just taking a break.” I turn to give her my full attention. “How was your…whatever you were doing?” “It was fine. I was at a Women’s League meeting.” I nod, but say nothing else. I have no idea what

that is, and I don’t particularly care. My mind is filled with a million other things. There’s no room for the details from her social calendar. My eyes scan the vast fields, watching closely for that familiar figure I do and don’t want to see. “You never said what happened after Mr. James passed. Did Alton get a new foreman?” Momma doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her voice sounds a bit hurt. “You kept up with those people and not with your own mother?” “No. I didn’t ‘keep up’ with anybody. I used to get a copy of the paper occasionally, that’s all. One of them happened to contain his obituary. That’s how I knew Alton died, too.” “Oh.” Is that relief I hear? “Why do you ask?” I narrow my eyes on her. “Momma, why are you hedging?” “I’m not hedging. You’re being sneaky. Why don’t you just come out and ask what you want to know?” “Fine. Why didn’t you tell me that Dane bought this place?” “Because he didn’t just buy this place.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” She shakes her head in agitation. “Never mind. You needn’t concern yourself with those things. This house is still mine and Alton left me in a good position. That’s all that matters.” “Why are you being so weird about this?”

“I’m not being weird. You’re being weird. You always were completely irrational when it came to that boy. Don’t you think enough damage has been done? Can’t you just move on? If nothing else, for Celina’s sake. She has a chance at a good life here. Don’t ruin that for her.” It’s my turn to shake my head. “Wait, what? What the hell are you talking about? How am I going to ruin anything for my daughter? She’s my one and only concern.” “You don’t need to go getting involved with him again. That’s all I’m saying.” “Oh, believe me, that won’t be a problem.” I can’t hide my bitter disappointment. “What do you mean by that?” “I ran into Mr. Dane James today. Down at the barn.” “What were you doing—” I wave her off and keep talking. “There is clearly no love lost for me there. I might even go so far as to say he hates me.” Momma sniffs and glances away. “Maybe that’s for the best.” “How can you be so callous? I loved him, Momma. He’s Celina’s father. Can’t you see how much this hurts?” “You’ll get over it. Life is full of hurts and disappointments. Just wait until Celina gets older. You’ll really find out what hurt is then.”

Stung, I clamp my mouth shut and lean back in my chair, turning my face away from my mother. She sits for a few more seconds before she gets up and walks inside. I’m glad to see her go.

I STAND up from the dinner table to clear the dishes. Celina follows suit. “Go do something fun, babe. I’ve got these.” She looks up at me with her big emerald eyes. “I don’t mind helping.” I smile. “I know you don’t, but this is my thing. You go do your thing.” Her eyes look tired and she’s out of breath just helping bring the dishes to the kitchen. She needs to rest. “What’s my thing?” “How am I supposed to know?” She shrugs and tips her chin down. “You probably know what normal fourteen year olds do better than me.” Hearing that is like a fist to the gut. I walk around the table and take her by the shoulders. “This won’t last forever. You may not be getting to do fourteen like everyone else, but if I have anything to do with it, you’ll be doing fifteen better

than everyone else. You’ll be gossiping with your friends and kissing boys, and going to parties I tell you not to go to. You’ll be belligerent and I’ll be strict. You’ll get grounded and I’ll let you off the hook because I’m a big softie. I’ve got this all planned out, you see. Just a little while longer and you’re home free.” “How do you know any of this, Momma?” She sounds so dejected, so hopeless. I’d rather take a beating than to see my little girl this way. “Because I’m taking you to that new doctor next week and they’re going to give us the best next step, and we’ll take it, and it’s going to work, and you’ll be good as new by next summer. Maybe even by Christmas.” “You really think they can cure me?” “It’s looking really good.” I inject as much hope and optimism into my voice as I possibly can. If I were being honest, I’d have to tell her that I have no idea what will happen. I’d have to tell her that I’m as worried and desperate as she is. I’d have to tell her that I cry myself to sleep most nights, worrying that there will be no way out of this for her. But I’m not honest. She doesn’t need the weight of my honesty. She needs me to be her mother. To protect her and to tell her it’ll be all right, right up until the moment that, God forbid, we know for sure that it won’t be.

Until then, this is my story and I’m sticking to it. She takes a deep breath and musters a smile, her strength shining through as much as her beauty. “Okay, then I’m going up to my room to watch a movie with Drea.” Drea is Celina’s best friend from Maryland. They were both typically dramatic when they found out we were moving. There were tears and threats and long, painful goodbyes, but they’ve kept in touch. Just like I told them they would. Girls, I think with an internal shake of my head. Was I ever this dramatic? Celina starts off, but I stop her before she can get out of the dining room. “What movie?” She’s fourteen and I’m still her mother. I have to ask. “Mo-om.” There’s that two-syllable noun again. “Celinaaaaa.” I make hers at least four. “Nothing rated R.” Her lips thin and I can tell she wants to stomp her foot. “You were just telling me to do my thing, and how I’ll be doing stuff I’m not supposed to.” “Yes. One day in the future, not tonight.” She rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. “Fine. We’ll watch something we’ve watched before.” That doesn’t really help me, but I’m not going to drill her too much about it. I really do want her

to do something fun tonight. “Love you,” I tell her as she starts to walk off. “Love you,” she replies, albeit grudgingly. I hear the doorbell just as she’s turning the corner for the stairs, and I see my daughter detour toward it. Before I can stop her, she opens the door. “Can I help you?” There is silence. A thick, thick silence, one that brings me out from behind the table, arms loaded with dishes, to peek around the corner. There, standing in the foyer, staring at my daughter like she’s grown a second head, is Dane James. I step out and nudge Celina with my hip. She turns to look at me and I nod toward the stairs. “Go on. I’ve got this.” She shrugs and walks slowly, achingly slowly, up the steps to her room, leaving me alone with the new Dane James and all the questions he probably has. I watch him watch her go. His autumn eyes follow her until she disappears, and they stay on that spot for a long time after. His jaw is tense and hard, and I can’t be sure if he’s putting things together or if he’s just hating me a little more. I lean toward the latter simply because Celina doesn’t look her age. Most people who see her think she’s at least a year or two younger than fourteen. If that’s the case with Dane, he would know she

couldn’t be his. Even though she very much is. “Yours?” he asks, tipping his head toward the stairs. I straighten my spine, preparing for whatever comes next. “Yes, she’s mine.” He nods and an odd expression steals across his face. Is it sadness? Bitterness? Or just my imagination. “She looks just like you.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Thank you.” He nods again and clears his throat. “I have something for your mother. Is she around?” “Sure. Come in.” Dane steps inside, filling the entryway with his presence, making the large area seem small. He always made me feel like that when he was around —like I was this tiny receptacle just waiting for him to come along and fill me up. And he did. Every time we were together, he made me feel as full and whole as I ever have. He pushes the door shut and I smile before turning toward the kitchen and the study beyond. I poke my head around the corner. “Momma, Dane is here to see you.” Her brow pleats and she rises to her feet. In her finery, standing behind Alton’s impressive desk, she looks like the lady of the manor. I have to smile. Some people were born for this life. She’s one of them. “Send him in.”

I resist the urge to make a noise reserved for most teenagers. Rather, I nod and head back out to the foyer, arms still full of dishes, to tell Dane to follow me. As I lead him through the house to the study, I’m keenly aware of his eyes on me. I’d give anything to know what’s going through his mind, but I know that won’t be happening. I leave him with Momma and go back to my task, clearing and cleaning. Much to my happy surprise, my trembling hands don’t drop and break one single dish.

I T’ S no wonder I can’t sleep. I couldn’t stand being downstairs, so I came to bed early. But now, I can’t stand being up here. Everywhere feels claustrophobic. The walls are closing in. They’re mocking me with their memories, heckling me with their silence. Dane James hates me. And it’s killing me. Everything I did, I did for him, so he would be happy and so he wouldn’t hate me. But he ended up hating me anyway. All of that, everything I gave up, and I lost his heart, too. I throw off my twisted covers and head for the

door. I need some fresh air. I need wide open skies and endless night. I make my way downstairs. Out of habit, I dodge the squeaky boards on my descent. I smile at myself when I consider going back up just so I can come down again and step on every one. Let Momma wake up. Let her question where I’m going. Let her try to stop me. With the mood I’m in, I’m liable to bite her head off. I wouldn’t even be in this position if it weren’t for her and her husband, Alton the monster. They forced my hand, all for the sake of appearance. They tore me away from Dane, stole his right to watch his child grow up, and they changed the course of my entire existence. All so that neither of them had to be embarrassed by their daughter who was slumming it with the help. Bitterness, old and pungent, roils in my belly. I’m mad at them all over again. And at myself for not being stronger, not finding another way. It doesn’t matter that I was young and terrified, that I was pregnant and all alone. I should’ve figured out a way. But I didn’t. That blame is solely on my head. It’s my price to pay. And one day soon, Dane will come to collect. It’s just a matter of time. The balmy air slaps me in the face. It’s soft and warm and scented, and it throws me back in time.

I’m twelve again, sneaking out with a strange boy for the first time. I’m fifteen again, seeking comfort from the only person who understands me. I’m seventeen again, willing to give up everything for the love of a boy who works in the fields. I start off just walking, but sooner than I realize, I’m running, running through the fields, wisps of wheat slapping my arms and chest and cheeks. And then I see it. Dark and lonely under the moon. A rock. The rock. Our rock. Out of breath, I don’t stop until I’m standing at the foot of it. I reach up, my fingers grasping for an edge to hold onto to pull myself up, but I don’t need one because I’m weightless. I yip in surprise as I’m hauled effortlessly onto the rock. When I get my bearings, there, waiting for me just like he was when I was but a girl, is Dane James. “I…I didn’t see you,” I pant. “I was lying down.” I’m breathing so hard and he’s standing so close. He didn’t back up when he set me on the rock, and now he’s only a foot away, towering over me. “I’m sorry. I can…I can go if you…” I trail off. My brain can’t cope with one more surprise. Not one more.

When he says nothing, I take that as my cue to leave, so I turn and start to climb down off the rock. Once again, a strong hand grips me. “Don’t.” One syllable. One word. It’s a start. And I exhale. Slowly, I pivot to face him. He looks like a beautiful, mysterious god in the night, like he belongs to it, and it to him. He seems taller than I remember, certainly more intimidating, but right now, like this…he isn’t the angry man I’ve seen twice now. He’s simply Dane, The One Who Stayed. “You don’t want me to go?” He counters with a question of his own. “You afraid to stay and talk?” It’s a challenge. Clear in his voice and even clearer in the set of his chin, like he’s daring me. Dane James has a bone to pick, and I think I’m about to get picked clean. “N-no.” Yes. I’m not ready for this yet. I may never be. “Good. Have a seat.” I do, but I’m far from comfortable. “So…” “So…” We sit, waiting. For what I have no idea. He starts with what must seem to him like small talk. “Your daughter seems sweet.” “She’s just entered her teenage years. She has her sweet moments, but…that’s not always the

case.” Dane nods stiffly. “I figured she was about that age. She looks twelve or thirteen.” I almost sigh in relief that he drew the conclusion most others do, the one that would make her too young to be his. I’m okay with him assuming that for the time being. We fall silent again until he begins again, this time with a bit more aggression. “You gonna tell me where you’ve been for the last fifteen years?” There’s no small amount of anger and disgust in his voice. I have a feeling that he’s going to hate me no matter what I say. “I…Well, I don’t even know where to start really.” What a cop-out! What happened to my spine? “Want me to pick a place? How about the day you left here? That one’s been a big mystery to me for a while, although I heard a few stories about why you left.” “You did? Like what?” “Well, there was one about a kidnapping. Clearly, that one wasn’t true. Your parents wouldn’t have let that stand. Nobody kidnaps one of the Shepherd’s Mill elite and gets away with it.” Cynicism coats his every word. “Then there was one about a drug overdose. I think that tale was specifically designed for me.” I gasp at that. Many years ago, he’d told me what happened to his

mother. What kind of cruel joke was that, that people would tell him I’d done the same thing? “Then there was another one, from Lauren, I think, that was something about you transferring to a prep school and meeting some guy there. Someone your parents approved of. I figured that had the best chance of actually being true. Even common folk like me know how important family approval is. For you people, anyway.” I sit, stunned and speechless, as I listen to him talk. For a split second I consider just getting up and running, going back to the house to collect Celina, getting in my car, and driving somewhere else, anywhere else. But I don’t. For one reason. Celina. I came back here for her. She’s the one and only reason, and I won’t let her down now. When I don’t say anything for a while, Dane jabs, “Nothing to say?” I measure my words carefully. “I’m not sure you’ll believe the truth. Sounds like your mind is made up to hate me no matter what. Is it even worth it for me to sit here and tell you what happened? Will it even make a difference?” At that, Dane’s expression melts into a frown, but this one is more confused than hostile. “Maybe. Guess it depends on what you say. Maybe there

was a good reason and if there was… I’m not a complete asshole, you know.” “No, just a partial asshole.” I don’t laugh. Don’t even smile. And neither does he. He just shrugs and says, “Touché.” I sigh and pull my legs under me, folding my hands on my lap. Now would be the perfect opportunity to tell him about Celina, but my heart is telling me to wait. Not only is he not ready, but I could be setting Celina up for some major heartbreak. I need to talk to her first, and then decide if Dane is even the type of person she needs in her life right now. Is that the right choice? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m doing the best that I can with what I have in this moment. “Alton…he caught me sneaking in one night when I’d been out with you. I was fifteen. He was waiting for me in my room. He didn’t do anything, but he was…inappropriate. He threatened me, too. Told me if I didn’t stay away from you, he’d ruin you, your father, and me. And that you’d hate me for it.” It’s my turn to shrug. “I believed him. He was a monster, plain and simple. “I did my best to steer clear of you. You know that much. And I did for a while. Two years, in fact, but then…then…I don’t know what happened. I guess I was too deeply in love with you to stay away anymore. And then we…” I don’t know what

to call it. At the time, I thought we were making love. To me, that’s still what we did. But to Dane, I have a feeling it was something different. I’m not sure he looks back and sees any love there now. “Right after that, one night he came into my room and tried to… He climbed on top of me, told me that if I was giving it away to trash for free, he’d take some.” I don’t know when the tears started. I’m only aware of them dripping off my chin and making warm splats onto the hands curled into fists. The hurt of what that man put me through will never completely go away. Dane has been utterly silent up to now, and the only thing he says is a low, growling, dangerous, “Did he…?” I sniff. “No. Momma must’ve heard me screaming and she came to the door. She made him… He stopped before anything worse happened. He told me to get out, to be gone by morning, and never tell a soul or he’d destroy you and your father. He made sure to point out that you’d end up hating me for ruining both your lives, not to bother telling you. I was afraid he was right. So I left.” We sit in the quiet for several long minutes, just the frogs croaking in the distance. Finally, Dane gets up and walks to the edge of the rock and stares off into the darkness. I see him run a hand through

his hair and I hear something—maybe some swearing—hiss through his teeth. I stay put, though, and patiently wait for him to return. I just dropped a bomb. Not the bomb, but a bomb. He’ll need time to think about it. Maybe it’s enough to keep him from hating me. At least until I tell him about Celina. Then we’ll be right back to square one. But that’s another worry, another fight for another day. It seems an hour has passed when Dane finally returns to where I’m sitting. He stops in front of me and drops his hand toward me. “Can I walk you home?” I guess he’s had enough for one night, too. I look from his hand to his eyes and back again. They’re coal black in the dark, coal black and unreadable. I nod, slipping my fingers into his and letting him help me up. We walk to the edge of the boulder and Dane hops down then turns back to offer his hand again. Again, I take it. He releases it once my feet are on the ground, and we begin the walk back to my house. The silence is too big, too loaded for me. My nerves can’t take it, so I strike up a conversation that has nothing do with me or why I left or what happened to make me go. “What were you doing out here tonight? Working late?”

“Yeah.” “You don’t have to walk me back then. Go get your truck and—” “I walked over. From my house. It’s just across the river. I took the foot bridge.” “Oh. How long have you lived there?” I don’t remember a house being over there, but maybe I’ve just forgotten. “Brinkley, I…” Dane pauses, scrubbing a hand over his face before he starts again. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I didn’t know. Obviously. I guess I… I was pretty hurt. I thought we’d leave here together, and when you…” “I thought we would, too.” My words are quiet, pained. “I…I’m sorry.” “No need to apologize. You had every reason to be angry with me.” He nods distractedly, but I already see a change in him. All the fury and resentment, all the hostility and sourness he displayed before…it’s curiously absent. Maybe his hate doesn’t run as deep as his love did. At least I’m hoping that’s the case. When we reach the place where field meets driveway, Dane stops. “Why didn’t you come back?” His question isn’t angry or accusatory; it sounds more like he’s trying to wrap his head around what happened so long ago.

“He told me not to. Alton said if I came back, the same thing applied. I didn’t want to risk it. To push him. That man had an evil streak.” At that, Dane looks over at me. I see that the angles and planes of his face have become a dark, foreboding landscape. There was no love lost between Dane and Alton. “I didn’t know how much until it was too late.” “D-did something else happen?” My pulse picks up. Did Alton do something to him or to his dad anyway? Something I know nothing about? Clearly, he didn’t kick them off the property, but he’d probably dreamed up a dozen different ways to hurt people. That’s just the kind of man he was. For a second, Dane looks like he’s seething, but then his lips curve into a tight, polite smile. “That’s a story for another day.” “Will there be another day?” The words are out before I can stop them. And as soon as they are, I bite down on my tongue for being the traitorous demon that it is. Why, why, why would you ask that, Brinkley? You’re playing with fire. “Do you want there to be?” I don’t respond right away, even though I know what I want to say immediately. “I think that would be okay.” I exhale in relief at my good, very casual

answer. That’s better. Maybe my brain hasn’t completely left the premises. He nods. “Then I’ll see you around.” “Okay. G’night, Dane.” “Night.” I turn and start walking so that I don’t watch him as he goes. I’ve watched Dane James walk away one too many times.

CHAPTER 24

I

’m holding a laptop, working on an expense sheet for my personal finances, skimpy though they are, as I bask in the sun on the front porch. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit here and daydream like usual. I’ve found that every spare minute when my mind isn’t busy, it goes straight to Dane James. This is my way of being productive and keeping my sanity. I’m crunching numbers in my head, squinting into the noonday sun when I see a lone figure cutting through the field. His arms are bared by a tank top stretched across a wide chest, and I can see a swath of denim on his lower half before it melts into blades of wheat. His jeans are held up by a belt with a chunky buckle, and I know his legs end in dusty old boots. All he lacks is the cowboy hat.

Sweet mother. My stomach flips over. Even after all these years, after all that’s happened, it still gives me butterflies to see him walking toward me, big as day. I watch his broad shoulders as they sway ever so slightly with each step he takes. Even though I can’t see them clearly from this distance, I know that his eyes are trained on me. They’re making the butterflies worse. I don’t take my gaze off him. It’s rude to stare, I know, but I don’t think I could not watch him right now. He gets closer and closer until he’s standing at the edge of the field, where he left me last night, and he pauses. From there, he continues to stare silently at me, and I stare silently right back. What is he thinking? What does he want? What do I want? That’s easy—to go back. To go back in time. To undo, and redo. To do better. Only that’s the one thing I can’t have. Possibly one of many. Eventually, he resumes his walk, crossing the driveway and not stopping until he’s standing in front of the porch. He doesn’t mount the stairs; he just puts one foot on the bottom step and hooks a thumb in his front pocket. He looks like a picture from a magazine, or a movie poster, right down to

the prairie grass twirling in his lips. “You busy?” I shake my head. “Wanna go for a walk?” Another belly flip, but I still manage to shrug with nonchalance. “Sure.” He nods, twirling that piece of grass with his tongue, his eyes trained steadily on me, burning me up. My skin starts to warm up. Sweet mother of all that’s holy, no one should be that sexy. Dane James was always sexy, but was he always this sexy? Or is it just that he’s a full-grown man now, and a little bit of age brings its own kind of hotness? I don’t know. I only know that he’s tearing my insides up, standing there like that. And by the way his lips are curling up at the edges as I stare at him like a witless wonder, I think he probably knows it, too. I snap out of it, forcing myself to look away. I push my laptop shut. “Let me take this inside and grab some shoes. I’ll be right back.” I call up to Celina that I’ll be back in a few minutes, set my laptop on the dining room table, grab my shoes by the door, and make my way back outside. Dane is standing with his back to me now, giving me the perfect shot of his butt. Of the few things that haven’t changed at all since I left, Dane James’ legendary ass is one of them.

“Ready,” I announce as I jog down to meet him. “Where are we going?” “Toward the river. Got something to show you.” “Okay.” I can’t imagine what it might be, but I’m more than willing to find out. This is a huge step forward, it seems. Apparently, Dane thought about what I said last night and decided that maybe it’s worth giving me the benefit of the doubt. At least I hope that’s what happened. “So, how’s the business going?” “Fine.” “You ever gonna tell me how you ended up with this place? I never would’ve seen that coming.” “Yeah, me neither. Especially not like it did.” “Momma said you bought it when Alton died.” Dane slides me a look from the corner of his eye. “Is that what she said?” “Well, something like that. She was being really weird about it. Is that not what happened?” Dane looks off into the distance, his jaw muscle flexing as his lips twirl that thin piece of grass. “Did you ever wonder why your stepdaddy hated me so much?” My brows draw together. “I wouldn’t say he hated you.” That’s a lie. Alton hated Dane. With a passion. Dane sends me a dubious glare. “Brinkley, come on.”

On a sigh, I confess, “Okay, fine. He hated you. But truly, I never did know why.” “Me either. Not for a long, long time. Not until my father died.” “I’m so sorry for your loss, by the way. I meant to tell you that.” “Thanks. He’s better off. His life… It wasn’t the best.” “I thought he was happy.” “I did, too, until I found out the truth.” “The truth?” Dane inhales so deeply, his tank top looks like it might rip across the front. When he exhales, he reaches up and grabs the piece of grass, throws it aside. For some reason, that gesture speaks to me. It’s almost like he spat. It seemed…angry. “Zane, he…he wasn’t my father.” “What? What do you mean?” “I mean the reason Alton hated me is because I was his son.” I stop and turn so abruptly my head spins a little. “What?” The lines of Dane’s face are pinched. His lips are drawn thin and his brow is drawn low. “Yep. Turns out, I’m more one of them than I ever wanted to be.” “But how? I mean…how?” “When he died, Zane, I mean, there was a letter addressed to me in with his will. Turns out, he was

part owner in Alton’s operation. They had more history than anyone ever knew about. Alton just managed to buy his way into covering it up. “My mother, Elizabeth, was one of the Shepherd’s Mill elite. She dated Alton and they were supposed to be married. You know how they match-make in this town. I guess I got my rebellious streak from her, though, because she fell in love with a common worker, a guy who worked Alton’s father’s fields.” He slides a squinted look at me. “I guess history really does have a way of repeating itself. At least as far as Alton could see.” Now I understand why Alton hated the idea of me with Dane. It hit way too close to home. “Your mother…and Alton?” He nods. “Her parents were thrilled with the match, of course. His, too. You know how that goes. But she gave it all up to be with Zane. Her parents denounced her, wouldn’t have anything to do with her, or me, and Alton…well, he didn’t take it very well either, evidently. He…he forced himself on her. Took what he said was his, before she could give it away to the ‘trash’.” He glances over at me again. This time his eyes are flashing hotly in the sun. “Sound familiar?” I pale, feeling so sorry for the woman who suffered so much. “That’s how I came along. That’s what I’m born from. His hate. His violence.” His teeth are

tightly gritted when he adds, “I hate that man. Christ Almighty, I hate him.” I can practically feel the emotion emanating from Dane. Once I walked this path with a boy whose sadness reached out and touched me. Today, twenty years later, I’m walking it with the man, but it’s his fury I feel. “Did you confront Alton? What did he say?” “I went to his house the night I found out. Your mother was there, but Alton wasn’t. I went storming in and I…I said some things I probably shouldn’t have. But I was just so damn mad. I could’ve killed him with my bare hands.” Dane raises those hands and clenches his fingers into tight fists. The skin turns white and he shakes with fury. “It was probably a good thing he was gone. He avoided me like the plague. Until I went back with the papers from the court to claim my half of the company.” I gasp. “What? Are you serious?” “Yep. When my mother found out she was pregnant, she wasn’t going to tell Alton, but she started to show and, well…there was no hiding that. He demanded to know if the kid was his. When he found out I was, he gave her one last chance to do the ‘right thing,’ but she wanted to stay with my dad, with Zane. So Alton set out to get his revenge. He threatened her, told her he’d ruin her, ruin the baby, ruin Zane. They’d be homeless

and penniless and he’d hate her. Pretty much the same shit he told you, from the sounds of it. She fought it as long as she could, but I guess it became too much. She ended up taking an overdose after I was born. Alton must’ve been freaking out, because he tried to cover his tracks. That’s why he struck the deal with Zane. A thirty percent share of the fields in exchange for his silence and for raising me as his own. So Dad did. Because I was part my mother’s and he loved her. He never told a soul, not until after he was gone.” Puzzle pieces start to fall into place. Why Alton hated me with Dane, why he singled him out, why he called me Elizabeth the night he came to my room. He was drunk and he thought I was her. I’m dumbfounded. I’m furious. But I’m also so heartbroken for the woman who gave birth to Dane. I feel like I can relate to her in so many different ways. In her shoes, I hope I’d be able to do the right thing, too. I hope I did. I kept my baby. At least I didn’t let Alton bully me into aborting her. “I…I don’t even know what to say to that. He’s…he’s…God, he was so despicable.” I feel anger rising in me now, too. He used lies to manipulate me. He knew there was nothing he could do to Dane or his father, but I didn’t. And he was counting on that. He was counting on my love

for Dane to force my hand. And it worked. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it. “So he could never have forced you and your father off the farm. All that I did, all that I gave up, all the choices I made and the people I’ve hurt…it was all for nothing.” Dane stands mutely beside me as my world is being shaken to its foundation. “He…he used my love for you against me. To keep me quiet, to punish you for…for being his son when his mother didn’t want him. He stole…he stole fifteen years from me, from us, from—” I stop myself, my rage mounting. “He…he… Oh, God!” I resume walking. I can’t stand still. I can hardly stand to even be in my own skin. I’m so angry, and I feel so betrayed, so deceived, so cheated, I want to hit something, kick something, destroy something. Anything to release the pressure that’s building up inside me. As I stomp along, I run my hands up into my hair. “How could I be so blind? How could I have let him do that? How? Why would anyone do that?” Dane growls from beside me. “That’s just the kind of bastard he was.” I turn and look into his face. I see a perfect reflection of the helpless fury I feel. If Alton were alive, I feel like I could kill him for this, but I won’t ever have that chance. I won’t ever even be able to

confront him, to tell him I hope he burns for what he’s done. He got the last laugh. And I’m not sure I can live with that. But I’m not sure how not to. “How…how do you live with this?” I feel a sob expand in my chest. “How am I supposed to live with this?” It escapes before I can stop it. I’m livid, and I’m devastated, and I don’t know what to do about either. “It took me a while to figure that out.” That just makes me angrier. “How can you be so calm about this?” Dane jerks me to a stop and towers angrily over me. “I hate that man. With everything that’s in me, I hate him. You don’t know what my life has been like since I found out. If he hadn’t died, I’d have destroyed him and everything he loved, but that lying son of a bitch cheated me out of that, too. He stole everything from me. He even stole you.” Dane is huffing, his wrath more than evident. “I…I don’t…” We both fume and pant. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” Strangely, Dane seems to calm somewhat. “I’ve wondered the same thing. I’ve let hate rule my life for the last two years. It’s like drinking poison. Every day. But honestly, you being back here…it

sort of put things in perspective. If I keep doing it, keep drinking it, I keep letting him win. I’ll be giving him what he couldn’t take, the only thing he didn’t take. My future. But I won’t.” He shakes his head adamantly. “I won’t give him one more thing. Not one more. Not even one more day.” I listen to his words. I hear them. But he has no idea the true depths of what Alton stole from me, and from him. And when I tell him, not only will he hate me, but he’ll hate Alton all over again. I’ll be stealing what tiny bit of peace he’s managed to obtain in his life. I will have earned his hatred, fair and square, ten times over. On the verge of tears again, I shake my head, looking away. “I need some time to think about this. Can we…can we do this another day?” He nods slowly. “Sure.” I spin on my heel and start walking the other direction. “Maybe tomorrow.” He nods again and watches me go. He doesn’t try to follow. All the way home, my insides burn with fury. Impotent rage. I can’t confront Alton. I can’t make him pay. I can’t even confront my mother, can’t ask her if she knew. I can’t burn a bridge with her because the only person who would suffer is Celina. But I want to. And it feels like it’s killing me that I can’t.

This is just one more thing I’ll have to swallow, have to live with, have to try not to let eat me alive. There is a mountain of hurt built up in me, and it seems to be growing larger and larger every day.

I CAN ’ T SLEEP AGAIN . Shocker. I’ve spent the last two hours staring out my window into the great, black nothingness. I’m brimming with turmoil and I have no idea how to make it stop. I head downstairs to the kitchen where I fire up the kettle and make myself a cup of lavender tea. I’m setting the empty pot back on the eye when I hear a soft voice from somewhere behind me. “Momma?” I turn to find Celina standing under the archway, running a hand through her long, sandy hair. “Did I wake you?” “No. I can’t sleep.” “Want some tea?” In the glow from the nightlight, I see her nod. I give her my cup. “Take this one. Go sit down in the living room. I’ll be right in.” I make another cup for myself and join my little

girl on the couch. Her legs are folded up under her and she’s facing my end, so I assume the same position facing her. I smile at her over my steaming mug. “Nervous?” She nods again. Her appointment with the new doctor at Duke is tomorrow. Although I try to break things down and keep them as positive as possible, she still knows that this is an important visit. This visit could give us a lot of hope, or it could dash a lot of hope. “If the blood transfusions were still as effective as they were, I’d never put you through this. You know that, right?” “Yeah. I know.” She’s quiet for a couple of minutes before she asks, “Did we move here because of money?” My heart sinks. These aren’t the types of things I want to fill my sick child’s mind. “Celina—” “I’m not a baby, Momma. Don’t give me the whole ‘it’s my job to protect you’ speech again. You’re just avoiding telling me the truth, and it’s making me worry more.” “Where on earth is this coming from?” I’m stalling. Lord help me, I’m stalling because I don’t want to tell my daughter the truth and I don’t want to lie to her either. “See? This is what you always do, but I have a right to know. This affects me, too.”

“I know it does, and I’m not trying to—” “Yes, you are. I know you’re doing it because you love me, but I’m telling you right now that I want to know. I need to know. Please.” Tears glisten in her eyes and distress is written all over her face. I had no idea my evasiveness has been causing her so much grief. I thought I was protecting her, but it appears I’m only making things worse. “I’m trying to do the very best things I can for you. You—” “Mom! You—” “Let me finish.” Celina snaps her lips shut. “I’ve talked to more doctors about more treatments than you can imagine. I don’t want one man’s opinion on what’s best for you. I want them all. I want to know what the best of the best think, and I want to know all the pros and cons and side effects, and it’s pretty much the general consensus that the experts in hematology, the ones with the most experience with aplastic anemia, are at Duke. So. That’s the main reason we’re here. We’re closer to Duke, it has the better care, I found a job that I can work from home. It’s win-win.” “And it’s the town you hate. The people you hate.” “I don’t hate anyone, Celina.” At least no one that’s alive. “You know what I mean. This place made you

miserable, and now you’re back here because of me.” “I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.” “I know, but I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to be miserable. Being miserable because I’m sick is bad enough.” “I’m not miserable. And you being sick doesn’t make me miserable.” “And I know part of it has to do with money.” “Celina, we’re fine.” “So you aren’t spending all your money on me?” “Nope. I’m not.” “You promise?” “I promise.” And I’m totally comfortable making that promise because I’m not spending all my money on her. Just the vast majority of it. But she doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t know that I’d sell the clothes off my back if it meant getting her the treatment she needs. Moving back here, changing jobs, and uprooting us, facing my old demons…it’s all worth it. For her. “I love you, Momma.” Her words are so low, I almost don’t hear them. “Of course, you do. You can’t not love me,” I tease as I tug on the tips of her hair. When she leans forward, I press my lips to her forehead and try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I love you, too, baby girl. You’re my whole world.”

She sits back, dunking her tea bag a few times before taking a sip. “So, the guy who showed up here.” Dane. She’s asking about Dane. Holy shit. My muscles have seized. I’m not even sure I can blink. But my lips still work, so I sip my tea and utter as casually as possible, “Yeah. What about him?” “You know him?” “I do.” “How well?” “He used to work here when I was young.” “Is that all?” Celina doesn’t look up when she asks; she just stares down into her mug. “We dated. Sort of. If that’s what you mean.” “He…he looked surprised to see me.” “I’m sure he was. I haven’t seen or talked to him in fifteen years. He had no idea I have a daughter.” “You told me my father was a guy from your hometown, but that he was dead. You said his name was James.” I nod, sipping my tea, even though my heart is in my throat. I’m praying she’ll drop this. What I told my child about her origin is another inadvisable faux pas from my past. I knew Momma and Alton

would never bring it up, and I knew no one else knew, so I thought it wouldn’t be an issue. Of course, I wasn’t expecting Dane James to live here anymore either. “Is that true?” I close my eyes and blow into my steaming mug. Oh Lord. Oh Lord God. Don’t let her corner me. Not now. Not before her appointment. Not before she’s married with her own kids and can understand why I’ve done the things I’ve done. “Momma!” “What?” “You said he died. Is that true?” “I did.” “Is. That. True?” “Honey—” “Is…is he my father?” I wish for a moment that a hole would open in the floor and it would swallow me up. Just take me out of here, out of this place where I’m surrounded by my mistakes. Impugned by my deceptions. “Why would you think that?” “Tell me the truth, Momma.” “Your father…” I let the word hang in the air as I think of what to say, and how to say it. It’s when I look up at my daughter, at the face that’s nearly a

mirror image of my own, that I know what I have to do. It’s time. “Yes. That was your father.” She doesn’t gasp, so much as she just inhales loudly. Slowly. Deeply. Like she’s physically taking it all in. Much to my surprise, however, rather than getting mad or acting hurt, she just starts to nod. Her only verbal response is a quiet, “I thought so.” “You thought so? But why? What on earth would make you look at him and think he’s your father?” “It wasn’t the way I looked at him, or the way he looked at me. It was the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you.” I rub one hand across my throbbing forehead. What are the odds that I’d come back here after fifteen years and find that Dane James is still here? Like right here? “I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest.” “So his name is James?” “Dane James. James is his last name.” “Why would you keep this from me? I’m old enough to know.” She’s being surprisingly calm and rational. That in itself is almost enough to worry me. “The circumstances of my leaving Shepherd’s Mill weren’t good ones. I didn’t think I’d ever see

him again. Not that I didn’t want to. I was trying to do what was best for him. It was…it was just a bad situation. I could never tell him about you, so I thought for your health and happiness it would be best to just tell you that he was dead rather than let you wonder and worry about a father out there that you couldn’t see or touch or talk to.” She nods several times, avoiding eye contact, which, in a strange way, hurts me worse than if she were to scream and rant. “I understand.” “Do you? Do you really? Because I’m thinking that you couldn’t possibly, and that you have every reason in the world to be upset with me right now.” “It’s fine, Momma.” “Celina—” “It’s fine.” Why can’t I just take this gift and let it go? I don’t know, but I can’t. I don’t want her bottling up feelings that could rot her soul. I’m a big girl and I knew there would be consequences for my actions. I just didn’t expect them all to fall out of the sky at the same time. “Are you sure?” I won’t believe her even if she says yes. This is too huge. “I know how much you love me. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me on purpose.” “That’s true. That’s all very true. But, Celina, if you’re angry, let’s talk about it. Or if you’re hurt,

let’s hash it out. I know you must have questions, so ask.” “I do, but I don’t think I want to ask them yet.” “Why not?” “I just…” She shakes her head and that’s when I see her level of fatigue. This is just too much for her right now. She’s not sleeping well, her body is under attack, she’s been taken out of her familiar environment. Her stress level is probably already off the charts. “I want to think first.” She’s smart enough to put things that can wait on the back burner. How did I have a child so smart? How could this intelligent, mature, pragmatic, gorgeous creature have come from me? How could I have anything to do with such amazingness? “I understand. And it’s fine, babe. We can talk about it some other time. Any other time. Whenever you’re ready.” “Okay. Have you… Did you tell him about me?” Will the hits not just stop for God’s sake? Can I never outrun the many levels of my own selfishness and stupidity? “Not yet. He was very angry with me for leaving.” I pause, my pulse pounding. “Why? Do you want me to tell him?” She pauses as well, clearly considering the query. “Maybe not yet.”

“That’s fine. I respect that. We can talk about it more later.” She seems relieved. “Okay, Momma.” “For tonight, why don’t you head back to bed? Maybe you can sleep now.” As if on cue, she yawns. “I am pretty tired all of a sudden.” “I sprinkled some fairy dust in that tea. I hope they don’t do a urine test tomorrow.” Celina gets up and hands me her mug, shaking her head and muttering, “You’re so weird.” I grin. “But I’m awesome.” She climbs the stairs, still shaking her head. This is us. This is what we do. And as long as I have us, I’ll survive.

CHAPTER 25

T

he drive home from Duke is quiet. We both have a lot to digest. Celina rides the entire three-hour trip with her earbuds in and music on. The mother in me wants to ask her if she’s okay, to reassure her that everything’s going to be fine, to hold her in my arms and protect her from every curveball life throws her way. But I don’t. She’s a mature fourteen year old and this is what she does. She takes in information, she considers it, she asks questions, and then she decides. I shoot a sideways glance at her. She appears to be calmly looking out the window, her body at ease, but I know the wheels are turning. Her mind is spinning, going over all that the doctor said, sifting

through that information and picking out nuggets that matter the most to her, which are slightly different than the ones that matter to me. While she is mature for her age, she is still just a child. Her thinking is very short-term. That’s to be expected. She wants the easiest path for now. But I’ve learned that the now will eventually be the past, and the past is what we have to live with in the future. And she has so much future left, so much life out ahead of her. It’s my job to help her make the best decisions in the now so that she doesn’t have regrets in the future. Only that’s harder than I ever thought it would be. My choices are combing through endless pamphlets and reports and papers to determine which is the lesser of an array of evils. My job is to figure out what will give my child the best chances for a healthy, normal life, yet not completely disregard how it will affect her now. It kills me to think of her suffering, and there’s a significant chance that’s what she’ll face no matter what we decide. So, although my heart is heavy and I want to help her as much as I can, I’m giving her the space she needs to deal with this in her own way. I hope that’s the right thing to do. My mother always tried to control everything. She wanted to run my life according to hers and what she felt was best. She

never took into consideration what I might want or how I might feel. I fault her less for that now because I do believe she loves me in her own way and she really did want a good life for me, but I still wish things could’ve been different. A lot of pain has resulted from her inflexibility. I don’t want that for Celina. More than my own wellbeing, I want her to be happy. Every day of her life if possible. When we arrive back at the house, Momma is waiting for us. I see her open her mouth to ask how it went. I catch her eye and shake my head the slightest bit. She snaps her lips shut and walks back toward the office, from whence she came. I roll my eyes and follow Celina up the steps. She goes left to her room; I go right toward my room-slash-home office. I want to be close by if she comes looking for me. Besides that, I have work to do. Only she doesn’t come looking. Celina remains holed up in her room until Momma comes and gets us for dinner. She comes out and we go down to eat. She converses about as much as usual, even though there’s a tension at the table as my mother waits for one of us to tell her how it went. I’m determined not to get into it with her until I’ve had a chance to talk to my daughter. After dinner, Celina excuses herself back to her room and I begin the cleanup. Momma hangs around for a few minutes longer than usual, waiting. I smile as I pass her, but say nothing.

Eventually, she walks away without a word, which makes me feel kind of bad, but my primary concern is Celina. Always. My mother’s feelings come a very, very, very distant second place. Probably not even that. I am glad, however, that she isn’t pushing, that she at least has the sensitivity to wait until we’re ready to talk about it. When the dining room and kitchen have been restored to their eerily spotless state, I return to my room, this time to pour over all the information I brought home from Duke. There is hope in all of it, but there are also risks and side effects. There is no way forward for her that isn’t going to dramatically affect her in some way, whether now or later. The more I read, the more overwhelmed and dejected I become. At just before ten, I get up and go to Celina’s room. The light is still on, so I knock softly and wait for her to answer. I can tell by her two-word response that she’s as burdened as I am, probably more so. I poke my head in to find her sitting crosslegged in the center of her bed. There’s nothing in front of her, or even on the bed with her, which leads me to believe she’s just been sitting there thinking. I’m not sure that’s such a good thing. “What’s up, buttercup?” I ask, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “You came to my room. Shouldn’t I be asking

you that?” I walk to the bed and climb on, sitting in front of her and mirroring her position. “Fine. Then ask me.” One corner of her mouth quirks a little and she asks, “What’s up, buttercup?” “I came to check on my daughter. She had a big day today and she hasn’t said a word about it. It sorta worries me, because, you know, I’m a parent and it’s sorta what we do.” Celina simply nods and looks down at a flower on the comforter that she begins to trace with her index finger. I give her a couple of minutes, and when she doesn’t speak, I try again. “Penny for your thoughts.” “I’m sure you know what they are.” Her voice… It sounds like the weight of the world rests on her shoulders, and it breaks my heart to hear it. These are the carefree years of her life. At least they’re supposed to be. For the millionth time, I curse that day at the park. If only I’d taken her on a different day or to a different park, maybe she wouldn’t be going through this. None of this would be happening. “Probably, but I want to hear it from you.” She sighs and, even with her head tilted down, I see her chin begin to tremble. “I don’t know what to do, Momma.”

I take her hands in mine, quelling my urge to cry. “We’ll figure it out, honey. You don’t have to decide right this minute. Your counts still look good from your last blood transfusion. You’re healthy, gorgeous as ever.” I say the last with a smile and as much dramatic flare as I can manage when I feel like my chest is being ripped open. “And you’re as strong as anyone I’ve ever met. You’ll not only make the right choice, you’ll come through it like a champ. Because that’s what you do. You are my daughter after all.” She says nothing at first, but then finally casts a questioning look up at me through her lashes. “Are you going to tell him?” My stomach drops through the floor. “Am I going to tell who?” I know exactly who she’s talking about. He’s as much on her mind as he is on mine. “Him.” She knows I know who she’s talking about, too. She’s a smart girl. “Do you want me to?” She shrugs and returns to tracing the flower. A whole new set of worries unfurl before me, much like the flower she’s tracing would if it were real. Petal after petal opens, and with each one, something else to consider. I don’t want Celina to get hurt. That’s always my first concern. And while I wouldn’t have

thought twice about her heart being safe with the Dane that I used to know, the man I’ve seen since we’ve been back in Shepherd’s Mill isn’t him. He’s different. He seems…colder. Not that I can blame him. This place almost got its hooks in me and I was only here for five years. What if I’d been here for the last fifteen as well? As an adult? At least when I lived here, I had Dane. He kept me sane, kept me tied to the real world where we could be anything and anyone we wanted. He kept me from drowning in the ugliness here. But he didn’t have me. I left and he didn’t have anyone to keep him afloat for the last fifteen years, so whatever he has become, I can’t help feeling a little bit responsible for it. I abandoned him. Not because I wanted to, but because I made a poor choice that cost us both, only he didn’t know about it. He just thought I left. Celina’s voice brings my mind back to the troubles at hand. “Do you think he’d care?” “Of course, he would care. You’re his daughter.” I hope he cares. God, I hope he cares! “I wonder if…” She pauses for an eternity, or at least that’s what it feels like. Probably because I’m so on edge I’d need a horse tranquilizer to calm down right now. “Do you think he’ll want anything to do with me?” I know she’s just looking for reassurance, but I don’t want to give her false hope. She can’t take

any more devastating news right now. “I think he will, yes. Once he gets used to the idea. Men… sometimes they don’t deal with things the same way we do. It might take him a little while to work this out in his head. He probably won’t be very happy with me, but I had good reasons for the way I handled things. My main concern would be you two and your relationship. And, Celina Holland, once he meets you, he’ll fall in love. You’re the most wonderful, loveable person I know.” She nods as I speak and I’m praying as I go that I’m saying the right things, in the right way. The last thing I want is to cause my daughter pain. Moving here was supposed to help her, not hurt her. “I tell you what,” I say, taking her hands again and loudly kissing her knuckles. “Once we get our plan figured out, maybe we can get together with him. How does that sound? You can meet him without any big confessions first. Would that make you feel better? No pressure on either of you.” She gives me a weak smile. I’m sure that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it’s all I can give her right now. I don’t want to make things worse. “Yeah. Okay.” I unfold my legs and climb off the bed. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We can hash all this out after I’ve got a better grasp on everything. The charts will tell the tale. You know how I love my charts.” I grin and bend to kiss her forehead.

I’m a very visual person and, a long time ago, I started making charts to keep me on track. Charts for Celina’s activities, charts for my school stuff, charts weighing the pros and cons of vacation spots (the beach always won), charts for Christmas spending—you name it and I had a chart for it. I really am every bit the nerd my daughter thinks I am. “I hate those charts,” she says petulantly. I let it slide. She deserves to be a little snappish today. “Just wait until I start making charts for college options and wedding plans and baby showers. Then you’ll love my charts.” “If I make it that far.” A sucker punch to the chest. “Oh, little girl, you’ll make it. If I have to drag you that far, kicking and screaming, you’ll make it. You’ve got a lot of life left to live. You’re nowhere near the end yet. Nowhere near.” I smile as I make my way to the door. I slip through and close it behind me, and I barely make it to my room before I clamp a hand over my mouth and sink to the floor. My child is afraid for her life. She’s worrying about treatments and survival rates, while most girls her age are worried about whether to cut their hair or which boy smiled at them in science class. And now, on top of that, she’s got a father thrown into the mix.

As I lean against the door, sobbing silently into my hands, I realize that there’s a great likelihood that I’ve made as big a mess of my child’s life as my own mother did of mine. Maybe that apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

SLEEP . It’s a beautiful thing. When you have it. When you can get it. When you can access it. But when you don’t, when you can’t… It’s an elusive bitch. I don’t even rumple the covers on my bed. I don’t bother getting on it. I know sleep is far from me, so I sit in front of the window, like I did when I was a girl, and look out at the night, at the blank slate I wish life could be. In the night, troubles seem far away and the new day seems like it’s full of possibilities. There is a feeling of being able to reset the world when darkness falls. At least that’s how it’s always felt to me. I see the movement, and I think some part of me recognizes who it is right away. It’s just that it takes my brain a little longer to catch up. My brain seems to think that the dark image of a man

standing at the edge of a crescent of light is a figment of my imagination, not a real, live person. It’s when he takes another step into the light that I realize I’m not seeing things. There’s someone down there, and I don’t have to wonder for one second who it is. My fingers are shaking when I unlock the window and push it up. It groans like an old man, probably because it hasn’t been opened since I was last here, talking to Dane James through it, a teenaged girl in love. God really does have a sense of humor. “Dane James.” Just saying his name sends a shiver down my spine. This, all this, feels like a lifetime ago in some ways, and like just yesterday in others. “Can you come down?” The voice is a bit different, the hair is a bit different, but the rest of this is so achingly familiar, I want to cry all over again. I don’t hesitate. “Be right there.” I make my way downstairs and the irony of returning here, fifteen years later, a grown woman, and sneaking out of the house to meet the same guy I ran away to protect is not lost on me. Neither is the wild butterfly house my stomach has become. It’s full of fluttering and dancing all the way to the door. When I step out into the night, Dane rounds the

corner. I stop and wait. He continues toward me in that sexy swagger of his, fingers in his front pockets, eyes trained on me. Even in the dark, I can feel the heat of his attention. It’s like the sun on a fall day. It warms me through and through, even though we are far from the boy and girl with stars in our eyes that we were fifteen years ago. A wide chasm filled with bad choices and half-truths stands between us now, and I’m not sure we’ll ever find our way over it. Dane stops in front of me. He says nothing, just stares down at me. This whole scene takes me back to better days, days I thought were the worst, and it makes me long for a do-over. Slowly, like he’s trying not to spook me, or maybe like he isn’t sure he’s doing the right thing, he reaches for my hand where it dangles at my side. I don’t resist when he threads his fingers through mine, and I don’t hesitate when he tips his head toward the field and takes a step in that direction. I follow him just like I always did. I wonder if I always will, if that’s one of the things that hasn’t changed. Neither of us speaks as Dane leads me down the driveway and across to the field. It feels as though the wheat parts for us when we step into it, like it remembers us, remembers our love, and is bowing down in homage to it. As I did so many years ago, I hold out my free

hand and let the fuzzy tips of the wheat scrape across my palm. It’s one more sensory link between today and yesterday, the present and the past. The woman I am and the girl I was. When we reach the rock, as always, Dane hops onto it first before reaching down to help me up. Once my feet are on the solid surface, he backs up and then sits down, drawing his spread knees up and wrapping his arms loosely around them. I don’t say anything. I just sit, too, as I wait for Dane to begin conversation. He came to get me, after all. He must have something to say. “Did you change your mind?” I don’t answer right away. I have no clue what he’s talking about. “About what?” “Coming with me to the river.” I slap my forehead. “Shit! I completely forgot.” He slides his eyes toward me and studies me. “You sure that’s all it is?” “What else would it be?” One big shoulder lifts in a shrug. That damn shrug. I have a love-hate relationship with it. “We’ve got a lot of history. Most of it not good. I can’t say I’d blame you for running like hell.” “You think most of our history is bad?” “Don’t you?” I think about his question for a long time before I answer. “No. I don’t. Every time I think of you, it’s good. Every time. I don’t have any bad

memories of you. None.” I pause for a second before asking, “You must not be able to say the same thing about me.” He doesn’t answer, probably because he can’t deny it. And that hurts. Inordinately. Finally, he says, “I spent a lot of years watching you, wanting you, never being able to have you. And then when I got you, you took off. I guess I have a lot of years of…mixed feelings.” “Wow.” That’s all I can think to say. Probably because, from his perspective, I can see how he’d feel that way. “I never meant to hurt you. You know that, right? That if I could’ve changed any of those things, I would’ve?” He nods. “Yeah, I know.” “I wanted you just as much as you wanted me. I was just as stuck as you were.” “This damn town…” He shakes his head and I sigh. It stole so much from both of us. Shepherd’s Mill and Alton. The devil and the antichrist, although I can’t be sure which one is which. “About the river, I really did forget. I’ve…I’ve had a lot on my mind.” “Wanna talk about it?” No. Yes. Desperately. I’m terrified.

“My…my daughter is sick.” “Sick?” “Yeah.” The tremor hits my bottom lip before the tears burn my eyes. It’s been such an emotional day, such an emotional few days that I’m not sure I can talk about this without falling to pieces. But I have to. Dane deserves to know, even if he doesn’t yet know she’s his daughter. And Celina wants him to know. After all that I’ve done, to both of them, I owe them this much. “She h-has aplastic anemia.” With a quavering voice, I tell him how it happened, and how dangerous it is. He doesn’t say anything, not a single word for an eternity. “So this is life-threatening?” “It is. It could be for sure. Hers was classified as moderate until about a month ago. They’ve been given her a few blood transfusions to keep her built up, but they’re becoming less effective. Her condition is steadily getting worse, which means she’s escalating toward severe. We have to get it under control. And today…today we went to see a specialist at Duke, and the options are…are…” I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to hold in the fear, the worry, the uncertainty, the horrific thought that there is a possibility that I could lose

my child in all of this. Dane scoots closer to me and draws me against his side. I think we both realize it feels…tentative, but I’m just glad he’s willing to offer comfort, comfort I so desperately need. I cry quietly at his side, and he lets me, and when it seems to have tailed off, he asks, “What are the options?” I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. I feel like I’ve cried rivers in the last year, and just when I think there’s nothing left, there is more. So much more. “There is a new drug that shows promise, but it has to be given in addition to a really strong chemo drug. The side effects are pretty awful, but there’s a chance her condition could be dramatically improved, if not cured. The other option is a bone marrow transplant, which would be best in some ways. It has the highest chances of curing her. At her age, it’s almost certain, but she doesn’t have a sibling and another match could be close but not a complete match, so that carries its own risks. The thing is, she’d have to take some awful medication to deplete her own marrow first, which would cause many of the same side effects as the other. And one of the side effects…one of them is that she…she… she could end up being sterile.” The ache in my heart, the pain of thinking what my daughter might and likely will have to suffer, bears down on me like the weight of a car sitting on

my chest. I start to cry again, only harder as I think about the options, my little girl, and her future. “She’s just a baby herself. What if she’s never able to experience carrying a child, holding a warm, wiggling piece of the love she shares with her husband, all because I took her to the park on the wrong day? What if she never gets to experience being a regular teenaged girl, breaking rules and sneaking around, pining over boys and cheering at football games? All I ever wanted was for her to be happy. So, so happy. I wanted to give her everything I never had. And now… Her life might be ruined.” That’s when I lose it. It’s as though the dam that has been holding me together these past months just disintegrates and all the fear, all the pain, all the helplessness comes rushing to the surface where it overflows. I feel Dane’s lips move against my hair as he speaks. “You’ll figure it out. I know you, Brinkley. You’ll find a way.” “I hope so.” We sit in silence for a while, each lost in thought. Mine are centered on Celina. I have no idea what Dane’s thinking, not until he asks a question that sweeps the legs right out from under me. “Is her father not in the picture?” I don’t move a muscle. I don’t breathe. I don’t

even think my heart beats for a few seconds. Now would be the perfect time to tell him, but…I can’t. Celina wants me to wait. But also, I dread the fallout. He’ll hate me. And that’ll kill me, but he deserves to know. I’ll tell him eventually. Just not right now. Not just yet. “No. It’s.” I exhale. “It’s a long story.” “I’m not going anywhere. You?” I hear the smile, the teasing in his voice. “Did you come here for me to purposely bore you to death?” “Your life isn’t boring to me.” I laugh, trying to be breezy, but feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, it’s definitely not a conversation I want to have right now. Let’s talk about something good.” I lean up and give him a side-eye and a grin. “Like how you ended up with this place. Please tell me you pulled one over on Alton. That would make my whole day. Maybe even my whole year.” Dane grins. “I have to admit, it was pretty damn cool.” The smile is both wolfish and delightful. “Tell me everything.” We huddle together, on our rock, in the night, and Dane tells me all about how he took his knowledge of the wheat operation, got a degree going to night classes when he could and taking as many online courses as he could.

“I made sure I knew everything there was to know about not just wheat and business, but about this operation. So when the opportunity arose for me to do something about it, I did. “In that letter he left for me with his will, Dad told me Alton was trying to expand, for me not to let go of my stake in this place, not for any amount of money. So I kept my ear to the ground, made some superficial friends at the country club, and when I heard murmurings of Alton looking for investors, I incorporated and I bought a little more heavily into this place. Of course, he didn’t look into it, had no idea I was behind it, which just made it that much better. And then when he wanted more money, he went out again, so I bought more through a different company. Four times, he sold shares of this place to investors. And four times, I bought them. I guess the one piece of satisfaction I have is that, before he died, I got to tell him that I owned him. I’d already gone to him with the court papers showing my interest in the company, but that wasn’t enough. And he knew it. But to watch him learn that I had the controlling interest in his family’s business…Jesus, that was incredible. He never wanted it to come to me, of course, so taking it, taking it from him was…it was pretty damn great.” My mouth drops open. “That’s…God, that’s awesome! I’d have given anything to be there for

that. I bet it felt so good. What did he say? What did his face look like?” “At first he didn’t believe me, so I showed him the certificates from all the different companies. He got a little pale at first, but then he turned beet red. He stood up from his desk and said, ‘You son of a bitch.’ I stopped him right there. I swear to God, I think my blood actually started to boil. All I could think about was what he’d done, what kind of a bastard he’d been all his life. I reached across his desk and grabbed him by the throat. I think he might’ve pissed himself a little when I did.” Dane laughs and I laugh right along with him, the mental image almost as satisfying as it would’ve been to be there. “I told him to be very careful about what came out of his mouth next, not to forget that I owned him. I could destroy him if I wanted to.” “What did he say?” “Not one damn thing. He knew it was true. And I planned on following through eventually, but…he died before I could. That asshole got the last laugh anyway.” Dane’s bitterness returns with a curl of his lip. “No, he didn’t. You hit him where it hurt. That was the only weakness he had, and you stole it right out from under his nose. That’s the best revenge you could’ve gotten.” Dane’s expression has turned serious. “It doesn’t feel like it. I’ve hated him for so long, I

don’t think anything short of watching the life drain out of him while I choked him to death would make me feel vindicated.” He pauses for a long minute before he glances over at me. “But that probably wouldn’t even help. Living with that kind of hate… I just think it’s time to let it go. I have to.” “Did—” Impulsively, I start to ask a question, but with that one word, I reconsider. I might not want to know that answer. Unfortunately, Dane doesn’t want to let it drop. “Did what?” “Nothing.” “What? What were you going to ask?” Hesitantly, I ask, “Did you hate me? Do you hate me?” Dane’s eyes search mine. Even in the low light, I can see that they’re back to the warmer shade I could never forget rather than the cold ones I returned to. “No. I thought I did. For a while. But it never really took.” I nod. I don’t really have a response. It stings, yes, but I guess I just have to be glad that isn’t the case anymore. We fall quiet again, and I’m suddenly aware of how exhausted I am. Without meaning to, I sway against Dane. “You’d probably better get back. Get some sleep. I know you must be tired.” I nod and Dane stands, offering his hand, which

I take. This time, he holds it as we walk to the edge of the rock, and when he jumps down he lifts both arms toward me. I don’t know why, but that seems significant, like he’s opening up to me. Or maybe that he’s telling me it’s okay to fall. Or maybe I’m just overwhelmed and overtired. At this point, it could be anything. I lean down and let Dane help me to the ground. He’s a little slower to release me this time, which gives me a pleasant jitter. I’m smiling when I say, “G’night, Dane.” “See you later, alligator.” I can’t miss the twinkle in his eye. And it’s almost my undoing. “After while, crocodile.” All of a sudden, I feel like laughing, like a carefree young girl. “Sleep well, Brinkley Sommers.” This… It’s an olive branch. I think. Or I could be delusional. It wouldn’t be the first time Dane James has caused me to lose my mind.

CHAPTER 26

T

he following day, Dane James shows up like a wraith, born of the fog and shadows. Sexy and mysterious and tempting. He walks toward me in that loose-hipped way he has and I can’t help staring. By the time he reaches me, he’s grinning like he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. “You coming?” “Yep.” I hop up from my chair where I’d been doing some work on my laptop again. I hadn’t chosen that spot specifically so that I’d be able to see Dane, but… Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, I did. His voice stops me before I make it through the door. “Does your daughter like animals?” I think of how much Celina loves animals, and how I’ve always told her she gets it from her father.

My smile reaches all the way to my soul when I answer. “She loves them.” “She can come, too. If you want.” My lungs swell as I drag a slow breath into them. He’s nervous. I see it now, in the hesitant way he asked, in the way he stuffed his hands into his pockets, in the way he’s trying to sound so casual. Dane James wants to meet my daughter, like really meet her, and he’s trying not to show it. The backs of my eyes sting, so I just nod enthusiastically and walk away before I make a complete and utter fool of myself in front of him. I run up the stairs in search of Celina, who should be in her room doing her chemistry work. Her door is cracked and I can see her inside, sitting cross-legged on her bed, chin to chest, earbuds in her ears, looking so glum it stops my heart for a second. She must be thinking about her life, her future. Her choice. We still haven’t talked about it. I was giving her time and space, as well as giving myself a chance to educate up, before I broached it again. I know even having the discussion will add weight to her thin shoulders and I hate seeing them sag with it. No teenager should have to consider consequences like the ones she’s facing. No teenager should have to choose between therapies that will make them miserable and sicker and

possibly steal their progeny from them. And yet, she does. Mine does. When she first got sick nearly a year ago, we decided that we’d handle her health care together. I promised I wouldn’t make any unilateral decisions with regard to her treatment. I promised I would only pull the mother card and overrule her if she were choosing something that was utterly senseless or detrimental to her health in a way that was avoidable. I’ve kept my word. I’m glad we’re making the decision together. The options in this case are both brutal and detrimental to her health, but less so than the anemia. That’s the worst part of all. She’ll basically have to be poisoned and depleted to be cured. If she can be cured, which they’re very optimistic that she can. But I want her to look at each path and think about how she wants to go forward. I have my feelings on the matter, but I won’t tell her until after she comes to her own conclusion. I knock lightly so I don’t scare her. “You learned the whole book in a couple of hours? Wow, that’s fast,” I say, nodding to the closed book in front of her. I sit on the bed and pull one knee up. She gives me a look that says she knows why I’m here. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Bet you don’t.” This has been looming, hanging over our heads for days. I’m very glad at this moment that, even if we touch on the subject now, I have Dane waiting downstairs to take her mind off it. “I do. It’s time to make a decision.” She sighs, a sound that’s so heavy I feel like it might choke me. “We don’t have to decide right this minute. You can still take some time to be sure. This isn’t something to rush into, but we do need to talk about it eventually.” “I know. I just…” Her chin begins to tremble. “I just don’t want to do either one. It’s gonna be awful, Momma.” She leans forward and puts her cheek on my shoulder, and I cup the side of her head. God in heaven, I’d do anything, anything in the world, to take this from her. If I could suck all the sickness from her body and put it into mine, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d rather be on death’s doorstep than to watch my child suffer. There is nothing worse. Nothing in all of creation. I don’t say anything for the longest time. I’m not sure I can push words past the enormous lump in my throat. I gulp and gulp until it eases. “Did I ever tell you about what your kindergarten teacher said about you?” “No.” Her voice is miserable. “It was at the beginning of the second half of

the school year. Your teacher—Mrs. Hammond was her name—had made a note on your report card that she’d like for me to come in and talk with her some time, so I did. She told me that she’d noticed you struggling with running in gym class since the start of school. My heart stopped, I tell ya. I thought she was going to tell me that you had some sort of physical problem, like with your feet or your back or something. She went on to tell me how she’d thought the same thing, and how she’d pulled you aside one day and asked if you were hurting. You said no. She asked you a few other questions, I don’t remember now what they were, but in the end, she said she figured maybe you just weren’t capable of doing what the other kids could do, which I guess was to run a certain distance within a certain amount of time. Anyway, she told you to do the best you could and she’d talk to me about getting a doctor’s excuse to have you put into a different gym class. She said the very next day, you started running during recess. You ran that day, and the day after that, and the day after that. She said you ran around the little track every time you went outside. She said you did that for two weeks straight, and she started to see an improvement in gym class. You started doing better and better, and by the end of the first half of the year, you were one of the fastest in her class.” Celina raises her head to look at me when I pause. “Do you know

why she wanted to meet with me, babe?” Her eyes on mine, she shakes her head. “She just wanted to tell me what a fighter you were.” I turn and take Celina’s hands in mine. “I know you’re scared, Celina, but I also know this. She was right. You are a fighter. You’re stronger than you know. There are so many days when I wish I was as strong as you.” I tuck one long strand of honey hair behind her ear, blinking back tears. “You inspire me every day. Did you know that?” “What if I disappoint you, Momma? What if I can’t be as strong as you think I am?” “Honey, you could never, ever disappoint me. Strong is who you are. It’s as much a part of you as your green eyes and your long legs. And dammit, how I wish I had legs like that.” I add the last with a smile. Her lips wobble with her attempt to respond. “Baby girl, you just be yourself. That will always be enough. You will always be enough.” She leans against me again, and I scoot around so I can hold her. We sit in the quiet for a couple of minutes until she speaks again. “I love you, Momma.” “Not half as much as I love you.” I kiss her sweetly scented hair and then jostle my shoulder. “Guess who’s downstairs waiting to take us to the river to show us…I don’t know what he’s going to show us, actually.” I laugh when Celina’s head pops up and her eyes widen with excitement.

“My father?” “The one and only.” “Can we go?” “Ummmm, yeah. He’s waiting on us.” She leaps off the bed and grabs her shoes, sparing a look in the mirror before turning to me and asking, “Do I look okay?” “You look beautiful. As always.” She smiles and takes off out the door. I hear the thump of her feet as she flies down the stairs. I take a moment before I follow her. I say a silent prayer that God will pave the way for this to all work out perfectly between them, and I try my best to quell the urge to cry. This feels too huge not to cry, but I can’t let them see it, so I have to suck it up for a while, just until we can get back to the house. Then I’ll excuse myself to the bathroom and sob into a towel for a week. But not until we get back. For now, I’ll be strong. Strong like my daughter.

W HEN WE WALK out onto the front porch, Dane is lounging in the rocking chair I usually sit in, legs outstretched, head tipped back, eyes closed. He doesn’t move when Celina and I step out. She looks

back and forth between Dane and me a few times, landing on me with a look that asks, What do we do? Naturally, my first thought is to scare him. I mime my plan to scare him by walking my two fingers across my palm and then making a clawsand-teeth face. Celina grins and nods. She’s always up for a good prank. I turn and tiptoe across the porch, my stealth surprising even me. When I get to within a few inches of Dane, I prepare to reach for his arm and make a loud growling noise, but before I can, he sits up abruptly and shouts. Unsuspecting as I am, I jump and squeal in alarm. I even hear my daughter give a little squeak of shock from behind me. Dane bursts into laughter. “You’re the devil,” I tell him, trying not to laugh myself. “He totally got you, Mom.” I glance back at Celina who is practically glowing as she claps her hands in glee. Dane stands, looking all cocky and proud of himself. “Did you seriously think you could scare me? I heard you coming down the steps all the way out here. It sounded like a herd of buffalo.” I gasp in mock horror. “Did you…did you just call me a buffalo?” “No, I said you sounded like a herd of buffalo. There’s a difference.” “Is this about my butt? Because a woman can’t

help where her weight settles. A lot of men like a big butt. You know junk in the trunk and all that.” I increase the speed of my chatter, doing my best to assume a distressed look on my face. “And no amount of walking can get rid of it. I’ve tried. I’ve walked miles and miles, and it never gets any smaller and I don’t know what else I can do and I’m so self-conscious, and I hate the way I look in jeans, and nothing fits me right, and I…I…” I pause, breathing as though I’m becoming overwhelmed. Celina and I used to do this all the time—practice our “Daytime Emmy” skills. We’ve both gotten quite good, if I do say so myself. Dane’s face has slowly fallen into one of discomfort and disbelief. I can almost see him wondering how this has gone so wrong, so quickly. “Brinkley, I didn’t mean that. I—” “Men are just… You’re so impossible to please. And I…I…I’ve done everything I can and do I need surgery? Should I consider liposuction? Everyone’s doing it. They say it’s safe, and chances of infection are pretty slim, and those are the only things I can think of that might help. Unless I starve myself. Is that what it will take to make you happy?” I’m doing everything but crying until I hear Celina snort. Then I collapse into a fit of giggles. Dane’s face is a bulldozed blank. We both say simultaneously, “Gotcha!”

Dane’s shoulders sag in relief just before he looks at me and says very, very softly, “All I’m gonna say is you two’d better run.” It takes a second for his meaning to register, and the moment it does, I turn, grab Celina, and we take off down the porch steps, zooming across the driveway with Dane hot on our heels. In boots, no less. We stop at the edge of the field. Celina and I are out of breath. Dane is right behind us and not even panting. All three of us are smiling. He puts his hands on his slender hips and informs us warningly, “All I’m gonna say is you girls better watch your back.” He holds up two fingers and points them at his eyes and then at ours, like he’ll be watching us. I shake my head and glance at Celina. Her smile is the brightest I’ve seen it in months. Maybe a year, since she first got sick. I don’t think anything could make my heart happier, lighter. “So why are you dragging us out here?” I’m still in a teasing mood. “Come on. I’ll show you.” Dane starts off through the field, and we walk slightly behind him until we get to the old path that goes down to the river, then he drops back so we can walk side by side. Celina is between us, and he entertains her with outlandish stories about how, when he was a kid, he cut trees as big around as

cars from this path, felled them like a real lumberjack. He said he had muscles bigger than all the men and he could pick up horses without breaking a sweat. Celina laughed almost constantly, and ate it all up. And I ate up the two of them together. Dane took a detour before we reached the river. He stepped off the path and walked a ways into the woods. He scanned the ground as he went. I had no idea what he was looking for until he reaches down and picks up a pretty little painted turtle. He straightens, smiling from ear to ear, and holds the turtle so Celina can see it. She’s wide-eyed and thrilled. “Can I hold it?” “Sure. Just grab it like this.” He shows her how to hold it by its shell. She looks into its face and grins when it jerks its head back into the safety of its mobile home. “Is it yours?” “Kinda. I raised this one’s father.” His eyes shift to mine. Then it clicks. “Stanley!” Dane grins a half-grin and nods. “Yep. He met him a gorgeous girl and they had babies about a year ago. Two of them stayed around here. This is one of them.” “Who’s Stanley?”

“He was kind of like my pet when I was growing up. My dad wouldn’t let me have a dog, which is what I wanted, so I found Stanley the turtle living down here by the river and I brought him mushrooms every day.” Images as vivid as lightning in the sky flash through my mind, images of Dane and me walking this very path one summer day so many years ago. I can picture his eyes and his shaggy hair, the way his face looked when he talked about that turtle, the sadness that overtook it when he talked about a day when Stanley might leave. Sunshine and green trees and a happiness I didn’t think I’d find in Shepherd’s Mill. All because of a boy. This boy. This man. “What’s this one’s name?” Celina is still trying to coax it to come back out of its shell, much like her father is trying to coax her out of hers. “Nothing yet. What would be a good name for her?” “Sarabella.” Her reply is instant, and I have no idea where it came from. Dane smiles. “Pretty name for a pretty turtle. Sarabella it is.” He pauses and I wonder what he’s waiting for. Then I realize it’s assurance. Or maybe courage. “You wanna help me keep ’em fed?” Celina jumps on the chance. “Sure!” They chat about how best to achieve this as I

listen and watch. Until Celina, Dane was the love of my life. When my child was born, I knew I’d never love anything more. And having the two of them together? It’s like heart overload. I can’t ever remember feeling so full. So complete. And like such a liar. When we get back to the house, some two hours later, I see Momma standing on the porch. When she spots us, I see her shoulders sag like she might be relieved, but that only lasts for a second. I watch her gaze flicker from me to Celina to Dane and back to me again. Then I watch her eyes narrow, her mouth pucker slightly, and her posture stiffen. She glares at me for a few seconds then turns on her heel and marches right back into the house. I do my best to ignore her and enjoy these last minutes with Dane and Celina, but her disapproval is there niggling at the back of my mind like a burr caught under my saddle.

CHAPTER 27

I

t’s been a week since Dane took Celina and me down to the river. Each day he’s shown up by early afternoon, quite possibly to avoid my mother (smart man), and each day we’ve done something together. All three of us. One day he brought Carolina barbecue sandwiches with fries and cole slaw for lunch. Both Celina and I loved that. “We are all about the fast, faster, and fastest food in our house, aren’t we, C?” Celina nodded vigorously since her mouth was full and she couldn’t answer. “You don’t cook much, huh?” “Uh, no. I leave that to Momma. I order out and I’m damn good at it.” Again, Celina nodded, her head bobbing quickly.

“I grill. I cook everything on a grill. Even pizza.” “What?” That my daughter muttered around her mouthful, her astonishment was so great. “You’ve never lived until you’ve had grilled pizza. I’ll make it for y’all sometime.” I think both Celina and I had our mental pencils poised over our mental calendars, ready to jump at the chance to be with him again. One day he took us to the new barn, a fancy thing he had erected after Alton died. He kept all the big equipment in there. He took Celina out on one of the tractors and let her drive it around a smaller empty field closer to the river. One day he helped her with her algebra. Dane James, in addition to being beautiful and successful and kind and the man of my dreams, is also smart. Like really smart. One day he drove us into town for midday ice cream. He presented it like it was a thing. “You know, midday ice cream. Everybody does it.” “Not everybody.” Dane slid a look over to me, one dark brow lifted, and said, “Something else I’m more than happy to teach you then.” The way he said teach you… I almost melted on the spot. The three of us piled into his truck and he drove

us to Dove’s Ice Cream Shop. We went in and ordered, me a coconut almond chocolate swirl, Dane and Celina mint chocolate chip with cherries and whipped cream. “You like that, too?” It was Celina who asked when Dane ordered last. “It’s my favorite.” Her smile was the most luminous thing I’d ever seen. His almost matched. We took our cones to a table out on the sidewalk to enjoy them in the sun. We laughed and slurped and tried to bump each other’s elbows and smear each other’s faces like three juvenile delinquents skipping school in the spring. It was the perfect afternoon until a catty purr interrupted our fun. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the town misfits.” Lauren was walking by with Cassie and a man I recognized as an older Taylor Kraus. I could tell by the superior look on his face that he hadn’t changed one iota. Dane wasn’t the least bit ruffled by her remark. “Sure is.” “Dane, you really should be more careful about your reputation. We all love Brinkley, but she didn’t come back under the best circumstances.” Her eyes slid pointedly toward Celina and my hackles prickled. I started to stand. I had every

intention of slapping the spit right out of her mouth. I didn’t care that she was my boss. Dane’s hand to my arm stopped me. “Lauren, don’t you think it’s time to grow up?” He said it with a smile, much more than I could muster. “Come on, babe. She’s just an employee,” Taylor said, tugging her arm. “No point in wasting your time on either of them. There never was.” Lauren gave Dane one last lingering look, smirked at me, and let Taylor lead her away. Cassie followed right on her heels, refusing to glance in our direction. A couple of minutes after they’d walked away, it was Celina who broke the silence. “What a bitch!” I looked at Dane, Dane looked at me, and we both looked at Celina, then burst into laughter. “That’s my girl,” I said, leaning over to give her a loud kiss on her cheek. Dane lifted a hand for a high five and his daughter was more than happy to oblige. The day ended on a good note, even if Lauren did her best to ensure otherwise. I noticed on one of the couple of days when Dane didn’t show up that Celina kept coming downstairs. She’d wander through the rooms like she didn’t know what to do with herself, even though she had schoolwork to do.

I didn’t say anything. I knew how she felt. He didn’t show up today and she did the same thing. It reminded me how dangerous it would be to let her get close to Dane, only to have him rebuff her. Not telling him she is his daughter is becoming increasingly risky. And the prospect of doing it is becoming increasingly unsavory to me. As I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling from my childhood, working out problems from my adulthood, I think about Dane and our strange lifelong relationship, and I think of Celina and what I hope her experience with him will be. At this point, that’s all I have, though—hopes. I have no assurances, just the confidence I had in the boy I used to know. For a second, I wish I were a girl again. Back then, my biggest worries were fitting in with my peers and wanting a boy I shouldn’t want. They seemed huge at the time, insurmountable, but compared with the problems I have now, they were silly. Petty. Inconsequential. My child has a life-threatening disease, her treatment will be brutal no matter what she chooses, and the responsibility to see her through it and finance it all rests squarely on my shoulders. And Dane…he has a child that he doesn’t know exists. At least not in that capacity. I have to tell him at some point. And then I have to weather the

fallout. Seems like these issues are a bit weightier than the social concerns of my teen years. I hear the first tick come at twenty minutes after twelve. I smile. It still strikes me as funny that, at thirty-two years old, Dane and I are still sneaking around. As always, though, the nighttime is ours. It’s a special place where we work things out. We always have. And I guess we still are. We’re figuring out who we are again. As friends, and maybe even as more than friends. I get up and walk to the window. Sure enough, Dane James is standing below it, looking up, hefting another small rock to throw. I lift the glass. “Dane James.” My heart feels light as we play this age-old game. It’s comforting somehow. “Can you come down?” I don’t say of course, even though that’s what I’m thinking. “On my way.” I slip on some shorts and my flip-flops and head downstairs, the routine wonderfully familiar. Even many of the sensations are the same as they were when I was a girl—excitement, exhilaration, anticipation, attraction, optimism. Everything is just different at night. That’s something that hasn’t changed at all. When I step outside, he’s there. He reaches for

my hand. I’m more than happy to wrap my fingers around his when he does. We walk in silence to the rock. I don’t have to ask where we’re going. I know. This is as much a part of who we are, together, as it is part of an old routine. The rock is a part of our history, our love, our very souls, it seems. When we reach it, he jumps up first. As always. Then he helps me up. As always. He sits first and I follow suit. Right away, he says, “Tell me the best moment of your life, besides the birth of Celina, that happened while you were gone.” I laugh. “What?” “I’ve missed fifteen years of your life. If you don’t fill me in, I’ll never know.” He wants to know. He wants to know about my life, my past. He wants to know me again. Hope and optimism surge through me. “Wow! Don’t start with the easy stuff or anything.” He sends a cock-eyed grin my way. “When have we ever been easy?” I seesaw my head. “Good point.” I take breath and really think. “Most of my best moments surround Celina, but if I have to take her out of the

equation, I suppose it would be graduating from college. I felt so accomplished, like I’d done something no one else thought I could, or would help me to do. I did it all by myself.” “You went to college?” “I did.” I can’t keep the pride from my voice. “I waited tables for a while when Celina was little. That makes for a hard life. I knew it wouldn’t get any better unless I did something about it, so when she went to kindergarten, I went back to school. I applied for financial aid at the community college. Got a ton of it, of course, because we were dirt poor. I took two classes during the mornings and worked the afternoons while Celina was at school and then at the after school program. Took me four years to get an associates degree in accounting, but I did it. After that, I got a job doing books under a CPA. The pay was a lot better and I could work from home at night after Celina went to bed. That opened up my days so I could go back to school full-time when she did. I graduated and became a CPA, and that’s when things really changed for us.” “So what about her dad?” I frown. “I thought we were doing fun questions.” “Oh, did I say that? I must’ve missed that part.” I laugh. “What about you?” He barely has to think about it. “The day my house was finished.”

“You had the house built?” “I did. I’ll show you sometime. Maybe you and Celina can come over and behold my incredible grill skill.” “She’d love that.” I don’t add that I would, too. “I built on some land I bought on the other side of the river. When I found out about Alton and the shares and what he’d done, and when I made up my mind to try to get control of the company, I bought that parcel with the intention of expanding one day, of having wheat on both sides of the river and being bigger than Alton ever was. In a way, seeing that house take shape was like watching my dream take shape. How corny is that?” He laughs a bit sheepishly at the end. “That’s not corny at all. I think it’s great. You’ve done so much with your life here. Against all odds. Everyone in town was betting against you.” My mind rolls back in time. “When I was a girl, I couldn’t understand why no one else could see how wonderful you were. I’m glad they finally did.” “Nothing’s changed. I just have money now. I have what they value. I’ve always had what I value.” I rest my chin on my deltoid as I stare over at him, so glorious in the moonlight. “You have. You’re as solid and stable and comfortable with

who you are as this rock.” I slap the boulder beneath me for emphasis. “I don’t know about that. For a while after you left, I was pretty bitter. I was torn. I was torn between turning myself into one of them, because in some sort of weird way I felt like I’d be worthy of you if you ever came back, and being a hellion just to piss them all off. I think I probably ended up falling somewhere in the middle.” “You never had to be anything other than Dane James to be worthy of me, worthy to me. I loved you just like you were.” He’s doing the same thing I am—watching me over his arm. For a while neither of us says anything, but something is happening in the silence. Something is growing. Or maybe regrowing. And the heat of it is increasing with every second that passes. And it’s hot. So very hot. “Tell me about your house.” “It’s nothing fancy, but I like it. It’s split log exterior with a modern interior. Four bed, three bath. Got a great backyard. Lots of grass. I always wanted grass growing up. You know, instead of that gravel lot the barn sat on.” A pang shoots through my heart. He didn’t even have grass. Something as simple as grass to play in. It makes me want to bring Alton back just so I can kill him.

“That’s a big house to live in by yourself. Never a woman to help you fill it?” Even as I ask, I’m starting to hold my breath. I’ve wanted to know, but not. I know it will bother me, but I need to know. “Not to live there, no.” “So you never married?” “Nope. You?” “Nope.” Dane shifts so that his legs are stretched out in front of him and he leans back. “There is something you should probably know, though.” My guts twist in dread. “What’s that?” “I, uh, I dated Lauren for a while.” “I know. I was still here when that was going on.” “After that.” “Oh,” is my deadpan response. “For how long?” “We dated after high school. A few years ago, for a while.” “A while?” “Yeah. About four years.” My belly does an unpleasant flop. “Oh. Wow. That must’ve been fairly serious then.” “I thought she’d changed, but you know Lauren.” “Yeah. I know Lauren. I can’t believe she married Taylor.”

“Yeah, that was doomed from the beginning.” “Why?” “She was still in love with me. That’s what started her drinking. I think she realized she made a mistake in marrying him to try to get back at me.” I think back to the early morning cocktail she had. “That’s a shame. So you…you don’t love her anymore?” “God, no! I never did. I tried. I thought we could both be different people, but we just weren’t. I’ll never be one of them. She’ll never be anything but one of them.” I have to admit that it makes me very uncomfortable to learn of this. I really wish he hadn’t told me, honestly. But considering what all he has to forgive me for, it’d be the epitome of hypocrisy for me to balk over this. But it still stings. “If she hadn’t married Taylor, you don’t think you’d have gotten back together?” “No. I was done. My heart was never in it. I know it’s a dick thing to do—dating someone you know you’ll never be able to love the way they need—but I was good to her. She just wasn’t for me. Plain and simple.” “Why’s that?” He pauses to look over at me. “She just wasn’t you.” God, I hate how happy it makes me to hear

that. I try to keep the joy out of my voice when I mutter a soft, “Oh.” “I was never as interested in her as I was you. I think…I think I dated her partly to get back at you, because I knew how much you’d hate it. I’m still pissed at myself for that, too.” “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of.” I win the gold medal in that event. “I just hate it for her that she ended up with Taylor. He cheats on her with anything in a skirt. He’s the same asshole he was in school.” I feel my lip curl. “Sounds like it.” After a couple of minutes, Dane laughs. “He’s lucky I didn’t drive to his house and beat his ass that night I picked you up.” I smile just thinking about how wonderful it felt that Dane wanted to protect me. “It only would’ve made things worse for you, but part of me would’ve loved to have seen you do it.” “I wouldn’t have cared. I’d have done anything for you.” Dane watches me with dark eyes and a serious expression. The way he’s staring at me… Air stops flowing into my lungs. My voice is breathless when I admit, “I know. Because I’d have done anything for you, too.” And I would have. Anything. In fact, I left in the wee hours of the morning,

moved away all by myself, and birthed and raised a child on my own just to save him. “Has it been too long, Brinkley? Have we come too far to go back to the way things were?” “I…I don’t think we can ever go back.” He nods his agreement. “But I think we can make a way forward. Or at least we can give it a try. If…if that’s something you want to do.” He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off mine. “Will this ‘try’ include kissing?” I grin because I can’t help it, not any more than I can help the way my stomach flips over and my blood goes up in flames. “I think it most definitely should include kissing. I mean, what kind of adults would we be if we didn’t take advantage of adult freedoms? Like kissing, for instance.” “Shitty ones. And I don’t want to be a shitty adult.” “Me either.” “Maybe I should walk you home and we can be amazing adults right under your window, just to piss Alton off.” “Oh, I think that sounds like a superior idea.” The world around me is as dark as blue velvet, but the world inside me…it’s as bright as midday. “And maybe we should meet out here tomorrow night. To practice being amazing adults.” “I like the way you think, Mr. James.” “I like your enormous ass, Ms. Sommers.” I

have to laugh at that. “The ‘junk in the trunk’ comment should’ve tipped me off.” “Probably.” Dane helps me up and I dust off the very trunk we’re speaking of. Dane leans around to watch me as I do. “I always did love your ass, but now you’ve brought so much attention to it, you only have yourself to blame when I stare at it every time you turn around.” I swat at my shorts. “It is kinda big, though.” “It’s not big. It’s round and perfect and…” He makes a hissing sound as he pulls in air through his teeth. “I really want to bite it.” “Bite it?” Cold chills spread down my arms when he brings his eyes back to mine. I haven’t seen that hungry look in fifteen long, long years. His voice drops low and he takes a small step closer to me and adds, “Don’t worry. I’d kiss it afterward. To make it feel better. Because I’m one helluvan adult.” I’m breathless. And I love it. “I think anything would feel better after a kiss from you.” He bends down, cupping his ear. “What’s that? You’re feeling poorly? I have just what you need.” “Poorly?” I barely get the word and the giggle that accompanies it out of my mouth before Dane James is taking me in his arms and pressing his lips

to mine. That’s the moment when I remember what heaven feels like. And tastes like. It feels and tastes like Dane James. Even after all this time, he is my heaven. And so begins a nightly ritual that makes me fall in love with the wrong boy, but the right man all over again. I can only hope he’s falling for me, too. Until I tell him that I hid his daughter from him for fourteen years. Then he’ll realize that he hates me.

CHAPTER 28

A

barely-audible knock at my bedroom door wakes me. I glance first at the curtains. There is light filtering through the part in them and around the edges, but it still has a bluish cast, assuring me it’s very early. No wonder I feel tired. I probably haven’t been in bed long. I smile as I remember the previous night spent making out with Dane James on our rock like two horny teenagers. It’s crazy to think of the things that have changed and the things that haven’t. Our insane chemistry definitely has not. “Come in.” My voice is hoarse with the need for more rest. I see the slender shape of my child as she squeezes through a crack in the door and then closes it snugly behind her. She walks to the bed

and I pull back the covers, offering her a place under them with me. It makes me happy when she accepts. I spoon around her, tucking her in close to me like I did when she was little. She doesn’t let me do this very often anymore, so I’m wide-awake now, enjoying babying my little girl. “What are you doing up so early?” “I’ve decided what I want to do.” I’m even more awake now. “And?” “I want the bone marrow transplant.” I think my heart would’ve flipped over no matter what she said. There are pros and cons to both, but I’m kind of glad because this one offers the best chances of actually curing her. This one offers the best chance of her finding her way back to a normal life somewhere in the semi-near future. “I think that’s a good choice.” “You do?” “I do. The fact that it has a better chance of truly curing you is a pretty compelling factor in the ‘pro’ column, don’t you think?” “Yeah. That’s why I want to go this route.” I hug her tight and kiss her silky hair. “You’re such a wise child. Like a little pink Yoda.” “Wise, I am,” she says in her best Yoda voice, and we both snigger. And so goes the next little bit of our conversation, until it turns back to more serious things.

“Plan, we will.” “With doctors, we will speak.” “Yes, yes. Consult them, we will.” “May the Force be with me.” At that, my heart does a little squeeze. “You won’t need that. You have God. And me. And your dad. You’re gonna do just fine.” “I hope so.” After a pause that’s so long I wonder if she’s fallen back to sleep, she says something else that quickens my heart. My life is like a damn tornado. “Do you think you should tell him before I have it? You know, so he’ll know. Just in case.” Just in case. “Celina, stop thinking about ‘just in case’. You read the information. You know that with your age and your diagnosis, the prognosis is incredible. You’re going to do great and you’re going to go on to live a very long and healthy life. In fact, you may live to be as old as Yoda. Only you’ll need adult diapers. No human bladder can hold up for that many years.” “You’re so weird,” she whispers. “But I’m awesome,” I whisper back. “Will you, Momma?” “I’ll tell him, honey.” “When?” I gulp. “I can tell him today if you want me to.” “Before we go back to the doctor, okay?”

“Okay.” In the back of my mind, I hear the ticking of a clock, counting down the minutes until I have to drop the mother of all bombs on Dane. And the moment when the happy glow he’s been wearing returns to a mask of hatred.

DANE BROUGHT VINEGAR , baking soda, and an empty two-liter soda bottle to make Celina’s most recent chemistry lesson more fun. He poked his head in the front door and hollered up to her, “Celina, get down here. Mount Dew is about to explode.” The grin he turned and gave me was about two steps away from making my ovaries explode. No vinegar or baking soda needed. He’d make an amazing father. He already is; he just doesn’t know it. She came running down faster than she ever does for me, unless I’m bribing her with something. All Dane has to offer is his presence. She wants him around. And he clearly wants to be around. If only there wasn’t this awful hurdle standing between them. Of course, it’s not between them. It will be between Dane and me. He won’t be mad at her.

She’s an innocent in all this. I’m the one he will hate. And I won’t be able to blame him one bit. I watch the two of them make volcano after volcano after volcano erupt in the small patch of grass to the left of the driveway. I know I’ll be putting off telling him until tonight. I can’t bear to ruin the happiness he will leave here with today. Tonight will be soon enough.

DANE DIDN ’ T HAVE to come and get me. I went to the rock on my own. I even beat him there. I sat on it, palms sweating, waiting for him and giving myself a pep talk so that I don’t chicken out. When I see his dark form cutting through the wheat in the bright moonlight, every muscle in my body clenches. I watch him speed up as he nears the rock and climbs onto it in one impressively smooth, lithe movement. He walks over to me, grinning. “What?” “What what?” My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders yet. “Why are you looking at me that way?” “What way?” “Like you’re about to jump my bones.” “Is that how I’m looking at you?”

“I sure as hell hope so, because it’s about to get a very firm response from me, and I’d hate to think it’s all in my imagination.” “Well, that was kinda hot.” It was so, so hot. “What was kinda hot?” “You jumping up here the way you did.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me to my feet and into his arms. “Liked that, did you?” “Very much.” I couldn’t take a deep breath right now if my life depended on it. “I was on my way to your window when I saw you sitting up here. The things that went through my head… Mmmm, I almost took off running this way.” “Things? What things?” I need to stop this. Of all nights, this isn’t the one when I should be stoking the fire that’s between us. It will just make his reaction that much harder to swallow, that much more painful to endure. “Like the fact that my hands are burning with how much I want to touch you right now. Like how the only thing I’ve thought about for days is what your mouth tastes like. And like the fact that, for a week, every night when I lay down, the second I close my eyes I remember what you looked like pulling your panties on in the early morning light. Right here on this rock. Damn, you were beautiful.

But not as beautiful as you are now.” Oh, God. Oh, God! I lick my lips. I have to do it now, before this gets out of hand and I lose my nerve. “Dane, there’s something I need to tell you.” As though he can sense the weight of what I’m carrying, he takes a step back, still holding me, but far enough that he can give me space and look down into my face at the same time. “What is it?” My mouth is suddenly full of sawdust, my tongue thick and dry. I take a deep breath and I take the plunge. No tact, no couth, no hesitation. If I don’t just come out with it, I might not say it at all. And I have to. For Celina most of all, but also for the boy who stole my heart, for the guy who never gave it back, and for the man who deserves answers. “Dane, Celina is… She’s your daughter.” There is silence. Dense, dark, dead silence. I don’t even hear the rush of blood in my ears. It’s like it has all drained away and gone the route of my heart, which is somewhere ten or twenty feet below the big rock on which we’re standing. He releases me completely and takes another step back. The cool air that rushes in between us feels frigid. That might have more to do with

Dane’s cooling ardor than the actual nighttime temperature, though. “What?” “She…she’s yours.” He stares at me for an untold number of minutes, like he’s trying to understand what I’m saying. “She’s…” He wrestles with it, expressions shifting over his face like a kaleidoscope. Then finally, he seems to settle on one when he asks, “Why, Brinkley?” Oh, God! There is so much hurt in his voice. It’s like a curved knife tearing through my chest, through skin and muscle and bone and sinew. My response comes out on a whisper, one as pained as his face now appears. “I’m so sorry.” “I don’t understand. How…how could you do that?” “I didn’t want to, Dane. It was Alton. He forced me.” “He forced you to run away, have my baby, and never try to contact me again?” The ire is back, along with a fair amount of bitterness, neither of which I can blame him for. “When he found out, he was so angry. He…he hated you so much. He wanted me to have an abortion, but I refused, so he told me to leave. He said if I told you, he’d ruin you and your father. It was all on the same night that he tried to…tried

to…” Those last days and hours spent here in Shepherd’s Mill come back in a rush, overwhelming me with emotion. The tears come again and I’m helpless to do anything but let them fall. Just like I’m helpless to do anything but stand here and let him hate me. “He asked me how much you’d love me when I was the one who could’ve saved you and your dad from being homeless and jobless and didn’t. I’d just be the selfish bitch who cost him everything and gave him another mouth to feed. I knew he’d do it. He was ruthless. Heartless. I knew he wouldn’t think twice before destroying both of you. I just didn’t know…I didn’t know at the time that he couldn’t.” Dane hasn’t moved. Hasn’t said another word. He’s merely staring at me, his expression turning blacker by the second. “If I’d had any other choice, I would’ve taken it, but I…I didn’t. And I couldn’t have an abortion. I couldn’t bear the thought of getting rid of the one piece of you, the one piece of us that I might be able to hold onto.” When finally Dane speaks, his voice is cold. “So she’s…she’s fourteen years old?” I nod. “Brinkley, you could’ve come back before now.” My mouth opens and closes with all the things I want to say and can’t. Because, truthfully, I have

no excuse. I was afraid. I was afraid Dane would hate me. That he wouldn’t be able to love me after what I’d done. And I let that fear drag me through year after year until I’d been gone so long, there was no going back. “I…I’m sorry,” I offer weakly. Dane steps back. “Not as sorry as I am.” I watch as he leaps down off the rock and slices through the wheat like a scythe. I don’t take my eyes off him. I can’t. I keep hoping he’ll come back, that he’ll forgive me. Only he doesn’t. He walks away, a single tall, dark figure being swallowed by a sea of pale stalks, moving quickly toward the woods until he’s out of sight. He isn’t out of mind, though. Even after he disappears, even after I leave the rock, even after I sneak back into the house, and even after I curl up and cry into my pillow for what seems like hours, he isn’t out of my mind. I wonder if he ever will be.

CHAPTER 29

I

haven’t seen or heard from Dane for two days. I’m not entirely surprised. What I am is disappointed. I thought his fondness for Celina, especially after finding out that she’s his daughter, would bring him around. But it’s clear I don’t know the grown Dane James as well as I did the young Dane James. I’m crawling between the sheets, bracing myself for another sleepless night when I hear a telltale tick at my window. I think my whole body sighs in relief. Dane James. He came back. I open the window and look down at him, love surging through me. It’s in this very moment that I realize I never stopped loving Dane. Even this

mature version of him is perfect. Perfect for me anyway. The soul inside this man, whether he’s fifteen or fifty, is the one I’ve loved most of my life. That won’t ever change. I feel it as certainly as I feel the windowsill bite into my palms when I rest them on it. “Dane James.” There is relief in my voice, even though he’s not smiling. I still may be in for a rough ride, but at least he came back. He might hate me, but if he came back then he at least came back for my daughter. For our daughter. That’s the most important thing. She deserves this man’s love. More than I ever have. “Are you coming?” His tone is as brisk as the wind in November, but I’m ready for it. I knew this would happen. There’s no way he could not be upset with me. “Of course.” I close the window. Of course, Dane. I would follow you anywhere. Just like I always knew I would. When I step out the back door, he’s waiting for me. He doesn’t take my hand, but he tips his head toward the fields and waits for me to reach his side. Then we make our way to the rock together. Maybe that’s something. We’re both seated on the rock before he says anything. “Tell me about her.”

I don’t ask who he’s referring to. We both know. She’s the one tie we can’t break. Time and distance don’t matter when there’s a child involved. And now he knows there is. “Her name is Celina. Celina Holland. She’s fourteen. She’s smart and mature and beautiful and athletic and gifted and—” I stop myself. “Wow! I sound like one of ‘those’ parents, don’t I?” The edges of Dane’s lips lift a little bit. Not a smile, but not not a smile either. To me, that’s a good sign. “You should be proud. She’s great.” I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dane. I don’t know what else I can say. How I can make up for it. I was young. I was scared. I was pregnant and in love, and it was all happening at the worst time and in the worst way. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t think I had a choice. Even now, I don’t know what I could’ve done differently.” The pause before he responds is so long, so tense, I feel the muscles in my stomach clench. “It took me a couple weeks to even know you were gone. I came here every night and waited. I thought something was wrong. I thought… I didn’t know what to think.” “I’m so sorry.” I wish I could tear open my soul and let him see how sorry I actually am, how much it hurts to know what I’ve done to him.

He doesn’t respond to that. He waits for twenty lifetimes, but then finally says, “Look, I’m still pissed. I don’t know how not to be, but she’s my kid. I wanna… I wanna get to know her. And you’re the one who knows her best.” His words slice, but I deserve every cut. “Tell me about her childhood. What kind of baby was she?” Although, I’m dying a little inside, Dane picked the one topic that revives my soul, the one thing I could talk about for hours. It starts a cascade of stories that seems to go on forever. I tell him about how smooth my pregnancy went after those first mornings when I was so sick. I tell him how my water broke in line at the grocery store and how an old woman stayed with me outside until the ambulance came, telling me all she’d learned about Lamaze and breathing techniques from watching reruns of Doogie Howser and St. Elsewhere. I tell him how terrifying it was to be a teenage girl, all alone, delivering another life into the world when I couldn’t even take care of myself. I tell him how holding Celina for the first time, however, was all it took to turn me into a protective mama bear who would do anything for her child. “She changed my life. For the better. She makes me a better person just by being.” Together, on our rock, I fill Dane in on his daughter. Her colic, her teething, and the musical

little laugh that could turn my whole day around—I spare no detail. I tell him about the first time she said Momma and about the smashed peas I could never get her to eat. I tell him about the first time she got strep throat and how she wanted to be a ballerina when she was a little girl. I tell him about the tips I saved for six months so I could buy her a tutu. I tell him about her awful second grade teacher and her amazing third grade one. I tell him her favorite color (purple) and her favorite food (pizza). I tell him about her love of music and romcoms, and her fondness for pets that I believe she got from her father. Dane smiles at that. “What else did she get from me?” “Are you kidding? The list is ridiculous.” So I name all the similarities I can think of. Her laugh and her skin and her perfect teeth. Her love of the outdoors and her rebellious streak, and even the birthmark right above her belly button. “She seriously has one there, too?” He grins as he asks. “Yep. I don’t know if something like that can be hereditary, but she’s got one almost exactly like yours.” Without seeming to be aware of it, he rubs his belly as he stares at something over my head. “That’s cool.” My heart melts. Yes, it is cool. It’s also cool that

I’m on a rock, on the rock, with the boy I’ve loved since I was twelve, telling him about his daughter because he already loves her enough to want to know her. That is cool. I tick off every single thing I can think of that he shares in common with his little girl. I don’t think even I was aware of how much of her father Celina carried until I lay it all out for him. She’s absolutely, one hundred percent, unquestionably the child of Dane James. “Did she ever ask about me?” “Of course, she did.” “And what did you tell her?” My throat clogs. “I…I told her you were dead.” I see his jaw clench and I rush to add, “When she was old enough to start asking about her daddy, I didn’t want her thinking you didn’t love her, and I didn’t want her trying to find you and risk all of you getting hurt because of Alton, so I told her you died when she was a baby. I…I’m so sorry.” Dane’s muscles tighten. His tension is like a chill in the air, but after a couple of minutes, his words tell me that he’s doing his best to come to grips with this. “I just… I wouldn’t want her to think I didn’t come around because I didn’t love her.” “I didn’t want her thinking that either.” I take a deep breath even though my chest is so tight it feels like my lungs might collapse. “I hope you believe

that I did the best I could. Always. For both of you. I loved you so much, I…I think I’d have done anything, gone to any lengths to keep him from hurting you.” I can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to come to terms with all this. I can almost feel his struggle. But he’s winning. Because he’s strong. He’s a fighter. That’s just who Dane James is. And his daughter is just like him. “I have a daughter.” I nod. “I have a daughter.” He repeats it with a tiny bit of wonder leaking through. This gives me hope. “You do.” I remain quiet for a while. It seems like Dane is sort of trying it out, taking it for a spin, and I want to let him. Finally, he breaks the silence again “So how’d you make it on your own all this time?” “It wasn’t always easy. After Alton left my room that night, when he tried to rape me, Momma gave me her engagement ring. She told me not to take less than five thousand for it.” I can’t help the bitter laugh that breezes through my lips. “I think that was her final way of looking out for me. She couldn’t find the courage to stand up to Alton. Or maybe she just didn’t want to, didn’t want to risk the life she’d managed to find here. I don’t know,

but at least she didn’t put me out on the street to starve. She did what she could to give me a head start.” My heart is heavy as I remember those final moments in Shepherd’s Mill. I can’t help but relive all the feelings that were slamming around inside of me. “I don’t know how you ever forgave her.” “Sometimes I’m not sure I have.” And that’s true. Sometimes I want to shake her or slap her or scream at her for what she put me through. But I never do. Because she’s my mother. She’s Momma. “All I had was that ring and twenty bucks when I left here. I’ll never forget it. It was awful. That morning, I remember looking out at the sun as it was coming up over the fields. It had turned the clouds blood red, and the fields and your barn… they looked like they were on fire. And that’s how it felt. Like everything I’d ever loved was being burned to the ground. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I remember thinking that even the sky knew. Even the sky knew.” I pick at the seam on my pants leg. “I cried all the way to the Greyhound station.” “Jesus.” “At least I had that much, though. It was a start. “Back in those days, twenty bucks could get you to Greensboro, North Carolina, so that’s where I went. When I got there, I asked the clerk at that bus station how far the nearest pawnshop was.

Luckily, it was only three blocks away. I walked straight there and showed the guy Momma’s ring. He gave me six thousand two hundred and eleven dollars for it. Six thousand dollars.” My snort is mirthless. “That’s what I had to start a life. A whole life. A teenager, pregnant and all alone. I had no one and nothing, but I had six thousand dollars.” I pause, staring up at the vast sky, reliving those early days. In some ways, they feel like last week. “I got a motel room for the night, and the next day I took a bus to Baltimore, Maryland. Momma used to talk about Baltimore when I was really young. She’d visited once and loved it. I thought maybe I would, too. I guess it made me feel a little less lonely, too, in a weird way. Like someone I knew was there. Anyway, when I got there, I stayed in a cheap motel for nine days. That’s how long it took me to find a place that would rent to a minor. It was preacher, Greg Shatley, and his wife took me in. They let me stay there for a hundred dollars a month. I’m sure they took a loss, but I was so grateful I didn’t argue. I lived above their garage for three years. They were the only family I had.” I’m lost in thought, in memory, and when the silence stretches on, I hear Dane’s quiet words like bullets to my heart. “I’d have gone with you. I’d have been your family.” I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart near bursting. “I know. I know you would’ve. And you might’ve

hated me for it later when your dad’s life was ruined over a selfish little girl who couldn’t stay away from the boy she loved.” “I wouldn’t have hated you. I couldn’t. Believe me, I tried.” That hurts, but in a different way. To know how betrayed he must’ve felt, to know how he must’ve gone from being confused to being angry to being hurt and back again, sticks in my soul like a needle the size of an oar. “I…” I don’t even know what to say now. Maybe there’s nothing to say. “I’m glad you found someone to help you. At least you had that.” “Yeah. They were great. And I loved that little place. It was mine, all mine. No one to tell me how to live my life, how to act, how to raise my child. I got to start over. In a tiny loft that overlooked a pond, I got to start over. That place was where Celina took her first steps, where she said her first words. It’s where she learned to crawl and where she was potty-trained. It’s where she became a toddler and I became a mom. It was good in a lot of ways. They even watched her for me while I worked those first few years. I waited tables at a diner across from Guilford College. It was walking distance from the Shatley’s, so it worked out perfectly.” “Then why didn’t you stay?”

“Mr. Shatley got reassigned to another church. It was a great opportunity, so I can see why they took it. They had to sell the house, of course, and unfortunately, the new owners wanted to put their teenaged daughter above the garage, so I had to move. That’s when I realized that if I were ever going to be able to give Celina a good life, a stable life with a stable place to live, I’d have to go to college. I needed to make something of myself. For her.” “And you did.” “I guess. We’ve done okay. Until she got sick. That’s really why we came back. Medical care and…and a place to stay. I just couldn’t afford it all anymore, so I had to come back home. Like a whipped puppy.” “You didn’t come back like a whipped puppy.” There is derision in his tone. “That’s what it feels like sometimes.” “I’ll help you with her, you know.” His words are gruff, almost grudging, but I don’t take it personally. This is the way a man who’s been hurt responds. “I don’t expect that, Dane. That’s not why I told you.” “Why did you tell me? Why now? Why not when you first came back?” I draw my knees up toward my chest and rest my chin on them. “I was afraid you’d hate me and

that would be…that would be so hard.” My chin trembles. “But more than that, Celina was afraid you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her. She wanted to meet you first. Give you both a chance to get to know each other. And now that you have, she’s ready. Besides that—” I have to pause before I continue so that I don’t burst into tears. “Besides, she’s decided she wants to have the bone marrow transplant and she…thinks there’s a chance she won’t make it, and she wanted you to know before she has it.” I pull my chin in until my forehead is resting on my knees instead. I don’t want to sit here and cry in front of Dane. Not again. It seems like that’s all I do anymore—cry. I hear the shuffling of material against rock seconds before I feel a big warm hand settle on my back. He doesn’t move it, doesn’t rub my back or do anything more to try to comfort me, but it comforts me anyway. The simple touch, the gesture itself, speaks volumes. It says that, while he isn’t very happy with me right now, and while he’ll probably be aggravated with me for a long time, he doesn’t hate me. He still has enough tender feeling for me to want to comfort me. I guess that’s something. “I want to be involved, Brinkley. With her, with her treatment, with all of it. I’ve missed the first fourteen years. I don’t want to miss any more.”

“I understand. And you’re her father. You can see her as often as you want.” “See her?” He says it in such a way that it sounds negative. “Yes, but only if you want to.” He makes an irritated grunt. I feel a bit confused. He just told me he didn’t want to miss any more time, yet he seems to balk when I offer him all the time he wants. “So we’ll have like, what, joint custody?” That makes my heart speed up. Words like “custody” make me think of a nasty court battle and children torn in two by parents who hate each other and use their kids as weapons. I don’t like that word at all. “No. I mean, we don’t have to do anything legal like that. I wouldn’t ever try to keep you from her.” “You already have.” I swallow my gasp. “But-but I explained that to you. Those were different circumstances. I told you now because I want you to be part of her life.” “But only occasionally.” “No, not at all. Be around her as much as you want.” “How can I do that when she lives with your mother? I’m not exactly her favorite person. It’s not like I can just show up there every day, any time I want, to see my daughter. That would bring

the bitch out in her faster than I could spit.” I turn to him, gripping his forearm with my fingers. “Dane, we will work this out. We’ll do what we have to do. For Celina.” He doesn’t move when I touch him. He doesn’t even shift his eyes away from mine. He sits like a big, hard stone and stares at me. I want to know what’s going on behind his eyes, but I’m afraid to ask. This hasn’t gone as I expected. Not that I really knew what to expect. Dane stares at me so long it begins to make me uncomfortable. I can’t decide if he’s thinking about Celina or he’s thinking about how much he’d like to hurt me. His face, his mouth, and his eyes are so intense, I shrink away from them. When he opens his mouth again, however, his words sound neutral. I wonder at his thought processes. “Tell me about the transplant.” “They’ll give her several big doses of chemo and a couple of rounds of whole body radiation in order to deplete her own bone marrow. They have to do that before they can transplant the donor marrow.” “Will she be hospitalized?” “For some of it, yes.” “And what about this donor?” “Well, we don’t have one yet. A sibling is really the best way to have a true match, but since she has

no siblings, they think she’ll be able to use mine.” “Because you’re her mother or because you’re some other kind of match? How does that work?” “Because I’m her mother, yes. Parents are basically half-matches rather than full matches like a sibling would likely be.” He goes silent again, his eyes boring into me. Or maybe through me. I’m not even sure he’s seeing me at all. “I want to be her donor.” Not a question or a request. It’s a statement. It’s as strong and as determined as the man himself. “Dane, you don’t have to—” “I want to. I haven’t been able to give her anything for her entire life. I want to do this for her. So she’ll know that she’s my daughter and I love her.” I feel my face want to crumble and I steel myself against the urge to bawl. “She won’t have any doubts you love her. I don’t. The way you are with her… Dane, you were already falling in love with her. I knew it and I think she did, too.” “I want to do this, Brinkley. Don’t take this away from me, too.” Too. Like I’ve stolen so much from him. But the truth is, I have. And it’s impossible to undo the damage I’ve done. “Okay, Dane. Okay.”

“Good. So when do we go?” “Go where?” “To Duke? We’ll need to find a place to stay there if she’ll be in and out of the hospital, right?” “You-you’re going to stay the whole time?” “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Why wouldn’t he indeed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to call her doctor and tell him what we’re going to do. He’ll have to make all the arrangements. And you’ll have to give a blood sample, too, for them to test. They tested mine to be sure, too, so it’s routine.” “Fine. Whatever. I’ll do whatever.” My lower lip wobbles, dammit. “Thank you.” I blink furiously. “For what?” “For still being the person I always knew you were.” “When this is all over, we need to talk about the future. I want to be a part of her life. Permanently.” Her life. Not mine. I swallow again. And again, it’s difficult. “Okay.” “Maybe the two of you should come over tomorrow night for dinner. I’ll grill and we can tell her then. Do you think she’d like that?” A single tiny sob makes its way out and I have

to cover my trembling lips with the tips of my fingers. I nod. “She’d love it.” “I’ll pick you up around three or so. I’d like to spend some time with her before dinner.” “We can walk over. You said the foot bridge, right?” “No, I want to come and get you.” “Okay. Three o’clock.” “Three o’clock.” He stands, and when he looks back at me, I know that I’ve lost ground with Dane, emotionally, between him and me. His eyes don’t hold the same fire that they did even three days ago. “Do you want me to walk you back?” “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve walked that path a zillion times.” He hesitates, but only for a few seconds. Then he nods and makes his way to the edge of the rock. He hops down and starts off through the wheat. I make myself get up, even though my legs feel too heavy to move. I chastise myself as I climb down off the rock and start back toward the house. This is what I wanted for Celina. I want him to love her first. Love her more. She’s his daughter. She has to come first. He doesn’t have to love me to love her. He doesn’t even have to like me. As long as he’s good to Celina, I couldn’t ask for more.

Only it hurts. It hurts to know that I’ve lost his heart and might not ever get it back, that he will be in my life and completely out of reach for as long as I live. We’ll be right back to square one, only this time my love will be unrequited. Not only will I never have the man I love, but he will never love me now. Not again. Not after this. I let the tears fall as I walk, the wheat turning to long, blurry shafts of light in the darkness. I see the yellow dot of my bedroom window get closer and closer, yet I don’t want to go home. Everywhere seems too painful to be right now, even in my own skin.

CHAPTER 30

C

elina was tickled to death to find out we’d been invited to cook out at her father’s house. My mother, on the other hand, didn’t take it so well. “After all the trouble that boy has already caused you, and you’re running right back into it. Honestly, Brinkley, it’s like you don’t even try to think.” “Whatever, Momma. You don’t know all the details, and believe me when I tell you, I’m sparing you by not giving them to you. I’ll just say this. You’d be wise to take it easy on Dane James. He’s not the awful person you think he is.” “I didn’t say he’s an awful person. I just said he’s brought you enough pain, don’t you think?” “Dane never brought me pain, Momma. You and Alton did that just fine without him.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room. Half an hour later, there was a knock at the front door. I knew it was Dane. I didn’t have to look at the clock to know that it was three on the nose. I answer the door. He’s wearing khaki shorts, a forest green shirt, and a smile that turns my stomach inside out, even though it’s not for me. “Hi.” “Hi.” “You two ready?” “Let me get Celina.” I turn to invite him in and go get my daughter, but I nearly roll over her when I do. She’s right behind me, all smiles. “Oh, well, I guess we’re ready then.” Dane steps back and Celina runs out the door. I throw a courtesy goodbye to my mother over my shoulder and am not the least bit surprised when I get no response. When I close the door, Dane asks, “Hard feelings?” I roll my eyes. “Very.” I smile as I walk behind him and Celina and listen to what they’re saying. “I’ll give you three guesses what I’m making and the first two don’t count.” “Something on the grill!” she responds with no small amount of sarcasm, albeit the teasing kind. Dane glances back at me then says to our

daughter with a wink, “Got a smart mouth like your mother.” “She got all her good traits from her mother. Everything else came from your gene pool, Dad.” Dane beams. That’s the only way I can think of to describe the ecstatic brilliance that breaks over his face. My heart shines with the reflection of it. I don’t entirely feel like I’m a part of this, because this is so very much between Dane and our daughter, but it thrills me nonetheless. For Celina. And for Dane. Two people I’ve loved since I’ve known them. I hear him tell Celina, “To be honest, I’m kinda glad you got your looks from her. I’m not a pretty dude. I’m handsome as hell, you know, but these legs could never look good in a dress. Your mom’s on the other hand…” “Ewwww! You’re as bad as she is.” Dane laughs. Celina laughs. I laugh. He doesn’t see it, but his comment makes me so happy. It’s a compliment, and considering how upset he is with me, that feels like a huge step forward. We climb into Dane’s truck. I let Celina sit in the front. She and her father chatter all the way to his house while I reflect on the conversation I had with my daughter this morning when I explained that I’d told Dane he was her father. She was over the moon that he was already so interested in her. “What did he say?”

“He wanted all the details. He wants to help however he can.” She said nothing, so I continued. “He wanted to know all about you, what kind of baby you were, what you were like growing up. And he loved that you have a birthmark on your belly.” At that, Celina raised her head and looked at me. Her lips curved upward and her eyes were wide with delight. “Seriously?” “Seriously. He said that was ‘so cool’.” That garnered a genuine smile. “I think he’s cool.” “You think?” She nods. “Yeah. And he’s smart.” “He’s definitely smart. That’s where you get it.” “What else do I get from him?” And so I repeated for my daughter all the things that I’d told Dane. I acquainted her with her father, and with all the similarities they share, and I placed the first stitches that will knit my child and the love of my life together. Even now, thinking back on it, I can’t ever remember feeling such great peace. Not all at once at least. When Dane pulls up in front of a beautiful twostory log cabin, Celina leans down to look up at it through the windshield. “Wow!” I’m thinking the same thing, but I keep it to myself.

Celina bolts out of the truck as soon as it comes to a stop, and Dane comes around to help me out of the back. He offers his hand, which I take, and he stares right into my eyes as I step out and onto the ground. His eyes aren’t quite as cold, aren’t quite as brown. They’re a little warmer, a little lighter. I know it’s mostly to do with Celina, but it still gives me hope for us. Dane takes my daughter and me on a grand tour of his impressive home. It’s big and well-done, right down to the luxurious appointments around every corner, but it’s also understated. It isn’t gauche or ostentatious. It’s quietly stunning, and I love it instantly. There is a formal living room and dining room just beyond the foyer. All the bedrooms except the master, he says, are on the second floor. He points at the top of the gracefully winding staircase, but doesn’t take us there. We pass through the state-of-the-art kitchen with its warm woods and pale greens to the den, which is clearly where Dane lives and breathes. It has touches of use and comfort on every surface, from the worn taupe leather of the sofa to the remote controls lined up on the dark wood table. From there, we go outside to an intimate backyard. Tall cyprus trees provide privacy while still looking lush and blending with the landscape, and a koi pond bubbles soothingly opposite the patio.

“Frisbee before I start cooking?” Dane is looking at Celina when he asks, who nods enthusiastically. It’s the first thing that makes my antennae twitch. “Don’t overdo it, babe.” She gives me a breezy, “I won’t, Mom,” and then she’s running off to the center of the yard with her father. I take a seat at the round glass-topped table and watch them. A profound sense of serenity and of rightness wraps its arms around me in a tight hug of emotion. I watch half of their play through a thin veil of tears. The two play and laugh effortlessly, like they’ve known each other forever. And, seeing them, no one in their right mind would question their genetic bond. Celina moves with the same easy grace as her father. They’re like two pieces of the same person, and I wonder if Dane can see it. I wonder if he can sense it. My phone rings as I look on. It’s a number I don’t recognize, so I ignore it. This time is all about my child and her father. Nothing is more important. Until I get home at nearly eleven p.m. and realize that my mother is gone. And that the call was from the hospital.

CHAPTER 31

I

pace the floor as I wait to be connected to the right person. The woman who left the message was from the emergency department, but she was in with a patient and no one could tell me anything about my mother, other than she’d been transferred. She put me on hold for another person in the Cath Lab, but when the call was picked up, it was by the unit secretary who came on the line, asked the name of the patient I wanted to speak with, and promptly told me Momma was no longer down there. After she made some noises as she searched for my mother’s location, she finally said, “Hold please. I’ll transfer you to cardiac intensive care.” The line went quiet as the words exploded in my head. Cardiac intensive care?

My pulse was racing by the time I heard another voice. “CICU. This is Pam.” “Yes, ma’am. My name is Brinkley Sommers and I received a call earlier about my mother, Katherine Peterson.” “Peterson, Peterson. Let me check her chart. Hold on for me just a second.” I could hear papers rustling, so at least she didn’t put me on real hold. I might’ve climbed through the phone and strangled someone. I wouldn’t even be making calls if I had any idea where to find Momma at the hospital. I’d just have driven straight there. “Can you confirm her date of birth please?” I do. “And can you give me your full name and relationship to the patient?” I do that as well, even though I’ve already established both of those things. I try not to be snappish, reminding myself that she’s just doing her job. “Thank you. I’m your mother’s nurse, Pam. Her emergency contact was listed as Alton Peterson, but since he’s passed, she gave your name and number as her next of kin.” Next of kin? Oh, God! My breath sticks in my throat. “Y-yes. I’m her daughter.” “Ms. Sommers, your mother called emergency services when she started having chest pain this

afternoon. She was brought by ambulance to the emergency room and they did a cardiac work-up. It showed signs of some damage to the heart muscle, so she was taken in for a cardiac catheterization this evening. She has a very serious left main blockage, and she’ll be going in for coronary bypass surgery first thing in the morning. I’m calling so that if you or another relative would like to come and stay with her, you have that opportunity before she goes in.” I’m so stunned, my mind already so overwhelmed, that only bits and pieces of what she said register. They stick out like tall weeds in a field of yellow poppies. Mother. Cardiac. Surgery. Opportunity. Although I can’t repeat much of what the nurse said, the gist of it hits home. And it’ll never be forgotten. My mother is in trouble. And there’s a chance she won’t make it out alive. I let the phone fall away from my ear for a second as I struggle to process this. My mouth is dry and my brain slow to fire. “Is she…is she conscious? Is she awake?” “Yes, she’s awake now. She’s in the Cardiac ICU if you want to come see her. Just buzz the door

and check in at the nurses’ station.” I look back at my daughter, sitting on the couch, watching me with great interest. She’s my child. Her health and wellbeing are my number one priority, even above my own. But somewhere close to her is my mother. My mother. I’ve loved her my whole life, even though at times I wondered if I also secretly hated her. She had crazy ideals, lived a life I could never get on board with, and she did things I would never do to my child. But. She’s my mother. At the end of the day, no matter what, she’s the woman who gave me life, who raised me, who sacrificed for me. She’s the woman who, in her own way, tried to do what was best for me. Mostly. She’s my momma, and she could be dying. I know enough about heart surgery to know it’s dangerous, even if necessary. There’s a laundry list of possible complications, not the least of which is that there’s a chance the heart won’t start back up. As with anything major like that, there are risks. Big ones. Momma’s young and healthy, as far as I know, but there’s still a chance, no matter how great or small, that she won’t make it, that this could be my last opportunity to talk to her. And there are things

I want to say. “Ms. Sommers?” It’s Pam, checking to see if I’m still on the line. “I…I’m on my way.” It’s almost the middle of the night and my child is here alone, but I have to go. I know that I can’t let my mother die not knowing for sure that I love her. That after everything, no matter what, I love her. I hang up the phone as I walk on shaking legs to the sofa. “What is it, Momma?” Celina’s eyes are wide. She knows it’s bad. But I don’t want to stress her any more than what she already is, so I make a point to be very calm as I tell her. “Your grandmother has had a heart attack. She has to have surgery. In the morning. And I…I need to go see her. Just to…just to see her. Just in case.” I resist the urge to press a finger to my throbbing temple. “Then we need to go.” “No, honey, we don’t. The last thing you need is to pick up a bug at the hospital.” “Momma, I’m in and out of the hospital all the time.” “But that’s different. We don’t have a choice.” “We don’t now either. This is my grandmother. I want to see her, too, especially if…if…” She’s smart and perceptive. She knows what

this could mean. And I can’t overlook what it could mean for Celina if I deprive her of this. She hasn’t known her grandmother very long, but I know she loves her already, and I don’t want to take this away from her, just in case the worst happens. I sigh. Part of my brain is asking furiously if things can get any worse, but the other part is hushing it, because I know they can. Things can always get worse. “All right, but just to talk to her and then we’re coming straight back home. I’ll…I’ll go back in the morning, before they take her into surgery.” “Just call my dad. I bet he’d let me stay with him.” “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” “Why not? He’s an adult, too.” “I know he’s an adult, but…but…” “But he’s not you.” I want to deny it, but I can’t. “Is it so wrong that I’m protective of you?” “No, but he’s my father, Momma. This is different.” I close my eyes. I know she’s right. “I know. Yes, I’ll call him. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to have you stay with him.” It makes me feel a little better to see how excited Celina is about this. To her, it probably feels like a slumber party with her brand new best friend. And, even though I’m uneasy in some ways (mainly

because I’m a control freak), I’m ecstatic to see her so happy. She needed some happy in her life. I think we all do. “Come on then. Help me find his number.” We start toward Alton’s office. I feel sure my mother keeps a list of phone numbers, and surely Dane’s is among them since he owns the fields now. “It’s probably in here,” Celina says, going straight to the Rolodex. And she’s right. It is. Dane answers on the first ring. “Were you asleep?” That’s my first question. I don’t even think to tell him who’s calling. Luckily, I don’t need to. “No. Is everything all right, Brinkley?” I can hear that thread of unease in his voice. A phone call, late at night…that rarely ever means something good. “Well, I’ve been better.” Suddenly, I’m close to tears, but I keep a tight leash on my emotions. Celina doesn’t need to see me fall apart. She needs to see me strong and calm, so that’s what I’ll be. For her. I fill him in, giving him the short version. “Jesus,” Dane whispers. I know what he’s thinking. His own father died of a heart attack. I haven’t forgotten that, or forgotten to be terrified by that. Quickly, he adds, “What can I do?” “Celina wants to see her, too, but she shouldn’t

be staying the night up there. She needs her rest, and hospitals aren’t the cleanest places for her to be. Would you mind picking her up and keeping her for the night?” It feels so strange to be asking Dane James, the boy I fell in love with at age twelve, to take care of our sick daughter while I stay with my sick mother. Whose life is this? “Done. Whatever you need.” “Give us, like, thirty minutes?” “I’ll be there. What room is she in?” “I don’t know. She’s in CICU. Just come there. We’ll figure out the rest.” “Meet you there.” I feel my chin start to wobble. “Thank you, Dane. I…I…” “Brinkley, you don’t have to thank me. She’s my kid, too.” “I know, but…” I don’t know how to tell him how much his love of Celina means to me, how much his help means to me. There just doesn’t seem to be words. After a few seconds of me floundering, Dane cuts me loose, for which I’m grateful. “Go. I’ll see you soon.” Celina and I are on our way out the door almost as soon as the phone is back in its cradle.

JUST A FEW MINUTES LATER , we’re racing down a long hallway lined with walls the color of pale, old mustard. My eyes flick up to the signs that hang from the ceiling, spaced at each intersection and boasting blue letters and arrows. I turn right, following the arrow that points to CICU. The hall empties out into a large, brightly-lit waiting room. It has low couches and matching chairs, set into groupings around the space. There are plants in giant clay pots and a bar with four coffee urns lined up like ducks in a row. Against one wall, there is a reception desk. It’s empty at this time of night. The only people here are those with weary faces and bleary eyes and more stress than they can handle. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. Especially here. I see a set of double doors across the room with a blue and white sign on the left one that reads EMPLOYEES ONLY. VISITORS MUST CHECK IN. There’s an arrow pointing to an intercom. Celina and I head that way, and I press the button. A disembodied female voice comes on and asks how she can help me. I give her Momma’s name and my own, and she buzzes me in. Going forward is like stepping from one world into another. The walls are a sterile white, the floors are a gleaming gray, and the voices are hushed to better hear the beeps and alarms that sound seemingly from every direction.

We stop at the nurses’ station, in front of a woman about my age with dark hair piled up on top of her head. She smiles at me and tucks her pen behind her ear. “May I help you?” she asks. “My name is Brinkley Sommers. I’m Katherine Peterson’s daughter. Are you Pam?” “I am.” The woman stretches forth her hand and I take it. It’s cool and the grip is firm, inspiring confidence for some reason. “It’s nice to meet you, Brinkley. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.” Her expression shows sympathy, and it doesn’t appear feigned. “Thank you. How’s she doing?” “Well, she’s stable right now.” Then Pam starts to rattle off all kinds of medical stuff, something about her oxygen and her EKG and a sheath in her leg. She tells me about Momma’s blockages and mentions something about a widowmaker and how lucky we are that my mother has such great collateral circulation. “She’s a strong one, that’s for sure.” I know she’s trying to be encouraging, but my mind just can’t take in any of what she’s saying, so I nod and I smile, and I ask, “Can we see her?” “It’s after visiting hours, and only one of you can stay, but I’ll let you both go back, just for a few minutes.” She winks like she’s doing me a solid, which she probably is, and then points to a place

behind me. “Room four.” I turn to see my mother’s pale face, bathed in light from the window and nestled in among a mountain of pillows. Her eyes are closed, but I don’t need to see them to see that she looks nothing like the vital woman I’m used to seeing. I walk toward her on a surreal wave, my feet gliding over the floor independently of my instruction. I step through the door and it’s considerably quieter, which seems odd since the room is glass on two sides. It does a great job of keeping out sound, though, and giving the patient some degree of peace. I edge over to the bed and reach for her hand. My mother has never been a particularly touchyfeely person. Not a big hugger or hair petter, but I am. In fact, maybe that’s why I am all of those things—because she isn’t. I stroke the back of her hand. It’s silky and doesn’t feel as old as it looks right now. I can’t feel the lines and cracks that I can see in her skin. I can’t feel her age, but I can see it. Now more than ever. “Momma?” I keep my voice soft and calm as I shift my eyes to her face. It, too, is pale. Her mouth is drawn and the brackets around it are deeper than I’ve ever seen them. She’s a beautiful woman who takes great care of herself, but her body is fighting for life and it shows.

When she doesn’t respond, I say a bit louder, “Momma?” Her lids flicker and she opens her eyes, rolling them toward the ceiling before looking right to where I am. When the usually cool green lights on me, it softens and I’m transported back to age six at my McDonald’s birthday party, and age nine when I had mono and she sat on the couch with me for an entire day. This is the woman I’ve loved since I was a baby. “Brinkley.” She isn’t questioning that I’m here. She’s relieved that I am. It paints her voice like the sun paints the sky at sunrise. “I’m here, Momma. How are you feeling?” Her lips curve as she attempts a smile. “I’m okay.” “Doesn’t look like you are.” “Well, I’ve seen better days.” Absent is the usual superiority that seems to constantly surround my mother. Life, age has stripped her down to the woman she used to be. The woman I loved with all my heart. “And you’ll see even more.” I hope my words are accurate. Suddenly, the thought of losing her is overwhelmingly painful. This is all too real, too raw. “I hope so.” She spots my daughter behind me and brightens considerably. “Celina! What are you

doing here? You should be in bed.” Smiling that smile that people smile when they want to be pleasant, but know it’s not quite right to be too cheerful, Celina steps around to the other side of the bed and takes my mother’s other hand. “I wanted to come and see you, Grandma.” “It’s always a pleasure to see you. How was your day?” Celina launches into an animated recount of the day she spent with her father. She tells her grandmother all about the house and Frisbee, and how he cooked pizza on the grill and it was the best thing ever. To her credit, my mother doesn’t scowl one time. She just nods and smiles and gives her granddaughter her full attention. She, too, must be thinking this might be her last conversation with Celina. Fifteen minutes later, Pam sticks her head in the door. “There’s someone here to see you. Out in the waiting room.” I nod. “Thank you.” It’s Dane, I’m sure. I look to my mother. “Dane’s taking Celina home, but I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and Celina bends to kiss her cheek and tell her goodnight. I note that, and wonder if my mother does as well. She says goodnight, not goodbye. I walk Celina back the way we came. As soon

as we pass through the double doors that divide the two worlds, I see Dane standing in the center of the room. He’s so tall and seeing him somehow makes me feel better. Even though he isn’t here for me, the fact that he’s here at all is comforting. The one time we put everything else aside—fear, anger, societal rules, threats, life—was when one of us was in pain. And although his face isn’t filled with the love that it used to be, it’s not filled with the anger of late either. That’s progress. And he’s here. I’ll take it. “How’s she doing?” he asks when Celina and I make our way to him. “She’s okay right now.” He nods several times as I fight the urge to cry. Almost as though he can sense it, Dane grabs both my upper arms and bends enough to look me right in the eye. “Are you?” I muster my most courageous, unaffected smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He doesn’t look convinced, but I know he won’t argue in front of Celina. “If anything happens, call me.” “I will.” No, I won’t. I won’t worry him or Celina unless it’s absolutely dire. Like death kind of dire. “I’ll take good care of her.” I inhale slowly so that I don’t release the sob

that’s lurking in my chest like a toad, hunkered down and ready to jump. “I know.” I hope it goes without saying that if I didn’t trust him to take care of her, I wouldn’t have asked. I wouldn’t let him take her to the elevators if I didn’t trust him, much less let him keep her overnight. “Did you bring a bag or anything?” He directs his question to Celina. She looks to me and I let my head drop back on my shoulders. “Shit.” Celina answers, “No, we forgot to pack one.” “It’s fine. Give me the key and I’ll run her by there first.” I reach into my pocket for my keys, which thankfully aren’t in my purse back in Momma’s room. I slide the house key off the ring and hand it to Dane. When he takes it, he leaves his fingers pressed to mine until I look up. “You worry about your mom. I’ve got this.” I nod and stand to watch them go as Dane James leaves with my daughter. With our daughter, I correct myself. The thing is, she feels like she’s just mine. I know she’s not, and I’m thrilled he’s in her life now, but I birthed her. I raised her. I rocked her when she teethed, I held her when she was cried, I bandaged her up when she got hurt. She feels like

mine and only mine, and it’s hard to watch her walk away knowing that she’s in someone else’s hands now. But I do. I make myself, because I know I have to. Before they turn the corner, Celina turns back to me and blows me a kiss, calling just loudly enough for me to hear, “Love you, Momma.” I catch her kiss, which is a rare gift from her. “Love you, too, honey.” I wait until they’re out of sight before I burst into tears.

MY MOTHER NOTICES my red eyes when I walk back into her room. I splashed cold water onto my face hoping to conceal it, but… If there is anyone who will notice your appearance immediately, it’s Katherine Peterson. “You shouldn’t stay. You should go home and be with her. I told them not to bother you.” “Momma, why would you do that?” “She’s your little girl. She comes first.” I can’t argue that, but it seems odd for my mother to be telling me that. “She’s fine. I want to spend some time with you.”

“In case you don’t get another chance?” Her question lands in my throat like a water buffalo, obstructing something as basic as swallowing and, for a second, even breathing. I angle my head away and clear my throat as though there’s something in it before I turn back to my mother. “You’re gonna come through this just fine, Momma. Even the nurse said so. She said you’re lucky it happened this way, and that you’re strong. She even said you’re too stubborn to go like this.” I add a smile to the last. “I am stubborn. You get that from me.” I sigh. I don’t want to argue with her. Not now. Not like this. “There are worse things.” Her eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip begins to quiver. “I wish I could’ve given you only good things, none of the bad. I hope you know that.” “Momma, I—” “Listen to me, Brinkley.” She raises her hand and clamps onto mine with a grip that’s surprisingly strong. Almost desperate. “I know I made mistakes with you. I know I did. Seeing you with Celina… I see it. I see how wrong I was. But I thought I loved him. I thought he was a good man and you were just being difficult. I didn’t really think you’d leave. Or that you’d stay gone. If I’d known, I…I never would’ve let you go. You’re my baby. Do you know that? Still, after all this time, you’re my baby.”

I’m stunned into silence as she begins to weep. My heart is breaking and I’m not sure why. This feels so…final. And I’m not ready to lose her yet. I thought there would be time. Time to make up, time to get to know each other again. Just time. “Momma, I love you. I always have. That’s never changed. I know we didn’t always get along or see eye to eye, but I never stopped loving you. Not for one day in all my life.” “I was so hurt when year after year went by and I didn’t hear from you. But I should’ve tried to find you. I should’ve protected you. I shouldn’t have let him run you off, Brinkley. I should’ve listened to you. You tried to tell me about him and I…I… Oh, God, I was so selfish!” “It’s okay, Momma.” “No, it’s not. I thought he was just drunk, but I should never have let that pass. It’s unforgivable.” “It’s not, Momma. I won’t say that you didn’t make the wrong choice, and I won’t say that I wasn’t upset with you for a while, but it’s all in the past. He’s gone. There’s no reason to hold onto what he did.” “But what about what I did?” “It’s over. Let’s just—” She’s determined not to let it go, though. She’s determined to say her piece and to make peace. Because in some corner of her mind, she thinks this might be it, too.

“Please forgive me. Please tell me we can be a family again. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. For us to be a family, and for you to be taken care of. When you came back, you gave me a reason to live. You and Celina. I hadn’t cooked in months until the day you showed up at my door. You always were my world; I was just terrible at showing you.” She lays her head back and tears pour steadily down her ghostly cheeks. I feel a spike of panic. “I don’t need to forgive you, Momma. It’s already done. I did it a long time ago.” And I did. Even though I still have moments of bitterness that creep up and wash through me, I’ve never stopped loving her. I forgave her the instant she chose him over me. Or at least within a few months. Because she’s my mother. I love her. And love is worth everything. Every risk. Every sacrifice. Every uncomfortable day that might lie ahead as she struggles to accept Dane in our life. I’d do it all for her. So that she can have the family she’s always wanted, and so that my daughter can have one, too. “You don’t blame me?” “The only thing I blame you for is making me strong.” She sobs delicately, her fingers still gripping mine, and I bow my head to rest on our joined hands. I pray for God to heal her, to give her—give us all—another chance to do things right. For her.

For Celina. For me, too. Maybe for us all. Through the night, I sit holding Momma’s hand as she rests or chatting about light, happy things when she’s awake. It seems to soothe her, and it certainly soothes me. I fill her in on Celina’s life, which she gobbles up eagerly, and we reminisce about fun moments in our life before Shepherd’s Mill. In our own way, we’re all preparing for the morning, for the moment when they’ll wheel her to the O.R. and we may or may not see her alive again. When the sun breaks through the curtains and her appointed time approaches, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. It’s as I’m coming out of the waiting room bathroom that I see Dane and Celina speaking to the little old lady that has arrived in her red smock and crisp white shirt to man the waiting room reception desk. I didn’t expect them to come back, but I can’t deny the relief I feel at seeing them. I start toward them, very much aware that I look like crap and feel even worse. I tried to clean up the best I could, but there’s not much I can do at this point. My hair is tangled, my eyes are red, and I’m pale as a ghost. I plaster on a bright smile, however, when Dane turns and spots me making my way to them. His eyes remain on mine as I approach.

“How you holding up?” “I’m okay. What are you two doing back here?” “She wanted to see her grandmother again. And I wanted to check on you.” My heart flops over at that. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Dane, still watching me, sighs. “Brinkley, I…” There’s a long pause and his eyes search mine. I know he wants to say something, but I’m not sure even he knows what that something is. After a few more seconds, I realize we’ll never know. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I smile and nod and turn my attention to Celina, reaching out to tug one end of her hair. “Why can’t you wake up ugly like the rest of us?” “Good genes, I guess.” “Good answer.” She holds up her hand for a fist bump and we grin at each other. “How’s Grandma?” “She’s doing okay. They’re supposed to be taking her back soon. Let’s hurry back so we don’t miss her.” Since her scheduled time is nearing, the nurse lets all three of us go into Momma’s room. I’m a little concerned about Dane, but he seems to want to go, so I figure I should let him. Momma is sitting up in bed, looking oddly fresh, which is crazy.

“You look good, Grandma,” Celina says as she approaches the bed. “Thank you, Celina. You’re looking quite beautiful yourself this morning.” She sends a look in my direction and adds, “We have to give your mother a break. She hasn’t slept. She did the best she could.” I roll my eyes, but I don’t take near the offense that I might have at one time. It seems that my mother and I have finally found a peaceful way forward. She’s who she is. I’m who I am. We’ll meet somewhere in the middle and try not to argue constantly. But there’s love between us. That much is clear. I see Momma’s eyes flicker toward the door. To Dane. “Come here,” she says to him, a bit of her imperious verve resurfacing. I see the muscle along Dane’s jaw flex, but his expression doesn’t change as he steps into the small room and stops at the foot of my mother’s bed. “Closer.” I back away, leaving Celina closest to Momma and making room for Dane to approach her, which he does. His footsteps don’t falter and he doesn’t show the first bit of pause. “I’m sorry,” she says hoarsely, her eyes filling up with tears again. “I know you love her, and I hope one day you can forgive me for my part in all

this.” I feel like I’m holding my breath, and like my heart is doing a tap dance on the head of a pin as I watch the scene unfold and I await Dane’s response. I know the bitterness he carries. I know it because I’ve carried it, too. But he’s never been able to escape it. He’s lived his whole life under the unjust blanket of Shepherd’s Mill’s oppression. He probably has a reservoir of anger and resentment that’s years deep. And yet, with a kindness that turns my stomach inside out, I watch Dane James, The One Who Stayed, bend close to my mother, smile down into her face, and tell her with as much sincerity as I’ve ever known him to display, “I have Celina. And I have Brinkley. There’s no room for hate. Not anymore.” She starts to cry around her smile of gratitude and Dane steps away, leaving Celina to reach in and hug her grandmother, to give her comfort as though she isn’t equally sick. I think again that she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. But maybe my mother is just as strong. I’ve never seen her this way before. And maybe I can be as strong as the other two women in my life. Whatever the future holds, I know I’ll have to try. “We need to clear the room. They’re here to transport Mrs. Peterson,” the nurse says from the

doorway. Dane and Momma nod at each other as he walks away, like they’ve reached a place of understanding. A truce. Then Celina leans in to give her a quick hug before it’s my turn. I approach the bed, reaching down to brush a stray strand of blonde hair away from my mother’s youthfully beautiful if pale face. “So, we’ve missed a lot of years, but we’ll make up for them after you get out, k?” My eyes fill with tears that I blink away. She smiles up at me and I know she knows what I’m saying. “We need to find you a better car, too.” I laugh. I can’t help it. I bend to kiss my mother’s cheek, memorizing the way she smells and the way her hair tickles my nose. “Whatever you say, Momma.” She takes my hand and gives my fingers a squeeze. That’s the only way I know how nervous, how afraid she is. Her hand is trembling. And that breaks my heart. Suddenly, I feel more afraid, and more determined to convince us both that she’s going to be fine. “Momma, come back to me. Promise?” “I’ll do my best, honey.” Honey. She hasn’t called me many endearments in the last couple of decades. I miss them terribly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Brinkley.” And with that, they shoo me out and wheel my mother away to cut her chest open and repair her heart. If they can.

THE HOURS PASS SLOWLY. So slowly. The volunteer brings us messages periodically to let us know what’s going on. They’ve begun the procedure. They’ve gotten her on the bypass machine. The surgery is going well. They’ve completed the procedure. I pace. And between pacing I sit with Dane and my daughter until Celina starts to show her fatigue and I make Dane take her home. Then it’s just me, taking laps through the waiting room. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Thoughts tumble through my head. Regrets. Things I wish I’d done differently, things I wish I’d said before I let them wheel her away. I hope she knew them all. I pray she did. But that doesn’t bring me any comfort. Only seeing her again, alive and well, will do that. I get another message from the volunteer. They’re going to restart her heart. I would sigh in relief, but I know from my research that this step is crucial, and it’s the step where so many things can

go wrong. I pray as I walk the circuit I’ve developed. In my mind, there’s a worn spot in the rug now, the trail I’ve carved in the name of Katherine Peterson. Fifteen minutes go by. Then thirty. I go to the volunteer. “Any other word about Katherine Peterson?” She flips through her messages and shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry.” I smile as best I can and hope that no news is good news. Then an hour passes. Then an hour and a half. My heart rate is edging up and I feel constantly on the verge of tears. Something is wrong. She should be out by now. I cover my trembling mouth with my hands and I pace, harder, faster, more furiously. I can’t lose her now, not when I’ve just gotten her back. We were supposed to have more time after this. Good years. Together. As a family. With Celina. And Dane. God, please don’t take her now. Not yet. “Ms. Sommers?” the volunteer calls my name. I walk over to the desk, waiting with lungs full of air I can’t quite release. “The doctor would like to speak with the family in conference room number three. Go through the main doors and it’s the third door on the left.” “Is…is something wrong?” I can hardly get the words out.

The older woman smiles a sad smile. “I don’t know. That’s just what he wanted me to tell you. I’m sorry.” I can’t swallow. Not at all. My mouth is dry and a sadness so big I can’t move past it is stuck in my throat. I proceed to the conference room and there I wait. I wait for what seems like an age before a man in green surgical scrubs, the man I know to be the cardiothoracic surgeon, comes walking into the room. He closes the door behind him and I have to turn away. I can feel my face crumbling. “So, she’s out. In her room. She did really well.” I spin to face him. The surgeon goes on to talk about how he was able to use her mammary artery for the graft, but I don’t hear much of it. All I heard was the first part. She’s out. In her room. Did well. I still burst into tears, but for a completely different reason. These are tears of joy, of relief, of a second chance, one I don’t intend to waste.

CHAPTER 32

“M

omma, one more week isn’t going to make a difference. I told you I talked to Celina’s doctor and he

said—” “Brinkley, I’m fine. I don’t know what I have to do to convince you that I’m okay.” “You had open heart surgery two weeks ago. You are the very definition of not okay.” “I’m healing perfectly. I know you heard Dr. Sage tell me that. I don’t know why you won’t believe him.” “I believe him. And I think it’s great that you’re healing so well, but healing well and being well enough to be left alone for at least a month are two completely different things.” “A home health nurse will be coming to check on me and—”

“Not good enough.” “Let me finish. And I’ve had a…friend offer to stay with me.” I frown. This sounds like a big fat lie to manipulate me into doing what she wants me to do. “Who is this friend?” My mother blushes. At least I think it’s a blush. Her cheeks turn a pretty, pale pink. “His name is John. We’ve known each other for years and he’s been awfully nice since Alton passed. He’s offered to come and stay. You know, just to keep an eye on me. And keep me company, of course. So I don’t get lonely here all by myself.” I narrow my eyes on her. “I can’t tell how much of this is total bullshit.” “Brinkley! Language!” I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring her. “And it’s all true, for your information. I’m a widow. Is it wrong for me to eventually enjoy the company of another man?” She looks appropriately addled, which actually makes me lean a little bit toward this being true. “No, nothing wrong with that at all. But you’re deciding this now? You understand how suspicious that sounds, right?” “Only if you’re a cynical person, but I suppose I can see where you’d think that. But let me assure you, daughter, this is not…B.S. God forbid you ever have to have your chest cut open and your heart operated on. It makes you rethink everything,

including how you want to spend the next years of your life, however many you might have left.” At that I soften. “So, this is real?” “Yes, it’s real. I’m not going to lie to you to get you to leave. I shouldn’t have to, for one, but I wouldn’t do that.” “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You know that, right? That I’m just looking out for you.” “I know.” “Because I love you. That’s what people who love each other do.” She smiles a surprisingly maternal smile. “I know that. And that’s precisely why I want you to go on and get Celina taken care of. I love both of you, and I want what’s best for you. And this is best for you. For both of you. So go. I’ll be fine.” “You won’t be alone? At all, right?” “Not for one minute. Except for maybe my shower. I hope no one insists I must shower with help. That just won’t work.” I stifle a snigger. My momma. Some things really just don’t change. Even after a coronary bypass, she’s still worried about propriety, God love her. “Okay, Momma. If this is what you want and you’re okay with it, and you’ll let someone stay with you at all times…” “It’s a done deal. All that remains is for you to

get yourself and your daughter to Duke.” I sigh, part in relief and part as I brace myself for the next big hurdle. The biggest hurdle—getting my daughter cured. As much as I love my mother, there is nothing more important than that. That’s why I know that once we get the process going, I won’t leave her side until she’s ready to come home with me. “All right then. I’ll get the ball rolling.” Most of the arrangements have already been made. We just needed a clear start time. These types of procedures are planned down to the day. A few days after Momma was discharged from the hospital, Dane asked if he could tell Celina he wanted to be her donor. Of course, I said yes. My heart was in my throat the whole time. He was grilling chicken for all of us at Momma’s. Celina and I were sitting out on the porch with him, me sipping tea, her reading. Dane was nervous. I could tell. He poked and turned the chicken about a thousand times more than it needed poking or turning. He was stalling, preparing himself for the conversation ahead, which I thought was adorable. Finally, when he finished tending the meat that was more than adequately tended, he walked to Celina and squatted down in front of her, putting him eye level with her. He just blurted it out, which was kind of

comical. “Celina, I’d like to be your donor. If I’m a good enough match, that is. How would you feel about that?” His tone was so gentle, so kind, so caring, I was almost crushed with it. If I’d ever had a doubt that Dane was what, was who my baby deserved to have in her life, those doubts were eradicated on that day. I watched as his words sank in. I watched my daughter’s eyes fill with tears. I watched her cover her mouth. And I watched her nod her acceptance of her father’s proposal. She bowed her head then and her thin shoulders began to shake with her sobs. I watched Dane pull her tenderly into his arms. I sat quietly across from them, tears streaming down my cheeks. Dane already gave his sample and has already been determined to be a half-match. He has a couple more characteristics in common with her than even I have, which is good. Once I tell him and Celina that we are okay to leave Grandma and get this show on the road, my life becomes a whirlwind. Within forty-eight hours of telling Dane, calls have been made, appointments have been scheduled, and, after goodbyes to my mother, we are on our way to the house that Dane rented near the hospital to be our base. Celina will stay with us as long as she can, but it was made clear that at a

certain point, she would have to be hospitalized. We’ll be close enough, however, that we can spend as much time with her as possible, while still maintaining basic hygiene and having a real bed to alternate sleeping in. We check in at the hospital and her doctor, Dr. Napier, goes over one last time all that we can expect once the countdown officially begins. That will be day minus eight, the day she’s admitted to the hospital to begin her preparative treatments. They call it day minus eight because each day counts down toward day zero, which is the transplant, and every day after that will begin with a plus one, two, three, etc. Dr. Napier was very up front about everything we could expect, so we were all well-versed about the process and what it entailed. And I thought I was prepared. Well, as prepared as a mother can be for something like this, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what it would be like to watch my little girl go through hell. Day minus eight she began her chemo treatments. Celina did really well. They gave her plenty of medication for nausea, but the steroids given with it kept her from sleeping. Dane and I sat up with her all night, playing cards and making plans for a big vacation next summer hoping that she’d forget about this summer altogether. Day minus seven she began a little less

agreeably because she was tired. Day minus six, even more so. But it was on day minus five that the sores in her mouth arrived and that the first of her hair started to fall out. Celina turned over on her pillow and then sat up. Left behind her was a thick chunk of long blonde hair. When I saw it, my first inclination was to hide it from her. Whether that would’ve been smart or not, I don’t know, but I just knew I wanted to spare her the pain of seeing it. Because I knew it would hurt. Celina turned back to adjust her pillow and she just stopped. I knew she’d seen it. I watched her pale fingers reach out and take the lock from the whitest white pillowcase and she turned to me, her heart and a floodgate of tears in her eyes. That’s when the real distress on her part started. And her health deteriorated from that point as well. Her nausea became harder to control, her fatigue was beyond helping, the sores in her mouth prevented her from eating and drinking, despite the wash they gave her to use, and so additional fluids had to be given because she was becoming dangerously dehydrated. On day minus three, they added radiation to her regimen, and day by day, I saw my little girl shrivel right before my eyes. Her skin got paler every day. The dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced. The loss of her hair became more

evident. Her refusal to eat or drink made her look like skin and bone, and by day zero, she was hardly talking to us. I kneel by her bedside, praying as she lies on her back, staring silently at the ceiling. I take her hand in mine. It’s cold and bony and so frail. So very, very frail. As long as I live, I’ll never forget what it feels like to touch her this way. It’s like she’s a wax figure of my daughter, cool and emotionless. Like there is no life in her, or that what’s there is on its way out. I can’t bear to think of it. “You’ll make it through this, Celina.” Please don’t give up. “I promise you will.” I’ll die if you don’t. She says nothing. She never does. She seems to just…exist, but only just. Like she’s hanging on by a thread. A thread that’s steadily unraveling. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I’ve cried so much that I can’t cry anymore. My eyes haven’t completely figured that out yet, though. They burn like they’re trying to cry, but tears never come. I’ve shed them all. And what might’ve been left, I’ve worried away. Watching my child go through this has stolen every last tear I had left to cry. I may never cry again. I may never feel again.

I can’t remember the last time I slept. I can’t remember the last time I felt like life was normal. The last eight days has been a torturous eternity that I wouldn’t wish on my very worst enemy. If there were more days like these, I’m not sure any of us could survive them. But it’s almost over. She’s almost done. If she can just make it through the this next part… I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and I turn to find Dane standing behind me. His eyes are dark and hollow and I know he’s hurting as much as I am. He wasn’t prepared for this. Neither of us was. “It’s time.” He’s already done his part, donated his marrow so they could do what they needed to do to it in order that Celina’s body would have the greatest chance of accepting it. Now he’s like me, watching, hurting, and waiting. Waiting for this to be over and for her to be okay. I sniff and stand, leaning over Celina. “Did you hear that? You’re about to get the good stuff. This is the last step. You ready?” At that, she turns her sparsely covered head on her pillow and looks up at me with her huge, glassy green eyes. She nods. That’s it. She nods.

I don’t know if she’s as much accepting of it as it is that she’s just too tired and too sick to fight it. Burn! Oh, God, my eyes burn so badly, but I smile at her as I rub her cheek with the back of my hand. “It’ll be over soon, baby girl. You’re in the home stretch. Just hang on, okay?” Please hang on, baby girl. Please don’t give up. Again, she nods, and behind me nurses are bustling in with equipment and bags and the chaos that they always bring when they arrive. The transplant is set up much like a blood transfusion and they make us leave the room while it’s in progress. Dane and I pace the waiting room, neither speaking as we pass, until we’re called back to Celina’s room. We enter quietly, and I wonder if Dane was expecting to see a dramatic change in her as I was. I know it makes no sense at all, but I’d hoped that the relief of having it done would show on her face, in her eyes, in the way she looks like she’s too tired to fight anymore. That scares me more than anything. She looks like she’s done. Like she’s already given up. It’s as I’m approaching the bed that I see the odd expression come over her face. It’s almost like confusion and it happens just seconds before her body tenses. Then she begins to tremble. From her

head to her toes, she twitches. It starts out like a shiver, but then, like the flip of a switch, all hell breaks loose. Celina jerks once, so violently, her back arching so sharply, that I wonder that her spine doesn’t snap in two. I gasp, but before I can take a step in her direction, she begins to buck. I watch in slow motion as the nurse starts toward her, but she’s not fast enough. None of us are. No one is there to protect her when, with one wild flail, Celina’s head slams into the bedrail with a sickening crack. More chaos happens as the nurse turns Celina on her side and pulls her pillow around to protect her head. She yells things out toward the hall and other people file quickly into and out of the room. I stand, dumbfounded, watching as they surround my daughter like buzzing bees. My heart is in my throat and my mind is spinning with disbelief, and the only thought I can really think is that I just want everyone to move out of the way so I can see her. I feel like if I can just keep my eyes on Celina, she’ll be okay. Her body jerks and twitches with the seizure, and I hold my breath as they work to administer the drugs that will break it. I hear them chatter back and forth, certain words penetrating the helpless terror I feel. No history of epilepsy. Blood pressure was only slightly elevated with

last reading. No known drug allergies. Possible transfusion reaction. As their words drop in and out of my consciousness, I watch my daughter. In my mind, I’m praying, I’m begging, I’m talking to her and praying to God, pleading for my child’s life. My eyes are glued to hers as she begins to settle. The violence leaves her slowly, like air leaking from a tire. Eventually, her body comes to rest on the bed once more, and as it does, one eyelid slips open. As though with purpose, one green eye seems to focus on mine. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats. And then it closes. But not before I see the light go out. I recognize the moment, the very instant that Celina is no longer with me. I feel the absence of her like a gunshot that leaves my chest a gaping, ragged hole. The little girl I birthed, the child I’ve known her whole life, the babe I’ve loved more than myself since the day she came into this world, is gone. I hear someone scream. It’s a woman’s voice, and all she keeps saying is one word over and over and over again. “Noooo!”

CHAPTER 33

T

he screaming heralded the onset of bursts of light and time and reality, like flashes of a camera capturing moments of horror. The doctor rushing to Celina’s side. Flash. The urgency in his voice as he asks her questions and gets no response. Flash. The hurried way they rush her out of the room and down to CT. Flash. Dane leading me to a chair and pressing me into it. Flash. The look of excruciating pain on his face when I look up at him. Flash.

The dull ache of losing something more precious to me than my own life. Flash. Dane. Flash. Flash. Flash. Him picking me up off the floor. Him pressing my head to his shoulder. Him looking down into my eyes, agony written all over his face. Then there’s agony. So much agony. Then time. So much time. Hours, days, years later, Dr. Napier shows up again. His words are a jumbled mess. Critical bleed Celina’s caused a head trauma seizure. Or was it seizure trauma caused bleed Celina critical head? Or was it Celina’s seizure caused head trauma and has a critical bleed? I don’t know. I only know that my daughter isn’t awake. I can’t see her eyes and I can’t feel her with me. Since she was born, I’ve always been able to feel her presence, like a warm light in my heart no matter where she was—at preschool, at a friend’s house, on a field trip. She was always alive out there, somewhere, her lungs filling with air and her heart beating enough to keep both of us alive. Only now I don’t feel that. I can’t feel my little girl and my heart doesn’t

have enough energy to beat on its own. My world doesn’t have enough energy to turn on its own. My life doesn’t have enough reason to continue on its own. Little by little, hour by hour, day by day, I’m dying and so is my child. On Thursday—or is it Tuesday?—I’m in the waiting room. I’m always in the waiting room. Something shifts beside me and I glance to my left. It’s Dane. He looks haggard, his eyes red, his hair a mess, and a thick, dark layer of stubble dusts his cheeks. He sits beside me and I stare absently at him. I don’t know how long he’s been there. Or how long I have. Forever. Moments. I don’t know anymore. I feel him take my hand. I feel the warmth of it. I feel the comfort of it. But I’m not warmed. And I’m not comforted. “The nurse said her vitals are improving.” I nod. That means nothing to me. I can’t feel my daughter. “The neurologist says he thinks she’s improving.” I nod again. I feel a tiny flare in my chest, like the spark of hope trying to take hold, but it flickers once, sputters, and dies because I can’t feel my daughter anymore.

“She’ll make it, Brinkley. She has to.” It’s the tremor in Dane’s voice, the uncertainty of it that shakes me. First, I look down at our joined hands and then back up at his familiar face, and I see. I see. For the first time since all this happened, I really see Dane. He’s suffering. I can see it, as plainly as the bright sun painting golden triangles on the drab carpet. He’s helpless. I can feel it as poignantly as I feel the absence of my daughter. But he’s strong, too. He’s as solid as our rock and as unwavering as the earth itself. I blink at him. My eyes, they’re burning. Still burning. Always burning. I try to speak, but have to try twice. My mouth is so dry. “Dane, what am I going to do?” “You’re going to be here when our daughter wakes up. That’s what you’re going to do.” “What if…what if…” I can’t bring myself to say the words, even though they feel like they’ve already been spoken into existence. Because I can’t feel my daughter anymore. “She’ll make it. She’s strong. Like you. She’ll make it. She has to.” “What will I do if…if…”

I can hardly think of the possibilities, much less utter them. “It won’t happen. You don’t need to worry about that. She’s gonna make it.” “Dane, I can’t…I can’t feel her. I can’t feel my little girl anymore.” Hysteria comes for me, swift and sweeping. “She’s still there, Brinkley. You’ll feel her again.” “I’ve always felt her. Always. Since she was born, I’ve… always… I can’t lose her. I can’t…I can’t…” I feel so hollow. So cold and empty and hollow. “You won’t. She will make it. This is not how her story ends. If I have to go in there and give every one of my organs to save her, I will get her back for you. I swear it. I can’t live with myself knowing I took her from you. I just…I can’t. I’ll get her back for you if it’s the very last thing I do.” I feel my forehead crease. “Dane, this isn’t your fault.” He gets out of his chair and drops to his knees in front of me, pressing our joined hands to his brow. “If I hadn’t wanted to be her donor, this might not have happened. I was so selfish. I wanted to be the one. I wanted to be the one to save her.” His voice is anguish, his tone misery. “It wasn’t your marrow that did this.”

He’s so still, so quiet. Torment is rolling off him like frigid waves from the ocean. “I just found her. I’ll make this right. I swear on my life.” His words bring a kind of awakening to me. They force me not only to see reason, but to remind Dane of it. “You’re right. You did just find her, so you don’t know her. You don’t know how strong she is. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. She’s so tough, so…determined. She’s a fighter. Even her teachers said so.” As I say the words, I draw a strange sort of detached comfort from them. And deep within me, a soft glow begins. Dane looks up and stares at me, long and hard, and somehow, little by little, we begin to draw strength from each other. “She can’t come from us and not be a fighter.” “No, she can’t.” He goes on, bolder. “We fight for love in this family. We fight for each other. We always have.” “Always.” “We never gave up and neither will she. She’s coming back. I promise you. She’s coming back. And we’ll be together. All three of us. A family. Finally.” “A family.” Although the words are but a whisper, there is a thread of steel that weaves them together. I repeat them, just so I can feel them roll off my tongue, fill the air around us, resonate in and

through and between my ribs. “A family. She’ll have a whole family.” Dane pulls me into his arms, crushing me to him, and together, we hope. We grab onto it, we cling to it. We hold to it as desperately as we hold to each other. His voice is gruff and muffled when he says, “I never stopped loving you, you know.” Something inside me shifts, moves. Melts. My Celina…she has to come back to us. She has to come back to this. “Dane.” I bury my face in the curve of his neck. “I wish I’d told you sooner, and I know this is the shittiest time, but I want you to know. You have to know that you…you’re all I’ve ever wanted, and meeting the beautiful little girl that we made together…I’ll never be the same. And I don’t want to be. When we leave here, I want you to know that…that…” He leans away and takes my face in his hands. “You’re my home. Wherever you are, that’s where my heart is. It always has been. Even after all these years.” “Sommers?” Both of our heads snap up when my name is called. It’s the doctor. He’s looking for us. When his eyes meet mine from across the room, my heart stops. It just stops beating, my entire existence balanced on the head of a pin.

Another countdown begins. Minus one heartbeat. Minus two. Minus three. But then he smiles. And my heart, my life, my world starts back up again.

CHAPTER 34

I

walk back into Celina’s room and Dane is literally in bed with her. He’s stretched out on his back with his hands behind his head, and she’s curled into the fetal position against his side, sound asleep. Celina. My baby. I watch her lips puff with every breath she exhales. Each time, it reassures me that she’s alive, she’s okay. She’s still with me. Even now, I can’t bear to think of where I’d be right now if she hadn’t made it, if she hadn’t pulled through. It’s as though my mind literally can’t grasp the thought. Nor do I want it to. I scan her face, her beautiful face. I’m relieved to see that her color is a little better, her cheeks are a little fuller, and the sheen of her skin isn’t waxy.

Clutched against Celina’s chest is a stuffed turtle that Dane brought her the day she was moved to a step-down unit room and permitted to have gifts brought in. He said he wanted her to have a piece of home with her, so he brought her a turtle. My eyes flit over to him. Dane. My love. My heart does a flip. His eyes are closed, but he’s beautiful as always. Lying beside our little girl, he looks so big, so long and lithe, so manly and capable. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect man for us—the perfect father for our daughter and the perfect mate for me. If Celina is my sun, he’s my moon and my stars. He keeps me safe in the night and quietly watches over me during the day. The two of them together make up my universe, and I’d be unhinged without either of them. I’m content to just stand and stare at them—my child and the love of my life, alive and well. Together. Dane’s eyes come slowly open, focusing on me for a few seconds before his lips twist into a gentle smile. Mine curve in answer, not of my own doing, but because every time he looks at me, I smile. I can’t help it. That truly is a muscle memory response when it comes to Dane. A response to happiness.

We stare at each other, holding an entire conversation without saying a word. He’s telling me he loves me, and how happy he is. And I’m telling him I know, because I feel the same way. It’s the same conversation we have at least once a day. It began the hour that Celina came out of her coma. We kept it up as she started getting better by leaps and bounds every day. My smile widens. There’s nothing not to smile about. I have everything I need lying on that bed. And I suspect that Dane feels the same way when I lie with her and he sees us there together. She stirs, opening her brilliant green eyes. She blinks slowly at first. It takes her a minute to rouse. Her body has been through so much, it’ll take a while for her to be back to her old self, but she’ll get there. She still sleeps a lot. She needs a tremendous amount of rest, so we do everything we need to do around her. Dane stayed with her so I could run back to our rental house, grab a quick shower, and then run to the mall to pick up some things for Celina. “Did you get it?” Her voice is gravely with sleep, but her eyes are brightening rapidly. I take the bag I’m holding to the bed and hand it to her as I sit by her legs. She digs in, the plastic rustling as she bypasses the couple of shirts I bought her in search of one thing

in particular. She smiles a big, wide, beautiful smile when she pulls out the cap. It’s soft and knit and purple, and was the closest thing I could find to what she wanted to cover her slick head. “Is that close enough?” She uses her teeth to gnaw off the tag. “Stop that! You’ll ruin your teeth.” But I’m too late. The tag is off and tossed carelessly back into the bag as the hat goes on her head. She fluffs and tugs at it until it feels just right, and then she tilts her head and looks up at me from under her still-intact lashes. “Well? How do I look?” “You look stunning, as always. If I didn’t love you so much, I might hate you a little.” I give her a teasing grin and she sticks her tongue out at me. “Weirdo.” “Are you ever going to turn some of this abuse toward your father? He hasn’t even been initiated into your sphere of teenaged angst yet. I’m about to get offended.” “He’s cooler than you are. There’s nothing to raz him about.” “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl,” I tell her with a devious smile and a conspiratorial wink. “I’m more than happy to fill you in on all the not-cool things about your dad. For instance, did you know that he likes to chew prairie grass?”

She turns to look at Dane. “You do?” He shrugs. “It tastes like watermelon.” “Can I try it?” Dane turns a dazzling smile on me that says he won, I lost. “So this is how it’s going to be. You two against me?” Dane and Celina look at each other and grin, then they turn to me and nod at the same time. “Yeah, pretty much.” Naturally, I stick out my tongue at them, but then I cross my legs and settle in for some real torture. “So, Celina, have I ever told you what it was like when I first started breastfeeding you?” I laugh outright when she immediately clamps her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut. “Stop! Stop! Shut up! I don’t want to hear that gross stuff!” “I, on the other hand…” Dane says with a total man grin. At that, Celina turns her shocked eyes and gasps on him. “Not cool, Dad. Not. Cool.” A wonderful hush falls between us. I think Celina is largely unaware of it because we’re both still smiling. She doesn’t realize what it feels like to hear her call Dane “Dad.” I’m not even certain she’s aware of doing it. But I am. And by the look on Dane’s face, he is, too. I wish I had a camera and could record the look

on his face. He’s still smiling, but there’s something different about it, about his expression. It’s like the light from inside his soul is shining through every pore. I know I won’t need a physical picture to remember what it looks like, though. It will forever be etched into my memory, filed away in a folder labeled BEST MOMENTS OF MY LIFE. Because this is one of them, one of the very best moments of my life.

CHAPTER 35

I

walk out onto the front porch and look out at the fields. The world is coated with nightfall, everything painted shades of blue and black and trimmed in silver. As always, it holds all the promise of tomorrow. Endless possibility. Hope. I take a deep breath. It smells like home. I never thought I’d like that smell again, but I do now. Now everything has changed. I step out onto the driveway, glancing back only briefly to make sure I don’t see any lights burning inside the house. We’re staying at Momma’s for a while longer, just until everyone can recuperate. It’s easier for me to keep an eye on them both if we stay there, although Dane has made it very clear he’d like our permanent residence to be with him.

Both Celina and I are in agreement with that. It will all just take time. Precious time. Celina’s been out of the hospital for a month, but we stayed near Duke until we got the go-ahead to bring her back to Shepherd’s Mill, which happened last week. The process took longer than anyone expected because of those initial complications. They never did definitively discover what caused the seizure, but they know the knock to the head is what caused the bleed. Luckily, it wasn’t a big one. That could’ve resulted in disaster. Increased risk of bleeding was one of the most serious possible side effects of the transplant. Thankfully, Celina didn’t hit her head very hard and the bleed stopped fairly quickly on its own. No one else has said it, but I know it was a miracle. No one else had to say it. So now, after everything, here we are. Back home. We are finally back home and finally back to some semblance of normal. When I left the house, Momma was asleep in her room. Celina was asleep on the couch with the television on, so I left her there. She still needs lots and lots of rest, so when she wants to sleep, I let her sleep. Whenever and wherever. Things are crazy, all day every day, but in a good way. They’re hectic, but everyone is alive and well, so that makes it all bearable. More than bearable. Just thinking back on those hours when

Celina was unconscious, fighting for her life, makes me feel like I’m hyperventilating. I try to just be thankful, every day, that she made it through. That we all did. Time alone with Dane has been a rare commodity. A few minutes here and there are all we’ve been able to manage—in the hallway at the hospital or at the cafeteria while Celina slept or when he walked me to his truck. That was never enough, but there wasn’t anything we could do about it. Celina was priority number one. She still is, but tonight things are calm. Tonight is ripe with opportunity for us. Just us. We didn’t make plans. Nothing was said. It was just kind of an unspoken thing that floated between us tonight—the agreement that everything is finally quiet enough that we can meet. So for just a few minutes, in the dead of night, I’ll get him all to myself. I know he’ll be waiting at our rock. Just like I have a feel for my daughter, I have a feel for Dane, too, and I know he’ll be there. Some tingle in my heart told me right as he was leaving, when his eyes met mine and he winked, and I knew. Because sometimes a woman just knows. I make my way slowly through the wheat. I trail my hands through it. It feels the same as it always has, but also completely different. Everything is

different. Everything is better, or at least well on its way to getting there. I smile and turn my face up to the moon, her fat, full belly shining down on me. I think of all the moons I’ve seen over the years, all the tears I’ve cried with her watching over me from above, and realize that I’ve never been as happy as I am right now. I never thought I’d be this happy. Not really. Some part of me always knew that I’d have to choose between Dane and my mom. I knew she’d never approve, and I knew I’d never stop loving him. So to think that I’d ever be here, right here, right now—going to meet my lover in the dead of night and not caring who in the world knows it—is mind-boggling. And thrilling. So, so thrilling. My laugh trails behind me as I pick up speed. Off in the distance, I see a shape, tall and trim, erupting from the solid base of our rock. As I approach, he bends to throw his hand over the side. The moment I’m close enough, I slip mine into it and he hauls me up. Dane pulls me straight into his arms, crushing my mouth with his. He’s as starved as I am. Ravenous, like we’ve waited a lifetime for this moment. And in some ways we have. He devours me, his need lighting me up on the inside. The clock turns back and, suddenly, I’m

seventeen again, so in love, so on fire. I don’t even take a breath. I only feel. I taste Dane’s tongue, savoring the flavor of his mouth, the flavor of him. I’m losing my grip, losing my mind. I’m overwhelmed with a need I haven’t felt in half a lifetime. Heat and want ratchet up. My fingers reach, my tongue licks, my breasts ache. I breathe him in and exhale his name. And then we are burning. Together. We are tugging and ripping and tearing at each other’s clothes. There is an urgency between us, but not one born of dwindling time. No, this one is born of the passage of it. It’s been so long. I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for him, and in many ways I have. When I’m clothed only in moonlight and the cooling night air, Dane presses his hot skin to mine and, chest to chest, bends to pick me up. With a will and a want of their own, my legs wrap around his waist, putting the part of me that aches most for him inches from the one thing that will ease that ache. I realize he’s bare, which gives me a moment of pause. “We’re adults now. We should be smarter than this, right?” I let my head fall back as his lips burn a trail down my throat. “Probably. I’m okay with whatever happens, though. You?” A little thrill, like the zing of an electrical

current, buzzes through my core. “Yes. Oh, God, yes!” He’s breathless as he speaks. So am I. “This seems vaguely familiar.” “So familiar.” “You still feel like you were made just for me. My lips belong here.” He kisses the little hollow under my ear. “My hands belong here.” He flexes his fingers on my butt where they’re holding me up. “And this,” he growls as he teases between my legs, “belongs here.” With that, Dane lets me fall onto him and we both cry out at the same time. Our chests are heaving and our skin sticks together as we pant. My muscles squeeze and contract around him, a silent plea for more. “Oh shit.” Dane’s whisper makes me smile, and I laugh when he lifts me off him and turns to kneel on the heap of our discarded clothes. “I don’t trust my legs to hold us up for this. You don’t mind, do you?” I don’t even get my answer out before he pulls me down onto him again and turns me upside down from the inside out. We are a flurry of hot kisses, teasing fingers, and desperate moans. We claw and grasp, bite and lick. Every inch is on fire, every nerve alive, and it all boils down to Dane James. I don’t know when he scoots me underneath him and begins to mark me with thrust after thrust

of his possession. I only know that at some point, I forget that the world exists outside this man, outside the love that we’ve nurtured for over half our lives, and time stands still. For us, for this moment, the earth stops spinning and there is nothing else, no one else, but Dane and me. I’m in the arms of my soulmate, and when we explode together, I’m gripped in the throes of a passion unlike anything I’ve ever known. Several long, beautiful, breathtaking minutes later, I hear his voice. A breath. A groan. A promise. And it seals my fate as well as his. “I love you, Brinkley Sommers.” “I love you, Dane James. Don’t ever let me go.” “Never.”

CHAPTER 36 CHRISTMAS EVE

D

inner is over. The kitchen is clean, leftovers stowed in plastic containers in the fridge. There’s enough for four families to eat for a month. Momma never did know how to do simple. She didn’t just throw a Christmas Eve dinner for us; she threw a banquet, one that four people could never make a dent in. She wanted this one to be special, though. Not only is it our first Christmas together, all of us, as a family, but it’s a celebration of Celina’s successful examination. The bone marrow transplant seems to be grafting perfectly, no problems at all. She’ll still have to be monitored for a long time, and she won’t be completely in the clear for a while yet, but for now, she’s well. Seemingly cured. That alone is reason to rejoice.

The baton of doling out gifts has been silently passed to Dane. When we are all seated around the room, he starts in on the pile of presents under the tree. It seems endless. “Momma, you bought too much.” “Oh pish posh,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Pish posh? What the heck is that? It sounds like bad sushi.” She rolls her eyes. “Brinkley, honestly. Must you pick on me all the time?” “Uh, yeah. It’s what I do.” She shakes her head, but I see the upward curve of her lips. I see the happiness radiating from her face. “Just wait until Celina gets older and starts doing this to you.” “That won’t happen. I’m awesome. There’s nothing to pick on.” “What about when you get old and you start wearing old lady pants?” “Never gonna happen. This ass is staying in these jeans until I die. I’ll be buried in them, thank you very much.” “Brinkley Renee!” Momma chastises. “Butt. I meant to say butt.” Celina sniggers and I wink at her. Meanwhile, Dane starts calling out names. When every present is accounted for and we’re

all sitting behind shamefully enormous piles of presents, Dane aims his phone at my mother and tells her to start the festivities. Momma is more than happy to do that, of course. She loves presents. That will never change. She oohs and aahs over every present, which thrills Celina and makes my heart curiously warm, and when she’s done, she gets up and comes to each of us to thank us individually with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. And for me, a look that says thank you for a hundred different things that aren’t under the tree. Dane goes around the room, to me, then to Celina. Lastly, he turns to his pile and unwraps a surprisingly thoughtful array of gifts. Across the room, I give my mom a high five and she rolls her eyes. But then she holds up her hand to complete it. I laugh. I can’t help myself. I go to the kitchen to get a trash bag to collect all the wrapping and Dane follows me in. I can hear Celina laughing with Momma and I smile. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “There’s one present left,” he says, his eyes as warm as the pumpkin pie we had for dessert. He holds up a box, about the size of a wallet, and hands it to me. I drop the empty bag and dig in. “Who’s it from?” I ask, ripping through paper and tearing through tape. He doesn’t answer; he just watches me.

I open the lid only to find two smaller boxes inside the first, both about the size of a ring box. They’re labeled as ONE and TWO. I inhale sharply. I don’t want to make too much of this in case it’s not what I think it is, what I hope it is. It could be earrings or a matching set of jewelry. I mean there are two boxes, not just one. But, still, it could be something else, too. My eyes flicker to Dane’s and they’re trained on me, happy yet intense. Gently, I remove the paper from the first smaller box labeled ONE, and I lift the velvet lid. Inside it is a ring that I’m familiar with. The last time I saw it was fifteen years ago when my mother slid it off her finger and gave it to me. “Is this…is this what I think it is?” He nods. “How did you find it? I mean…how?” He shrugs. Like it was no big deal when I know it had to have been. God, I love that shrug. “It took some digging. And some bribing, but luckily nowadays there’s a paper trail for everything. And a price. Most anything can be bought. Once I found the shop, it wasn’t that hard.” “Not that hard? Are you kidding me? I bet this was a huge pain in the as— butt!” I grin as I correct myself. “Ass,” he whispers, and I giggle. “It doesn’t matter how hard it was, you’re worth it. I thought

maybe this ring would mean something to you.” “It does.” I pick it up and move it in the light. Dane takes my hand, the ring pressed between our palms, and grabs the other box. “Come on.” “Where are we going?” A sly yet stunning smile slides across his face. “To our place.” As always, Dane James could smile like that and ask me anything and I’d do it. I’d follow him anywhere. Butterflies take flight, fluttering in my belly and dancing through my veins. “Give me just one second. To tell them we’ll be back.” He nods then kisses me quickly, whispering, “Don’t take too long. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. I don’t want to wait anymore.” I smile, a wobbly, nervous, elated smile, and I dart into the living room. I come up short when I see that John, my mother’s new boyfriend (or whatever they call one another at their age), has arrived. “Oh. Hi, John. I don’t mean to be rude, but Dane and I have to step out for just a minute. We’ll be right back.” “Not rude at all. Take your time.” He and my mother smile at me and then at each other, and they resume whatever they were discussing with Celina as though I never popped in. I find it odd, but I don’t take too long to think about

it. Rather, I race back through the house toward Dane, stopping by my purse along the way to pocket the gauze bag tucked away inside it. And then, with my heart ablaze, I return to the kitchen. Dane is standing patiently by the door, still smiling, and I realize when my eyes fall on his face that I’ve never felt more alive, more complete than I do in this moment. When I stop in front of him, he must be able to see it on my face—my feelings, my heart, my love. “Hold that thought for just a few minutes.” He takes my hand again, the ring once more pressed between his palm and my own, and he leads me out the back door, around the house, and through the field. He leads me to the rock. Our rock. The path feels as much like a part of us, our love, our history, as the feelings themselves. I revel in each one, in every step we took to get to this place in time. With each other. Finally together. At our rock, Dane releases me just long enough to leap up onto it and pull me up after him. When we’re standing face-to-face, I anxiously blurt, “I bet we look like one of those plastic couples on top of a wedding cake.” He grins. “I guess that’s kind of fitting. In a

weird way. This has always been kind of the cake in my life. The good part. The sweet stuff. This is where it all began, isn’t it?” We both take a second to look around at the vast fields that glow in the moonlight, at the endless sky, and the equally endless possibilities the future seems to hold from this vantage point. Dane takes my hand and lays the ring on my palm. “I can never give you back what he stole. If I could, I would. I’d give my every last cent to pay you back for all that you’ve suffered.” “Dane, you—” He presses a finger to my lips. “This is a symbol of our past, of all that we lost. But I’m done living in the past and I hope you are, too. I got you back, and all I want now is a future with you. You and Celina. Our family. Alton…he can’t hurt us anymore. He’s gone.” Dane curls his fingers over mine, forming them into a fist around the ring, and then takes a step back. “Throw it.” I glance down at my closed fingers, the weight of the ring heavier than mere gold and gemstones. It’s a burden I’ve carried for twenty years, fifteen of them by myself. Like Dane, I’m done. I’m done living in the past, letting Alton and this town and all the ugliness rule my life. I’m done sipping on the poison of what he did and tried to do to me. I’m done suffering for him. I draw my arm back as far as it will go and, with

a grunt, I hurl the ring out into the darkness, imagining it being swallowed up by the newly planted fields. The wheat will grow up and around and over it, and it will remain there for the rest of my life, buried, where it belongs. A soft, cool wind blows and I inhale. I inhale the night and I inhale freedom. The kind of freedom I used to dream about as a little girl. A laugh bubbles up in my chest. I feel a thousand pounds lighter. I want to spin in circles and laugh so loud the whole world hears me. But that laughter gets stuck in my throat when I turn around and see Dane kneeling on our rock. His arm is outstretched, his palm open, and on it sits box TWO. Slowly, I walk forward and take the box. I roll it over and over in my hand a few times before I slide one finger under a crease and tear away the paper. I do it with great reverence, a reverence that, to a casual onlooker, might seem out of place. But it’s deserved. Well-deserved. My gut, my heart tells me that what’s in this box will change the rest of my life. Even without seeing it, I feel that whatever rests inside is the culmination of two decades of love and want. With trembling fingers, I lift the lid. I gasp when I see an earring inside, nestled against velvet the color of the sky above. It’s a single dangling emerald and diamond earring. And I recognize it,

too. “This is…” Dane nods. It’s the earring I left for him that day so long ago on this very rock. It was my way of saying all the things I couldn’t say, that I wasn’t allowed to say. And he heard them. I rub my finger over it, marveling at the thin piece of jewelry. “You kept it? All this time?” Again he nods. “It was the last piece of you I had. Even though I thought it was you saying goodbye, I couldn’t get rid of it. I just…I couldn’t.” “It was never ‘goodbye’. It was ‘I love you’.” Dane’s face, his handsome, handsome face, is shining up at mine when he says, his voice hushed in the quiet night, “Brinkley Sommers, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me? Will you be mine? Will you finally be mine?” As usual, I can’t stop the tears. They pour freely down my cheeks. I don’t notice the pain when I fall to my knees in front of him. I only feel love. So much love and so much happiness, everything else is muted. Everything and everyone else has faded into the distance, into the background, into the night, and once again, it’s just Dane and me, on our rock. Alone in the world, surrounded by darkness and filled with the profound adoration that’s between

us. I slip out one of my earrings and tuck my hair behind my ear. “I’ve always been yours. Not for a day in twenty years have I ever been anyone else’s.” “Don’t ever leave me again.” “Never. Not ever.” He puts my old earring in and then takes my shaking hands in his. He rubs my left ring finger with his thumb. “I want to have the stones put into an engagement ring, but for tonight, for this, I wanted to give you back every piece of us that you left behind.” “I never left you behind. You were always with me, in my heart, every day. I couldn’t get rid of you either. I didn’t want to.” I reach into the pocket of my slacks and I produce the little gauze bag. “I have something for you, too.” I take Dane’s hand and turn it palm up to place the gauze bag on it. He glances down at it, a bit of confusion clear on his face, but he tugs open the little strings anyway. I watch with a hammering heart as he takes out the slender stick and stares at the window on it. “You probably can’t see it in the dark, but there are two pink lines there.” He lifts wide eyes to mine. “Does this mean…” I nod. “You’re…” I nod again. He whoops so loudly I can’t hear for a few

seconds. But I can feel. I feel joy, unspeakable joy, rolling off him, rolling off me. Colliding in the space in between. It shoots up into a spray above our heads and rains down on us as Dane pulls me to my feet and into his arms, then swings me in a dozen dizzying circles. When he finally stops, I’m breathless. “This time, I’ll be by your side the whole time. This time, you won’t be alone.” He kisses me with such tenderness, a few more tears leak out and crawl down my cheeks. “I love you, Dane James.” “And I love you, Brinkley Sommers.” He buries his face in my neck. “You’re shivering. We should get back.” “It’s not the cold that’s making me shiver.” “I wish I’d brought a blanket.” “Why? I’m fine. Really.” He leans back and looks down at me. “Because if I had, I’d peel every stitch of clothes off you. I want to see you in this earring and nothing else.” His words heat me more effectively than any blanket ever could. “We might be missed, and I’d really hate for someone to come looking for us. This is our spot. I don’t want anyone else ruining it.” “How about we meet back here later then? I’ll bring a blanket. You just bring you. And a big appetite.”

My stomach squirms in the most delicious way. “Done!” I laugh as he drags me back to the house. Now I just want the night to be over with so I can sneak out and meet Dane like we did when we were kids. And like we’ll probably always do. Because the rock is our place. And we belong there. Together.

EPILOGUE

CELINA

T WO Y EARS and eight months later I stand at the front of the aisle, waiting, like everyone else. The air smells like lilies and roses. Everything that would stand still in Grandma’s backyard has been draped with layers of white gauze and clumps of white flowers. It looks like a princess’ dream that someone brought to life. That someone being my grandmother. I don’t think Momma was totally thrilled about letting her take care of the wedding, but she knew how much it meant to Grandma, so she agreed. My dad wasn’t too fond of the idea either, but he just

shrugged and said whatever made my mom happy was fine with him. That’s kind of his thing— shrugging. Well, that and making Momma happy. It’s really cool seeing them together. Part of me is actually happy that I didn’t know he existed. It would’ve just hurt to know he was out there and unreachable. Plus, now, I get to see him as my dad, but also as the guy my mom fell in love with. The whole dating thing was weird, but I got over it pretty quick. He makes her so happy. You can see it in her face, in her eyes, and in her smile. Anyone who gives even the tiniest crap about her would’ve wanted him to stick around, no matter how creepy the PDA was. I look over at my dad where he’s standing, tall and strong, waiting for the music that will cue Momma’s walk down the aisle. He catches me watching him and winks. Then he sticks out his tongue real quick at me. I grin. I can’t help it. He’s such a dork. An awesome dork. I never thought I’d be this happy. I glance over at Miles. He’s my dad’s best man, which is kinda weird, but kinda not. He’s the boy I met at the hospital in Duke. He was there having a complicated surgery to repair a spinal injury he got playing football. He and my dad hit it off right away. Miles and me? Not so much. At first we were both pretty grumpy. I was stuck in the hospital for quite a while and it got old

fast, but then one day, out of the blue, I noticed how gray his eyes were and how they made my stomach feel when he looked at me. Things took a much more romantic turn after that. As luck would have it, he lives in the next town. He came over to see me when we got back to Shepherd’s Mill. Not too long after that, I got my first kiss. After Momma had carefully screened him for signs of cold, flu, or fever, of course. We lovingly call her the Snot Nazi because she’s always asking about runny noses and weepy eyes and stuff. She’s neurotic, but I can hardly fault her for it. I didn’t tell her, but I’d have risked getting sick just to kiss him. In a way, it felt more important than breathing. I knew she’d understand because she once told me that’s how she felt about my dad —like kissing him, being with him was more important than air. Now I get it. I’m young, I know, but I’m still going to enjoy every minute of this as long as I can. It may not work out at all, but it’s not irrational of me to hope it will. It did for my mom and dad. They fell in love at age twelve then were separated for fifteen years, but they found their way back to each other. Seeing them together makes it feel like dreams come true and miracles happen and true love really does exist. They give me hope. Just being in the same room

with them gives me hope. I glance over at my grandmother. Her boyfriend, John, is beside her. My sister, Hope, is on her lap. She’s dressed in a miniature version of Momma’s wedding dress, because Hope was the flower girl. That’s the only thing about her that looks like us, though. She looks like a girly version of Dad, with her dark hair and rust-brown eyes. I smile at her and she waves. She’s a dorky toddler, but I love her. I hear the pianist strike the first chord to the wedding march. Everyone stands to their feet and turns toward the house, every eye waiting to see my mother when she appears. I saw her before I walked down, though, so I swing my gaze to my dad. I want to watch him for a few minutes first. I want to see his face when he sees her. I know the instant she appears. I hear him suck in a breath of air and he looks like he just saw the sun for the first time. I see his jaw go slack for a second and then it clenches. I know he’s holding in all kinds of emotion. I’ve seen him make that face before, but never quite like this. His eyes are glued to her, and I watch them move as she moves. He looks awestruck. And so very much in love. The closer she gets, the more I see him relax. I know a few seconds before she takes his hand that

she’s near. His face splits into a smile, like the smile, and I know it’s because of her. I smile, too. Because I can’t help it. And then I look at my mother. As I stare at her, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair and her perfectly hanging veil blur. Her gorgeous designer dress is a fuzzy white silhouette and her one-of-a-kind necklace is a bundle of sparkles, nothing to compare with how beautiful she is. All I can see is her face. I still see it clearly, and I doubt I’ll ever forget it. She looks luminous. She shines with love. It almost hurts to look at her, but in a really good way. She’s smiling and crying at the same time, and I realize I’m doing the same thing. I’ve never seen two people more destined to be together, and I’ve never known two people who’ve fought more to be together either. They inspire me. Every day. Momma takes my dad’s hand and they both turn toward the minister. The swoosh of expensive fabric echoes all around as the zillion guests Grandma invited take their seats. “Dearly beloved,” he begins, and then goes through the traditional marriage ceremony. I watch with pride and with love, so happy for the two most important people in my life. I glance at Miles again, and he’s watching me,

smiling. I wonder what he’s thinking. Maybe afterward I’ll ask. I look back to my parents when I hear my dad’s voice. “I loved you before I really even knew what love was, but you’ve shown me what it means to truly give your life to another person, to put their happiness above your own. Until my dying breath, I will be the one to show you that kind of love. I will be the one to sacrifice for you. I will be the one to walk through fire for you. I will be the one to pick you up when you fall, and carry you when you’re sick, and hold you when you cry. I will be the one. Because I’m yours. You have my whole heart for my whole life. You always have.” Although her back is to me, I hear my mom’s soft little intake of breath and I know she’s fighting tears. She hadn’t heard his vows. He kept them to himself until this very moment. Now everyone knows how much he loves her, including her. Her voice is shaking when she starts to speak. “You saved me, Dane James. You saved me when I was twelve, and when I was fifteen, and when I was seventeen, and you’ve saved me every day since I came back. You’re my love, my world. You are my rock.” At that, my dad smiles. I guess it must be some sort of inside joke. The minister says, “You may now kiss the bride.” My dad is doing it before he can even finish

the sentence. When they turn toward the crowd, hand in hand, Reverend Daniels announces, “Mr. and Mrs. Dane and Brinkley James.” Applause rings through the air and both my parents turn toward me. Momma holds out her hand and I step forward to take it. She pulls me in between her and my dad just as Grandma steps up with Hope. She hands her off to Dad and then holds out her hand for his free one. Dad situates Hope on his hip and takes my grandmother’s hand just before she reaches for Momma’s hand. Everyone in the yard is standing, watching, waiting as Grandma turns to speak to the crowd. “When we moved to Shepherd’s Mill, I thought it would be a place to start over, a place for my daughter and me to have a better life. I wanted to bring her to a town where I could teach her what proper ladies acted like and how women with a good life behave themselves. I thought I brought her here to mold her and shape her and teach her, but she ended up teaching me.” Grandma looks over to my mom, her eyes all sparkly with tears. “I thought she was a willful, stubborn girl, just young and silly, but as it turns out, she was, she is, a much better person than I am. It turns out that my daughter taught me. She taught me everything I need to know about life and love.” Grandma lets go of Mom and Dad’s hands and

cups Momma’s face. Tears are streaming down my mother’s cheeks, but I know she doesn’t care. There’s a kind of happiness, a kind of peace in her eyes that no amount of mascara can enhance. “You grew me up, Brinkley. You showed me what true love is and how money shouldn’t change who you are. Knowing you, watching you live your life, even the years you were away from here, has made me a better person, and I just want you to know…I want everyone to know that I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you.” Grandma makes a little sobbing sound and draws Momma into a hug. No one says a word or moves a muscle until they pull apart and Grandma reaches over to put her hand to Dad’s cheek, too. “I couldn’t have chosen better for her. You’re the kind of man she needs. She knew it even when I didn’t, and I’m glad she didn’t listen to me. You’re…you’re the only one for her. You always were. And I’m happy to call you my son.” My dad smiles and leans down to kiss her cheek. Hope gets in on it, too, wrapping her chubby little arm around Grandma’s neck and making a smacking sound like she’s giving sugar. Everyone laughs. Grandma turns around to the crowd and, with a big smile, announces, “My daughter and son-in-law. May they find happiness in every day of their forever.” A few claps start at first, but then more erupt,

and soon everyone in the yard is clapping and cheering for my parents. They were the underdogs in this town and, whether everyone realizes it or not, they came out on top. John comes up, and he and Grandma fall in behind us. Together, we all walk down the aisle. This is one of the best days of my life. I know it’s one of the best for my parents. They’ve found true happiness. They’ve shown me that life is what we make of it. We just have to be determined enough to chase what we want and do what’s right, no matter what other people say or think. They give me hope, and I think today they gave a whole lot of other people hope, too.

the end

DEAR READER

Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to meet Dane and Brinkley. I hope you’ve loved their journey as much as I loved writing it. It is my greatest wish that you’ve found something valuable within these pages—hope, love, inspiration, something good to take with you when you go. The Lord gave me the ability to write so that, through me, He could touch hearts all over the world with hope and love and light. I give Him all the glory and thank Him every day for the life, the voice, the opportunity I’ve been given. And I thank YOU for reading. If you were touched by this story, loved it, thought about it, smiled over it, swooned over it, please consider telling a friend and leaving a review. Your words, spoken and written, are more powerful than you know, and to an author, they’re

like water and air and life. You may think you’re just one person, just one reader, but to me, you are much more than that. You are a person who helped change my life. You are a person who can make a difference every time you pick up a book, leave a review, or recommend that book to a friend. Each and every time you do this, you play a vital role in an author’s life. You play a vital role in MY life, and for that I am more appreciative than I could ever express. So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. Until next time… Michelle

YOUR FREE BOOK!

Sign up for my newsletter and receive a FREE BOOK, as well as exclusive sales and giveaways. Don’t worry, I won’t spam your inbox:) You can also catch giveaways and exclusive opportunities in my READER GROUP. I’d love to see you there. For more information about me, my books, or how to reach me, please visit my website.

CONNECT WITH ME!

See things you can't unsee on Instagram Catch me saying something inappropriate on Facebook Get in on all the firsts in my Reader Group Watch my antics on YouTube Get all your questions answered on my Website Chat me up on Twitter Check out all my titles on Goodreads And if you're a blogger who's interested in reviewing and promoting, please sign up here Look me up out there! I’d love to hear from you!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First is always my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Always. Next is always my husband. YOU are MY rock. You are the strong and solid fixture in my life, the anchor that keeps me from drifting out to sea. I would be lost without you. I love you more than anything, anything, anything. To Courtney, the best best friend a girl could ask for. You just get me. You get my thoughts, my humor, my worries and my books. You make me a better me, and my books better places to be. Thank you. Always always always. To Addison. You’ve become such an important piece of my daily life. You inspire me every single day. I’m so grateful to be able to call you friend and sister. Thank you for your insight on this project. Thank you for just being you. It’s a beautiful thing!

To Kat. You are so tirelessly willing and optimistic, and I love the bright light you bring to my days. You knew and loved these characters years ago and you never gave up on them. Just like you never give up on me. Thank you. Just…thank you. To Paige. You are such a pleasure to work with, and such a treasure to know. You made this book shine and I so appreciate your patience with me. To Teresa, Andrea, and Sarah. Thank you for taking time out of your life for these characters, and thank you for your input and your encouragement. You have no idea how much it means to me. No. Freaking. Idea. To every blogger who participated in this release. Y’all never cease to amaze me with your love and willingness to help. I am privileged and deeply honored to be able to work with such incredible women. Thank you. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you!

OTHER BOOKS BY M. LEIGHTON

All the Pretty Lies All the Pretty Poses All Things Pretty Down to You Up to Me Everything for Us Always with You The Beautiful Now Levi’s Blue Pocketful of Sand The Empty Jar Strong Enough Tough Enough Brave Enough

The Wild Ones Wild Child Some Like It Wild There’s Wild, Then There’s You

YA AND PARANORMAL

Fragile Madly Madly & Wolfhardt Madly & the Jackal Blood Like Poison: For the Love of a Vampire Blood Like Poison: Destined for a Vampire Blood Like Poison: To Kill an Angel The Reaping The Reckoning

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author, M. Leighton, is a rarely ever comfortable speaking about herself in the third person, but here goes. Michelle is a former nurse who has always harbored a passion for the written word, a weakness for alpha males, and a profound love of all things romantic. Never in her wildest dreams did this Yankee-turned-Southerner imagine her life as it is today. She has the best job in the world, a husband who treats her like a princess, and a dog that's so smart she may one day write a novel, too. You can often find Michelle hidden away in her cave, crafting a new story, or out in the sunshine enjoying some quiet time with her man. Movies and good food are frequently thrown into the mix, and exercise on days that start with Q. She loves wine, chocolate, the color red, and you can

find out more www.mleightonbooks.com.

about

her

at