Back To Us

by Rachel Hanna

  “How did you afford college?”

  “Military. I joined the Army as soon as I could and ended up with two tours in Iraq.”

  My heart stops. The thought of him in a war zone… Had I known at the time, it would have slayed me.

  “Iraq. Wow. I… What was that like?”

  His face changes, almost like he’s lost any expression at all. His eyes aren’t looking at me. They’re looking someplace else that I can’t see, to some other time.

  “I don’t really like to talk about it,” he says softly. As a therapist, I should know better than to just blurt out a question like that. Before I can apologize, he stands up and puts his hands in his pockets again. “Listen, I gotta go. Tell Harper I hope she feels better soon, okay?”

  Before I can walk him to the door, he’s there and then into the house and out the front door. And I’m left to wonder what happened to my sweet Dawson in Iraq.

  When did life get so damn complicated?

  Chapter 6

  I stand in front of the fig tree, staring up at the massive thing, wondering what in the world I’m going to do with it. Even when my dad would cut it to the ground and burn the stump, the stupid thing would come back stronger. Quite a metaphor for my own life.

  If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it’s strength. Being strong after my parents’ divorce was difficult. The very next morning, I remember sitting in the middle of the living room floor, playing a board game with Tabitha. I suddenly started crying, missing my father and grieving for the loss of my once perfect family.

  My mother, thinking that tough love was the only love, walked through the room and told me to cut it out. She said we had to get on with life, and to stop crying. It taught me that showing emotion meant showing weakness and that vulnerability was a dangerous thing. I’ve spent most of my adulthood trying to shake the feeling that when good things are going on, something bad must be around the corner.

  “Why are you staring at that tree?” Harper says from behind me.

  “You’re up. Good. You look a lot better. How do you feel?”

  “Like someone ran over me with a truck. But better, I guess.” She sits down on the steps, which means she’s going to hang out with me for at least a bit, and that makes me happy. “So why are you always staring at that thing?”

  “Well, I’m trying to figure out how to trim it without killing it or myself.”

  “Can’t we just chop it down? It’s way too big.”

  I laugh. “Trust me, chopping it down only makes it angry, and then it comes back stronger.” I take a seat next to her. “It’s called a fig tree.”

  “What are figs?”

  I get up and look inside the tree, pulling a ripe purple hued fig off one of the branches. “Here. Taste it.”

  “Ew. No way! It’s not even washed.”

  I bite off the end of the fig and smile at the sweetness of it. “When something is grown outside without chemicals, it’s not as important to wash it before you eat it.”

  “What do they taste like?”

  I pull another one from the tree. “I can’t describe it. Here, you taste for yourself.” She takes the fig and stares at it for a moment, but finally takes a bite.

  “They look weird.”

  “But how does it taste?”

  “Not too bad.” I sit back down beside her and toss my fig stem into the bushes next to us.

  “I remember when I was a kid, my Mom would have all of us out here picking figs in the evening. She would make canned preserves out of them. We had so many figs that strangers would stop and knock on our door asking if they could pick some.”

  “Did my Daddy pick figs too?” she asks softly.

  “Of course he did! He was the tallest. Danny was the only one who could get the top limbs, but even he had to use a ladder sometimes.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile. “He never told me about the figs.”

  “Did he ever tell you about the motorcycle?”

  She looks at me and cocks her head. “Motorcycle?”

  “Come with me,” I say as I walk her the short distance to the big oak tree. “See this gash?”

  She runs her hand across it. “Yeah?”

  “Your father made me ride a motorcycle… well, more of a dirtbike… with him when I was about eleven years old. And then he ran both of us into this tree!”

  It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh. And I love the sound. It touches a place in my heart that I didn’t even know was there.

  “And out here, on this road, he and his friends would ride their dirt bikes up and down the street. They were so loud! But your Daddy could stand on one pedal with his whole body on one side of the bike and ride up that hill,” I say pointing. I can see Danny in my mind, smiling and yelling at each stunt he did. It brings a smile to my face.

  “Tell me more stories… about my Dad.”

  I take in a quick breath and smile. “Okay. Why don’t we go make some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about the time that he set the woods on fire behind the house.”

  “He did what?” she says giggling as she follows me inside.

  I’m bored. Peach Valley isn’t exactly the hotbed of activity I’d hoped for. I miss counseling people. I miss just being around people.

  The last couple of weeks with Harper have been a slow build, but I found that Dawson was right. Talking to her about her father has been the best course of action. It opens her up, and it shows her that I really did try to love him. I can show her that without talking bad about him. There are enough good times stored in my memory bank to give her that gift.

  But we still have our moments. Moments when she misses her Dad. Moments when I resent him for doing this to me. Moments when I wish I could turn back time and try to help him. Moments when I wish I could have said a proper goodbye to Dawson and begged him to never go to war.

  Sitting around the house all day is driving me stir crazy, and so I’ve decided to find a job. I have to use my skills. One day I can go back to Charleston, to my life there. But for now I’m stuck in Peach Valley because Harper’s life is more important than mine at the moment.

  My doorbell rings, which is unusual in the middle of the day, and I find a courier standing there.

  “Hello, ma’am. I’ve got a letter delivery for you.”

  “Thank you,” I say, signing the clipboard and then closing the door. The letter is from some attorney’s office in Atlanta, but I don’t recognize the name.

  I sit down on my sofa and immediately feel faint when I open it. My brother’s handwriting. I’d know it anywhere.

  It was dated a few months before he died, probably around the time he changed his will. Ethan must not have known he had more than one attorney, which is weird for a guy who struggled to make ends meet. That alone shows me how much his daughter meant to him.

  Dear Indy,

  Well, my little sister, I bet you’re surprised to see this letter from me. I should’ve written you years ago, but we both know there were hard feelings there. I know you had to protect yourself from the guy I was way back then, but I hope you know by now - by meeting Harper - that I got better. And she’s the best part of me.

  I don’t want to die - I mean who wants to take an eternal dirt nap - but I know that things can happen and I want to make sure my baby girl is well taken care of. That’s why I chose you.

  Knowing you - with all your questions - you’re wondering why I chose you and not Amy or someone else. I want to tell you why so you can just focus on raising my daughter:

  I chose you because you ask hard questions and demand answers. My baby needs someone who will always be on her side and fight for her.

  I chose you because your capacity for love has always been big. My baby needs to be loved no matter what she does.

  I chose you because you’re smart. My baby needs someone who will make smart decisions for her when she can’t make them for herself.

  I chose you because I messed up so many time
s, Indy, and I wanted to apologize by giving you the thing most precious to me in all the world. I have nothing else to give.

  Take care of her. Maybe tell her some good things about her old Dad. Please love her, and please know that I never stopped loving you.

  Danny

  I crumple to the floor in a million shattered pieces, and grief sweeps over me in a way I can’t describe. I miss my brother. I miss the relationship we could’ve had. I want to run out into the street and hunt down every drug dealer he ever came across. I want so many things right now, but what I end up doing is crying in a heap on the floor until my tear ducts run dry.

  Turns out that Peach Valley doesn’t have a large job pool. I run by the school to bring Harper her forgotten lunch bag after spending the morning looking for jobs all over town.

  “Hey, Indy. That for Harper?” the receptionist at the front desk asks as I walk into the school.

  “Yes. She forgot it again. That girl would forget her head if it wasn’t attached!”

  She laughs and walks down the hall to deliver it. As I walk toward the door, I hear Dawson call out to me.

  “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

  “Harper forgot her lunch.”

  “Again? Jeez, that kid.”

  “Got to get back to job hunting,” I say, weariness all over my face.

  “Job hunting?”

  “Yes, but it turns out Peach Valley isn’t the place to look for any jobs, especially counseling. Must be a bunch of mentally stable people living here,” I say with a laugh.

  I can see the wheels turning in his head. “Listen, I heard something this morning but you can’t repeat it.” He pulls me to the side like we’re about to discuss a state secret.

  “What?”

  “Evelyn Calloway is taking an early retirement starting next week.”

  “You mean the counselor here?”

  “Yes. Her husband got some bad medical news yesterday, so she’s going home to take care of him full-time.”

  “Oh, that’s very sad,” I say, trying to sound humane but wanting him to get to the point because the smell of his cologne is making me want to do things that might get me arrested in a school.

  “Indy, I think I can get you the job. If you want it, that is.”

  School counselor? I have never considered that, mainly because I don’t have kids of my own. But being at the school and closer to Harper sounds like a good option. Her behavior has improved, but being visible around the school might be a great way to keep her in check.

  “I’d definitely be interested.” I wonder how Harper will feel about it, though. I definitely don’t want to set our relationship back when it’s just beginning.

  “Let me pull some strings. I’ll come by this evening, if that’s okay?”

  I smile. “Sure, neighbor.”

  Harper puts her head on the kitchen table and sighs. “I don’t understand it.”

  “Okay. Let’s try it again. If Sally is one foot taller than Jeremy but six inches shorter than…”

  “Can we take a break? Please?” She slaps her hand against her forehead. “My brain is going to explode.”

  I smile as I remember feeling the same way about those crazy word problems when I was a kid. And why is Sally so dang tall anyway?

  “Yes, you can take a break. One hour and then we’re back at it.”

  “Great! Can I go to Olivia’s house? She invited me to eat dinner.”

  “Is Olivia’s mom okay with that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. But you have to be back right at eight. Deal?”

  She gives me the slightest smile and nods. “Eight.”

  I like they way that our relationship is growing a little each day. I can feel her starting to trust me, even starting to respect me. Baby steps, I remind myself everyday.

  As I watch her walk down the hill in front of our house, I stand in the window and breathe in deeply. For once, I’m starting to feel at home and relaxed. Life is slower in Peach Valley, even though life wasn’t all that fast in Charleston.

  “Knock knock.” Dawson is standing in the doorway holding a brown paper bag. “Chinese?”

  I smell the scent of what I believe to be Mongolian Beef, which is my favorite. “How did you know I wouldn’t have eaten yet?”

  “I took a chance.”

  “Come on in,” I say, waving him through the foyer.

  “Where’s Harper?”

  “She went to eat at Olivia’s house. Math was making her brain explode, apparently.”

  “Ahhh. Word problems?”

  “Yep.” He sits the bag on the kitchen table.

  “I was thinking maybe we could eat outside on the patio?” For some reason my stomach fills with butterflies at the thought of sitting in the dim evening sky with Dawson, but I brush the anxiety away.

  “Sure. Let me grab my sweater.”

  We head outside with the bag. I grab a couple of Cokes and a candle since we’ll be losing all daylight within a short time.

  As Dawson spreads out the food, I smile at the easiness of it all. Like we didn’t have a separation of almost two decades.

  “How did you know I even like Chinese food?”

  “Because you told me a long time ago,” he says with a smile. “Mongolian beef. Egg rolls. Sizzling rice soup.” He holds up each item as he says their names.

  “I was twelve. I’ve changed quite a bit since then,” I say, pointing my hand up and down my body. He slowly scans over my body before meeting my eyes, sending chills up my spine.

  “Some things never change, and loving Chinese food is one of those things.” I laugh, trying to usher the blush away from my face.

  “So, what’s the occasion?” I ask as I sit down in the wrought iron chair, adjusting the fluffy seat pad underneath me. He lights the candle, and I can see a smile spread across his face.

  “Well, I come bearing good news, Miss Stone.”

  “Ms. Sanders.”

  “Yeah, whatever. When are you going to change that back to your cool name?”

  “That’s what Ethan asked me.”

  “Who’s Ethan?”

  “Never mind. Old friend from school.”

  “Boyfriend?” he asks, a hint of aggravation in his voice. I start laughing.

  “No. He’s married, first of all. He handled the paperwork for my brother and Harper.”

  “Oh,” he says, and I swear I can see a shade of red spread across his tanned face. “Sorry.”

  I brush it off to avoid embarrassing either of us. “So, what’s this news?” I reach across and take one of the styrofoam containers that has brown rice and Mongolian Beef.

  “You got the job,” he says before biting into an egg roll. “I mean if you want it.”

  “What? I didn’t even have an interview!”

  “I talked you up a little bit.”

  “Oh really? Does that mean you think I’m super special, Dawson Woods?” I ask playfully. He stops and leans toward me across the table.

  “The most special person I’ve ever known.” His voice is soft and gravely, and I feel paralyzed in place for a moment. He holds my gaze before smiling and taking another bite of his egg roll. “Mind if we have a little music?”

  “Sure,” I say, feeling more like this is a date and not a congratulatory dinner from my sexy neighbor. He pulls out his phone and plays some easy listening channel on low volume. Right now, I’d kind of rather hear rap music or death metal so it didn’t feel so dang romantic out here.

  “So, are you going to take the job?” he asks, taking a bite of rice.

  “I’d like to know more about it before I commit, Dawson. You know, important stuff like benefits, salary, job requirements…”

  He laughs. “Buzz kill.”

  “Ha ha. I’m an adult now. I have to think practically, especially now that I’m Harper’s mother.”

  He smiles. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you call yourself her mother and not her guardian or aunt.”


  “Baby steps.”

  “You’re going to be a great mother, Indy. I always thought so.”

  I bite my egg roll and smile. “Really? And why would a twelve year old boy be thinking that? Especially one who never wanted to get married?”

  “I was a deeper thinker than you thought I was.”

  “So, did you ever get married?” I ask, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. He smiles crookedly, one dimple appearing that I never noticed before.

  “Nope. That hasn’t changed.” My stomach knots up in a way I hadn’t expected. Why should I care whether he ever gets married?

  “That’s a pity. Marriage can be great.”

  “Like yours?” he says offhandedly. My face goes slack, my expression gone. “I’m sorry, Indy. I didn’t meant to say that…”

  “Out loud? Yeah, well, you did. And you don’t know anything about my marriage, Dawson. Stay in your lane, okay?”

  “Point taken,” he says, holding up his hands in defeat. “So, about the job… You just need to come in tomorrow and talk to Principal Headrick. It’s really a formality, though. They need someone quick, and you’re definitely overqualified for the job.”

  “How exactly do you know so much about my qualifications anyway?”

  “I Googled you.”

  I laugh. “Gotta love technology.”

  “Mr. Woods? What are you doing here?” Harper says from the back doorway.

  “Oh, hi, Harper. Egg roll?” Dawson asks.

  “Turns out, Mr. Woods is an old friend of mine. We knew each other when we were twelve… for a few months,” I say, trying to explain our relationship.

  “That’s weird,” she says with her nose scrunched up. “And creepy.”

  “How is that weird?” Dawson asks with a laugh.

  She pauses for a moment. “I don’t know, but it’s weird.”

  “I thought you were eating at Olivia’s?” I ask.

  “I was but her little brother got sick, and I hate when people throw up so I came home.”

  “I can understand,” Dawson says. “Have a seat. We have plenty of Chinese.”