Back To Us

by Rachel Hanna

  “I have to believe she loved you in her own completely dysfunctional way. But yes, she hung you out to dry most of the time.”

  “You were Perseus.”

  “What?”

  “My hero.”

  “But I didn’t save you, Dawson. I was just a kid down the street you hung out with for a few weeks,” I say softly.

  “You saved me in more ways than you know, Indy.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, turning slightly to face him. He turns to face me too. “How exactly did I save you?”

  “The day you walked by and sneezed… I was going to kill myself that day, Indy. I had a bottle of my mom’s pills in my hand when I saw you. I had never seen a girl so pretty.”

  My heart pounds against my chest. A sick feeling washes across my whole body as I think of him sitting there in his room with death only moments away.

  “I had no idea, Dawson. But you seemed so… okay…”

  “Years of practice.”

  “But why did me walking by matter to you?”

  “Something about you. Your face. Your laugh. Your wit. When I met you, I knew there was hope out there, even in my twelve year old mind. I knew I had to see you again, so I put the pills back in my mother’s bathroom. And it was the hope of someday finding you again that kept me going, even in Iraq.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything,” he says, putting his index finger over my lips. “I just want to say thank you.”

  We sit there silent for a moment before he removes his finger and sits back.

  “So, tell me about your husband.”

  “Ex husband,” I correct quickly.

  “Right. Tell me about that moron,” he responds, which elicits a laugh from me.

  “Well, there’s not much to say. Fell in love in college. He was my professor.”

  “What?” he chokes out.

  “We didn’t start dating until the semester after I was in his abnormal psychology class,” I say quickly, as if that makes it better.

  “Ah, the irony of the class title.”

  “Funny. Anyway, David was an amazing teacher. He’s only four years older than me, but he just seemed so wise at the time. So we dated for about a year and then got married on a whim while we were on vacation in Atlantic City.”

  “No big wedding?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you wanted a big wedding, right?”

  “You remember that?”

  “Yes. I remember that you told me you wanted the beautiful church with the flowing white gown and a big reception with dancing.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe the guy who never wants to get married remembers that,” I say with a smile. “David didn’t want a big wedding, so we didn’t have one.”

  “Seems to me that a man who’s in love would give his future wife the wedding of her dreams.” He says it softly, not like he’s poking fun at me but just stating a fact.

  “We were married for twelve years, but then one day he met a new woman. One of his students. Again.”

  I can see the twitch in Dawson’s jaw as I tell him the story. “He cheated on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What a freaking idiot. Who cheats on you, Indy? I mean seriously…” He’s mumbling more than he’s talking to me.

  “I’m nothing special, Dawson. It happens to women - and men - all the time.”

  He slides closer and puts his hand on my cheek. “You are special, Indy Stone. And any man who can’t see that deserves to be tossed off the nearest cliff.”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t have cliffs around here,” I whisper, a heat coming over my face and then running down my body as I feel his hand on my cheek.

  He stares into my eyes, and we freeze in place, only the sound of our breathing breaking through the moment. I feel transported back in time, sitting in a fig tree about to be kissed for the first time.

  “Somebody order a pizza?” I hear the delivery guy say over the chain link fence.

  “Yes, we did,” I call back as I slip from under Dawson’s hand and start walking to the side gate. I can hear Dawson’s footsteps behind me.

  “Now they’re early…” he mumbles, referencing how late the pizza delivery companies usually are around here. I giggle to myself, probably confusing the poor teenage boy. “I’ve got it.” Dawson pulls out his wallet and settles up with the boy before following me to the picnic table with the pizza box.

  “I’ll go grab some drinks,” I say as I go back into the house to calm myself down. I can’t kiss Dawson again. It almost ruined me at twelve years old, and now I’m decades wiser. Kissing a man, for me at least, leads to feelings that won’t work with Dawson. He never wants to get married, and even though my last marriage ended in divorce, I don’t want to rule out getting married again. I can’t start something that Dawson can’t finish.

  I go back outside with some paper plates, napkins and canned drinks. Dawson has the pizza box open when I return, his face leaned in as he inhales the strong aroma.

  “Nothing like Dominic’s Pizza,” he says.

  “Yeah. I’ve missed this. When I was a teenager, we would always order from there. My friend, Tabitha, and I would save our pennies and literally count out nine-hundred of them when the poor delivery guy would come,” I say with a laugh as I take one of the gooey slices of pepperoni pizza and flop it onto my flimsy plate.

  “I bet he loved that!”

  “Yeah, we were idiots back then.”

  “Sorry I missed knowing you as a teenager. I bet you were popular.” He takes a bite of his pizza and grins.

  “I guess maybe a little. I mean I wasn’t cheerleader popular, but I did okay.”

  “And that’s when you met Kent Akers, huh?”

  “How did I know you were going to ask about that?” I say with a smile. “Yes, Kent was very popular. For some reason, he took a liking to me in our junior year and asked me to the prom.”

  “And you said he knew a lot more of you than I did…”

  “I was being funny.”

  “Doubtful. Exactly what parts of you did he get to know on prom night, Indy Stone?” I think he’s playing with me, but his eyes are boring a hole through my own as he looks at me.

  “I was a good girl, Dawson.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  I leaned over. “Even though it’s none of your business, I was a virgin when I got married to David.”

  I can see him swallow hard and then he clears his throat. “Really?”

  “Yep. Boring good girl here.” I take another bite of my pizza.

  “That’s not boring, Indy. I bet David thought it was fantastic. That’s a gift for a man.” He winks at me.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I ask as my face flushes.

  “Of course. We have lots to catch up on,” he says. “And the night is still young!”

  And I have no idea where this night is going.

  Chapter 8

  It’s so quiet out here. Peach Valley seems like the quietest place on Earth tonight. I haven’t heard a car go by on the road behind my house for at least half an hour, and Dawson hasn’t said anything for the last few minutes, seemingly content to just lie here beside me under the stars.

  After eating pizza and chatting about the last couple of decades, minus his military service, we decided to lay out a blanket in the backyard and stare up at the stars. There are a couple of feet between us, just for safety.

  “Why didn’t you have kids with your ex?” he asks.

  “He couldn’t. Low sperm motility.”

  “Figures.”

  “Dawson, you’re awful!” I say, smacking him on the arm.

  “Still, there’s medical technology that could have made it happen, right? Or adoption?”

  I sigh. “Yeah. I suppose so. It just never felt like the right time. And then our time as a couple was up.”

  “And you ended up with a daughter anyway,” he says.

 
“Yes, I certainly did. And she’s a handful.”

  “Okay, your turn,” he says. We’ve been taking turns asking each other questions for the last hour.

  “The most serious relationship you’ve had as an adult?”

  “Wow. That’s a deep question.”

  “Too many to choose from?” I ask with a giggle.

  “Her name was Serena. We were in Iraq together on my second tour.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know what to say next because I don’t want to trigger him again. “How serious was it?”

  “We were making plans to get a place together after our tour was over.”

  “What happened?”

  He’s silent for a moment. “She was killed by a roadside bomb.”

  I can’t breathe. I have no idea what to say. “Oh, Dawson. I’m so sorry…” I roll onto my side and prop up on my elbow. He turns his head and looks at me.

  “It’s one of the reasons I can’t talk about my time at war. It’s just very painful.”

  Instinctively, I scoot over and lay my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. It’s not a sexual move, but one of two people who have been through some stuff in their lives and just want to comfort each other. I wish there was something I could do to take away his pain, his memories of that time.

  “Tell me about Serena.”

  He takes in a deep breath. “She was funny. Reminded me a lot of your humor. And she had thick dark hair. Her mother was Italian and her father was Greek, so she would joke about needing a serious waxing when she got back stateside.”

  I giggle. “She sounds like she had a great sense of humor.”

  “She did. And she was an amazing artist. She sketched a lot while we were there, you know, in our down time. I still have a lot of those sketches.”

  “I’d love to see them sometime.”

  He pauses for a moment. “I’m sorry I ran out on you the other day… when you asked about Iraq. It’s just hard to talk about, but it felt good to talk about it tonight. I think I needed that,” he says, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “You always seem to know what I need, Indy Stone.”

  “Are you ever going to stop calling me by my maiden name?” I smile and poke him in the chest with my index finger.

  “I still think of you as a maiden. Why keep that idiot’s last name when it’s so not as cool as your maiden name?”

  I think for a moment. There really isn’t a reason to keep my married name. I don’t feel like Indy Sanders. I feel like Indy Stone, especially with Dawson around.

  “You know what? You’re right. I’m going to ask Ethan to help me change it back.”

  He grins broadly and pulls me closer. “Good.”

  We lay there, wrapped up in each other, and I don’t know what to think. I can’t do this. I can’t fall for Dawson Woods. He can’t offer me a future because of his own past. And I can’t promise to not want a future with him… with someone. I still believe in true love and happy endings and soul mates. All the stuff that he apparently doesn’t believe in.

  And I have to be there for Harper. I can’t be all lovesick over a person I only knew for less than three months when I was a kid.

  Yet here I am, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me, his lips pressed into my hair - and I don’t want to move. Much like the moment in the fig tree when we were kids, I just want to stay here forever.

  “Your turn,” I say softly.

  “Biggest regret in your life?”

  “I don’t really believe in regrets. I think that all situations and decisions lead you to where you are in life, and I’m happy where I am right now.”

  “You’re happy in Peach Valley… or you’re happy right here in my arms?” he asks, his voice deeper and sexier. I don’t dare to move.

  “Both.” I hear him suck in a ragged breath, and I wonder if he can feel my heart pounding against my chest. It sounds like a jackhammer in my own ears.

  I feel his arm tighten around me as his other arm comes around to meet it. He holds me closer than I thought possible, causing me to have to swing my leg over him. Still, he makes no move to kiss me or anything else. We’re just wrapped up together like two people who have missed each other and need some time to just “be”.

  “I do have one regret,” I finally say, my cheek pressed against his chest.

  “What’s what?”

  “Not fighting your mother harder when she told me she shipped you off. I wish we hadn’t lost so many years…” I don’t know why I’m saying this. I’m only going to hurt myself in the end by admitting that I’ve missed him. Needed him. Wanted him.

  He pulls his arms apart and leans back so he can look me in the eye. “Indy, you were a kid. There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I know,” I say, propping up onto one elbow and looking at him. “But I never forgot you. I never stopped hoping that we’d cross paths one day. And I never stopped worrying about you.”

  He clears his throat and looks at me, his eyes soft and hooded. “I know it’s not the fig tree and we’re not twelve, but I can’t stop myself.” Before I can understand what he means, his hand slides up one side of my jaw onto my cheek and he leans in, pressing his lips softly to mine. Only this time, his tongue slips into my mouth softly, dancing with my own.

  I hear a small moan escape him as if he’s been walking through a desert for weeks without water and I’m a full canteen of it. He slides closer as our kiss intensifies, his hand now running through my hair, hanging on for dear life.

  I can’t even catch my breath, but I think it’s because I’m holding it in, fearful that if I breathe out my nose, he’ll stop and I’ll never fill the void.

  But suddenly he does stop and presses his forehead to mine. “Sorry. I felt like I might just pass out for a second,” he says with a nervous laugh.

  I laugh too and hang my head. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  He finally looks up, his hand still caressing my cheek and smiles. “Was that okay? I mean, that I kissed you?”

  I want to say no. I should say no. “It was more than okay.”

  He smiles and then pulls me close again, my head on his chest. “I never forgot that kiss, Indy.”

  “In the fig tree?”

  “Yes. It was the standard by which all future kisses were measured.”

  “Um, I was twelve and not a very good kisser, Dawson.”

  “Literally, there was never any other kiss that could compare.”

  “How is that even possible?” I ask with a giggle.

  “Because you were the first person in my life who accepted me for who I was, warts and all. I knew that was a goodbye kiss. I had to tell you everything I wanted to but didn’t know how to say as a young kid, but do it through one kiss. I swear, I wanted time to stop. I wanted to run away and take you with me, Indy.”

  I hug him tighter and sigh. And that’s how we apparently fall asleep.

  The next memory I have is of the sun coming up over the trees. I can hear birds chirping, cars zipping down the road. I reach over, but feel that Dawson is no longer there. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.” I strain to open my eyes in the newly risen sun, and I can see his silhouette standing above me with his hand stretched out. “Come on. I made us breakfast.”

  It’s weird to know him as an adult. Twelve year old Dawson didn’t cook, at least not that I knew of. I take his hand and he hoists me up, leading me into the house.

  I can immediately smell the aroma of coffee and bacon, and there’s a sweet tinge of syrup in the air too. He’s made my plate already, so I sit down and survey what I’m about to eat.

  As expected, there’s coffee and bacon, but also the thickest homemade blueberry pancakes I’ve ever seen.

  “Where did you learn to cook like this?” I ask as I take a big whiff of the food.

  “The military taught me a lot of things,” he says, sitting down with his own plate.

  “How to make pancakes like thi
s?”

  “No. Actually, that was from watching cooking shows on TV,” he admits with a chuckle. “I’m a little addicted to the Food Network.”

  “Well, everything looks amazing.”

  “Yes, it does,” he says, cutting his eyes up at me and smiling. I blush and don’t try to hide it. “So when is Harper coming home?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. I hope she’s doing okay.”

  “I’m sure she is. What are you two doing for Thanksgiving?”

  It dawns on me in that moment that Thanksgiving is just two weeks away. I totally forgot about it, and I haven’t started Christmas shopping yet either. Now that I’m someone’s mother, I guess I need to get better at that kind of stuff.

  “No plans yet, but I guess I should figure that out so Harper can have a good Thanksgiving.”

  “Well, I was thinking maybe you guys could spend it with me?”

  “Don’t you have plans already?” I ask as I take a bite of the pancake and almost melt into my chair it’s so good.

  “No plans. We’re kind of in the same boat with our family situations, Indy.” He sips his coffee and looks at me.

  “True. What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, I thought maybe you and I could cook together.”

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. He’s acting like we’re some kind of part-time family, and the last thing I want to do is confuse Harper. She’s already in the middle of a very difficult transition, and she likes Dawson as her teacher. I don’t want to blur any lines that might hurt her all over again.

  “Dawson, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I don’t look at him, but take a sip of my own coffee instead.

  “What? Why?” He seems genuinely confused.

  “Look, I loved spending time with you last night, but that can’t happen again. I have Harper to consider now. And we’re not kids anymore.”

  “Indy, I felt something last night. Surely you can’t deny that you did too.”

  “I can’t deny that, no. But we both know that we want two different things. Harper is having a hard enough time without me adding you to the mix.”

  He puts down his fork and sighs as he runs his hands through his hair. “Is this about the marriage thing?”