The Wedding At Seagrove

by Rachel Hanna

  “Oh, no. Besides, Dawson hasn’t asked me.”

  Janine grinned. “What would you say if he did ask you?”

  Julie rolled her eyes. “I don't play pretend, my dear sister.”

  “Oh, come on! You know you'd love to marry Dawson. He's the catch of the county!”

  Julie laughed. “Don't tell him that. He'll get a big head.”

  “It's hard to imagine you being married again,” Meg said. Julie couldn't read the look on her face.

  “I’m not getting married. I was just talking about weddings because y’all were.”

  “But what would you say if he asked you?” Meg said.

  “I don't know. I'm not sure I'd ever want to get married again. Dawson was talking kind of funny about it last night. He said he wished I was there every night so then we could turn off the lights at the end of the night and go to our own room.”

  “Gross,” Meg said, pretending like she was about to throw up.

  Julie laughed. “Well, that’s what he said.”

  “He loves you so much, sis. You couldn’t find a better man.”

  Julie looked at Meg, worried that Janine’s comment might have offended her. After all, Michael was her father, and she didn’t want anyone trying to ruin her daughters’ relationship with their dad, no matter what a dirtbag he was.

  “I don’t have to make any decisions about this right now. Dawson hasn’t even asked, and I don’t know that he ever will. Things are great right now. Why rock the boat?”

  Janine smiled and rubbed her sister’s hand. “Don’t let fear keep you from moving forward, Julie. You deserve happiness, and Dawson does too.”

  She wanted to believe that was true, that she’d finally met the man of her dreams, someone who would never hurt her. But, there was still a small part of her sending off warning bells. She’d thought Michael would never hurt her, and yet he did. In a big way. Betrayal was the hardest thing to get over, and she wasn’t sure she could ever be that vulnerable again.

  Dawson blew the whistle and all of the kids froze in place, each of them pretending to be a statue. He blew the whistle again and watched them run around like maniacs.

  “This is fun. I wish I could control everyone in my life by blowing this whistle,” he said to Colleen.

  “Tell me about it. Are we ready to break for lunch?”

  “Yeah, Lucy has it all ready over there on the tables. Mind grabbing a jug of sweet tea from the fridge?”

  “Sure.” Colleen walked off, and Dawson blew the whistle again.

  “Hey, kids? Time to line up for lunch!”

  As the kids walked down the side of the table, loading their plates with hamburgers and chips, Dawson settled himself under a big live oak tree and took a long drink of his water bottle. Today had been a hot one so far, and the kids were keeping him busy. But, he loved it.

  “How tall are you?” a little boy suddenly asked. Dawson hadn’t even seen him standing there. He knew the kid’s name was Dylan and that he was eight years old, but that was about it.

  “I’m six foot-one. Why?”

  Dylan sat down next to Dawson, his plate teetering on his lap. “My daddy was taller than you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. But he died.”

  Dawson’s breath caught in this throat. What was he supposed to say to that?

  “I’m sorry to hear that. My daddy died too.”

  Dylan looked up at him, his emerald green eyes wide. “He did? How?”

  “His heart just gave out.”

  “My daddy did something bad.”

  Dawson didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to further traumatize the kid by asking questions.

  “Looks like he also did something good when he made you.”

  “I guess so. But, nobody really wants me now.”

  “Dylan, that’s not true. You’ve got Miss Amy, your friends here at camp and your foster family. And me.”

  He ate one of his chips and stared off in space. “I like this place. My foster mom has a small house. I don’t get my own room. I share it with two other kids.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. One of them isn’t nice. He makes fun of my red hair and freckles.”

  “I think your red hair and freckles are super cool. I always wanted freckles.”

  Dylan looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. My friend, Billy, had these cool freckles all over his face. Even more than you. He was the most popular guy in my school.”

  “Because of the freckles?”

  “Totally. I mean, everybody knows that freckles are only given to the strongest people. God does that so we all know who those people are.”

  “Are you sure?” Dylan asked, soaking up everything Dawson said.

  “Absolutely. I wish I could have freckles. It’s one of my life regrets that I don’t.” He had no idea what he was saying to the kid, but it seemed to be going over well.

  Dylan leaned back against the tree and took a bite of his sandwich. “I never knew my mom.”

  Yikes. This kid was deep. Dawson didn’t feel at all prepared for this. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to know her.”

  “She left when I was a baby. I guess she didn’t want me because she never came back.”

  Sometimes, there were no words.

  Janine sat at the bistro table, sipping on her iced coffee and eating a bowl of French onion soup. It was a weird combination, but she didn't care. Having a quiet lunch alone was just what she needed today.

  Between the planning for Dixie's wedding reception and William frantically trying to get his business up and running, her brain was a bit frazzled lately. She had taught two yoga classes that morning, and she just wanted a few moments of peace. Which was another reason why she had opted to eat lunch across the square and away from her mother's bakery. If she sat anywhere nearby, SuAnn would always find her and talk her ear off. She loved her mother, but sometimes she just needed the peace.

  SuAnn was feverishly preparing for the pie baking contest that was coming up in a couple of days, and it was like she’d had a few hundred espressos. Her level of enthusiasm over pie baffled Janine.

  “Oh, hey, Janine.” She looked up to see Dawson standing there. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't even seen him walk up.

  “Hey there. Oh, man, you look tired.”

  Dawson pointed to the chair across from her. “Mind if I sit down for a minute?”

  She nodded. Dawson was never a bother. “Sure, go ahead.”

  “I don't usually see you over on this side of the square.”

  “It's been a long couple of days, so I just needed some peace. Plus, my mother can't find me over here when I sit behind this fountain.”

  Dawson laughed. “And here I am interrupting your peaceful lunch. I'm sorry. I can go…”

  “No! You stay put. Plus, I know my week hasn't been nearly as eventful as yours.”

  “Yeah, it's been a little crazy. The kids are having lunch right now, and Colleen and Tucker offered to take over for a little bit. It's been a lot more emotional than I thought it would be.”

  “Really? Some sad stories?”

  “Yeah, but the main one is this boy, Dylan. He's the cutest little thing with red hair and freckles and these bright green eyes. He sat down next to me yesterday and told me that his mother had left him when he was a baby and his father died. I spoke to one of the counselors who told me his father committed suicide a few months ago.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Janine said, holding her hand up to her chest.

  “He seems connected to me for some reason, so we spent a lot of time together yesterday and even this morning. He's sort of my new right hand man. I took him on the dock and showed him how to bait his hook,” he said, smiling slightly.

  “He probably looks at you like a father figure. It's got to be hard losing your parents that way.”

  “Yeah. I just don't know how to help him. I'm not a counselor, and I won't
see him again after the next few days. I hate that he's stuck in a foster home where he doesn't feel loved either.”

  “Say, Dawson… Have you ever thought about…”

  “What?”

  “Adoption?”

  Dawson stared at her, his eyes wide. “No. I surely haven't thought of that. I'm a single guy in his forties. I don't even think they let people like me adopt a kid.”

  Janine waved her hand at him. “Sure they do! These kids need good homes. You just have to go through the home study process. I bet if you asked a few questions…”

  “No. It's a nice idea, but I'm busy running the inn. I'm not married. I have my contracting business…”

  “You do realize that parents sometimes work, right? I don't think that precludes you from adopting a child.”

  Dawson stared off into space. “You know, I always thought I'd be a father one day. Even after I lost my son, I figured it would happen. I’d meet somebody, get married again, have that whole white picket fence lifestyle. I used to imagine those fun Christmas mornings with all of us in matching pajamas, hair all messed up, while we opened presents.”

  “That sounds nice. What's holding you back from having all of that?”

  “I don't know. My life isn't quite what I thought it would be at this stage. Why did I have to meet Julie so late in life? Can you imagine the amazing family we could've built together?”

  Janine reached over and squeezed his hand. “It's not too late. Y'all aren’t eighty year old people at the nursing home, Dawson. You're both in your forties. And they say forty is the new twenty.”

  Dawson laughed. “Trust me, forty is not the new twenty. When I get up in the morning, everything has started to crack and now I make this grunting noise when I stand up.”

  Janine laughed. “You know, if you want to marry my sister, you have my blessing.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I want to marry your sister. I just don't think she wants to marry me.”

  “You'll never know if you never ask.”

  “Do you know something that I don’t?” he asked, squinting his eyes at her.

  “No, actually I don't. My sister talks in circles just like you do every time I bring up marriage. But the rest of us see that you two are perfect for each other.”

  “I just think Julie would be happy dating for the rest of our lives, but I'm not sure that's enough for me. The longer we're together, the more I want her there. I hate going to our separate houses at the end of the day. I hate calling her my girlfriend instead of my wife.”

  “Michael really did a number on her head. And you're nothing like him. She knows that. But I think that's what scares her the most.”

  “It scares her that I'm not like Michael?”

  Janine nodded. “Losing Michael was hard. That was a twenty-one year marriage that fell apart. But, she loves you way more than she ever loved Michael, so losing you might just do her in. I think that's what she's really afraid of. Rocking the boat and messing everything up and never finding that kind of love again.”

  Dawson nodded his head. “I have the same fear. Do I want to take the chance of getting rejected or do I just want to leave things like they are and be thankful for them?”

  Janine chuckled. “Relationships aren't easy, are they?”

  Meg sat, nervously fidgeting with her hands. Why had the dean called her in to see him? She’d only met him once in passing, and even though it was just a community college, nobody wanted to get called into the dean’s office.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Pike.”

  She looked up to see Dean Clayton standing there, his large belly protruding out of his sport jacket. He was the epitome of a college professor complete with elbow patches. He shook her hand and sat down.

  “No problem.”

  “I’m sure you must wonder why I’ve called you here today?”

  “Yes, sir, I was wondering about that.” Her hands were now sweating, which they never did. Just great.

  “Professor Calvert has recommended you for the teaching assistant program. She said you’ve done remarkably well in advertising class, so she’d like for you to become her assistant for the fall semester coming up.”

  “Really?” Meg was shocked. Although she had done well in her advertising class, she never expected that Professor Calvert would want to work with her.

  “Would you be interested?”

  “Absolutely!” For a moment, she thought about Vivi and how this would affect her schedule, but then she decided that she had to be responsible. Creating a brighter future for herself would only help her daughter, and she’d work out the babysitting issues when and if they came up.

  “Excellent. I just have some paperwork here for you to fill out, and then we will be in touch about some training you’ll need to do.” He slid the paperwork toward her. “I hope you realize what an honor this is. Many students want to be teaching assistants, but don’t get the chance. Seize the opportunity, okay?”

  Meg smiled. “Oh, trust me. I won’t waste this second chance, Dean Clayton.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Go, go, go!” Dawson yelled as he watched the kids race in potato sacks across his lawn. A couple fell down as soon as he blew the whistle, but Tucker had helped them back up again. Dylan, ever the little competitor, was ahead at first but then one of the older boys took the lead and won the race.

  Dawson walked over and squeezed Dylan’s shoulder. “Good try, buddy!”

  “I hate being short!”

  “You won’t be short for long. One day, you’ll just start growing like a weed, and before you know it you’ll probably be taller than me.”

  Dylan looked up at him. “And then I’ll beat everybody in a race,” he said, giggling.

  “Probably so. I used to win all the races because my legs are so long.”

  “Kids, time for lunch!” Colleen called. Dylan licked his lips and ran off, eager to have pizza and cupcakes.

  “I love those long legs of yours,” Julie said, pinching him in the side.

  “Oh, hey. When did you get here?”

  “A few minutes ago. I got to watch the potato sack race. You see this little bump on my nose?”

  Dawson looked closer. “Oh, yeah. I’ve never noticed that before. It’s pretty grotesque.”

  She smacked him on the arm. “Stop it. Anyway, I got this when I broke my nose doing the three-legged race with Kathy Schulman. She had the worst coordination of any kid I knew. She would literally trip over her own feet. Miss Dial, my fourth grade teacher, made us be partners, and down I went, busting my nose on the hard Georgia clay. Blood everywhere.”

  Dawson stared at her. “Well, that was a very dark story.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. I thought it was relevant. How’s everything going?”

  “Good. Only two more days after today. I’ll miss these kids.”

  Julie wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ve been missing you.”

  “I know. Everything seems so busy these days. How’s Vivi?”

  “Good. I kept her this morning while Meg met with the dean.”

  “She met with the dean? Everything okay?”

  “Yes. She actually got offered a teaching assistant position for next semester. I’m so proud of her!”

  “That’s awesome. Please tell her I said congratulations.”

  Julie looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. You know, about going to our separate homes every night?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wish things were different too. I hate being apart so much.”

  He froze for a moment. Was she saying something? Was she saying she might want to get married? Should he just ask right now, in the middle of kids eating pizza and screaming?

  “So we feel the same way?”

  She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I think so. Why don’t we work on our schedules so we can spend more time together in the evenings? Maybe we can switch off on whose house we go to?”

/>   Dawson felt very let down. She wasn’t talking about marriage. She was talking about schedules.

  “Sure. Of course. Listen, I hate to run, but Colleen looks frazzled over there. Dinner tonight?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll come by around seven?”

  “Okay.” He kissed her on top of her head and started to walk away.

  “Hey, Dawson?”

  He turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I do. I love you too.”

  With that, he walked away, unsure of what to do. Which risk did he want to take? The one where he proposed and got turned down, or the one where he lived a life that wasn’t quite what he wanted?

  SuAnn’s brow was beaded with sweat. She never got nervous, but for some reason she was today. The pie competition was coming up in minutes, and she’d been pitted against the twelve-year champion, Henrietta Bankston.

  “Well, hello, SuAnn. Good to see you again,” Henrietta said as she took the station next to hers. All of the competitors were lining up at their makeshift kitchen areas around the convention hall. Visitors milled about, waiting for the competitors to start cooking.

  They had a time limit of ninety minutes, barely enough time to make a homemade crust, bake it and then fill it to cook the last forty-five minutes. She’d have to make sure all of her ingredients were prepared so she could hit the ground running.

  “Hi, Hen.”

  “Henrietta,” she mumbled under her breath.

  The host of the pie baking competition walked to the microphone. It was go time. He tapped the mic. “Hello? Is this thing on? Good afternoon, everyone!”

  The small crowd laughed and clapped.

  “Welcome to our eighteenth annual Seagrove Spring Fling Pie Bakeoff. Our contestants have been furiously working to make the best pies any of you have ever tasted. Here’s how it’s going to work. Each contestant will have ninety minutes from the bell to complete their culinary creation. We will then have our judging panel taste each one, without knowing whose it is, and our new winner will be crowned. That person will win a one hundred dollar gift certificate to Seagrove Spa, a framed certificate and this beautiful hand embroidered apron made by our very own Lila Layton from the Busy Bee Embroidery Shoppe!”