Chances Are

by Wendy Lindstrom

  Dawson shook his head. He’d thought New Year’s Eve would be one of the best nights of his life. Instead it had turned into the worst.

  He hadn’t intended to leave Nancy’s house without talking with her, without at least saying goodbye, but after staring at the four walls of his bedroom for what felt like hours, knowing that Nancy slept on just the other side of the wall, he knew he couldn’t bear one more moment in that house. He also wanted to spare Nancy the pain of having to see him in the morning and explain their strained relationship to Rebecca and Adam. So he’d packed his bags and slipped out at dawn. Now, another day had passed and neither of them had sought the other. He sat here wishing he’d at least left her a note to thank her for so many beautiful moments, for helping bring him back to life, for being honest with him.

  But he waited alone for the train that would return him to his little house in Crane Landing. To his cat and his dog who gave him unconditional love, even when he felt the most unloved. The one thing he’d learned from his time with Nancy was that family is important; perhaps the most important thing. And Dawson needed to reengage with his family in Crane Landing and start rebuilding those relationships. Perhaps that would help ease the pain in his heart.

  Adam arrived and sat beside him on the bench, the look in his eyes saying he understood things went awry and that he was sorry. “You know, I sat on a bench once thinking it was over with Rebecca, but Leo found me and slapped some sense into me. Literally.” Adam clapped his hand on Dawson’s shoulder. “I’m sure you two will work through this and you’ll be back here before you know it.”

  The whistle of the approaching train startled them. “I’m afraid this is a one-way trip, Adam.”

  As the train came to a stop, Dawson stood and grabbed his bags.

  “I sure hope not,” Adam said, and then he went to retrieve his own bags. He returned with Rebecca and Leo.

  “Hey, Dawson, Adam’s father found my brother Ashe!” Leo said, a light shining in his eyes that Dawson had never before seen.

  “Is that right?” he asked, casting up a silent prayer that the boy had finally found his family. “Well, I hope it’s real this time, Leo.”

  “It is. I spoke with Ashe on the phone yesterday and he’s definitely my brother. And he knows where our other siblings are living.” Leo shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe this was really happening. “I’m going to Saratoga today to meet Ashe. We’re going to make arrangements for all of us to get together in the next few weeks.”

  Despite Dawson’s heavy heart, he felt an upwelling of joy for Leo, who had spent years trying to find his beloved siblings. “That’s simply fantastic, Leo. I couldn’t be happier for you,” Dawson said with a pleased smile. “You can fill me in when you return to Crane Landing. But if you should need anything, anything at all, Leo, you be sure to let me know.”

  “Thank you, Dawson,” Leo said, “but all I need is to get my family back.”

  “All aboard!” The shout from the conductor turned their attention to boarding.

  Dawson cast one last look in the direction of Fredonia, and then he limped onto the train.

  Evelyn and Radford sat across from Adam and Rebecca. They would get off at the Buffalo station while Adam, Rebecca and Dawson continued on to Crane Landing. Leo would change trains and get off at Saratoga.

  Dawson chose a seat by the window, hoping to be left alone with his heartache for the duration of his trip. As the train pulled out of the station, he looked out the window and down the platform, towards Fredonia, knowing he was leaving behind one amazing woman and a future of love and laughter he’d once believed possible for both of them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  March 2, 1891

  The two months since Dawson had returned to Crane Landing had been quiet. Too quiet. For all the years he’d enjoyed living alone, craved it, actually, the time he’d spent with Nancy’s family had changed his perspective. He couldn’t stand the silence now. Nancy had filled his world with laughter and family and wonderful conversations. Now there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing or plaintive bark from Tuck. Even Sir John had stopped talking, as if he knew Dawson was too deep in his own thoughts to listen. But Dawson was never really alone, anymore, because his turbulent thoughts were filling his cottage as surely as if he were back in the midst of the Grayson clan. He replayed and relived each moment he’d spent with Nancy and her family in Fredonia over and over in his mind. He tried to think back on any signs he may have missed that would have revealed Nancy’s feelings. That she never intended to love anyone but her husband Hal. But as much as he’d thought back on their time together, he couldn’t find any sign, any signal, that she wasn’t receptive to his court.

  And if he closed his eyes, he could remember the feel of her kissing him back, her lips meeting his, soft and pliant. He remembered the feel of her petite body nestled in his arms and her eager response to the passion that flared between them. It had to be real. He’d seen it in her eyes and felt in her embrace. But it wasn’t just the intimate moments he’d spent with her. She’d played and laughed with him. They talked for hours and hours, about anything and everything. He had thought he’d learned everything there was to know about her, but clearly he was wrong. Because he’d missed what was possibly the most important thing.

  She still loved her husband.

  It wasn’t that Dawson was asking Nancy to forget Hal. He wouldn’t ask her to do that. Because Hal would always be a part of her life, as her first love and husband, and as the father of her children. And Dawson understood that, and respected Hal’s role in his family. Dawson fully intended to honor Hal’s memory and his life with Nancy, but she clearly didn’t think that was enough.

  Still, even knowing that it was over, that Nancy would remain married to Hal Grayson for the rest of her life, Dawson couldn’t forget her.

  He made charcoal sketches of her. One of her standing in the kitchen doorway, clasping her coffee cup in front of her chest, her eyes filled with surprise as they’d been when he asked her to stay and have coffee with him. He sketched an image of her burrowed in her wool coat, a thick knit scarf tucked around her neck, strands of her hair dancing across her forehead in a winter wind. And finally, after several sketches, Dawson pulled out his canvas and paints. There was an image of Nancy that could only be captured in color.

  Some might call him crazy, and to be honest, his family was worried about him, but Dawson told them this was his way of healing and moving on. In some ways it was true. He was moving on with his family, spending more time with them, sharing meals with them and visiting with his brothers over a brandy. That was healing a part of Dawson’s life.

  Since his return, he’d spent his days at the shipyard and his evenings with his family or sitting by a fire with Tuck and Sir John while he sketched or read. But memories of Nancy followed him wherever he went. And so Dawson had let them come and captured them on paper, or on canvas.

  As he did each morning, Dawson walked to the shipyard. It was Saturday, but he was working with Leo to refurbish Destiny. The schooner had good bones and had been a wonderful craft in her day, but she’d fallen into disrepair and was in need of an overhaul. Leo was bringing her back to her original glory, and Dawson was providing assistance in refitting the schooner.

  “Are you coming aboard, Dawson, or are you just hoping she’ll magically transform if you stare at her long enough?” Leo asked from the deck of Destiny.

  “Hold your britches, young man. I was just imagining how she looked in her heyday, with her sails unfurled and her gleaming bow cresting a wave,” Dawson said as he headed up the plank to the deck. “You’re going to need a new main mast and new sails.”

  Leo squinted up at the broken mast and shredded sails. “I know, but it’s going to be a good while before I can afford those repairs.”

  Dawson leaned against the railing to ease the ache in his leg. “If you would consider it, I wouldn’t mind making a investment in your first merchant vessel.�
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  Leo’s brows shot up. “Merchant vessel?”

  Dawson shrugged. “Why not? You can hire a captain and crew to run this gal for you. Short jaunts down the coast could be very profitable. We have plenty of products right here in Crane Landing that need to be transported. Rueben Johnson needs his wine barrels shipped to various ports down the coast, and Jackson Winspear needs cotton from Charleston for his fabric mill. You could fill Destiny’s hold both directions just transporting goods for those fellas.”

  Leo sniffed and tugged his knit cap lower over his ears. “I had thought to captain Destiny myself, but I don’t want to leave my job at the shipyard. I figured I could take her out once a month and maybe earn enough to keep her in repair. But your idea has merit, Dawson,” Leo said, as if he was already imaging the schooner brought back to life.

  “This lady has a story to tell, Leo, and she’s not done yet. There is another chapter yet to be written on her deck and you can be part of that story.” Dawson crossed the deck and gripped the wheel. “If you lay your hands on her wheel, you can feel her previous journeys, how she weathered the storms and rode the waves. This girl has seen some big storms and she survived them. You can bring her back, Leo. And you can become part of her story. I believe in both of you.”

  Leo stood speechless, which told Dawson that perhaps he was intruding upon Leo’s dream.

  “Sorry, son, I just wanted to let you know I’d be happy to be a silent investor, if you want one,” Dawson said.

  “Thank you, Dawson,” Leo said. “Truly. I’m deeply honored by your offer and by your words about Destiny. I’ll think this through and get back with you in a week or so, all right?”

  “No rush, Leo. Take your time,” Dawson said. And with that, the two of them set to work going over needed repairs for the schooner.

  An hour later, Dawson limped back home and settled in with a hot cider and his paints. With Tuck at his feet and Sir John lounging on the sofa, Dawson got to work while the image in his mind was fresh.

  He placed his easel in front of his chair. The crackling fire was nice and the heat felt good on his leg, but he wished it was summer and he was sitting on his porch listening to the river tumbling over the rocks. He’d watched Nancy from across the river when she and Rebecca had first moved into Cecily’s cottage. And when Adam had brought Nancy and Rebecca to the shipyard, he’d made sure to secure his introduction to both ladies. He was smitten with Nancy from the day he met her.

  But she was in love with another man, a man she would never let go of.

  Heart aching, Dawson mixed some blue and gray and white paint, dabbed his brush, and then swept it across the canvas. Before long, the image in his mind was slowly coming to life. Lost in thought and his painting, he hadn’t noticed the evening fading until a knock at the door startled him.

  When he answered it, he found Rebecca Grayson there, her cheeks pink from cold and her eyes sparkling with friendship. “I brought you some stew,” she said, holding a large bowl in her hands.”

  “Well, thank you, Rebecca. But you shouldn’t have walked over here in this cold.” He felt a special kinship to Rebecca, due to the similarities of their accidents. And in the days after her accident, during her recovery, Rebecca would often visit Dawson here on this very porch at night when neither of them could sleep.

  Rebecca laughed. “I’m hearty enough to carry a bowl of stew across the bridge,” she said.

  “Come in out of the cold.” He drew her inside. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle,” she said, “and I’ve received a letter from Grandma that you need to read.”

  “Oh no, that would be inconsiderate,” he said, stepping away as if she might force the letter on him. “She wrote the letter to you.”

  “Yes, but she asked me to tell you something. I thought it might mean more if you read it for yourself.”

  Dawson didn’t know if he could bear to read the letter, and so he stalled. “What kind of stew did you bring?” he asked. “It smells delicious.”

  “Chicken and dumpling. I’ll set it on the table while you read Grandma’s letter.” She cradled the large bowl against her side with one arm, and reached into her pocket with her free hand. She handed it to him and then headed to his kitchen.

  Dawson stood with the letter clutched in his fingers, flooded with indecision. He longed to open it, to read Nancy’s words and feel close to her again, if only through her letter. But the logical side of him wanted to return the unread letter to Rebecca and go back to trying to forget about the woman.

  He opened the letter.

  And he read it. Word by word, Nancy’s beautiful voice came through as she gave Rebecca the news of home. She talked about the family and shared their daily stories, making Dawson feel as if he were right there experiencing those moments with her.

  And then she asked Rebecca to do her a favor. Please ask Dawson if he intentionally left an item behind. If he did, he’ll know what he left here.

  Dawson frowned, trying to think of what he might have left behind. He hadn’t intended to do so. But Nancy seemed to think he might have, and he couldn’t tell if that pleased or upset her.

  The letter ended with her hopes for an early spring and how she couldn’t wait to get out in the fresh air and sunshine and plant her garden. She asked after Rebecca’s health and if her pregnancy was progressing without issue, and how Adam was doing at work. She conveyed how much she missed them and promised to be at Rebecca’s side for the birth of their baby.

  That meant she would be here, in Crane Landing, in June. That was three months away. But that didn’t mean she had any intention of seeing Dawson while she was visiting. Did it? Her question about what he’d left behind nagged at him.

  Rebecca stepped back into the parlor. “So what shall I tell her?” she asked.

  Dawson shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t recall leaving anything behind.”

  “Then I’ll tell you didn’t do so intentionally. I believe that’s what she was asking.”

  He nodded and stared down at her letter, missing her.

  “Dawson, I don’t know what happened between you and Grandma, but she cares about you a great deal. Before we left after the holiday, she asked me to keep an eye on you. I come here because Adam and I love you. If there’s anything you need, or that we can do for you, please let us help.”

  Releasing a sigh, Dawson worked up a smile and shook his head. “I’m fine, Rebecca. Truly. But your kindness, and that delicious smelling stew, are both deeply appreciated. Thank you.”

  “All right, then. But, I also wanted to talk to you about my grandmother. When she was here in Crane Landing with me right after my accident, we spent a lot of time talking. She shared things with me she couldn’t share with my father or any of my uncles. They just wouldn’t have understood. But I did. And she helped me, too. She helped me overcome my fear over what I couldn’t remember, and to settle my mind and listen to my heart.”

  “Advice I’m not sure she’s taken herself,” Dawson muttered. Realizing how inappropriate his comment was, he quickly added, “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I hadn’t meant to speak unkindly.”

  “It’s not unkind, Dawson. It’s accurate. But you have to understand something about Grandma. She’s like a mama bear with her cubs. Her family is first in all things. Even before her own needs. I’ll bet she’s sitting at home right now, running doubts through her head, and wondering what to do now, and all the while knitting a new sweater for one of us. I think she’s spent so many years taking care of her family and putting us first that she honestly has no idea how to do otherwise. I’d hoped you could change that.”

  “I wouldn’t want to change that, Rebecca. It’s one of the things I love about her. But while her dedication to her family is admirable, it sure makes it hard for a man to sweep her off her feet.”

  Rebecca laughed. “I know, Dawson, but don’t give up on her. You both deserve to be happy. And from what I saw during our holiday visit, you tw
o were enamored of one another.” She popped a kiss on his cheek. “Enjoy your stew, and don’t give up, Dawson.” She smiled and headed for the door. “Leo’s heading back to Fredonia next week. Just thought you’d like to know in case you might want to take a quick trip with him.” With that she stepped outside, waved goodbye, and closed the door behind her.

  His mind awhirl with thoughts and questions, Dawson returned to his chair and his painting. As much as he wanted to hop on the train with Leo and return to Fredonia, he knew he couldn’t. Nancy had to do this for herself, if it’s what she wanted. But he would ask Leo to deliver a package to Nancy. If she wanted their relationship to continue in any fashion, she would have to take the next step herself.

  Chapter Twenty

  March 17, 1891

  Nancy sat in the rocking chair in her parlor, watching flames in the fireplace slowly devour a small oak log. March had come in like a lion with snow and frigid temps. She’d spent her days snuggling with one or the other of her grandchildren in her rocking chair—the same chair in which she’d rocked her boys when they were babies. Hal had made the chair for her when she was expecting their first child. It was so finely crafted and so delicate looking, she had been skeptical of its ability to support her growing weight, but Hal had sat in the chair and pulled her onto his lap to prove the chair was strong enough to hold their whole family. And it had. For over forty years and through the birth of her sons and her many grandchildren, Nancy had sat in that chair holding her babies.

  She ran her hands down the worn arms of the rocking chair. The chair had seen many a Grayson through teething and earaches and even some heartaches. And it had stood strong and supported her all along. Another small piece of Hal’s legacy remaining in her life. When she’d married him, she’d never dreamed that she’d be left behind to nurse her own heartache. But she had, and this rocking chair had seen her through many hours of tears after Hal’s death. She’d never thought she’d love another man after Hal. And she hadn’t until Dawson Crane walked into her life. Now she found herself in her rocking chair, nursing another heartache, but this time the cause was of her own making.