“Good.” I spoke the single word with enough meaning that her eyes flew to my face. I held her gaze without looking away until she did. The pink tinge on her cheeks gave me an unexplainable happy.
“You seemed kind of cozy with the blonde. Not that I was paying attention or anything. Trent said he’d, ah . . . known her.” I couldn’t miss the arch tone.
“Yeah, I guess she was a freshman when you and I were seniors. Said she’d always had a crush on me.” I rubbed my hand over my knee. “She also said everyone knew I only had eyes for one girl back then.”
This time, I couldn’t miss the blush. “That was a long time ago.”
“Some things don’t change.” I bounced my leg up and down, needing an outlet for the nervous energy that had suddenly filled my body. “Ali, can I ask you something? Not because I’m trying to dig up painful crap or anything. I just have to know.”
Her mouth tightened, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“Why Craig?”
She swallowed hard and turned her face away from me. “Flynn, I don’t . . .” She worried the corner of her lip between her teeth, silent for a moment. “All right. That’s an explanation I owe you. I told you, after you left town, I was a mess. I didn’t want to do anything. Alex would come over and sit with me, and let me cry on his shoulder, but he was worried about me. He talked me into leaving the house, finally. A bunch of kids from our class were hanging out at the river, just drinking and talking . . . you know the deal. I sat on the hood of Alex’s car, not talking to anyone. It still hurt too much.”
She closed her eyes as a single tear leaked out, running down her cheek. I wanted to wipe it away, but I wasn’t sure she’d want my touch just now.
“Then Craig came over and sat next to me. He didn’t make me talk. He didn’t try to get me to join in. He just sat there. And then the next night, he came over to the house, and we sat . . . here. On the porch. And he still didn’t make me talk. I mean, he talked to me, and I listened, but he didn’t get upset when I was quiet. He was just an ear. A shoulder, I guess. I was so lonely.”
I thought about Craig. We’d been friends all during high school; not as close as Alex and me, but we’d hung out regularly, played together on the football team and gone to the same parties. In the back of my mind, I guess I’d always known Craig had a thing for Ali, but I also knew he’d never act on it. Until I gave him a huge open door to walk through.
“I knew people were talking about us. A couple of girls made some snide comments when I was in town, about how fast I jumped from one guy to another. I didn’t care, because I knew the truth. There wasn’t anything romantic between Craig and me. He was just . . . there.
“Then I found out I was pregnant. I freaked out. Alex was the only one who knew, and I made him swear not to tell anyone else. I wouldn’t see Craig when he came over, I’d just hide in my room, but one day, he came while Sam was out in the fields. He came to my room and told me he’d figured out I was pregnant. Alex didn’t tell him, but he’d seen me getting sick, and when I started pushing him away, I guess he put the pieces together. He asked me if I was planning to tell you, and when I said I couldn’t, he offered to marry me.”
I nodded. I could see it, could almost feel her pain. Craig would’ve loved her from a distance forever if I’d been the man I promised her I’d be. When I fucked up, he stepped in to save her.
“I didn’t want to, but he kept pushing, and I was so tired. I was sick, I was sad, and it felt like my life was over. I knew Craig thought he loved me. One day I just gave up. I said yes. I told Sam what we were doing—he didn’t know I was pregnant, but he knew I’d been seeing Craig—and he tried everything he could to talk me out of it. Offered to fly me to wherever you were. But by then I’d made up my mind.” She shifted a little, and the swing creaked. Her tongue darted out to touch her lips, and I sensed she was struggling with what she was going to say next.
“The day we went to get married . . . we drove to Savannah to do it, so I didn’t have to deal with anyone in Burton. That morning, though, I knew I was making a mistake. I had a huge panic attack, and I couldn’t breathe. I did the one thing I’d sworn I wouldn’t. I called you.”
“What?” I gripped the arms of the chair. “No, you didn’t. If you had—Ali, you’ve got to know I would’ve come back here if you’d called.”
“It was early in the morning. About an hour before Craig was supposed to pick me up. Alex was there with me—he drove into the city with us that day—and he told me I should talk to you before I did anything, if I wasn’t sure about marrying Craig. So I called, and someone answered. But it wasn’t you.”
“God, no.” I had a sudden ache in the pit of my stomach as I remembered. “Ali, she wasn’t anything to me. Reenie had called me the night before to tell me you were marrying Craig. She told me I needed to get back to town and stop you. I was furious, I was hurt . . . I got smashed and went home with one of the girls who was interning with the same photographer. But I didn’t do anything. I just slept on her couch.”
“She answered your phone, this girl with a sleepy voice, and I just shattered. I didn’t ask for you, I didn’t even speak to her. I just hung up. I felt like . . . I’d gotten my answer.”
“I’m sorry. When I think . . . if I’d just called you. Or come home.” So much wasted time. “So you went ahead and married Craig.”
Ali turned to look at me. “I never slept with him, Flynn. Not until after we were married. And even then . . .” She bowed her head, and this time the tears fell faster, hitting her folded arms. “On our wedding night, he tried to hold me, and I . . . just cried. Every time he touched me, I felt like I was cheating on you.”
“God, Ali.” I fisted my hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry, Flynn? I’m the one who broke all our promises.”
I shook my head. “No. I left you, and I put you in a position where you had to . . . do whatever you could to survive. I’m sorry.” I gave us both a few minutes of quiet. “Why did Craig leave, Ali?”
Her shoulders shook. “He tried his best. He stuck with me the whole pregnancy, while everyone was . . . judging us. People talked, you know. They said Craig and I’d been together before you left, and you found out, which was why you took off. Once I started showing, a few people actually asked Craig if he was sure the baby was his. He swore up and down that she was. He was by my side the day she was born, and until she was three months old. And then one day, he came into the living room—we were living in a little apartment over the flower shop downtown—and he had his suitcases. He told me he was leaving. He’d gotten accepted to a small college in Arkansas, and he was leaving. He’d applied there as a surprise for me, thinking we could all three start over fresh, where no one knew us. But then he realized that it was never going to work. I was never going to love him, not the way I’d loved you.”
My throat was so tight, I couldn’t speak. I raked my hand through my hair.
“He was right, of course. I’d have been better off marrying Alex, because him I loved as a friend. Craig was just the guy who came along when I was lonely. I remember he said to me, right before he walked out the door, ‘I thought I could make you love me. But I want more for myself than to be a safety net for a girl who can’t love me.’”
She inhaled deep and blew out a breath. “So he left, and that day I packed up Bridget’s stuff and mine and called Sam to come pick us up. I told him that Craig and I hadn’t worked out, and that was that. We moved back in at the farm, and life went on. And eventually, one day I realized I was happy again. Not in the same way I’d been with you. But happy as I could be. And for a while, it was enough.”
She brought her knee back up to hug to her body again, and a strand of her hair fell out of the braid, onto her face. I got up and knelt next to the swing. Reaching with one finger, I tucked the hair back behind her ear.
“Ali, you are the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever known. I am . . . so awed that you are my dau
ghter’s mother. If she grows up to be even half the woman you are, I’ll be the proudest father ever. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you. For putting you in the place where you had to make those kind of choices. I can only say . . . I’m sorry.”
I laid my head against her legs, letting the wet from my eyes seep into her sweat pants as my shoulders shook. I wrapped my arms around her feet, and after a moment, I felt her hand slowly, tentatively, stroking over my hair.
Everything changed that week.
By the time Sam and Bridget returned from closing the stand, Ali and I were both calmer, still sitting on the porch as I entertained her with stories from my some of my shoots.
“Have you taken any photos since you’ve been back in town?” She trailed one hand lazily over the chain of the swing. “You know, seems to me it’s about time for them to replace the town sign again. You might be able to get in on that gig.”
I laughed. “Yeah, maybe. I’ve done a little shooting. I got some great pictures of Bridget the other day. Remind me, I’ll send them to you.”
“I looked beautiful in the pictures Daddy took, Mommy.” Bridget nodded in agreement, and we all laughed. Not an ounce of false modesty in this kid.
“Of course you do. You take after your uncle.” Sam poked her in the ribs, and she giggled. “Are y’all hungry? Since my personal chef took the day off, we’re just having leftovers. But Flynn, you’re welcome to stay, if you want.”
I glanced at Ali, and she gave me a small smile and nodded.
“If you’re sure you have enough, I’d love to eat with you. Thanks.”
When I left after dinner, Bridget hugged me with her usual exuberance, Sam shook my hand, and Ali walked me to the door. As I turned on the top step to say goodbye, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
It was a start.
That night as I lay in bed, I thought about everything that Ali had told me that afternoon. I remembered about all the years I’d spent blaming her and running. Refusing to return to my hometown, because I was afraid of what would happen if I saw her again. All the years of wasted time.
I picked up my phone from the nightstand and hit Ali’s name. It rang a few times before I heard her voice, soft and relaxed.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine. I just . . .” I rubbed my forehead. “Would I sound like a wuss if I said I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep?”
She laughed. “Do you care?”
I thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t. Actually, I just wanted to say thank you, for telling me everything you did today. I know it was hard. But I do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. It felt good to get it out.”
“I’ve missed talking to you before you bed.”
She sighed. “Flynn, you haven’t talked to me before bed for a long time.”
“I know. I’ve missed it for a long time.”
“What are we doing?”
I paused, considering. “I’m not sure, but I think we might be . . . finding our way back.”
“Back?” I heard a rustling, as though she were shifting in the bed. “Do we want to go back?”
“You might have a point. What if we’re finding our way forward?”
“It’s still scary as hell.”
“That’s why we’re finding our way. No big leaps, no rushing. Just . . . taking our time.” I sensed I’d pushed enough for one night, so I added, “How’s our daughter tonight?”
“She crashed early, right after you left. She always had a lot of trouble falling asleep, did I tell you that? But lately, she’s been doing well. Anyway, she told me she had a wonderful time at girls’ night. She said Grandma put cream on her hands that smelled like roses, and Aunt Iona gave her a special hair treatment, and Aunt Maureen painted her toenails. She was in seventh heaven.”
“Mom was, too. She said they laughed and played until late. Everyone loves Bridget. Oh, I forgot to tell you, she and Graham actually got along today when he was over. I caught them playing like real, live cousins out in the backyard. Bridge told me she was teaching him how to play Robinson Crusoe.”
“That sounds like her.” She yawned. “Quite the imagination.”
“I should let you go to sleep.”
“Morning comes early. Thanks for calling, Flynn. Good night.”
“Good night, Ali. Sleep well.”
FLYNN CALLED ME AT bedtime every night that week. We didn’t talk about anything deep; sometimes, I only told him about what Bridget had been up to and maybe a few stories from the stand that day.
“You still like working at the stand?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I do. I know it’s kind of mindless, but I like meeting new people and talking to our regulars. I think Sam and I are going to start doing some advertising—Rilla Grant’s going to handle it for us.”
“That’s exciting. You know, Ali, what you and Sam have done with the farm is pretty incredible. When I think of the two of you, having that thrust on you as young as you were, it just blows my mind. You should be proud of it.”
“I think we are. Sometimes I worry that we let it take too much priority. Last year, Sam almost lost Meghan over the farm.”
Flynn made a noise of surprise. “Really? How’d that happen?”
“Oh, you know Sam. He has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. And he thought Meghan wouldn’t want to live here. She thought he didn’t love her. They were a mess. I was ready to slap them both silly.”
He was quiet for a heartbeat. “Sometimes people have trouble seeing what’s right in front of them.”
I wrapped a strand of hair around my finger. “Are we still talking about Sam and Meghan?”
“Maybe. Who else would we be talking about?”
“I have no idea.”
When Saturday came around again, Flynn picked up Bridget at the farm while I worked the stand. I half-hoped that he might stop and see me again, as he’d done the week before, but when he didn’t, I scolded myself for being disappointed. Expectations were not my friend. They’d only lead me down dangerous paths.
Cassie had a date that night, so I let her leave early. I’d just begun closing up, locking the register and boxing the perishables, when I heard a truck pull in the lot. Moments later, my daughter came running into the stand.
“Surprise, Mommy!”
Flynn stood at the edge of the shed, leaning against the end of the sliding door, smiling as he watched Bridget and me.
“What’s this? What’re you two doing here?”
“We came to take you on a picnic.” Bridget tugged at my hand. “Come on, Mommy. Daddy and I made fried chicken and potato salad, and Grandma made chocolate chip cookies. We have a basket, and a blanket, and I made sweet tea all by myself.”
I looked across at Flynn. His eyes were steady on me, waiting for my response. Bridget jumped up and down, still chattering.
“Well, if I’m getting kidnapped for a picnic, I’m going to need help closing up the stand. Bridget, can you cover the tables? And Flynn, can you help me move these boxes to the cooler?”
While Bridge got to work, Flynn lifted up a stack of boxes. When I tried to take one, he refused. “Nope, I got this. You just lead the way and open the cooler for me.”
I held the swinging door open for him and then slid open the huge cooler. He set the boxes inside it, moving each one so that everything fit perfectly.
“So whose idea was the picnic?” I leaned back against the side of the stand, appreciating the view of Flynn’s arms flexing as he lifted and his very fine ass when he bent.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “It was mine. Is it okay? I never stopped to think you might have plans tonight.” He shot me a wicked grin that just about curled my toes. “You know, like another Saturday night at The Road Block?”
I shuddered. “Not hardly. No, my Saturday nights are usually an exciting blend of eating dinner and going to bed early. Sometimes I sneak in a chapter or two whatev
er book I’m reading.” I reached for my phone. “That reminds me, though. I need to tell Meghan I won’t be there for dinner. They’re probably waiting for me.”
“No, they’re not. Bridge and I took care of that.” Flynn closed the cooler and fastened the lock for me. “Your only job is to relax and have fun. Let us take care of you for once.”
With everyone working together, we were climbing into the truck a few minutes later. Bridge scrambled over the front into the tiny back seat, and Flynn handed me up into the passenger seat. I wasn’t sure if he held my hand a little longer than necessary to help or if it was just my imagination.
They’d chosen a spot by the river, on the far side of the Nelson farm. We’d never paid attention to any kinds of property boundaries growing up; Alex and I ran back and forth from their family farm to mine without thinking about it. I’d always liked this particular bend in the river, which formed a protected bank. The trees shaded us from too much sun in the summer but allowed enough filtered light to keep it from being too dark in the spring or fall.
Flynn stopped the truck and helped us get out. He and Bridget spread the blanket and began to unpack the food.
“I can’t believe how delicious this all looks. Did you really make it?” I picked up a wing and broke off a piece of the succulent skin.
“Yep. I’m a pretty good cook, you know. You want more than a wing, don’t you?”
“Hmmm.” I peered into the container. “Maybe a thigh.”
“I’m a breast man myself.” Flynn winked at me as he bit into the meat, and I felt my face turn pink.
We all ate until we thought we’d burst, and then Bridget asked if she could play in the water. It was a warm evening, and once I’d gotten her promise that she’d be careful, stay in the ankle-deep shallows and within view of her father and me. I gave my permission.
Flynn lay back on the blanket with groan. “I don’t think I can move again for at least a week. You’ll have to stand guard over me until I can get up.”
I laughed. “You’re on your own, buddy. I happen to know the mosquitos’ve started coming out, and down here they bite like a son-of-a-bitch.”
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