My fingertips traced her collarbone as I silently recounted her words.
“It’s getting late,” she said softly. “I should clean this mess up.”
I stood and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll help you.”
We put the remaining food in grocery bags and poured the buckets of water on the softly glowing embers. Then, we headed inside.
The living room was small and tidy, and we found Dara’s grandmother and Mr. Milton sitting quietly on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” Dara asked, alarmed.
When I glanced at her grandmother, it was obvious that she had been crying. Her eyes were red, and she held a crumpled tissue in her hand. Mr. Milton’s arm rested on her shoulders, and he was cooing to her softly, soothing her.
I took the bags into the kitchen and set them on the table. Then, I returned to Dara’s side in the living room.
“Granny, you’re scaring me,” Dara said, her voice quivering.
“Don’t be scared, honey.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The strange car that was in the driveway?”
“What about it?” Dara asked.
“That wasn’t someone who had taken a wrong turn.”
“Then who was it?”
Dara’s granny dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. Then, she said softly, “That was your mother.”
Chapter 7
Dara
My insides knotted up, and I had the overwhelming urge to vomit. “My mother?” I asked quietly. “That was my mother?”
“Yes,” Granny whispered, nodding her head.
“What did she want?” I asked, a strange mixture of fear and relief coursing through my veins.
“She wants to see you.”
“She does?”
“She does. I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, so I told her that I would talk to you. I wanted to wait until after your party.”
I felt numb. For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to speak to my mother, to find out why she left me, where she was, how she was, why she no longer cared about me. What had I done as a child that was so terrible that she stopped loving me? Maybe she had never loved me.
Emotions purled within my soul. I had so many questions, so many doubts, so much longing, so much resentment. Hot tears stung my eyes, reminders of the little girl who watched out the window hoping that one day her mother would come back. In a strange way, I still felt like that little girl. Why had it taken her almost fifteen years to return?
I couldn’t keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. Stone ushered me into his arms, not saying a word, just rubbing my back in a soothing pattern.
When I had regained my composure, I pulled back and turned my attention back to Granny. “Did she leave a number?”
“No, honey. She said she’d drop by in a couple of days.”
Granny rose from the couch and hugged me. “I know you probably want to talk to her, but I’m so scared that she’ll take you away from me.”
I clutched Granny. “I won’t leave you. You’re the only one that I could ever count on. I’m not going anywhere.”
She leaned back and smoothed my hair away from my face. “I love you, Dara. Whatever happens, whatever decisions you make regarding your mother, I will always love you.”
“I love you, too, Granny. And who knows? We may never hear from her again. It wouldn’t be the first time she upped and left, would it?”
“She loves you, Dara. Just remember that,” Granny assured me.
“If she loved me, she wouldn’t have left.”
“Sometimes people do things that they later regret. Just talk to her and hear her out.”
I nodded. I truly did want to hear what she had to say. I just didn’t know how I’d feel. It was so hard to remember her. I had an old picture of her tucked in my jewelry box beneath beaded bracelets and old, tarnished earrings, and I wondered if she looked anything like that now.
“I guess I should be going. Y’all probably want to talk,” Stone said.
“No, don’t leave yet,” I pleaded. “Granny and I can talk about it tomorrow. There’s really nothing to talk about anyway until we find out whether she comes back or not.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said, caressing my cheek.
“It is.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the front door. “Let’s sit on the porch.”
We walked outside into the darkness and sat on the porch swing. Stone put his arm around me, and I laid my head on his shoulder.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, stroking my hand with his forefinger.
“I gave up thinking she’d ever come back for me a long time ago.” I suddenly felt so very tired, like I hadn’t slept in the last fifteen years. All those dashed hopes and dreams came flooding back, only this time I was old enough to know better. Experience had taught me that I couldn’t depend on my mother.
“Maybe she realizes what she’s lost, what an incredibly high price she’s paid.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But she wasn’t the only one who had to pay.”
“I know,” he said soothingly. “But we can’t control what other people do. We can only control how we react.”
I could do nothing to stop the flow of tears as they tumbled from my eyes.
Stone hugged me harder. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
I clung to him, glad that he was here, and he stroked my hair. His long legs gently rocked us in the swing.
“I don’t know whether to be happy or angry,” I whispered.
“You can be both,” he said. “You deserve to be both. If she comes back, just tell her exactly how you feel. She owes you that much.”
I nodded my head. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
He put his finger under my chin and tilted my head up, so that our eyes met. “Dara, don’t even think like that. You’re a wonderful person. If she doesn’t absolutely love you, then she doesn’t deserve you. Do you hear me?”
I nodded, and he released my chin and held me tightly.
He rocked us in the swing until my tears ran dry and my eyelids began to droop.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he asked. “You don’t have to worry about coming to work tomorrow.”
“I want to come to work,” I whispered sleepily. “We have to get sales up.”
“You get some sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow then,” he said, helping me to my feet.
“Okay.”
He walked me to the front door and gently kissed me on the lips. “Good night.”
“Good night, Stone.”
***
Stone
As I showered for work, I thought about my date this evening with Dara. Yesterday had been an emotional day for her, and I wanted everything to be perfect. I still hadn’t decided on where to take her or what to do. I just knew that I wanted it to be special.
When I pulled into the parking lot at work, Dara’s grandmother’s beast of a car was already there. I entered the bookstore and found her cleaning the counter.
“Hey, beautiful,” I said as I approached her and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Good morning.”
“How’re you feeling this morning?” I asked, watching her face intently for any clues.
A small crease furrowed her brow. “I’m okay, I guess. It kinda seems like a dream.”
“I know it’s scary, but I think it will be good for you to talk to your mother.”
“I guess,” she halfheartedly agreed. “But let’s just focus on the bookstore today. Do you think our sales will be up?”
“We had a fantastic day yesterday. I would expect sales to still be up as a result of the advertising, and hopefully, we’ll get some word-of-mouth advertising out of the deal, too. Why don’t you schedule a new ad for next week?”
“Okay. I’m going to put some of Crimson’s and Scarlet’s business cards on the counter, too, if that’s okay,” she said, opening a drawer and pulling out two stacks of cards.
“Absolutely,” I agreed.
“I thought if the bookstore stays open, you might have some bookmarkers printed up, and they could put those in their shop to help you advertise.”
Dara seemed to be a natural at business. “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you go ahead and check on that?”
“I’ll do it,” she promised.
As the day wore on, it proved that the promotion did increase business. During the times when business lulled, I snuck to my office to make a few arrangements for our date.
When Tom came in to relieve us, I sent Dara home, so that she would have time to get ready. I stayed a while longer to talk sales numbers with Tom.
As I was leaving, I noticed another note on my bike. Just like the others, it was tucked between the handlebars and the clutch. I groaned, my irritation rising before I even bothered to read it. If I hadn’t promised to pick Dara up in less than two hours, I’d visit Chance Murray on my way home to put a stop to this once and for all.
It was time for him to man up and realize that as long as I was in the picture, he didn’t have a snowball’s chance. He and his jock strap could hit on the next girl. Dara was free to choose whomever she wanted.
I laid my helmet on the black leather seat, snatched the note up, and unrolled it. Leave Dara alone.
I looked at the time on my phone, wondering if I had enough time to stomp his ass and still be able to pick Dara up on time. I could always tell her I’d be running a little late, but with everything that had been happening, this was an important date. Girls remembered shit like this, and for once, I didn’t want to screw it up.
I took a deep breath, trying to tamp down my anger. I felt my shirt pocket, wishing I had a cigarette, but realized that I had decided to quit smoking after Dara had admonished me. Smoking was a nasty habit, and I smoked more because it was routine than because I had any real addiction.
What I needed was to ride. I put on my helmet, started the bike, and revved the engine. I slowly eased out from the carport and pulled the bike into a wheelie as I screamed through the parking lot and headed for home.
An hour later, my anger started to diffuse, mostly because I reasoned that Dara would be my girlfriend soon, no matter what Chance’s opinion was on the matter.
When I thought about how long it had been since I felt this way about a girl, it was disconcerting. On one hand, the memories assaulted me, and the pain that I had endured three years ago threatened to rip my gut open again. How long should I agonize? Maybe I deserved to suffer forever, but a huge part of me wanted a meaningful relationship with Dara. A huge part of me wondered if she could…heal me.
I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a blue pullover shirt. I sprayed a generous amount of cologne, guaranteed to make even the most modest of girls swoon. In a matter of minutes, I opened the garage and backed out my Dad’s glossy, black sports car. He had told me not to drive it, to take the more family-oriented spare car, but he knew I would. If he truly didn’t want me behind the wheel, he would’ve taken his keys with him.
That was the one thing my dad and I had in common: a penchant for fine, sleek, fast vehicles.
As I headed toward town, my thoughts toggled between pummeling Chance and wooing Dara. For my own sanity, I decided to forget Chance for the time being. The last thing I wanted was for him to play any role in my date with Dara. I refused to give him the satisfaction on any level.
When I pulled into Dara’s graveled driveway, I opened the trunk and took out the two bouquets of roses that I had purchased at the florist in town. I walked to the front door and knocked lightly.
Dara’s grandmother opened the door and greeted me with a wide smile.
“Hi, Stone. Come on in. Dara’s almost ready.” She moved to the side and held the screen door open for me.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I know I’m old, but you don’t have to call me ma’am. All of Dara’s friends call me Granny.”
I nodded and held out a bouquet of red roses. “Granny, these are for you.”
“Thank you, honey. The last time a man gave me roses…I plucked every one of the blooms and threw them at him. But that’s a long story for another day. Come inside and make yourself comfortable while I put these in water. They’re absolutely beautiful!”
I clutched Dara’s roses and sat on the afghan-covered couch. I could only imagine what kind of a hellion Granny must have been in her younger days.
I rose when Dara walked into the living room, one of those social graces that my mother tried to teach me when I was younger. “Damn, you look gorgeous!” My mother wouldn’t have approved of my word choice, but that was better than my first thought, which would remain locked away in my head.
She was sexily clad in an iridescent gold, strapless dress that hugged her curves deliciously and a matching pair of heels. I assumed that Crimson and Scarlet had been over because her hair was pinned up into a tangle of corkscrew curls and glittering sparkles. Her lips were her usual shade of shimmering pink, and as always, they drew my attention to them as she smiled shyly, revealing straight, white teeth.
I held out her bouquet of soft pink roses. I had chosen pink because the color reminded me of her lips, and looking at her now, I knew her lips were as soft as the petals.
“How sweet!” she said timidly, as she took them from me and lifted them to her nose. “They smell good, too.” She rubbed her fingertips across the petals. “Let me just put these in the kitchen, and we can go.”
I watched her derriere appreciatively as she walked past me into the kitchen. She said something indecipherable to her grandmother, and then joined me back in the living room.
“Ready?” I asked, offering her my elbow.
“Yes,” she answered, entwining her arm with mine.
I walked her to the car, opened the door, and assisted her in. As I walked to my side of the car, I found that I was more than a little eager to begin this date.
We started out at one of Quail Mountain’s nicer restaurants. While it wasn’t a black tie affair, it did offer candlelit dinners and soft music. We were escorted to a table tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant. Her gold dress shimmered in the candlelight, and I admired the view.
We made small talk over steak dinners and devoured chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert while drinking ginger ale in champagne flutes.
“What were you like as a little boy?” she asked, her tall, narrow glass hovering inches from her lips.
I sat up a little straighter. “You can never ask normal questions, can you? Like what do you want to be when you grow up? Or what’s your favorite color?”
“I want to know,” she said softly, beckoning me with her eyes to spill all of my innermost secrets. “You told me that you and your brothers rode dirt bikes. Now tell me the rest.”
“It’s really not that interesting.”
“It is to me.”
My heart turned a flip when I heard the sincerity in her voice.
“Please, Stone,” she pleaded. “I want to know more about you.”
Why did I struggle with this? She was going to find out about me sooner or later. Why didn’t I just lay it all out there?
I knew why. I was terrified that she wouldn’t like what she saw. I had mastered the art of covering my insecurities with an outward appearance of bold confidence. Sometimes, I felt the confidence. Sometimes, I didn’t. But at some point, I was going to have to trust someone with my secrets. Either that or live a very lonely life.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I offered. “Let’s go back to my place. We can watch the sunset on the patio and play a round of twenty questions. But for every question you ask me, I get to ask you one, too.”
“Deal.” There was no hesitation in her answer. A wide smile crossed her face, and her eyes were glowing with anticipation. I hoped I didn’t come to regret the deal. Dara’s curiosity was bound to go in directions that I would find uncomfortable.
Forty minutes later, we were on my b
ack patio. I leaned back into a chaise lounge and motioned for Dara to sit with me. My legs straddled the lounger and her tiny frame fit easily between my thighs, as she leaned back against my chest.
The sun exploded into a myriad of pinks and oranges as its rays streaked the skies and tinted the clouds. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the brilliant, fiery colors gave way to purples and blues. Stars dappled the night sky, and a crescent moon was partially obscured by cloud cover.
“Okay,” I whispered, when the sun and moon had completed their changing of the guard. “Ask me a question.” I was relieved that night had fallen. Somehow, the darkness offered me a modicum of relief against the exposure I would surely suffer as a result of her questioning.
She sighed softly as if she were trying to decide which question was worthy of initiating the conversation.
“What were you like as a little boy?”
“Always into trouble. Much like I am now.”
“You don’t seem like that much of a troublemaker to me. At least not now that I know you better. When’s the last time that you were in trouble?”
I wrapped my arms around her waist. “You already asked your question,” I admonished, while she began stroking my hands with her fingertips. “It’s my turn.”
“Are you going to ask me what my favorite color is?” she asked.
“I already know that your favorite color is pink,” I answered. “Why would I waste my question?”
“I never told you that was my favorite color.”
“You didn’t have to. You wear strawberry-flavored pink lip gloss every day. You have more pink clothing than any other color, and let’s not forget those brown-and-pink boots that you were wearing your first day of work.”
“You remember what I wore on my first day?” she asked, a little surprised.
“It’s still not your turn, but yes, I remember. It’s not every day that I let some random girl use the towel that’s usually reserved for my motorcycle.”
She clicked her tongue. “Lucky me. I know what a difficult decision that was for you.”
“You have no idea. Now, let me ask you a question.”
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