In a Moon Smile

by Coner, Sherri

  “Chez, to tell you the truth, I was never sure if you knew whether you were happy,” Becca said. “I saw in your eyes that you weren’t necessarily fulfilled by the relationship. But I can’t say that I actually knew for certain that you were unhappy. You've always been one of those go-with-the-flow kinds of people.”

  “Because I'm so blah?” Chesney asked in a soft voice.

  “Nope,” Becca said as she jabbed Chesney in the side with her elbow. “Sometimes you're like a timid little lamb, easily led around by your nose. And sometimes, I think you have an incredibly high tolerance for misery. Those are the reasons why I could not be completely certain that you were happy or not. But I believe there were more than a few reasons why you stayed in that ridiculous relationship.” Becca sighed and planted a kiss on Chesney’s cheek. “And Chez, in my opinion, the reasons why you stayed so long with Jack had very little to do with your own feelings.”

  Shit. Don’t start in, Bec. I don’t want to talk about my role as the family monster. We are busy preparing dinner, remember? If I talk about my perfect mother and my perfect sister, I might just crack up right here in the middle of my newly remodeled kitchen. Then you and Dalton won’t enjoy your dinner since I’ll curl up in the fetal position, engaging in way too much primal scream therapy.

  “I also knew you'd leave the relationship when you finally saw what it was doing to your heart,” Becca said as tears filled her eyes. “And Chez, you did leave. You were strong. You did choose to take care of yourself. So don’t forget that.”

  “That’s not entirely honest,” Chesney said sadly. “The real story was that I waited until Jack cheated. It was finally a tangible reason to end the charade. But even then, I’m not the one who let go and announced that it was done.”

  As she made her way across the kitchen to the spice rack and returned to the counter, Becca pulled playfully on one of Chesney’s stray curls. “Actually, I don’t believe it really matters who said what and when to end the relationship,” she said. “What matters is very simple. It was unhealthy and unhappy and it finally did end.”

  Leaning against the counter with a dish cloth in her hands, Chesney studied her friend. “I’ve changed a lot, Bec,” she said. “I’m happy about those changes. No, I’m more than happy, I’m actually very proud of what I’m becoming.”

  “You know Chez, it took a while for me to really understand why you made this move,” Becca said. “But now I understand. I see it when I look around your place here. You’ve been working on your heart and your house at the same time. You said that to me months ago. Do you remember that? I guess I didn’t really get it, but I do now.”

  “How terribly observant for a dry accountant like yourself,” Chesney beamed.

  As she stirred the sauce, Becca said sweetly, “Well, the house is nearly renovated. The heart is beating happy again and now it is time to make a move on the beautiful Dalton Moore.”

  “I can't possibly do that,” Chesney gasped. “You know I have the self-esteem of a toaster.”

  Becca laughed as she pushed past Chesney to get the garlic. “He’s crazy about you,” she whispered. Then she disappeared with dinner plates and glasses, to set the dining room table. When Chesney tried to yank her back into the kitchen to beg for more information, Becca giggled and loudly announced that dinner was on the table.

  Okay, I know for sure that I’m crazy. I feel self-conscious about eating in front of Dalton. I felt this exact same way when I was thirteen years old, sharing pizza with all the kids at day camp. I was mortified when a string of cheese hung on my chin right in front of that big-eared boy I loved. What was his name? Duane something. Yeah,that’s how I feel. I’m sitting here starving to death, but I’m forcing myself to eat like I am anorexic!

  While Dalton poured a second round of wine for everyone, Chesney made a conscious and constant effort not to stare across the table at the handsome dinner guest. She loved how easily he laughed. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners. She loved the color of his eyes, such a clear, brilliant blue. She wondered how Dalton's eyes could be so closely identical to the mystery man's eyes in the photo. Then she wondered why Dalton seemed uncomfortable earlier in the day when she and Becca went into the attic. Chesney watched Dalton carefully pluck the cucumber out of the salad mix. Obviously he didn’t care for cucumbers but he was too sweet to say so.

  She shivered, recalling Dalton’s calloused hand on her leg the day the porch gave way. It seemed like such a long time ago that her leg was scraped up and her ego was bruised. It happened several weeks ago, yes, but the sensation of Dalton’s touch was an immediate, just-like-it-was-yesterday memory.

  “You know that I invited Chesney out for dinner this evening, right?” Dalton directed the question in Becca’s direction.

  Aw, damn it.

  “Actually Dalton, no, I wasn’t aware of that,” Becca gave Chesney one of her famous evil faces before smiling nicely again at Dalton. “But don’t take it personally. She can be moody and high-strung. And she can, uh, well, she can be a moron, too, on some occasions.”

  All three of them laughed good naturedly at Becca’s comment. Then Chesney warned, “You’d better watch yourself. Doing these renovations is a work-out. What will you do one day when I threaten to kick your ass?”

  “Sorry Chez, but it will be difficult to take you seriously if that day ever comes,” Becca grinned. “My oldest niece is taller than you.”

  “She’s a petite little package,” Dalton smiled.

  “She’s a bitchy elf,” Becca laughed.

  “Just shut up,” Chesney rolled her eyes. “Both of you are getting on my damned nerves.”

  “More wine?” Becca asked. And before Dalton could answer, she filled his glass. “Now,” Becca folded her hands on the table and a devious smile crossed her face. “Dalton, we never finished the conversation we had when you drove me to Nashville for more wine.”

  “Now I know why I was suddenly invited to be your dinner guest,” Dalton said with a soft but nervous laugh. He glanced across the table at Chesney then back at Becca. “What conversation would that be, Ms. Bartlett?”

  “The one about why you never married,” she said.

  Hearing that shocking question caused Chesney to cough and splutter and excuse herself quickly from the table. As soon as she stopped choking, Chesney planned to strangle little miss busy body Bartlett right there in her newly renovated country kitchen.

  “Are you okay, Chez?” Becca asked slyly as she appeared behind Chesney in the bathroom mirror.

  “Yes,” Chesney said firmly, She cleared her throat and shot daggers at Becca while dabbing at her teary eyes. “I'm just…fine…I just... I choked on a piece of tomato.”

  “Hmm,” Becca cocked her head. “I guess I didn’t realize that, Chez. From where I was sitting, it appeared more that you choked on your very deprived sexuality.” With a playful shove, Chesney pushed Becca out of the bathroom. So she returned to the table, armed with an assortment of questions for the handsome handyman.

  But the moment Becca returned to her chair, Dalton struck first at the moment of curiosity. “As I recall, you are single also,” he said ever so nicely. “But I don’t recall whether you explained or not. So I will just ask again, why aren’t you married, Becca?”

  “Well...” Suddenly thrown off balance, Becca flushed and panicked. She thought she was running the show but Dalton edged in for a secret attack and caught Becca at her own game. It was a thrilling moment for Chesney as she slowly made her way back to the dinner table. She secretly enjoyed the red flash rising from the neck of Becca's cutesy little figure-flattering blouse with a matching bauble in her hair.

  “Oh yes, dahling,” Chesney added in her best British accent. “Do tell, dahling. We’re waiting, you know.”

  Becca’s insides felt shaky. She certainly hadn’t expected to be beat at her own game. And if she was in her usual frame of mind, she would easily laugh off this moment, but she hadn’t been completely protected
since that motorcycle ride with Deke. At this moment, she was feeling more vulnerable than she cared to be feeling. “I haven't met Mr. Right,” Becca said finally.

  “Obviously, that's my answer, too,” Dalton said as he took another swig of wine. “In a way, I mean, that’s my answer too.”

  Chesney sighed with relief. Bec and Dalton were equal now. Both had managed to put the other on the hot spot. Now they could discuss the weather and other boring topics while they finished off the second bottle of wine.

  “But earlier today, didn’t you say that you moved back to Bean Blossom for a woman?” Becca reminded.

  Here we go again.

  Chesney shot a furious 'shut your mouth' look at Becca, but it had absolutely no effect.

  “Who is the woman you’re waiting for?” Becca asked. “If you, if you don’t mind saying.”

  “Well, actually I do mind saying who it is,” Dalton said. “It's not the right time.”

  “Is she married?” Becca pressed.

  Dalton shook his head.

  “This is probably a ridiculous question, Dalton, but does this woman know you want to be with her?” Becca asked.

  “Not yet,” Dalton said.

  Hearing Dalton’s answer made Becca’s jaw drop. “What? You’re kidding, right? Will you explain what you're doing?” Becca, obviously out of patience about a subject that wasn’t at all her business, rolled her eyes. “It’s crazy, Dalton,” she sighed. “I've never seen someone go about finding their life partner in such a mysterious, chivalrous manner.”

  On the other side of the dining table, Chesney was not at all enjoying the dinner conversation. A sad little lump was growing in her gut every time she watched Dalton’s face light up about whomever this mystery woman happened to be. Obviously, he was quite in love with her. It was all too much for Chesney’s heart, which had wrapped itself secretly around Dalton, no matter how many times she tried to stop it. She stood up and reached for the now empty salad bowl. “More spaghetti?” she asked in a near whisper. Then Chesney swallowed hard and made her best effort to sound cheerful when what she really wanted to do right then at that moment was to stick her weary head in the damn oven. “Bec? Dalton? More wine?”

  Dalton shook his head but smiled and Chesney’s foolish heart bounced around in her chest. No matter how many times she reminded herself that Dalton Moore was already in love with a woman, and it certainly was not her, she couldn’t stop her heart from going into that fuzziness that pissed her off. What was this strange connection she felt toward this man? She dropped her eyes and cleared the dirty plates from the table, careful not to again look up and embarrass herself by offering a lovesick puppy kind of expression toward the handyman or her big mouth best friend.

  By the time Chesney returned from the kitchen, conversation had floated away from such personal questions. Becca was talking about her life in Chicago. Then Dalton spoke of some old friends who still live in Boston. Chesney pretended to listen, but she didn’t care about one single word they were saying. She rubbed her eyes, suddenly drained by the emotional stress of trying to hide such a strong feeling of physical attraction and an emotional connection. During the entire dinner, she practically held her breath and the more Chesney tried to talk herself out of those feelings, the more often the handyman visited her in dreams.

  When Becca’s cell phone rang, she excused herself quickly, jumped up from the table and disappeared into the parlor.

  “Sorry about that,” Chesney said to Dalton. When he looked up with a puzzled expression, she added, “Bec is, well, she’s nosy. I’m sure you didn’t expect to be interrogated about your personal life.”

  “No problem,” he grinned.

  Please tell me you don’t love a woman, Dalton. Hurry! Tell me you don’t love someone already. I wanted that woman to be me.

  When Becca reappeared, she was wearing a cheesy grin. “That was Deke,” she said brightly. “He’ll be picking me up in an hour.”

  “Deke?” Chesney started laughing. “You gave your cell number to Deke Wooldridge? And he’ll be picking you up in an hour?”

  “Yeah,” Becca said with a shrug. “That’s what I said. So what? He’s a nice guy and he’s cute and kind.”

  “Hmm,” Chesney placed her chin in her hand and stared at Becca. “I had no idea you were interested in Deke. You failed to mention that.”

  “It’s not a big deal, okay?” Becca spluttered defensively. “Now listen, while I clean up the kitchen, why don't the two of you take a walk, maybe down the lane and back?” As she grabbed the wine glasses, Becca softly nudged Chesney’s shoulder. “Go on, get going.”

  “But you just said that Deke would be here soon,” Dalton reminded. “Why don’t Chesney and I clean up the kitchen? Then you won’t have to rush to get ready.”

  “Oh, no,” Becca said loudly. “Don’t mess with the plan. Go. Both of you have a peaceful evening stroll down the lane and back.”

  “That's okay, Bec,” Chesney growled. Obviously, Dalton was not interested in taking a walk with her and she was so embarrassed by Becca’s pushiness that she secretly wanted to grab Becca’s ponytail and yank it off. “I'll help with the dishes,” Chesney said as she searched the kitchen drawer for a fresh towel.

  Oh, no, I insist,” Becca said. “Both of you have worked for weeks inside this house. I'll bet you never have time to enjoy the serenity here.”

  That was a big whopper lie. Becca knew that Chesney made time every evening to sit on the porch swing to enjoy the fireflies and the moon while listening to tree frogs and crickets.

  “That's a great idea,” Dalton said suddenly as he walked into the kitchen. “Would you like to walk down the lane, Chesney?” Standing so close to her, he took her arm and led her toward the back door. “Fireflies are out in the woods by the meadow, you know. Becca’s right. It's a very nice night. Let’s not waste it.”

  Well, now how would Dalton Moore know about fireflies dancing in the meadow by Grace's house? Chesney looked at him for a long moment, even though she was passively walking along at his pace toward the door. She even worked up the courage to allow her eyes to question his. But Dalton never stopped smiling.

  “Thank goodness somebody around here listens to me,” Becca crowed. Then she shooed them out the door. “Take your time, kids.”

  “It’s so quiet here,” Chesney said softly as they made their way around the side of the house and barn toward the lane. “Even after all these months, I'm still so in love with the silence.”

  Dalton patted her shoulder then left his hand resting there for a moment. Chesney’s skin tingled, just to feel his touch.

  “I knew you would appreciate what's here,” Dalton said. “Of all people, I knew you would be the kind of person who would fall in love with Bean Blossom.”

  “But you don't even know me,” Chesney reminded.

  Dalton did not answer. He walked slightly ahead of her and even when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she couldn’t see his expression. A few steps later, Dalton had slowed his pace and they were again walking side by side, occasionally bumping elbows or hands. Somehow, she had to get some questions answered. She wanted to know how well Dalton had known Grace. She wanted to somehow decipher why she felt this odd connection. She knew she would sound like a total wing nut, but Chesney blurted the question anyway. “You don't really know me, do you Dalton?”

  “I guess not,” he said after a pause. “But then again, you aren’t exactly a stranger. We’ve worked together all summer, right? So why are you asking that question? We’ve become good friends since I came to work for you, haven’t we?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “I do look at you like a dear friend.”

  I will not tell you the part about wanting you to father my children, Dalton. I will just keep that little tidbit to myself.

  “I’m sure this will sound loony tunes, but for some reason, Dalton I feel like we have some kind of connection. Sometimes I wonder if you knew me or maybe I knew you, maybe when we were c
hildren? I’m not sure what I am trying to say. But in an odd way, Dalton, sometimes you do seem to know a lot about me.”

  Dalton’s expression was unreadable. Then he chose just not to comment at all about Chesney’s thoughts. This response made Chesney feel even more confused and frustrated “I love to walk at night,” Dalton said as he stared into the trees. “It clears my mind.”

  “Me, too,” Chesney said. “I also like to sit on the back porch at night. When Grace was alive, she and I sat outside every night to admire the moon. She loved the moon. Did you know that? She planted her garden by the moon. All of her major decisions were based on the new moons.”

  “A lot of older people around here lead their lives that way,” Dalton said. “They are very wise and aware of how the universe works. They have a lot of respect for how the sun and the moon work together.”

  For several minutes, they walked in silence. Chesney concentrated on the crunch of Dalton’s boots on the gravel lane.

  Why can't I just remind Dalton about that comment he made, when he admitted that he knew Grace? It might be something as simple as Dalton remembering her from Sunday school. Why not just blurt out the question and be done with it? Oh, why do I have to be such a chicken shit about every little thing?

  Chesney couldn’t find the nerve to ask Dalton the million dollar question that had been driving her crazy, so instead, she asked if his grandparents were still alive.

  “Only my grandfather,” Dalton said gently. “He lives across the field from me.”

  “And you're very close to him?” Chesney asked.

  “He's one of my favorite people in the world,” Dalton said.

  In the moonlight, she saw a tender smile cross his face. She immediately felt and fought a very strong urge to kiss him.

  What am I, psychotic?

  Their conversation drifted back to the projects at Chesney Ridge. Leaves would be falling soon, Dalton said adding that there were still a few last-minute repairs to complete so the house could be closed up for winter. He planned to insulate the plumbing and replace some of the gutters. He promised to bring firewood. He talked about how Chesney would enjoy a cozy fire in the fireplace while the snow fell. While Dalton rattled on about the best ways to build a fire and keep it burning, Chesney’s mind wandered off to romantic fantasies. She wove a passionate moment which included cuddling in Dalton’s arms in front of a roaring fire.