Dandelion Dreams

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Dandelion Dreams Page 14

by Samantha Garman

“I am an adult.”

  “Well, you’re not acting like one,” Claire snapped.

  “We bought a house in France.”

  “Doesn’t make you an adult.”

  “We are going to raise our baby there.”

  It was like a vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room. The ice in the drinks clinked against glass. Kai’s breathing was heavy, like he’d run some great distance.

  “Baby?” Memaw asked. “You’re having a baby?” She looked at me, and I nodded slightly. All at once they seemed to remember that I sat among them.

  “Did you know about this?” Claire stared at her oldest son. Wyatt’s jaw clamped shut, but he inclined his head. Claire turned her attention back to Kai, her eyes narrowing. “You can’t live in France. Especially not now. Now that she…”

  I wondered why Claire couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t believe it, maybe, or didn’t want to believe it. Well, if I had any doubts about what she thought of me, I didn’t need to wonder any longer. The woman couldn’t even say my name. We’d just told her she was going to be a grandmother, and yet there was no joy in her voice. If my mother had been here, there would’ve been hugs, tears, and celebration. There would’ve been so much happiness it would’ve felt like a gift from the stars.

  Mom. Someone would be calling me that one day. One day soon.

  “Why can’t we live in France?” Kai demanded.

  Claire made a sound of exasperation. “What will you do there?”

  Kai shrugged. “Whatever I want.”

  I was exhausted, even though it was Kai fighting each round. No matter how many verbal fists he took to the jaw, he got up, ready for more. I fell deeper in love with the tortured man I had married. The father of my child. My husband. My strength.

  “Sage, do you want to come sit outside with me?” Memaw asked. I looked at Kai who nodded and squeezed my hand. A reprieve. I’d take it.

  “I’ll just…” Wyatt said, moving towards the door. “Oh hell, I’m getting out of here.”

  I snorted with surprised laughter as I let Memaw lead me out of the library and through the house. The photographs on the walls were exhibits of memories from Kai’s childhood. As we walked past a pristine kitchen occupied by a private chef, I understood more about the Ferris family than I ever would from any line of questioning.

  “Let’s go out back,” Memaw suggested. “It’s the only redeeming quality of this otherwise cold house.” Once we were on the porch, we settled into plush chairs and looked up into the dark purple sky; the sun had set, and the night was soft and quiet. “So, you’re pregnant.”

  “I am.”

  “Are you excited?”

  I looked at her, and Memaw shrugged.

  “Inane question, I know.”

  “I am excited.” It was the truth—children no longer terrified me. I had Kai. What did I have to be scared of? I rested a hand on my belly, breathing in the heady mountain air.

  “Y’all didn’t wait…”

  “Ah, no, we didn’t.”

  “Planned?”

  “Nope.”

  “Most things aren’t.”

  “Death never is, so why should conception be any different?” My voice came out hard and warped, like twisted steel. I didn’t mean it to, but I felt I had the right to be defensive.

  Memaw glanced at me. “I wasn’t judging you—either of you.”

  “Okay.”

  “As long as you’re both happy.”

  I smiled. “My mom used to say fitting yourself into a box is like wearing shoes that are too small. Convention is a box people put themselves in because they don’t know where else to go.”

  “Your mother sounds like a wise woman.”

  “She was.”

  “Was?”

  “She died—not even a year ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you?”

  “You think we jumped into this too soon, don’t you?”

  “That’s Kai.”

  I looked at her in confusion. “You’re not upset?”

  Memaw chuckled. “Let me guess; he decided he wanted you, whether or not you wanted him back.”

  I laughed. “You know your grandson.”

  “I do.”

  “I chose him, too. Not right away, but—”

  “He’s Kai.”

  “Exactly.” I had been cold before I met Kai—barren, empty. He had been the sun, and I the dying bloom. Maybe we were both and neither. I rubbed my stomach in thought. I didn’t like to think about what turns my life would’ve made if Kai and I hadn’t found each other, but we did.

  “The baby sparked his conscience,” I went on. “He didn’t want to be known as a coward, so he came back to face…everything.”

  I had never called Kai a coward. That was his own word for himself. Another box.

  “Part of him died when Reece and Tristan did,” Memaw said.

  “I know. You can’t outrun your past, no matter how hard you try, and believe me, Kai tried. But he can’t live here. As much as he loves it, it would be a constant reminder of all he’s lost, and he wants to look to the future. Will his parents understand that?”

  Memaw gazed into the sky, as if she’d find the words written in the stars. “I don’t know. Kai has never done anything they wanted him to do.”

  “Maybe they should stop expecting him to be who they want and just let him be himself. They see him as a disappointment, the screw up, don’t they?”

  Memaw’s non-reply was her answer. We sat in silence for a time before she finally said, “Kai never sought his parents’ approval—for anything. He had Tristan and Reece and they were the only people he was accountable to, the only people he wanted to be accountable to. George and Claire never really understood that.”

  “And Wyatt? Did he understand it?”

  “Wyatt grew to understand and accept it because he didn’t have a choice. It’s hard for him, even now, knowing he and Kai have never been close.”

  Resigned, I stood. “Should we go back in there? See if the smoke from the dueling pistols has cleared?”

  “Are you going to rescue him?”

  “You think he needs it?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  •••

  Dinner was a silent, stunted affair; there was no attempt at polite conversation. There was plenty of alcohol consumption, long disdainful looks, and enough tension to gorge on. I stared at my plate most of the time, enjoying the duck in a fig reduction sauce. I didn’t miss the irony of being fed a decadent meal, all the while Claire making me feel like I didn’t deserve it. She observed me through dinner; her eyes trained on my hands, examining me while I ate the main course with a salad fork. I did it just to piss her off. It was cheap, but it felt good.

  The minute dessert was over, we rose to leave.

  “You aren’t taking a plane out tonight, are you?” Claire asked.

  Kai threw his mother a look and said, “No, Mom. We bought one way tickets so we can leave whenever we want.”

  “You might as well take your car back. While you’re here,” George said. “Keys are on the front table.”

  Kai looked at his father in surprise. “Thanks.” We walked to the garage and Kai’s black Mercedes sat in its spot.

  “You weren’t lying, were you? About the money.”

  “The car was a college graduation present.” Kai plopped the car keys into my hand, and I had to admit I was itching to get behind the wheel. “I’m too buzzed to drive.”

  “Lucky bastard. If I wasn’t growing a human, I’d be hammered.”

  Kai laughed and then hugged me. “God, I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

  “You never have to find out. What are we going to do with the rental?”

  “Return it tomorrow. Get in.”

  Once we were on our way back to the Chelsers’, I said, “Tell me about the showdown.”

  “Dad let my mother do most of th
e talking. She asked if you married me for my money.”

  I snorted.

  “You’re not surprised?”

  “Not at all—Wyatt warned me.”

  “Did he? When?”

  “When you were at the cemetery. He told me more about your parents than you did.”

  “So you didn’t walk in totally blind?”

  “No, I knew it was coming.” I laughed.

  “What?”

  “Our mothers are complete opposites. My mother lived in truth. Your mother lives in denial.” I pulled into the gravel driveway and parked next to Keith’s green truck.

  “Yeah, when she was talking I could see the disappointment on Dad’s face. Doesn’t matter, though; I feel great. You know why?”

  “Bourbon?” I smiled. I loved this giggly drunk version of Kai. Usually, when we drank, we suffered great melancholia. Not tonight, apparently.

  “Partly. But I faced my parents, told them what I wanted, and I didn’t care if they supported me or not. And the thing is, I meant every word.” We got out of the car, and Kai grabbed my hand and led me to the stables.

  We ducked into the barn; a few horses neighed in greeting, but most ignored us. Finding an empty stall, he grabbed a couple of horse blankets, threw them onto the straw and pulled me down. I cuddled into his arms. I was drowsy from food and the smell of him. He was better than a sedative.

  “I just want some time with you here.”

  Before I knew it, my eyes were closing, and I was falling asleep, wrapped in security and warmth.

  •••

  “My mother wants to throw us a wedding reception,” Kai said two days later. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Keith was already tending the horses, and Alice was collecting eggs from the chickens.

  “No.” I eyed the coffee in forlorn longing. “I will not be paraded around in her social circle so she can pretend to accept us.”

  “I told her we weren’t going to be in town long enough for her to put it together.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I bet she didn’t take that excuse.”

  “She had the nerve to say that I was ashamed of you; otherwise, I’d want to show you off and tell everyone we’re happy and expecting a baby.”

  “She’s good.” I sighed. “You agreed, didn’t you?”

  “Call it a gesture of goodwill.”

  “Did she give you a time frame for this event?”

  “September.”

  “That’s over two months away!”

  “I know, but Mom wants to have the party at the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville. It’s the earliest available date.”

  “Joy.”

  “Black tie.”

  “Didn’t doubt that for a second.”

  “She wants you in a wedding dress.”

  “Absolutely not,” I declared. “I’m not going to be the pregnant girl in a big poofy dress. I will not look like a frosted cupcake.”

  Kai’s lips twitched.

  “This isn’t funny, Kai.”

  He stared into his cup before peering at me with an abashed look. “I sort of already told her she could take you dress shopping.”

  We gazed at one another and I said, “If you weren’t the father of my child…”

  “Okay, I get it, I owe you big time.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  •••

  I sat in the passenger side of Claire’s car as we drove in silence towards Nashville. Stifling my disdain for the situation, I was determined to get through this with whatever grace I possessed, but I didn’t have a lot of reserves left.

  Kai had volunteered to go with us, but I refused. I wouldn’t let him be the buffer—I had to endure this; I would endure this, no matter the cost. I wouldn’t cower or hide, and certainly not behind my husband. He’d been through enough.

  “Why are we doing this?”

  “Because we have to.” Claire glanced at me from behind black Dior sunglasses.

  “Says who?”

  “Me.”

  Claire was all about appearances—that much was obvious. I didn’t miss her snide look as she took in my messy bun and lack of makeup. I was wearing a pressed white button-down, skinny jeans, and black flats.

  I can’t be that embarrassing, can I?

  Ignoring her, I lost myself in thoughts of Tours. How were Armand and Luc doing? The vines needed pruning, no doubt. And Celia? Was the bed and breakfast full of eager guests looking for new experiences?

  “You manipulated him into marrying you.”

  Hurled in a quiet tone, the accusation was more powerful for it. It ricocheted off the glass windows, landed in my lap, and now I’d have to deal with it. Keith had reconciled his anger with Kai by using his fist. Claire, Southern belle that she was, delivered blows in the form of verbal lacerations.

  I would’ve preferred the fist.

  I went from simmer to boil in moments. “Have you ever even met your son? He’s got a will of his own—he’s not a marionette on strings.”

  “He’s a runner. He’ll leave you.”

  I fingered my wedding ring, a simple thin band that meant more to me due to its simplicity. Every time I looked at it, I thought about how far we’d come, how far we still had to go. I knew deep inside that Kai would never leave me, no matter what anyone thought.

  “You have no faith in him, do you?”

  “He’s proven that when things get hard he can’t handle it.”

  “People change. I understand why you’re upset. Your son left you for two years.” I studied her. Her face was pinched with tension and pale with pain. “You’re waiting for him to leave home again.”

  “He will,” Claire answered tightly. “You’ll go back to France and raise your child there. I’ll never see my son. I’ll never see my grandchild.”

  “Do you really think I’d keep you away?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.”

  “All you need to know is that I love your son.”

  Claire pulled in front of the Hermitage Hotel, a beautiful, architectural gem in downtown Nashville. A valet took the car and drove off, and I followed Claire into the lobby. A short woman with hair in a no-nonsense bun held a clipboard and a pen, waiting for us. Claire greeted her and then turned to introduce me.

  “Charlene, this is my daughter-in-law, Sage.”

  I wondered if part of Claire died admitting it.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Charlene said, shaking my hand. “If you two will follow me to the Grand Ballroom, we have some table settings for you to pick from.”

  The room was dimly lit; dozens of tables were adorned with different china sets and flower arrangements. I didn’t pay attention to the mindless babble between Charlene and Claire as I walked around, hoping instead for one beautiful table to appeal more to me than another. It reminded me of a time, not so long ago, when I was with Connor choosing the menu for our wedding. The memory sat like curdled milk in my stomach.

  “Sage, what do you think of this one?” Claire called out.

  I strolled over to a round table laden with a white tablecloth and white china with gold accents. The stemware was fine crystal, and had an elegant gold band around the lip to match the china, and the silverware gleamed in candlelight. It looked royal and out of touch. I shook my head in disapproval as we moved from table to table. After a few minutes I watched as Claire and Charlene exchange a look, and Charlene walked off, leaving us alone.

  “You don’t like the settings?” Claire asked, her voice tight with impatience.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Not these. They all look the same to me. It’s all too formal.”

  Claire raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “What would you have us do? Remove all the tables and have a picnic?”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  I watched Claire’s face turn the color of a plum tomato as she attempted to keep herself under control.

 
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Look, I don’t care. This is your party. This isn’t us—this is you, and we’re doing this for you.”

  “Then why are you here? I could’ve made all these decisions without you and not gone through this.”

  “Go ahead,” I allowed. “Save us both a headache; this was your idea.”

  “This was not my idea—none of this was my idea. You think I wanted this? My son married to a stranger?” Claire shouted.

  “What’s wrong with you? We’re happy. Don’t you want that for your son? What did you expect, Claire?” My emotions were cranked up high with a little help from pregnancy hormones.

  “Well, I didn’t expect for him to come back with a wife!” Claire’s face was pinched in rage.

  “But he did! And no matter how terrible you are to me, I’m not going anywhere!”

  Tears of anger filled my eyes as I spun on my heel, eager to be out of the ballroom. Somehow, I found my way to the bathroom and collapsed on the long white couch. Grabbing a couple of tissues, I blew my nose. The tip turned red when I cried. It would take hours for it to return to normal. Everyone would know my mother-in-law had caused me grief.

  The bathroom door opened. Claire came in, approaching the sink. She washed her hands with her back to me but said nothing. She seemed composed, calm, like we hadn’t just been screaming at one another. I didn’t have the strength for another confrontation, and would save my energy for the things that mattered—the wedding reception wasn’t one of them. I wouldn’t bother talking to her about anything else. She had her opinions and puffed up rhetoric wouldn’t sway her anyway.

  “The white table cloth with gold accents is fine,” I said.

  Claire did not reply as she wiped her hands dry.

  “I’ll even wear whatever dress you want,” I relented.

  “You will?”

  “One condition—Kai and I get to have a bluegrass band for the party.”

  “Any dress I choose?”

  “Any dress you choose.”

  Claire nodded. “You have a deal.”

  Four hours later, I cursed myself as I stood on a platform in front of three mirrors and a handful of bridal boutique attendants. My mother-in-law sipped champagne, looking very pleased with herself.

 

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