by Eliana West
Dax nodded and took another drink. “If you don’t mind.”
“Always happy to have you here, you know that,” Uncle Robert said, handing Dax a handful of peanuts.
Dax cracked open the nuts and threw the papery shells out into the yard. A cardinal swooped down to peck at the remains.
“Sorry buddy, didn’t mean to fool you,” Dax muttered, throwing a peanut next to the shell. He glanced toward Robert. “I didn’t think she would be here.” He studied the pattern of squares on the peanut shell in his hand for a moment before he threw another treat to his new friend. “I wasn’t ready. If I had known—”
“Would it have made a difference?” Uncle Robert cut him off. “She’s here, and the two of you would’ve run into each other sooner or later.”
“You’re right, I know that, but I would have preferred later.”
“You’ve had plenty of time to prepare for this day. If you weren’t ready why did you come back?”
“Because I realized even after all of the trouble I caused, Colton is home. I want to be a part of a community and do my part to…to help the town survive. Too many small towns are dying, disappearing, only remembered as a forgotten spot on an old map.”
The cardinal flew back, hopping a little closer to the porch. Dax threw another peanut, and with a flash of red, the bird caught it before it hit the ground. It never occurred to him that Callie would feel an attachment to a place she’d only visited during the summer. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out another wave of memories. They weren’t easy memories, either.
“Let it go, son.” Robert’s voice washed over him.
“What do I do? How do I…?” Dax rubbed his hands over his face, trying to get the image of stormy-gray eyes out of his head, but they were burned into him. “She has no reason to forgive me—no one in the town does—but Callie…” How could he explain the way he treated her haunted him through the years?
Dax jumped up and paced the porch. The cardinal hopped a little closer, tilting its head to look up at him, waiting, while Robert sat forward with his hands clenched. Like a baseball player standing in the outfield waiting for the pitch. Years ago, his uncle sat in the same position waiting for Dax to decide which path he was going to take in life.
“How am I going to avoid her?” he asked, turning to face his uncle.
“Colton is too small. You can’t avoid her so you’re going to have to figure out a way to talk to her.”
“Easier said than done. You didn’t see the way she looked at me.”
Robert’s eyebrows shot up. “No, but I can guess.” He glanced at Dax, adding, “She’s grown into a beautiful young woman hasn’t she?”
Dax swallowed hard “You’re not helping.” Beautiful was an understatement. The luminous gray eyes were still there and still looked at him with weariness, but the gangly arms and legs were gone, replaced by soft curves. Daily life in the southern sun had turned her skin a tawny brown and the curls that cascaded over her shoulders a deeper shade of golden brown. Callie Colton was a stunning woman. “I need to figure out how I’m going to approach her again and start with an apology.”
“She’s not going to want to talk to you at first, so start by being a part of the community and show you care.”
“Any suggestions?” Dax asked.
“There’s a meeting next week you might want to go to, for a start.”
Dax frowned. “Meeting? What kind of meeting?”
“Book club.”
“Book club? What the hell are you talking about?” Years working for the CIA had made his uncle a master manipulator, a skill that had always driven Dax crazy.
Robert went inside and returned a few moments later carrying another book in his hands, which he handed to Dax. “The next meeting is Tuesday night. You better catch up.”
Dax arched a brow. “The Barista Mysteries: M is for Macchiato?” He held the book up. “This doesn’t seem like something you’d read.”
“You need to be more open-minded.” Robert sat down in his rocking chair. “The book is good, but that’s not important. Book club meets at Callie’s house.”
Dax turned the book over in his hand, reading the back cover blurb. “I’ve heard of this author before. She’s popular.”
Robert nodded. “Katherine Wentworth books are always popular with the book club.”
Dax thumbed through a few pages and then flipped it over, reading the back copy. The cardinal flew back, landing at his feet. “Sorry, buddy, I don’t have anything more for you.” The bird cocked its head, as though believing that if he waited long enough, Dax might change his mind. Instead he held up the book. “Besides, it looks like I have some reading to do.”
Uncle Robert left him alone on the porch, and Dax sat down, opened the book to the first chapter and began to read. The chaos of his first day in Colton gave way to the quiet calm of the end of day. The leaves of the giant oak tree began to rustle in the evening breeze. Reading a romantic mystery on his uncle’s front porch wasn’t how Dax expected to spend his first night back in Colton. But this was home—the good and the bad—and he knew he was in the right place.
It was also the only place where he could make amends.
Chapter Two
Tears blurred Callie’s vision after Dax left. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to block the memory of the names he’d called her in the past. Freak, stupid mutt, mongrel. The words came back in a flood that threatened to drown her. She looked around the room. What was she doing before Dax came in? She picked up a stack of books and shoved them onto the shelves haphazardly. It took all of her focus to keep moving and not give in to the shock of seeing Dax Ellis again. She didn’t notice her cousin until she gently grasped her arm, turning Callie to face her.
“Callie, honey, what’s the matter?”
Callie looked up at her cousin’s face. “I…I just saw a ghost,” she whispered.
Mae guided her to one of the chairs in the corner. A glass of water was pushed into her hand, and Mae knelt beside her. “What happened?”
She shook her head. “I knew I would see him eventually. I just thought…”
“Who?” Mae asked.
“D-Dax Ellis.” Even saying his name was hard. “I shouldn’t be this upset after all these years.”
Mae stood up. “You have every right to be upset even after all these years. Dax was horrible to everyone in Colton but you got the worst of it. He hasn’t shown his face around here since his dad died. I wonder what he’s back for now?”
“I don’t know.” Callie took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m okay now, I was just so shocked to see him. Honestly, I hoped it would never happen.”
“I can’t believe he had the nerve to come in here,” Mae said, following Callie back to her desk.
“It’s still his hometown.” Callie sorted the stack of books that had been returned to the library that morning wishing she could sort her feelings about seeing Dax again into categories the same way.
Mae perched on the edge of her desk. “Let’s hope he’s here for a short visit and we don’t see him again for a long time. And,” Mae straightened her shoulders, “if he tries anything while he’s here I’m ready to give him the set down he should have gotten when we were kids.”
Callie smiled at her cousin. Mae Colton was a head shorter than Callie but ten times braver. She understood better than anyone else how much Dax hurt her. Mae had become her best friend on her first summer trip to Colton. Callie’s grandparents never approved of their daughter, moving so far away from home, and when she married a White man, their already strained relationship almost broke. Sending Callie to stay with her grandparents every summer kept a fragile peace in the family.
Even with all of the love and attention her grandparents lavished on her, her time in Mississippi was not always pleasant. The light brown hair and striking gray eyes she inherited from her father set against golden brown skin reflected the mix between her mother and father and set her apart. The White
kids in town considered her a freak. And the Black kids wanted to know why she “talked funny” with her lack of Southern accent. Both sides were always asking the same question: “What are you?”
It would have been a lonely childhood if it weren’t for Mae.
Callie’s grandfather was one of seven children, so Colton cousins were as numerous as cotton flowers on the stem. Richard Colton was the root that held them all together. Callie and Mae were the youngest of the bunch, and the first time they met, Mae stood in front of her with her tiny hands fisted on her hips, smiling at her.
“Your dress spins.” Mae reached out and grabbed Callie’s hand. “Come on, you’re going to be my best friend,” she announced, pulling her outside to make princess fairy mud pies.
The two were inseparable every summer after that. Eventually Callie spent all of her school breaks and her summers in Colton with the people she loved.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mae asked Callie, not ready to drop the subject.
Callie gathered the rest of the books that needed to be shelved and began placing them back with more care this time, ignoring her cousin’s skeptical look. “I’m fine.” She tried to sound confident even though her words sounded hollow to her own ears.
Mae crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re not kids anymore. It’s gonna be different this time.”
“You’re right,” Callie said more firmly. “I’ve changed. I’m not the same person, and I’m not afraid of him anymore.” She smiled at Mae. “Now stop worrying, and let me get back to work.”
As soon as Mae left Callie leaned against the bookshelf and blew out a long breath. She’d put on a brave face for Mae, but Callie wasn’t okay. Seeing Dax Ellis after all of these years had rattled her. He was the reason for every bad dream she’d had as a child. He’d made her life hell.
Callie debated closing early, but that would only bring another harsh censure from Dorothy Ellis. One visit from an Ellis was enough for today or any day.
Callie locked the library door at the end of the day and headed home. The front wheel of her bike wobbled as it dipped in and out of a pothole in the gravel road on the ride to her house. She glanced over her shoulder again and again, expecting to see Dax jump out from behind every tree and bush she passed. She gripped the handlebars until her fingers began to ache, pedaling faster until she pulled into the driveway of her grandparents’ house, breathless.
Instead of going right in, Callie went to her favorite spot. She sank down onto the porch swing with enough force to start a gentle sway back and forth. Callie wished she had her grandparents on either side of her the way they used to be, with her grandfather telling her stories about his childhood while she sat cocooned in her grandmother’s arms. Their love had made Colton home.
Her grandparents left her a nice inheritance when they died. Her parents wanted her to sell the library and the rest of the buildings on the block, but Callie knew she could never do that to her grandparents. Besides, you can’t put a price on unconditional love. Her parents couldn’t even spare a full day to attend the funeral. Instead, it was Mae who stood with her graveside while she said her final goodbye.
Callie never questioned her decision to make Colton her home. Not until today. She could handle Dorothy Ellis and her “queen of the South” attitude, but her son? Callie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t know how she would handle Dax. She tipped her head back, looking up at the night sky. Looking for the North Star she gave the swing another push with her toe. Why had he looked so shocked to see her? Didn’t he know she would be there?
“Evening, Miss Callie,” a deep, gravelly voice called out.
Callie jumped, putting her hand over her heart. “Oh, I’m sorry, Uncle Robert. I didn’t see you there.”
Anyone under thirty in Colton called Robert Ellis, Uncle Robert. If someone needed help planting a garden or mending a fence Uncle Robert was always happy to lend a hand. He had become a guiding force in the community and in many ways reminded Callie of her grandfather.
He came up on the porch and took a seat next to her on the swing.
They rocked in silence for a few moments before he finally said, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Callie raised her eyebrows, looking at him. “News sure does travel fast.”
He nodded. “I’ve been talkin’ to Dax. He’s pretty shaken up.”
Callie snorted a laugh. “That’s ironic.”
“He’ll be fine.” Robert waved his hand. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
Callie leaned back, looking up at the beadboard ceiling. “I thought he wouldn’t come home. I should have known better, with his mother living here. How long is he staying for?”
Robert stood up, making the swing jerk and creak. “He’s here for good, honey.”
“What?” Callie jumped off the swing to face the older man. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could handle Dax being in town for a few days, but living here?
Uncle Robert patted her shoulder. “He’s not the same boy and you’re not the same girl,” he said with a quiet calm.
She leaned in for a hug, resting her cheek against the rough denim of Robert’s shirt, taking in the faint scent of earth and tobacco. Her lips twitched. “I thought you were going to give up smoking.”
Robert’s low laughter vibrated through her. “It’s the right of every old Southern gentleman to sit on the porch and smoke a cigar every once in a while.”
“Maybe.” She pulled away and sat back down. “I wish you would have told me Dax was coming.”
Robert joined her on the swing. “You’re right. But I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I don’t know that I can be anything but upset and…angry. I’ve worked hard to make a life for myself here, and he doesn’t get to just come back and act like nothing’s changed.”
“I promise you it’s not going to be the same as it was before.”
Callie nodded, but in her mind, time stood still, and nothing had changed.
“Dax isn’t here to start any trouble,” Uncle Robert added firmly. “Do you honestly think I would stand by and let Dax do anything to hurt you?”
She sighed. “No, I don’t, it’s just hard for me to trust people.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Sometimes people would pretend to want to be my friend and then a few weeks or months would pass and they would slip me their demo tape or their friend’s tape asking me to take it to my father.”
“I’m sorry, honey. That couldn’t have been easy, but I suppose it comes with the territory when your dad’s a well-known producer.”
“I learned the hard way that some people don’t want to be friends with me for the right reasons.”
“And that’s why you use your mom’s maiden name,” he answered.
She nodded. “It’s easier to blend in when you’re Callie Colton instead of Callie Fischer.”
“Some people would love that kind of attention.”
“Not me.” Callie’s jaw firmed. She spent most of her childhood being raised by nannies while her parents flew around the world, immersed in the music scene. Living in Colton gave her the normalcy and stability she craved.
“You have good friends here who can see past all of that. Dax doesn’t care about that stuff, either. He just wants to have a fresh start.”
“So, we’re just supposed to start over?”
“It’s not gonna be easy. I expect my sister-in-law is going to crow even louder now that her favorite son is home, but I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
Callie smiled. “I know, and it helps.”
With a last pat on her shoulder, Robert rose and headed home.
Callie dug her toe into the floorboards sending the porch swing into a gentle rocking motion and watched the lightning bugs dance for a while, creating a ballet of light in the darkness.
Uncle Robert was right, she couldn’t avoid Dax—you couldn’t avoid anyone in a small town.
> Robert was also right about Dorothy Ellis. Mrs. Ellis acted like the sun rose and set on her youngest son. For years, Callie didn’t even know Dax had an older brother. Reid Ellis had been sent away to boarding school the first summer Callie spent in Colton. One time she walked in on her grandparents furiously whispering something about “that poor Ellis boy.” The conversation ended abruptly when they noticed she was in the room. Callie must have been about seven and too young to understand what was going on. Her grandparents never mentioned Reid Ellis’s name again.
Sometimes she wished she could ask her mother about the Ellis family and her time in Colton. But her mother acted like Colton didn’t exist. It was just one more way she and her mother were so different, Callie loved the place her mother couldn’t wait to get away from.
Callie wandered into the house. Sometimes she still expected to see her grandmother standing at the vintage stove making hot water corn bread because it was her favorite. She’d updated the kitchen with new cabinets and sage-green paint on the walls but she kept the stove for sentimental value. She looked over at her grandfather’s rocking chair, another memento she couldn’t bear to part with. She could still picture him sitting in his favorite chair nodding in agreement with whatever he read as he rocked. She turned on the light in the spare bedroom she’d converted into an office. Sitting down at the antique desk in front of the window, she opened her computer. She had a book review to write and a blog post to finish.
Forty-five minutes later, Callie closed her laptop, hungry and ready for dinner. Everyone always assumed she would work in the music industry like her father but it was books that she loved. Her eyes scanned the first editions that filled her bookshelves. They were her one real indulgence, building on the collection that started when her grandparents gave her a first edition of Anne of Green Gables when she was a girl.
Callie grabbed the next book on her to-be-read pile and climbed under the covers. It didn’t matter how compelling the story was, tonight she struggled to focus. After reading the same page twice she gave up and closed her eyes.