by Eliana West
Footsteps approached.
“Good evening, Miss Callie.”
“Good evening, Reverend.” Callie suppressed a sigh as she turned to face the minister.
“I wanted to personally thank you for your generous donation. We sure do miss seeing you on Sundays. I hope you’ll join us soon.”
They had the same conversation every time she came to visit the gravesite. She grew up sitting at her grandmother’s side in the front pew, but she never liked the reverend’s hellfire and brimstone sermons or some of his conservative leanings. Grandpa never went to church. The truth was, he was asked to leave during the sixties. His civil rights activities were seen as troublemaking and weren’t welcome. But Grandma was a beloved member of the Women’s League and had been held in the highest regard in the church.
“Thank you, Reverend, as always, I appreciate the offer, but church isn’t for me.”
The older man knit his brows. His lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Her generosity was the only thing that kept him from chastising her, and they both knew it.
“I can’t help being concerned, everybody is talking about you taking up with that Ellis boy. You know there are plenty of young men at our church who would be happy to court you. Don’t you think you’d be better off with your own kind?”
“What kind is that, Reverend?” Callie bristled.
“There are some fine African-American men in our community.”
“Reverend, I don’t want to be disrespectful but don’t you dare ask me to choose between one half of me and the other. Black or White anyone I decide to date will be my own kind,” Callie interrupted.
“I see. The door is always open at God’s house,” he said, with a curt nod.
The reverend walked back to the little white clapboard church; the first building built by the freed Colton slaves after the Civil War.
She turned back to the gravestone. While it wasn’t her place of worship, this was the right place to lay her grandparents to rest. Even though her grandfather had been shunned, he raised the money to cast a bell for the church steeple, the same bell that still rang out every Sunday. She smiled at the memory, sitting on his lap while he told the story of how he started a penny drive in the seventies so the steeple would finally have a bell. Her heart ached remembering the pride in his voice when he used to tell about the first time he heard the bell ring.
A low rumble of thunder in the distance pulled her from her memories. She glanced up at the edge of dark clouds. She placed one last kiss on the gravestone and whispered goodbye before heading home.
She ran to her front porch just before the first raindrops began to fall. Her footsteps faltered when she saw the package on her doorstep. A small box about half the size of a shoebox sat in front of her door. Yellow ribbon matched the roses printed on the wrapping paper; a small bunch of yellow roses were tucked under the bow. Callie didn’t get many presents. Since she moved home, Mae and her parents insisted on bringing cake for her birthday, and she appreciated the gesture and the sweet cards they always gave her. Mae always came up with something silly. This year she gave her socks that read, “Be quiet, I’m reading,” with a picture of a librarian on the side. Mae had already given her a gift, so who could have left this?
Callie reached down, picked it up and lowered herself onto the porch swing, carefully placing the box in her lap. She untied the ribbon, letting the silky smoothness run through her fingers.
With her fingertip she broke the tape along the seam, pulling away the paper, revealing a wood box. Callie ran her hands over the pecan wood, sanded silky smooth. She turned it around in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship. Someone had put a lot of effort and care into making it. Just as she lifted the lid the air crackled around her from the incoming storm.
She gasped. Her eyes filled with tears as the memory washed over her.
She tried to be vigilant hurrying home. Her hand clutched the small brown paper bag to her chest. She didn’t notice them until it was too late; the sharp pain from the rock hitting her in the back made her stumble.
Dax climbed down from the tree by the side of the road and ran up to her, blocking her path. “Hey, whatcha got there?” he sneered.
Callie glanced toward her grandparents’ house. Could she run?
Ashton scrambled down after Dax and stood by his side as he gave her shoulder a hard shove. “I asked you a question. Can’t you hear, ugly?” He grabbed her upper arm, halting any chance of escape.
“It’s just candy,” Callie muttered, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the bag.
“Thanks.” Dax ripped the bag from her hands, spilling the Now and Later candies onto the dirt.
“Look what you did, ugly—you better pick them up!” Dax yanked her down to her knees. “I said pick them up.” He pushed her into the dirt.
The red and yellow wrappers blurred in front of her as Callie fought back her tears. Grandpa would give her a nickel for every small chore she did around the house. At the end of every summer Grandmother would take her to Walker’s Pharmacy and let her buy some candy. Banana and watermelon Now and Later candies were her favorite. Callie had turned ten that summer and begged Grandmother to let her walk to the store by herself. She wanted to show her grandparents how grown-up she was. Her fingers fumbled in the dirt, trying to gather up the small squares of candy.
“Hurry up, freak!” Ashton shouted.
“Freaks don’t get candy,” Dax said grabbing the pieces from her hands and shoving them in his pockets. After one last shove that sent her sprawling into the dirt, of course.
They laughed and walked away. “Thanks for the candy, mutt,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Callie stayed on the ground until he was out of sight. She picked herself up, trying to brush the dirt off her hands. She swiped away her tears and made her way slowly to her grandparents’ house. She told her grandmother that she ate all the candy on the way home. Callie never told her grandparents how Dax and the other kids treated her. She never wanted her grandparents to be disappointed in her the way her parents seemed to be.
She looked down at the yellow and green wrapped candy that filled the box to the brim. Banana and watermelon Now and Laters—her favorite flavors. The low rumble of thunder covered Callie’s crying. Even after all these years he’d figured out a way to hurt her.
“Callie?” Dax called out, kneeling in front of her. “Callie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just…I remembered that day and I wanted to do something nice for you to try to make up for what happened.”
Lightning flashed closer and the wind shifted, the porch no longer offering shelter from the storm.
His arms wrapped around her. “Callie, please don’t cry.”
She jerked back. “Why?” She pounded his chest. “Why?” she screamed so loud she felt her vocal cords pop. “I never did anything to you!” Years of pent-up anger poured out of her while she hit him with each word.
He winced but didn’t move or say anything; he just sat there taking each hit. His stoic stance only made her angrier. She couldn’t physically hurt him, but she continued to strike blow after blow until she finally collapsed, sobbing on his shoulder.
Only then did he take her in his arms.
“Callie, if I could take it back, I would.”
“But you can’t.” She looked down at the box of candy, and let out a tremulous laugh. “I needed that, I think that was the last of the anger I felt toward you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” He reached up and cupped her cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why? I was just a little girl. What did I do to make you hate me hate so much?”
“Nothing, you didn’t do anything. I don’t know why I did the things I did. I don’t know why my mother egged me on, and it doesn’t matter that she did. It was me. I had that inside me, and I will always be terrified that I can go to that dark place again. What can I do to show you
that I care about you?”
“You’re sorry, I get it. You say that you care about me, but you don’t even know me. You show up here after all of these years and you want to be friends, lovers? I don’t want you to be with me because you feel guilty. I’m not the scared little girl you pushed into the dirt anymore. I’m more than the little girl you hurt.”
“I see you,” he said softly. “Since I’ve been back I’ve seen the strong and brave woman you’ve become. All of your work at the library, the donations you’ve been making in secret. Every day I see how much you care about this town and the people who live here. I don’t want to be with you because I feel guilty about what I did. I want to be with you because you’re everything I ever wanted in a woman. I want to keep you safe because if anything happened to you now just when I have the chance to spend time with you would break my heart.”
“I’m scared of you, not the way I was when I was a girl. I’m scared of the way you make me feel as a woman,” she admitted.
“And I’m terrified of making another mistake. Before we go any further I have one more gift for you. I’d better give it to you now since my first gift was such a disaster. If this one is too you can tell me to go.”
He turned and ran to the back of his truck and pulled back a tarp. Callie squinted through the kaleidoscope of rain and then gasped when Dax pulled out a bicycle. The lines and colors, even the basket, were just like the original. He carried it up the stairs and placed it carefully down between them. “You probably don’t remember him, but my cousin Taylor knew someone who does restoration work. Mae told me how your grandparents gave this to you. I know you could have found something similar, but it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”
Fresh tears ran down Callie’s face. “How—?” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “How…I didn’t think it could be repaired.”
“I knew if it was salvageable, Taylor would know someone who could do it.” Dax reached out and covered her hand as it rested on one of the handlebars. He squeezed her hand. “I know I’ve made a mess of this, but I wanted to do this for you. I want to do so much more for you. I don’t have the right, but I like you. If I can only have your friendship, I’ll learn to be satisfied with that. I’ll stand by and watch some other man come along and ask you for your heart, and I’ll be your friend. I’ll work by your side and support any plan you have to revitalize the town. I’ll get my coffee and buy all my books at your store. I’m going to find out who is trying to hurt you because I’m your friend.”
He had moved to the other side of the bike and stood in front her. Callie reached up and tipped his face toward hers.
“Look at me. I need to see your eyes.”
She let her hand drop and laced her fingers with his.
“You’re going to catch a cold,” she said. The rain fell in the same tempo as her heartbeat as they made their way into the dark house.
Once inside she hesitated, and then drew him to her bedroom. She pushed Dax down on the bed, set her gifts on the bedside table, and went into the bathroom for some towels. She draped one over his shoulders, reaching out to brush his cheek with her fingertips before wiping his face with the corner of the towel. It was just a whisper of contact, but his eyes darkened and he shivered under her touch. He reached up and took her hand, kissing her palm.
“You are the most beautiful woman I know,” he said, his lips against her palm.
“You make me feel beautiful,” she answered, smiling shyly. “You also make me feel important.”
“You are,” he said. “There is no one more important to me.”
A little shiver of pleasure raced through her. Here was Dax, the boy she’d hated, with her as a man, putting her first, telling her he cared.
She let her hands drop from his, her fingertips tracing the path of the raindrops down the column of his throat before brushing across his shoulders. She reached up to outline his lips with her fingertip. He froze, his breathing shallow as she explored the contours of his mouth. His long eyelashes were spiked from the rain, framing those brown eyes with so much longing reflected in them. Slowly, gently, she moved closer until her lips hovered over his. She inhaled his scent—rain mingled with sandalwood—and her lips curled into a smile.
When their mouths finally met, her heart stuttered. This was so much more than the kisses they shared before. Her body burst into flames, and she lay back pulling him with her, their mouths fused.
He groaned and pulled her closer until there wasn’t a part of their bodies not touching. He nibbled at her bottom lip before deepening the kiss until she was left clinging to him, breathless.
She wanted this, and him. When he pulled back, his gaze searching her face, she kissed him fiercely. “I want you, too,” she said. “You’re not asking for more than I want to give.”
He drew her back into his embrace, and while the storm raged outside they found hope, and forgiveness, in each other’s arms.
Chapter Twenty
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight when Dax walked into the Buckthorn, but he clearly recognized the man standing at the bar having an animated discussion with Mr. Wallace. There weren’t many people in the room, but Dax knew by midday the whole town would know that Reid Ellis, that outcast son of the Ellis family, had returned. He looked out of place in his dress shirt and dark pants. His hair was shorter and his face clean-shaven, but the resemblance remained.
As Dax moved closer, his brother paused and brown eyes that mirrored his own assessed him for a moment before he turned back to Mr. Wallace.
“Have you thought about adding just a touch of wheat to your mash bill?” Reid asked, taking another sip of the amber liquid.
Dax wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, but there was still a pang in his chest when his brother didn’t acknowledge him right away.
Mr. Wallace chuckled. “I’ve been makin’ bourbon the same way my daddy and my granddaddy did—ain’t never seen any reason to change it.”
Reid nodded. “Tradition is important.”
Mr. Wallace nodded to Dax. “You want a shot?”
“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.” Dax pulled out his wallet.
“Nope.” Mr. Wallace shook his head. “This one is on the house.” He turned to Reid. “It’s good to see you, boy.”
Before Dax could reply, the old man moved to the other end of the counter and started polishing glasses. Everyone knew that Mr. Wallace never gave anyone a drink on the house.
Reid grabbed their drinks and cleared his throat. “You asked me to come and I’m here, so let’s talk.” He gestured toward an empty table at the back of the room.
“I have to admit I didn’t think I was ever going to get you to come down here.”
Dax studied the man sitting across from him, so familiar and yet so different.
“The whole way here I asked myself what I was doing.”
“I’m glad you kept driving then,” Dax said. “By the way, congratulations on your promotion. One of the youngest assistant district attorneys Chicago’s ever had—that’s a great accomplishment.”
“I guess I should congratulate you on starting up your consulting firm.”
“Thought it was time to put down some roots.”
“And you chose to do that here.”
Dax heard the disbelief in his brother’s voice. “I did.”
“What am I here for Dax?” Reid asked, suddenly sounding tired. “What do you want from me?”
Just like with Callie, there was only one way to start, and that was with an apology. “Reid, I’m sorry. Since I’ve been back I’ve realized how differently Mom treated you. I’m starting to see the memories I had from childhood in a different light. I’m trying to understand what happened.”
Reid downed the rest of the contents in his glass. “It doesn’t matter. I gave up trying to understand a long time ago.”
The look on his brother’s face brought back another memory: Reid sitting at the dinner table with his fists clenched
in his lap. His mother welcoming Dax home from school with home-baked cookies while sending Reid straight to his room. How many times did she dote on Dax and ignore Reid?
Why didn’t their father do anything to stop her?
The memories were like acid in his gut. “Reid, I hate the way Mother treated you, and I’m really mad at Dad for standing by and doing nothing.”
“We weren’t estranged. Dad came to visit me. Did you know that?”
Dax slowly put his drink down.
Reid’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Those law conferences he was always going to? He used those as an excuse to visit me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you want to know why I didn’t come to the funeral? He came to see me before he died. I think he knew his time was limited. He came to say goodbye and he told me not to come to the burial. It may have looked like he stood by and did nothing, but I knew he loved me and I’ll never be able to say that about our mother.”
Dax tried to process what his brother had just revealed. Dax had never been close to their dad. Sure, they played catch and went fishing, but Dad had kept a wall of detachment between them that he could never climb over. “I wish he would have brought me on one of those trips,” Dax said quietly. “I still don’t understand why Dad let Mother send you away. I’ll always be angry with him for that.”
“I’m not. I’m glad. If Mom thought she was punishing me, she was wrong. She saved me.”
“How did that save you?”
“If I’d had to stay in that house, I would have run away.”