Good Man, Dalton

by Karen McQuestion

  “I think we should just go with it,” Greta said, lifting the handle and scrambling out. When Dalton joined her, Cece and Roger were already running ahead, carefree as kids. Without saying a word, she and Dalton followed. He took her hand, and a lightness washed over her, a burden lifted. She was young and carefree, enjoying the best city in the world. A good-looking guy was at her side, giving her admiring glances, something that never happened. The weather was perfect too. Now that the sun had set, it was cooler. If none of this was real, if she woke up tomorrow and was in trouble for going off script with Cece, or if it turned out that Dalton was a scam artist or even a not-so-nice guy, so be it. That was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, she was living in the moment, and that moment was the absolute best.

  They hurried to keep up with Cece and Roger, who’d briskly run ahead, down some steps, and then turned onto a path paralleling a large body of water. She marveled at how quickly Cece could move while wearing stilettos, because the heels of her own shoes weren’t nearly as high and her feet were torturing her. As if reading her mind, Dalton said, “I have no idea how you’re moving so fast in those shoes.”

  “It’s not easy,” Greta said. Her tone was lighthearted, even as her feet protested.

  When Cece and Roger slowed and veered off the path, stepping onto some rocks that jutted over the water, Greta took the opportunity to stop thirty feet behind them. “Let’s give them a moment to look at the lake,” she said.

  “It’s actually a pond.”

  “A pond.” It was larger than any pond she’d ever seen. “Really, it’s a pond? You’re not joking?” The water shimmered from the light of the moon, the surface calm. “That’s one big pond.”

  “The Central Park Lake is even bigger. The most beautiful night sky I ever saw was when I was standing on the Bow Bridge. You can get a great view of the city after dark there. I’ll show it to you the next time there’s a full moon.”

  To Greta, it sounded like a date. “I’d like that.” She still didn’t know anything about Dalton, really. Didn’t know if he had siblings or what type of music he liked or what sports teams he followed. All she knew was what was right in front of her. It was entirely possible he was misrepresenting himself, but somehow, she didn’t think so. In her heart, she thought she knew him. Wishful thinking? Maybe. But she was ready for wishful thinking, ready to take the leap. She heard Cece laugh, the kind of deep-bellied laughter that can’t be kept back, and the sound punctuated her own elation.

  Greta crooked her finger and beckoned for Dalton to come closer. When he did, she pulled on his lapels until their faces aligned. They lingered that way for a second, or maybe a fraction of a second, or maybe an eternity, his eyes searching hers, both of them wanting the same thing, and then she broke the spell. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. When he pulled back for a moment, cupping her face in his hands, he gave her an appreciative look of surprise, which might have made her laugh, except he came right back for more, and she was too busy kissing him to do anything else. She closed her eyes, and the universe spiraled toward them, narrowing and narrowing until they were at the epicenter of everything, all of time leading up to that moment, every star in the sky existing to shine upon the two of them. Glorious.

  And then, a miracle. She didn’t envy Cece anymore, a habit of a lifetime gone in a moment. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d thought her cousin had the perfect life, but she’d found that appearances could be deceiving, and now she wouldn’t trade places with Cece for anything.

  Turned out, being Greta Hansen suited her just fine.

  Roger laughed, and the sound echoed across the water. She was glad for them but happier for herself.

  Dalton pulled her closer. As if on cue, the wind gusted, lifting the hem of her dress and blowing her hair, like she was the lead in a romantic movie. It was all so perfect.

  A possible future appeared before her. A life she never even could have imagined presented itself, unfolding before her eyes. She could see them together, now and forever, traveling, getting married, having kids, laughing and loving. Getting old with Dalton by her side. She saw memories of the future, a montage of shared experiences, glimpses of everything that could be.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a rush of people heading their way. She would have kept going with the kissing, honestly. She stopped to look only because Dalton did.

  Turning, they saw a thundering herd, eight or nine people running, cell phones in hand. All of them were young—teenagers or slightly older. When the crowd spotted them, one of the girls yelled, “I told you that was Cece’s limo! That girl was with her at the ball.”

  Another voice rang out, asking, “Where’s Cece?”

  Dalton pulled her aside, and the whole group, having spotted Cece and Roger ahead, suddenly forgot about them and ran past. Greta’s worry knot came back with a vengeance.

  Reflexively, she took off after them, knowing a group of people running crazily and yelling Cece’s name meant something was about to happen to her. And it couldn’t be good.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Greta and Dalton saw the crowd of teenagers enthusiastically ambush Cece. The suddenness of their appearance seemed to take the couple by surprise. Not thinking, Roger stepped out of their way, deferring to the group. They were a boisterous bunch, crowding in to take video and selfies with the pond in the background, admiring Cece’s dress, and asking her questions.

  “I love you, Cece!” one of the girls shouted.

  “Why weren’t you at Vance and Katrina’s wedding? Did you guys have a fight or something?”

  “I have so many dresses from your clothing line, and I wear your perfume too!”

  “This way, Cece! Smile!”

  “Would you mind leaving a message on my friend Carver’s phone?”

  Dalton would have thought this kind of thing was commonplace to Cece, that she would have encountered curious, adoring fans everywhere she went, but the stunned look on her face said otherwise. She didn’t answer any of their questions, and she flinched with every flash, looking around, as if searching for an out. As they crowded nearer, she stepped back. In response, they got even closer, and she backed up again.

  Anticipating what was about to happen, Greta yelled, “Cece, no, stop!” so loudly that her voice echoed off the water. Hearing her cousin’s warning, Cece turned to look at Greta just before she stumbled backward, her arms flailing as she went. She fell in with a loud splash, and the teenagers cried out as they rushed to the edge to look down.

  Greta charged ahead, taking off her shoes as she went and randomly tossing them, then stepping in and sloshing through the water. Dalton hesitated for only a second before following her, wading in with his shoes still on. Cece was underwater, just under the surface, her arms splayed out, hair floating like a halo around her head. The water was shallow, no more than three or four feet, but she didn’t struggle to get up, just lay there until Greta crouched down and lifted her from underneath. Cece gasped and coughed, then turned her head to one side and spit out some brackish water. All the while, Greta murmured, “You’re okay, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re fine.”

  From the shore, Roger yelled, “Should I call 911?”

  No one answered. Slowly, Greta helped Cece to a standing position, then brushed her hair away from her face. She whispered something, and Cece nodded yes. Dalton came and helped Greta walk Cece to shore.

  When they got out of the water and onto dry land, Greta addressed the teenagers standing in their way, still taking pictures. “What is wrong with you people? Back off!”

  The crowd retreated far enough to let them move past. Roger came and put his jacket around Cece’s shoulders. Dalton did the same for Greta, who nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  Roger said, “Are you okay? Do you want to go to the hospital?”

  Cece wiped off her wet brow and shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Let’s get you home,” Greta said, still guiding her. Dalton gathered up Greta�
��s shoes, noticing the strap had broken on one. Maybe she wouldn’t ever wear them again, but he didn’t want the teenagers to grab them as souvenirs.

  When they got to the limo, they ignored the looks of the tourists coming and going from their carriage rides and climbed in without a word. Roger got behind the wheel, and Cece sat up front next to him. Greta shook her head, guilt and worry written across her face. “It could have happened even if you had been standing right next to her,” Dalton said.

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I wouldn’t have let it happen. I should have been with her.”

  They were about two blocks away from the park, stopped at a traffic light, when Dalton looked out the window and saw him on the sidewalk. Matt, sitting with his back to a building, his cardboard sign propped up alongside him. His eyes were half-shut, like he was dozing off. “Give me a second,” Dalton said, opening the car door. “I have to talk to that guy.”

  He trotted over to Matt and crouched down to his level. His baseball cap with only a few coins inside sat next to the sign. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his skin was pasty white. “Matt, buddy, are you okay?”

  His eyes flicked open and then shut. He mumbled something unintelligible. Pedestrians walked by, barely glancing their way. Clearly he was out of it, so something was wrong. Dalton didn’t smell alcohol, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t drunk or on drugs. “Did you get my message from Trisha at the park? Did she tell you to call Ellie?”

  “What?”

  Behind them, the sound of car horns blared. He turned to see the light had turned green and the limo was blocking traffic.

  Cece lowered the window. “Dalton, we have to go.”

  “Go without me,” he yelled, gesturing for the limo to go forward. “I’ll catch up later.”

  From the sidewalk, a woman shouted, “That’s Cece Vanderhaven!” Heads turned, and a few people darted toward the vehicle. Before they were able to reach it, Cece had raised the window. A few seconds later, the limo took off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The mystery of Dalton deepened when he suddenly bolted out of the limo to talk to some guy sitting on the sidewalk. Greta hadn’t even noticed the homeless man because she was too caught up in her own problems: Cece’s distress, her own sopping-wet clothing, and their urgent need to go back to the Vanderhavens’ apartment to get cleaned up.

  Dalton had told her he wasn’t actually homeless, so how was it he was friends with this guy who clearly was? He’d dashed out of the limo like this guy was his best friend. Greta’s mind churned with possibilities: They’d served in the military together, or maybe they were actors doing research for a role. Or maybe he really was homeless due to mental illness or an addiction. She didn’t want to think that last possibility could be true, but she didn’t know what else to think.

  Greta turned to look back at Dalton, who, still in his wet tuxedo pants, dress shirt, and bow tie, was now crouched on the sidewalk. She saw him put his hand on the man’s forehead, the way a parent would to a sick child. It was the kind of gesture you’d bestow on a family member or good friend. Someone you truly cared about.

  Under different circumstances, she would have been tempted to get out of the limo to join Dalton, but she was soaked to the skin and didn’t want to abandon her cousin. Dalton knew where she lived, and his well-worn backpack was still there. If he wanted to, he could find her.

  The limo barreled forward, leaving Dalton behind.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  When Cece called out from the limo, Dalton made a split-second decision. He couldn’t be in two places at once, so he decided to stay with Matt. He’d spent hours looking for him all over New York City, and having located him at last, he wasn’t going to lose him again. Also, from up close, it was evident something was seriously wrong with Matt. Dalton couldn’t leave him.

  Parting from Greta killed him. He felt like they’d had a major emotional connection, and here he’d abandoned her when she needed help dealing with Cece. He didn’t really have a choice, though.

  He turned back to Matt. “Hey, Matt, remember me? Dalton? We talked just a few days ago?”

  With great effort, Matt murmured something hard to decipher. Dalton thought he caught his own name, but it was hard to tell for sure.

  “Matt, are you okay? You don’t look so good, buddy.” Matt’s head lolled to one side like he was having trouble controlling his muscles. It was a summer evening and the air was warm, but even so, the amount of perspiration on his face was excessive. Dalton put a hand on his forehead and was shocked at how hot he was. Matt was burning up with fever.

  He called out to those walking past. “This man is sick. Can I get some help here?” No one paid any attention.

  “Please? Can anyone help me?”

  A couple with a baby in a stroller came by, and as they went past, the guy said, “Sorry, dude.”

  He stood up when a young woman approached and said, “Can I use your phone to call 911? My friend is seriously sick. He needs an ambulance.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Oh no! What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s not responsive, and he has a high fever. I’d call myself, but I had a run-in with the Central Park pond.” Dalton gestured to his wet pants. “Turns out cell phones don’t do well when they’re wet.”

  “I hear you.” She nodded sympathetically while unzipping her purse and taking out her phone. “I dropped a cell phone in a puddle once, and that rice thing didn’t work for me at all.” Pressing her thumb to the bottom, she unlocked it, then handed it to him.

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Dalton dialed 911 and filled the operator in when she asked, “What’s your emergency?”

  The owner of the cell phone, whom he learned was named Rachel, waited with him until the ambulance arrived. Once they got Matt on a gurney and started assessing him, Dalton looked to thank her again, but she had simply vanished. Nowhere in sight. An angel impersonating a regular human being? Or maybe a human being acting as an angel. Either way, he was glad she’d arrived at the right moment.

  When they got to the hospital emergency room, he became Matt’s voice and advocate, telling them his name, age, and marital status. He also knew that he was a US veteran who’d served in Afghanistan, had PTSD, and had been homeless for several months. When Dalton explained that he didn’t know him well, that they’d just met recently, they asked for contact information for his family. “I can’t help you with that,” he said, shaking his head. “But I know who can. His girlfriend’s name is Ellie Fronk. I know her phone number.” The day that Ellie had handed him her number written on a scrap of paper, he’d committed it to memory. He rattled it off now, and the nurse marked it down, saying they’d give her a call.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  After Roger left and Cece and Greta had each taken a shower, the cousins stayed up for hours talking, Cece on one side of her enormous bed, Greta on the other. In the dark, fueled by just the right amount of alcohol and exhaustion, Greta found that confidences could be easily shared.

  They talked about Roger and Dalton, and how the whole evening had played out. Already the memory of her time with Dalton had a dreamlike feeling. Saying his name helped make him real.

  “I can’t believe I fell into the water,” Cece said. “I just lost my footing. So stupid of me.”

  “You seemed calm,” Greta said. “When I got there, you were floating under the surface.”

  “It was so odd. I wasn’t afraid at all. I was waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “For you. I saw you coming my way. I knew you’d save me.”

  Cece knew she’d come and save her? How could she be so sure? Before she could ask, Cece started talking about something she did know all about—her childhood. “I used to love seeing your family’s Christmas cards.” Her voice floated in the dark. “I couldn’t wait to see how much you and Travis had changed from the year before. I have all of them, still, in my dresser
drawer.”

  “I loved looking at yours too, and my mom let me keep them all,” Greta confessed. “We were boring compared to your family. You always had cool costumes or elegant clothing, and each year you had a different theme. Your family was so glamorous. I loved that.”

  Cece groaned. “I hated dressing up for those pictures. And it took hours for them to get just the right shot. We had to keep posing until my dad was happy.”

  “But look how great they turned out. That circus one was killer.”

  “That one was the worst. I was terrified of the clowns, and the fire-eater was this creepy guy. The circus ring smelled like dung.”

  “From the elephants?”

  “No.” Cece sighed. “The elephants were added later on. Photo manipulation. I guess the smell was left over from before.” It was quiet for a minute, and then she said, “I always loved that your Christmas cards were the same. You always held that sign that said—”

  Before she could say it, Greta cut in, saying, “We’re still the Hansens!” They both burst out laughing. When they finally settled down, she said, “That was so lame.”

  “No!” Cece said, sounding indignant. “I thought it was cool. And your brother’s sign always said, ‘Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.’ The same signs every year. I could count on it. You were always standing in front of the same tree, so I could see how much you grew since the last Christmas. I used to think about what it would be like to trade places with you.”

  “With me? Why would you want to do that?” Why would anyone want to do that? Her life was boring, mundane.

  “You grew up with a brother, and I was the only one here, until Brenna was born. So that was one thing. And then I loved all the notes your mom sent with the cards. She was so proud of you and Travis. My mom and dad were gone all the time, and when they were around, all they talked about was how I could do better in school, or that I should be spending more hours practicing the piano. When my family came back from parties, we had meetings to discuss what I’d said and how I could improve. My dad has very high expectations. He wanted a daughter who was brilliant and beautiful and clever, but all he got was me.”