The Merriest Magnolia

by Michelle Major

“You take care of everyone else,” he continued, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.

  “Is that a bad thing?” Frustration moved through her. She hated that she sounded defensive but couldn’t help it.

  “No, but sometimes it’s okay to let someone else be the hero.”

  “Just not you,” she snapped.

  He grinned as if she’d given him a compliment. “Definitely not me.”

  She stared at him for a long moment then burst out laughing. “You’re the worst, Dylan.”

  “I know. Stop eyeing my sticky bun.”

  She reached into the bag. “I thought Mary Ellen cut you off. Don’t tell me you made Sam go in there and lie.”

  “I didn’t need to. The kid did better than I ever could have imagined. He played to her decency.”

  “That’s impressive. Let’s take the chairs closer to Sam and Daisy. You can help him with the sandcastle after you finish your sticky bun.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t like touching sand.”

  His grin widened as he reached out to touch the red sweater she wore. “I forgot about that. A girl grows up at the beach but doesn’t like sand. Yet, you suggested it for Sam.”

  “I’m weird.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said quietly.

  She ducked her head and placed the bakery bag on the folding table she’d set up. She didn’t want to hear Dylan call her amazing. Her heart couldn’t handle it.

  She pulled out the pastry, took a big bite and then reached for a beach chair.

  “I’ve got it,” he told her, popping the last morsel into his mouth. He picked up both chairs, and they walked toward the ocean.

  Carrie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the beach and wasn’t sure when she’d first developed an aversion to it. It was strange, living in a coastal town, and not liking the ocean. Her father had used the setting for some of his most iconic paintings, even one that ostensibly showed Carrie and her mother frolicking in the surf.

  A scene that never happened in real life.

  In high school her peers went to the beach for sunbathing and after-dark bonfires, but she never joined. She didn’t do much socially as a teenager, at least until Dylan came into her life. Even then she didn’t think she liked the ocean.

  But he’d invited her today, and it had been obvious that he hadn’t remembered her aversion. The past couple of months had been an overhaul of the life she’d known. A trip to the beach represented something, overcoming her fear and stepping out of her comfort zone.

  Now she wished she hadn’t waited so long. The empty expanse of shore made her feel like she was in some sort of private paradise. Although she wore shoes, she could feel the texture of the cool sand under her feet. It didn’t bother her the way she’d expected it to. The sound of the crashing waves made her feel at once small in the grand scheme of the world and yet somehow connected with the rhythm of the tides.

  Dylan and Sam were busy scooping sand into the molds and digging a moat around the structure. They laughed as Daisy dug a hole nearby, sending clumps of wet sand flying in all directions.

  She sat in a chair and watched the two of them working in companionable silence. With the sound of the ocean and the cool breeze whistling along the shore, there didn’t seem to be much need for words. The serenity of the moment gave her a sense of calm even with the turmoil still swirling through her life.

  “Is the old pier still there?” Dylan asked as he glanced down the beach.

  “I think so.” She shrugged. “Although I remember hearing something about damage to it during hurricane season a couple of years ago.”

  He straightened, dusting sand from the front of his jeans. “Want to check it out?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sam, you need a break?” he asked the boy.

  “I’ll stay here and finish,” Sam answered. “I’ve got an idea for another tower.”

  “Just you and me, then,” Dylan told Carrie, sending her heartbeat racing.

  She glanced down at her feet then toed off her espadrilles.

  “Sand in your toes. How brave,” Dylan said.

  He was teasing, but she felt oddly brave.

  They started down the beach toward the pier. Daisy trotted after them but when the dog realized Sam was staying behind, she deserted the adults for the teenager.

  “I’m glad you chose her and not a puppy,” Carrie said. Her arm brushed again Dylan’s, and to her surprise, he took her hand, linking their fingers together. It was natural and right for the moment. They were here on this empty stretch of beach like it was their own private oasis.

  It was dangerous to crave this connection to him, but Carrie couldn’t seem to stop herself. They could go back to being enemies in town after the holiday festival. But for now she wanted to remember how easy it was to be close to him.

  “I can’t believe Sam is building a sandcastle,” Dylan said with a grin.

  “I was a little worried about suggesting it,” Carrie admitted. “But from what I see teaching classes at the high school, teenagers are forced to grow up too fast. They give up art because they’re athletes or too busy with core classes and they let go of play because it’s not cool to be a kid.”

  “Losing both of your parents at one time definitely makes you grow up fast.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Carrie whispered.

  “Me neither.” Dylan shook his head. “I’ve been with him every day since it happened, and I still can’t imagine how he deals with it. Or me. I’m impatient and short-tempered. I have no idea the right things to say, and I sure as hell can’t go from personal experience. My parents messed things up left and right.” He stopped, turned to her. “What if I screw that kid up beyond repair?”

  “You won’t,” she told him. “Your mom and dad were like mine, totally unaware of their own flaws. You’re trying, Dylan. Sam might not appreciate it now, but somewhere deep inside he realizes it. That counts.”

  His gaze softened. “This is why everyone relies on you so much. You can make a hopeless situation seem hopeful.”

  She had a feeling he was going to say more and knew that one additional kind word would push her over the edge of her ability to resist her attraction for him. She glanced over her shoulder but a bend in the shoreline obstructed her view of Sam.

  Nothing to stop her from jumping his bones. Nothing but her own good sense, which was fast disappearing.

  “There’s the pier,” he said suddenly. “It’s still here. I want Sam to see it. His dad came to visit one summer when we were kids and we spent hours under that pier building homemade rafts.”

  Right. The whole reason they’d walked down the beach was not for a private moment so they could make out like a couple of teens, but because Dylan wanted to revisit a place from his past that had meaning. A needed reminder that they might share a past but not the future.

  “Let’s bring him down,” she suggested brightly, immediately turning on her heel and heading back toward the chairs and umbrella she’d set up.

  “How’s your painting going?” Dylan asked as they walked. He reached for her hand again, but she moved away.

  “I’m busy with the festival and the holiday painting parties scheduled at the studio. My work isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Especially not if you don’t do anything with it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re avoiding your art. Even Avery agreed. I’m sure Meredith would, as well.”

  “You talked to my sister about me?” It was difficult to believe that minutes earlier Carrie had found Dylan almost irresistible when right now she wanted to punch him in the face.

  “Only that we both think you’re ignoring your talent and keeping yourself busy as a way not to put yourself out there with your art. You’re too talented for that
, Carrie.”

  She lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the glare of the winter sun. “Where’s Sam?”

  “Don’t change the...” Dylan’s gaze followed hers to the patch of beach where they’d left Sam and Daisy. “He probably had to go to the bathroom,” he said but picked up the pace.

  They were both jogging by the time they got to the canopy she’d set up earlier.

  While the structure still stood, lights twinkling above them, the chairs had been knocked over and the sandcastle destroyed.

  Carrie scanned the area for the boy and his dog. She called his name, but the only answer was the breeze whistling off the crashing waves.

  “Do you hear that?” Dylan cupped a hand over one ear. “It’s Daisy.”

  He took off toward the parking lot, and Carrie followed. The muffled sound of the dog’s frantic barking grew louder and as they crested the rise, she could see Daisy pacing in the backseat of Dylan’s Porsche.

  “Sam,” Dylan shouted, but only the dog answered with a series of almost manic yips and howls. “Sam, do you hear me?”

  A piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper fluttered, drawing Carrie’s attention.

  She reached for it as Dylan opened the back door. His muttered curse had her glancing up from the note.

  “Daisy chewed up half the backseat.”

  “Sam went somewhere with friends.”

  “Where? What friends?” Dylan grabbed the paper from her hand. “He doesn’t have friends.”

  Carrie couldn’t answer either question. The boy’s scrawled sentences didn’t give any details or make sense. When they’d left him, Sam had seemed so content. Now he was just...gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TWO HOURS LATER Dylan pulled to the side of the two-lane highway that led out of town. He parked behind a police car, its lights flashing, and stalked down the road’s gravel shoulder while his heart raced.

  As he passed the hulking red fire truck, Gray Atwell stepped out. He wore a firefighter’s uniform and appeared both calm and commanding. “Slow down, Scott. You’re not going to make anything better when you look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

  Dylan swallowed back the urge to drive his fist into Gray’s jaw. He owed the other man a debt of thanks. Gray had been the one to alert Carrie that Sam was in the backseat of the car that had run off the road and into a ditch on the edge of town.

  Dylan would have been notified eventually, but he appreciated being able to get to Sam as soon as possible. So he could kill the kid himself.

  With that in mind, he met Gray’s measured gaze. “How would you feel if it was your kid in that car?”

  Gray sighed. “Point taken, but they’re already shaken. You might want to start with being grateful no one was hurt and then move into the butt chewing.”

  “Right.” Dylan closed his eyes for a moment and relived the panic that had gripped him when he’d received Carrie’s call. How the hell did parents manage to raise children without going absolutely insane? “Thanks for letting Carrie know about the accident.”

  “You bet.” Gray reached out and squeezed Dylan’s shoulder. “Give yourself and Sam a break. He seems like a decent kid. I have a pretty good instinct on people thanks to my line of work. He’s just floundering a bit, but he’ll straighten out.”

  “There’s floundering,” Dylan said, “and then there’s making monumentally stupid decisions. The kind that could get you killed.” He held up a hand when Gray would have said more. “And I don’t need to be reminded of my own stupidity back in the day. Why do you think I’m freaking out so badly?”

  Gray offered a sympathetic smile. “Sam’s on the other side of the truck. We separated all the kids so the cops could get a straight story. Everyone seems to agree that Sam was just along for the ride.”

  “Got it.” Dylan moved past Gray, wishing he could believe that. In reality, he didn’t know how to deal with any part of this situation, from his conflicting emotions to understanding why Sam had made the choice he did today.

  All of that seemed to fall by the wayside when he caught sight of the boy sitting alone on the bottom step of the fire truck, a blanket draped over his hunched shoulders.

  He must have whispered the kid’s name because Sam glanced up, his expression a mix of defiance, fear and apology.

  “I’m fine,” he said, rising to his feet as Dylan approached.

  “Good for you,” Dylan answered. “I’m not.” He pulled the boy toward him, wrapping Sam in a tight hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  Sam stayed stiff for a long moment then sagged against Dylan. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  “I know.” Dylan pulled back. He placed his hands on Sam’s thin shoulders. “You’re also grounded for the rest of your life.”

  “Why aren’t you yelling?” Sam asked, forehead wrinkling.

  “That will come,” Dylan promised. “But right now I’m still basking in the fact that you’re okay. Don’t push your luck.”

  A stricken look flitted across Sam’s features. “The noise was terrible. The brakes and the car skidded and hit the guard rail.” He sniffed and looked away. “Can you imagine how much worse it was in a plane?”

  “Don’t go there right now. You’re here and you’re fine, Sam. We need to keep it that way.”

  The boy nodded as he swiped the sleeve of his jacket across his cheeks.

  “I’m going to go talk to the police for a minute and then we’ll head home.”

  “Yeah.” Sam nodded. “I don’t want to see anyone right now. The other guys...”

  “The car is unlocked.” Dylan gave Sam another hug. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  Sam handed Dylan the blanket then started down the shoulder toward the Porsche. It was strangely difficult to watch him walk away. The hours Sam had been gone were the most terrified Dylan had felt in a long time. How was he supposed to keep the boy safe if he couldn’t even keep track of him?

  He found the police chief talking to another man near the wrecked vehicle. A wave of nausea spun through Dylan as he took in the mangled front of the SUV. From what he understood, there’d been five kids in the car, so they were extremely lucky no one had been seriously injured.

  The officer turned slightly as Dylan approached. “I’m Sam Scott’s guardian.” Dylan reached out a hand. He ignored the other man, who appeared to be the owner of the wrecked car, which meant his kid had been the one drinking and driving. Dylan knew if he engaged with the guy, it would go badly. He needed to focus on Sam. “If there’s nothing else you need from him we’re going to head home.”

  The chief, whose name badge read Drew Garrison, nodded. “There was a lot of stupidity today, but the other boys were quick to tell me that Sam hadn’t been drinking with them. He made a bad decision getting in that car, though, when the driver had been.”

  “Khale doesn’t drink,” the other man interjected. “Your test must be screwed up.”

  The officer held up a hand to silence the angry father. “In a minute, Mr. Morris.” He returned his attention to Dylan. “I hope Sam understands how serious this is.”

  “His parents died in a plane crash a year and a half ago,” Dylan said tightly. “He gets it.”

  Chief Garrison blew out a breath. “No wonder he seemed especially shaken. If you need anything, reach out. He’s new to the high school, right?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “He’s the student who vandalized the school before Thanksgiving,” the dad offered. “My son has never been in trouble and suddenly this juvenile delinquent shows up and I’ve got a totaled car. Coincidence? I don’t—”

  Dylan spun on the man and grabbed his shirtfront, pulling him close. “Not another word about my kid.”

  “He’s not even yours,” the dad muttered.

  “Hey, Kevin,” Garrison said, “don’t be more of an a
ss than you already are. Khale was drinking and driving. That’s on him and it’s for the two of you to deal with, no one else.”

  “Sam is my responsibility,” Dylan said, enunciating every syllable. The rage coursing through him made his voice tremble. “He’s a good kid who’s made some bad choices. We’re working on it.” He forced himself to calm down and released Kevin. “I’d advise you to do the same with your son. Because if I hear one more word about how today was Sam’s fault, you and I are going to have issues. I guarantee you don’t want that.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Kevin demanded, flicking an imploring glance toward the officer. “Did you hear that?”

  “Nope,” the chief said. “Not a word.”

  Kevin threw up his hands then turned and stalked toward the tow truck that had just pulled up to the scene.

  “Thanks,” Dylan said to the lawman.

  “Take care of your kid,” Garrison answered. “Gray Atwell told me about how he came to be in your care. I’m new to Magnolia, but a few guys at the station have been talking about your return.”

  Dylan blew out a soft laugh. “That can’t be good, but just know Sam isn’t like me back in the day. Hell, I’m not the same person, either.”

  “We all grow up eventually. People like Kevin grow up to be jerks. Hopefully, he’ll take this as a wake-up call and do the right thing with his son. Gray vouched for you, and that means a lot.”

  “Thanks.” Dylan looked to where a cluster of firefighters stood next to the red truck. It had been a long time since he’d wanted or needed someone to vouch for him. His uncle and his cousin had been the people closest to him, so since the accident he’d felt as much like an orphan as Sam.

  Magnolia might be his hometown, but he hadn’t exactly received a warm welcome back. It did funny, uncomfortable things to his insides to know that Gray had spoken up for him.

  “Thanks again,” he told the officer then headed toward the car. He waved to Gray as he passed and received an understanding nod in response.

  Processing the events of today was going to take some time. Dylan wasn’t big into being insightful. His success in life had come from taking action and never slowing down.