Leaving Scarlet

by J. Lynn Bailey

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Scarlet breaks eye contact. Starts to rub her earlobe.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I’m really glad you’re sitting because a lot has come to fruition during your short hospital stay.”

  I turn my body more toward her, concerned.

  She tells me the story about her mother crying over someone named JC. An image, she says, that’s been burned into her head since she was a little girl. Her conversation with Anna about an address on Haight Street and then the letters. Anna’s reaction to Scarlet’s hunch.

  “Have you decided on whether you’re going to ask him for a paternity test?”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “My mother processed not knowing her biological father in unhealthy ways after she found out Granddad wasn’t her father. Because of her, I, too, learned to process not knowing my own father in unhealthy ways. The cycle ends with me. If I choose to know him or not—I have the choice. I’ll be able to confront him. Ask him where he was, why he never stepped up. And if I don’t get the nerve to meet him, that will be okay too. Because the one thing I do have in my heart that my mother never had is acceptance and a man who loves me the most. You.” She grins, dropping her head to my side.

  If she has acceptance, then so should I. I just don’t understand how he’d never step forward and claim a beautiful, brilliant, empathetic, caring woman like Scarlet as his daughter.

  “Do you think he knows you’re his daughter?”

  “I do. The timing of it all. He knew she was pregnant, per his note. And one cannot have a child in Dillon Creek without everyone knowing. Or be pregnant. I mean, he’s the town doctor.”

  “True.”

  “I think he just thought he could sweep it under the rug. And after all these years, he probably thinks there isn’t much he can do because I’ve made it this far without him.”

  “Did Anna say she’ll keep quiet?”

  “Of course.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Okay. I think she almost expected this to happen. She’s shared a lot with me over the past few days. It’s amazing how a family can look a certain way, carry themselves in the community, and yet behind closed doors, they live in secrets and silence. Did you know that Anna never became a doctor because she didn’t want to be like her father? That’s why she became a veterinarian instead.” Scarlet plays with one of the buttons on my shirt.

  “Have you talked with your mom about all this?”

  “No, not yet. I think God does for us what we can’t do for ourselves because when I initially put all the pieces together, I called her and called her and called her, so angry, ready to lay into her, but she never picked up. She never called me back either. Now that I’ve had time to think about things, I’ve realized she’s just messed up. She did the best job she knew how in raising me. Albeit, it was a bit messed up, but she tried. I think the situation will present itself when I’m supposed to talk to her. Maybe she kept it secret to keep me safe from ridicule or pushback from the community.” Scarlet shrugs.

  “You know nobody would have treated you like that.”

  “Exactly. I know that, but my mother never liked Dillon Creek. Never liked the people because she never tried.”

  I want to ask her if she still plans to leave for Boston. Still plans to sell the house. Leave Dillon Creek. But a large part of me is too scared. I think about all we’ve been through together. Our childhood. Life lessons. Living far apart for so many years. We’ve done this before, living far apart, so we know we can make it work.

  So, with a big exhale, I ask, “So, are you selling the house?”

  There’s no hesitation. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” My heart stops.

  I could live in Boston if I had to. I’d walk through fire for Scarlet because as long as we are together, I’m home.

  “But I’m not leaving Dillon Creek. This is where my heart is. With you, the Atwoods, Mabe, and Toby Lemon. I realized that after all these years, I need my family. I need my friends. I need my community. People around me who know where I came from. I fought this alone for an awfully long time. Just like my mother. But I can’t do it anymore. It’s time I come home and be with the guy I love most.”

  “Oh my God, Scar.” Relief washes over me.

  I realize that we have the rest of our tomorrows and that we aren’t fighting for just today anymore. That we can travel, and love, and do all the things we want to do. And that I don’t have to drink anymore to chase the memories of Conroy’s death because I got a counselor in Eureka. One that specializes in PTSD.

  I pull Scarlet’s head to my chest and then her mouth to mine.

  We get lost in each other.

  We remove our clothes. She straddles me and slowly eases onto me, and I enter her.

  We hold each other as she rocks on top of me, and I take care of her breasts, sliding my mouth over each one.

  I hold her hips as she moves against me, and I watch her face, study the scars that have given her life. The scar where they inserted her port. And I stare at her chest, where all the damage started—in her heart.

  Scarlet used to be a free spirit without strings and gave her love willingly to those who showed her love. But something happened along the way. She became hardened to life. Hardened to love. We both did.

  Her body feels good, and the ache is beginning to build.

  I look up at her, and her mouth is open. She’s moaning, but she’s staring down at me. She calls out.

  But instead of letting her come, I pull both of us up off the couch. With me still inside her, I carry her to her bedroom and gently lay her down on the bed. I tell her to flip over onto her stomach. She obliges me.

  This is where I kiss every inch of her backside. From her shoulders, to her back, to her arms, to her perfectly shaped ass, to her thighs, to her legs, her feet.

  I whisper how beautiful she is into her ear as I sink into her from behind. And as I give her what we both need, I whisper every single thing I love about her.

  She lets out a scream, and we both climax together.

  It’s when we’re lying here, watching the snow fall out the window, that I tell her that I’m in love with her. That I tried to call her mom and ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage. But the phone call and message were left unanswered.

  “ ‘Sometimes, unanswered questions are the silent go-ahead from God,’ my grandma used to say.” Scarlet looks up with tears in her eyes.

  I get up from the bed, stark naked, and pull a black box from my jeans. I kneel beside the bed as Scarlet sits up, holding the sheet over her naked body.

  “This was the ring I bought when I was eighteen. When I knew I only needed you to finish my days with and to wake up with in the mornings. That I’d live a happy life with you by my side. However, I had a jeweler add a few more stones, only to show that life has changed since then. They’re your grandparents’ birthstones. Just so you know they’re still with you. Scarlet Jean Brockmeyer, please make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

  She pauses to take in the ring—not because she’s sizing it up, but because of the birthstones. “I can’t believe you did this,” she whispers. “My whole life, I’ve tried to make decisions based on my head and not my heart. Sound decisions. Ones where my heart would never get broken. Ones where life made more sense without risk. But this time, I’m all in—head and heart. Yes, Cash Atwood. I can’t wait to marry you.”

  I slip the ring onto her finger, and she throws her arms around me. We make love and talk and laugh well into the evening.

  Just two kids trying to catch up after a lifetime apart.

  44

  Scarlet

  Present Day

  Summer 2021

  We got married in a tiny little courthouse outside of Laughlin, Nevada.

  We didn’t need flowers or fancy clothes or lots of people.

  We just needed each other.


  I tried to call my mom to tell her, but I couldn’t get through.

  I wonder if my mom will always continue to run instead of face her demons. But that’s not my story to tell.

  I talked to Hank and told him. I’d have hated for him to hear it from someone else. One thing we’ll always be is friends.

  He was initially the safe choice, and Hank knew from the very beginning that it was always Cash, so he said, “I’m glad you got your happily ever after, Scar. You deserve it.”

  We FaceTimed the Atwoods along with Mabe and Clyda during the ceremony.

  Cash’s phone rings and brings me to the present moment. We’re in a gift shop in Pierre, South Dakota.

  “Hey, Casey. Yeah, we’re good. Yeah, headed to Route 66, on our way to the East Coast to dip our feet in the Atlantic, and then we’re going to see the northern lights. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

  Cash hangs up. “Just calling to check in.” He smiles.

  The truth is, while Cash made mistakes in his life, he’s making living amends to his brothers for things he can never undo, like using his brother Casey’s ID when he was pulled over for drinking and driving five years back in Florida while he was on tour with Bullfighters One. When Casey was pulled over for speeding, he was informed of this mishap by the authorities and advised him to always make sure he cuts up his expired identification. When Cash told his family of that night, Casey understood why Cash had done what he did. Because it wasn’t Cash. It was a skeleton of a man who’d tried so hard to protect his family and finally cracked into pieces of nothingness.

  That is the downfall of what secrets do if we allow them to fester in our lives.

  On our road trip, we picked up a friend along the way. A full-grown Alaskan malamute named Grizz from an animal shelter in Pierre, South Dakota.

  Sometimes, we’re meant to do things, meet people on purpose. And I think Cash and I being there to take Grizz was part of our path.

  I also forgave my mother. Although she never returned my calls, before we left for this trip, I did receive a postcard from India with a picture of the Golden Temple. On the back, it said, I should have trusted you. You chose the right man.

  And on my list, I cross off number six. Forgive someone.

  I didn’t have to be angry with her because acceptance was the cornerstone to my forgiveness.

  And although I have yet to confirm paternity with James Cain, I’m not sure I need it. I’ve watched him from afar for years. He’s raised some incredible kids too. Anna has never pressured me into affirming who my father is, but I think she knows.

  She did say I had his mouth and his feet. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but she also said, “You will never have his heart. Yours is pure and pieced back together so beautifully. He would never be capable of loving someone to his fullest. And that’s just who he is.”

  I’ve been able to watch Amelia and Adam from afar too. Although they don’t know they have a long-lost sister, maybe one day, they will, and I’m okay with that.

  Perhaps I’m cheating them of time, but Cash and I try to make all of Adam’s shows. Invite Amelia over for dinner as much as she’s in town. I’m sure they wonder about my sudden interest in them.

  I can’t take back the missing years we could have had. Who knows if those years would have been good or bad, considering the circumstances? But what I can do is move forward. I can open myself up to the potential of love in every form, so says Whitney, which is what I’m working on.

  Cash pulls me in for a forehead kiss. “East Coast bound?”

  “Yes, However, I’m rethinking number seven.”

  Cash shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing can be checked off the list without completing it. You promised. No take-backs.”

  I laugh and pull him to me. Kiss his mouth and wonder how I got so lucky.

  When his phone rings, he groans against my lips and pulls his phone from his back pocket. “I should take this.” Cash turns and walks to a quiet corner of the store.

  I pick up a postcard with reds and blues that says Pierre in large letters. With every stop we make, I buy a postcard for Toby Lemon, the grandfather I never got to know. Though we existed in the same town for many years whether I was living in Dillon Creek or visiting, I’m hoping that we can somehow have a relationship, whatever that might look like.

  I never thought in a million years that what I needed my whole life was right under my nose. That love is the answer. That vulnerability is the way to truth, and that if we’re quiet enough and still enough, we just might be able to find the life we’ve always wanted even if those people who you thought would be there are no longer there.

  “You’re never going to believe who that was.”

  “Who?”

  “That was Parker Deems, a national developer out of Seattle, and he wants to set up a Zoom call to talk about my barndominiums idea.”

  I’m aware of Parker Deems, but I don’t tell Cash this. That life seems like a million years ago. I worked with him on a few projects. He’s a good man with a shitload of money and investments all over the world.

  “It’s no surprise, Cash. The one you built for the Morgans was insane. I think that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

  Cash thought long and hard about the contract that Bullfighters One had offered. It was hard to turn down, but he didn’t want to travel. His body was getting older, and he knew there would come a day when he needed to say good-bye to the sport, the career that had been so good to him. But it was time to pass the torch on to younger blood.

  Cash pulls out the list as he follows me up to the cash register, gently placing his free hand on my hip from behind. “Feet in the Atlantic and see the northern lights?”

  I thank the gentleman behind the counter and turn to my husband. “As long as it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere.”

  What started as a guest column for the Dillon Creek Echo has turned into a permanent spot. I write about life, failures, grace, and big truths. Whether this is a permanent gig or not, I’m really enjoying it right now. I don’t really know where I’m headed, but I’m open to the possibilities. Also, I’m the new president of The Ladybugs, Club Number 227. I’ve recruited Anna, Tess, Amelia, and Kimber—the assistant at Anna’s clinic.

  And I found out the new volunteer job pays dividends in love for a community that gave me so much.

  Because the one thing I know for sure is that nothing in life is permanent.

  We choose the life we live today and only today.

  My advice is that you choose wisely.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, a huge thank you to my editor, Jovana Shirley, who always goes above and beyond for my books and can shine and polish my words like no other. What started as a professional relationship has turned into a friendship, and I’m extremely grateful for you.

  Julie Deaton, my proofreader, a huge thank you for your eagle eyes and attention to detail. You are a treasure. It should also be noted that I only send you voice messages so that I can get yours in return. Your Southern accent gets me every time.

  Ashley Bolton at Ashley Bolton Photography, for the incredible book-cover photography and your ease and patience behind the camera. You, my friend, have a very special talent.

  Hang Le, my cover designer, thank you for taking my thoughts and input and creating the masterpieces you have with the entire Dillon Creek series. It is an absolute joy to work with you.

  Jessica Estep and Kelly Emery at InkSlinger PR, thank you for all of your help with all things related to book publicity. You both are incredible to work with.

  A huge thank you to my readers and the book bloggers that work so hard to support my work.

  Brandon, Teyler, and Kate, you are my world, my soft place to land. Thank you for your patience and your grace with each book that I write.

  And last but certainly not least, thank you to God. Without you, I’m nothing. Thank you for this life, for filling me with
stories and the courage to tell them.

  About the Author

  J. Lynn Bailey is an award-winning author who has loved to write since she learned to read, around the second grade. She’s earned a bachelor’s degree and master’s degree from Humboldt State University.

  When she isn’t running her children to their next sporting event, watching North Woods Law, or on the hunt for her next Laffy Taffy joke, you can probably find her holed up in her writing room, feverishly working on her next book. She lives in Northern California with her family.

  If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving an honest review on the website you purchased the book from. By leaving a review, it makes the book more visible to more readers. The more reviews, the better promotional opportunities for the author.

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  www.jlynnbaileybooks.com

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  J. LYNN BAILEY

  THE GRANITE HARBOR SERIES

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  Violet Ugly

  Magnolia Road

  Lilies On Main

  THE DILLON CREEK SERIES

  Taking Anna

  Little White Christmas

  Saving Tess

  Leaving Scarlet

  STAND-ALONES

  Standing Sideways

  The Light We See

  Black Five