by Rachel Hanna
“Look, I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that you’re one of my biggest regrets in life, Indy Stone.”
I freeze in place and turn to him, my eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You regret taking me to prom?”
He laughs and touches my upper arm. “No! Of course not! I regret letting you get away from me.”
Right now, I feel like running for one of the exits. Coming back to Peach Valley has been this strange mixed bag of an enjoyable walk down memory lane and a blast of frigid cold air hitting me right in the face.
He must sense my surprise at his words because he smiles and touches my arm again.
“Don’t freak out. I just thought you should know I feel like an idiot for not realizing what a catch you were back then. I’m not asking for anything.”
I smile gratefully. “Sorry. I was just shocked at what you said.”
We both stand there nervously, fidgeting and looking around the room for a moment. I hate uncomfortable situations like this. Childhood was one long uncomfortable situation after another.
“Want some turkey?” he finally asks, almost too loudly. I nod and we head toward the kitchen, splitting up along the way. I glue myself to Tabitha’s side without a word, and Harper eventually pulls herself away from Scooter long enough to join us for a quick prayer around the kitchen island.
Thankfully, the uncomfortable-ness of the day eventually dies down as I mingle and officially meet some of my co-workers. Single women and men mostly. People whose family were either too far away or estranged enough to not have a place to go for Thanksgiving. Not sure where I fit into that description.
Kent is keeping his distance for the most part, probably sensing my immediate reaction to his kind comment. I don’t even know why it affected me that way. It was a nice thing to say that I was a “catch” back then, but I got the distinct feeling that there was more to it than that.
And I can’t pretend that Dawson’s face didn’t flash in my mind. Our past. Our kiss. His inability or desire to have a future that includes official legal documents, a flower girl and tin cans bouncing on the ground behind our car as we head off into our life of bliss.
“That was fun,” Tabitha says as we start putting the doggie bags Kent gave us in my refrigerator. There was enough turkey for a small army, and we got a lot of it to use as sandwiches for Harper’s lunches.
“Yeah. It was.”
“He’s cute, you know,” she says softly, not looking at me.
“Stop.”
She pulls her head out of the refrigerator and looks at me. “Indy, you can’t hold out hope for Dawson forever.”
“Seriously? I’m not doing that, Tabby. I was married, for goodness sakes. I hadn’t thought of Dawson in years. One kiss certainly didn’t make me fall head over heels in love with him. This isn’t a romance novel.”
“I don’t buy it.”
I shut the door to the refrigerator and look into the living room to make sure Harper hasn’t come out of her bedroom. “Well, you don’t have to buy it. Decades have passed, and I’m not looking for love with Dawson or anyone else. I have a new daughter to raise, and she is my only focus right now.”
Tabitha shrugs her shoulders. “Fine. Whatever you say. But in the unlikely event that you do have some lingering feelings for Dawson, just know this,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders. “You deserve someone who loves you as much as you love them and sees no future without you in it.”
“Noted,” I say with a smile.
Tabitha leans against the counter, and I can tell she wants to say something else.
“I’m leaving.”
“What? Already?”
She laughs. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome, Indy.”
“You could never overstay your welcome. You know that,” I say, holding both of her hands. “I’ve missed you so much all these years. I didn’t even know how much.”
“Ditto. But I’m like a feather floating on a breeze. Nothing can hold me down for long.”
“You’re quite the philosopher,” I say with a giggle.
“One of my many talents. Look, the organizer of my Blue Ridge hike texted while we were at Kent’s. The start date has been moved up, and I need to be at the planning meeting tomorrow. So, I’ve got to rent a car and get up there first thing in the morning.”
“Let me at least drive you…”
“Nope. Better to say my goodbyes here.”
“It’s not goodbye.”
She pulls me into a big hug and squeezes me tightly. “It’s never goodbye for us.”
We stand there in the kitchen, quietly hugging for several minutes before I feel the first tear stream down my cheek.
I swing back and forth, my feet lightly grazing the red clay below me. The memories of sitting on my wooden swing as a child are still fresh. Hours upon hours of laughter and singing with my boom box sitting in my lap. Those were innocent times.
Harper walks outside and sits down beside me. “Are you okay?” She has never asked me that before.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Do you miss Tabitha?” She’s only been gone a few hours, but Harper must sense my melancholy attitude.
I take in a breath. “I do. She’s my best friend.”
“Like me and Olivia.”
“Yep. And best friends last forever no matter how many miles are between them.”
“Olivia said that one day we’ll be in each other’s weddings. And she’s going to have a little boy, and I’m going to have a little girl. And they’re going to get married so we can be family forever.”
I smile. “Sounds like a plan.” We swing for a few moments without words until Harper breaks the silence.
“Sometimes, I miss my daddy.”
If it’s possible, I feel like someone is piercing my heart with an ice pick.
“I know you do, sweetie,” I say, putting my arm around her. To my surprise, she puts her head on my shoulder.
“It was hard on Thanksgiving because I’ve never had one without him there.” My heart clenches in my chest, and I hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over.
“I’m so sorry, Harper. I didn’t even think about that. I was so focused on making sure we all had a good day…”
“It’s okay. I had fun. I really liked Scooter,” she says with a giggle as she sits back up.
“Yeah, Scooter has one of those faces only a mother could love.” He really is an incredibly ugly dog, which makes him even more lovable.
“Do you think my mother can see me from heaven?”
This kid is killing me today. Although I’m a counselor, I find it incredibly hard to get the distance I need to say the right things to her. Nothing feels right. I feel like I’m always tripping over my words.
“Of course I do, Harper. She’s been watching over you your whole life.”
“Do you think she and my Dad are together?” She’s looking at me now, innocence showing in her eyes.
I take her hand in mine, and she lets me, which is nice. “I’d bet on it. They are watching you, and they’re so proud of how you’ve handled yourself. I know I am.”
“But I was a pain when I first came here,” she says with a laugh.
“And that was understandable. All of this was new, and you didn’t know me. I want to apologize to you, Harper.”
“For what?”
“For not trying harder with your Daddy. I thought people couldn’t really change, but I think your father did. Had I reached out, I would’ve known that. And I would have known you.”
She bites her lip and then reaches out and hugs me tightly. “It’s okay, Aunt Indy. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other. Just don’t leave me, okay?”
I can’t form words, so I just hold her there and nod, my lips pressed to the top of her full head of red locks.
“Never,” is all I can manage to choke out. And in that moment, I feel like I’m hugging my brother and apologizing f
or not fighting his demons with him.
“Can we get a puppy?”
“Oh, Harper… What am I going to do with you?” I say with a laugh.
Chapter 10
I’m tired of staring at this fig tree every day. But now that the leaves have fallen off, at least I can see through the branches. I decide that maybe it will be easier to trim the limbs now that the tree isn’t covered in thick greenery.
“Don’t you think you should hire somebody to do that?” Harper asks as she sits on the front porch sipping her hot chocolate. It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and while most women are shopping the sales at the mall, I’m wearing my rattiest jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, holding a giant saw in my hands.
“Nah. I did this all the time when I was a kid.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not a kid anymore,” she says with a giggle.
“You better hush up, missy!” I say, throwing a stray, dead leaf in her direction. It leaves my hand and spirals to the ground, an anti-climactic ending to my toss.
“Harper! Do you want to go shopping with us?” Olivia yells from her rolled down car window. Her mother, Suzanne, smiles and waves at me. Harper gives me those pleading eyes and puts her hands together in a prayer position.
“Please?”
“But we were going to trim the fig tree,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. Her smile falls. “Oh, good Lord, I was just kidding! You can go.”
“Yes!” she says before running up to me, giving me a quick hug and then dashing off to Olivia’s car. I wave goodbye again and then look back at the tree. Maybe Harper is right. Maybe I’m too old to be climbing trees alone while using large garden implements.
But that doesn’t stop me. I decide which limb needs to be trimmed first, and of course it has to be the top one. Once I cut that one, I can work my way down.
I position my hiking boot on the bottom limb and start the ascent to the top of the behemoth of a tree. Taking my saw, I start with a couple of smaller limbs just to get a feel for the tool. It’s harder to use than I expected, and the tiny little teeth are getting stuck in the hard wood.
“Dang it,” I say out loud as I realize that the stupid saw is wedged between two pieces of wood. I pull hard and finally regain control of it before climbing higher. I dare not look down because I’m definitely not a huge fan of heights, but the job has to be done. A single woman has to know how to do these things. Change a tire, check her oil, kill a bear.
I finally reach the highest limb, the one I came for. The ultimate trophy. Maybe I’ll cut it and have it mounted so I can hang it on my bedroom wall. I press the saw into the limb and immediately realize that this flimsy little thing probably isn’t going to do the job. Maybe Harper was right and I should have hired someone, but it’s too late now. I’ve managed to get the saw about a quarter of the way into the wood, but it isn’t going any further no matter what I do.
And then one of those moments happens where you don’t really know what happened. I pull on the saw in an effort to get it out of the wood so I can climb back down and look up tree trimmers on my wonderful phone. Instead, when I pull on it, I lose my grip, tumbling down through the tree limbs like a pinball hitting every obstacle along the way.
When I land, it’s in the middle of the tree where all of the limbs converge together at the base. I’m in pain in so many areas that I can’t think straight.
“Help! Help!” I call out, worried that I might pass out from the pain at any moment. I have no other way to get help since my phone is on the porch. “Help!”
“Indy! Oh my God! What happened?” I hear Dawson saying as he starts to push the limbs away like they’re toothpicks in an effort to get to me. It dawns on me that he got there awfully fast.
“I fell from the top…” I manage to mumble. My eyes are getting heavy, and I’m talking softer than I mean to.
“Does anything hurt?” he asks as he crouches in the tree with me.
“Everything hurts…”
I can feel him touching different parts of me. I wonder if I’m bleeding, but I can’t get the energy to even ask. Why am I so tired?
“Stay awake, Indy. I’m going to get you help okay? You’re going to be okay.” He sounds so sure, yet terrified. I can hear his voice shaking as he makes a call. And then my mind goes blank.
The next memory I have includes lots of beeping noises and bright lights. When I finally manage to open my eyes fully, I recognize the emergency department at Peach Valley Hospital. I have a faint memory of getting stitches here once when I was a kid, and not much has changed.
“Oh, thank God. You’re awake. You scared me to death,” Dawson says. He’s sitting beside the bed, one of his hands holding mine and the other rubbing my forehead. I’ve never heard his voice sound so strained, so full of emotion. And the look on his face is one of sheer relief.
“I’m so sore,” I say. It feels like someone kicked me in the head, and then for good measure they hit me with a baseball bat on my arms and legs. Even my ribs hurt.
“You took quite a tumble, Miss Stone,” the doctor says above me. “Thankfully, it’s mostly bruising, but you do have a slight concussion. So we’re going to keep you overnight for observation, and then you need to stay off your feet for at least a week.”
“Harper?” I say to Dawson.
“She’s fine. Staying with Olivia. I just texted her and told her you’re awake.”
I turn my attention back to the doctor. “I can’t take a week off work…”
He gives me a stern look. “You can and you will. You were very lucky that this young man found you so quickly. It could’ve been a really serious situation.”
After he walks out of the room, I look at Dawson. “My hero.”
He smiles. “Don’t you know by now that I will always do what I can to help you, Indy? No matter what.”
“How did you get there so fast? Were you watching me be an idiot?” My throat feels like I’ve been gargling rocks, and those little things shooting oxygen up my nose are highly uncomfortable.
“Nope. I happened to walk outside to check the mail when I saw you climbing up the tree. I was worried about you, so I started walking up to your house to tell you it wasn’t a good idea… Then you started yelling for help…” His voice is shakier than I expected. “You scared me, Indy. I never want to hear you yelling for help like that again, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I say with a soft laugh. He leans in and looks at me, not an ounce of amusement on his face.
“I’m serious. You need help, you call me. You don’t do things that could get you hurt. I can’t deal with it. Okay?”
“Okay, Dawson. I’m sorry. It’s going to be alright.” I don’t know why he’s so upset, but then I’ve been out like a light for awhile now. In fact, I have no idea what time it is. “How long was I asleep?”
“About three hours.”
“Three hours? Wow.”
“Longest three hours of my life…” I hear him say under his breath before he lays his head down on my upper arm. A few moments later, I can hear him lightly snoring.
“Can I get you anything else? More water?” he asks as he stands in my bedroom doorway. After leaving the hospital, the doctor gave me strict instructions to stay in bed for one week, and Dawson intends to stand guard to make sure that happens.
“I’m fine, Dawson. I promise. See? I’ve got the two bottles of water you gave me as back up.” I hold up the two plastic bottles and shake them a bit, smiling at his doting nature. “Don’t you need to get to work?”
He shakes his head. “No. I took the week off. I’m not leaving your side, Indy Stone.” He sits at the end of my bed.
“Dawson, you can’t take a week off. I’m okay. If I need something major, I can call Lisa. She’s just across the street and she offered…”
“I’m staying here. Besides, I’ve never taken a vacation day at the school, so they owe me a lot of days.”
“This isn’t a vacation.”
“Anyw
here with you is a vacation for me,” he says before standing up and adjusting the mini blinds to bring in more light. “Any idea what you want for lunch?”
“Filet mignon?” I tease.
He raises an eyebrow. “Say the word.”
“I think a grilled cheese sandwich and sweet tea would be sufficient.” I’m truly afraid he’ll actually go get filet mignon for lunch.
I still feel really sore, so the doctor prescribed some pain pills for me. With my family history, I refuse to take them but I know they’re available if the pain gets worse. For now, I’ll just use ibuprofen.
“Want to watch TV? I also brought some DVDs in case you haven’t seen these movies…”
“You’re a really good nurse, Dawson Woods.” He turns and smiles at me.
“I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”
“I am. But I hate that you’re wasting your vacation on me.”
He walks toward me and sits down beside me. “I wondered about you for years, Indy. I thought I might never see you again. There is truly no place I’d rather be than right here, sitting on the edge of your bed.” I can hear the emotion in his voice.
“Dawson, what’s wrong? You seem way more upset about this accident than I am.”
He takes in a deep breath. “When I heard you screaming for help, it did things to me. I couldn’t get my feet to move fast enough. I felt so unequipped to help you…”
“But you did help me.”
“Indy, there were things happening in that moment that happen to me a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“I could hear sounds from when I was in Iraq. Everything around me changed from this serene little neighborhood to the desert. I could see bombs going off in the distance. I could feel the ground shaking under my feet…”
“You have PTSD.” I don’t ask it as a question. I declare it as a fact. I’m a therapist, and I know PTSD when I hear it.
He nods his head silently. “So when I heard you screaming for help, I went into survival mode. Serena screamed just before…” He’s staring straight ahead again, stuck in some place that I can’t see or access.
