Chances Are

by Wendy Lindstrom

  In the golden light of the moon, she could see the playful spark in his eyes—and also that he was serious.

  She stared at him, both speechless and amazed. There was so much more to Dawson than she’d suspected. When she had met him, he seemed to be an extremely intelligent, and rather solitary, gentleman. But as they’d spent time together during the summer months, she discovered that he was witty, charmingly playful, and adventurous. Now, in his eyes, she saw a smoldering passion that thrilled her.

  As if he could read her mind, his lips quirked up on one side. “Shall we go inside before we both freeze in the street?”

  Several hours later, Nancy found herself staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, unable to sleep. She had tossed and turned, and even tried to read for a while, hoping it would help quiet her mind. Her body was weary from the long, demanding day, but her mind raced with several thoughts, all of them vying for attention. She replayed Dawson’s kiss over and over, basking in the feelings it stirred within her. His warmth had drawn her in. But that warmth flared into flames of desire. That warm, wonderful heat was something she hadn’t experienced in more than two decades.

  And it thrilled her.

  It also scared her.

  And it shamed her.

  Because she wanted more.

  And that truth made her cry.

  She’d promised Hal that she would never betray him or their love, and yet that’s exactly what she was doing with each thought of Dawson.

  And so went her thoughts until, finally, she abandoned her attempt at sleep. She slipped from her bed and retrieved her housecoat from the hook on her closet door. She ran a hand over the quilted, rose-colored fabric, and sighed. This was one of the last gifts Hal had given her before he died. He’d sent one of the boys to a local shop to have it made for her, because he could no longer walk on his own. The housecoat was badly worn now, and the satin edging was frayed, but she couldn’t bring herself to add it to her box of sewing scraps. Holding onto the gifts Hal had given her was her way of holding onto him… onto their memories and their love.

  She pulled on the robe and fastened the belt tightly around her waist. After sliding her feet into her slippers, she quietly turned her doorknob and stepped into the hall. As she’d done so many times near the end of Hal’s life, she headed to the kitchen, alone and hurting, needing a cup of tea to soothe her nerves.

  But when she entered the kitchen, she pulled up short at the sight of Dawson sitting at her table. He sat with his elbows propped on the scarred oak surface, his hands wrapped around a mug. He’d been staring deeply into the cup, as though searching for answers in the steaming brew. A taper candle burned low on the window sill, but not so low that she couldn’t see him and the shadow of whiskers on his face—or the surprise in his eyes when he lifted his head and noticed her.

  A slight smiled tipped his lips.

  Those lips, that had kissed her with passion just a few hours ago, were so tempting to a lonely woman.

  “It’s becoming a habit, meeting you here in our nightclothes,” he said quietly.

  She smiled, glad to be rescued from her loneliness. “I see I’m not the only one wandering the house tonight.”

  “A bad habit of mine, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “There’s hot tea, if you’d like a cup.”

  “It’s a bad habit we share, then, and yes, I’d like a cup of tea,” she replied.

  “I’ll get it for you.” He rose from the chair. “I was about to get a second cup for myself.”

  “All right. Thank you.” Nancy settled into her usual seat at the table and watched as Dawson poured the tea, filling a cup for her and topping off his own, before he returned to the table.

  “Other than the fact that the maddening pace of the world is distressing you, Nancy, what did you think of the lighting ceremony, tonight?” he asked.

  She suspected that this wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, but it was a safe topic for both of them. “Well,” she said, “I think the electric lights will do a better job of lighting our village, but I prefer the look of our gas lights.”

  “Agreed on both counts.” Dawson sat and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  She could see his bare feet and blue pajamas bottoms beneath his silk robe. It was a wealthy man’s robe, and seeing him in his intimate apparel made her cheeks warm. His knowing perusal increased her discomfort, and she dipped her head to sip her tea.

  “I enjoyed spending time with your boys today at the mill,” he said. “I’m quite impressed with them and their operation. You and Hal have done a fine job of raising your sons.”

  “Thank you. I’m very proud of my sons and the lives they have built for themselves. They didn’t have it easy. Losing their father during their teen years forced them to grow up too fast, but they found strength in each other, and that loving connection still carries them through the hardest times in their lives. I’m very fortunate, Dawson. My boys and their families have filled my heart and my home with love.”

  “I can see that. In all honestly, I’ve thought a lot about your boys, and even about Hal, today. I know that you and Hal had many happy years together, and that his death broke your heart,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.”

  His comment made her nose sting, and she had to blink to clear the sudden welling of moisture from her eyes.

  Dawson reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. “I’m not asking you to forget him, you know.”

  She nodded because her throat was too choked for her to speak.

  “Before you came into my life, I was just pushing through one day to the next.” Dawson released her hand and braced his elbows on the table again. “I thought I was content living on my own, in my small house in Crane Landing. I’d created a quiet and safe life for myself, and it was enough for me. Then you came along like a burst of sunshine appearing from behind a sky full of gray clouds. When I felt your warmth, Nancy, life began pumping through my veins again. The day we rowed up Crane River, I knew without doubt that I wanted you to be in my life.” His lips tipped in a soft smile and his gaze held hers. “I’m not exaggerating when I say it was one of the best days of my life.”

  She sighed and nodded. “It was a good day, Dawson That was the first time in many, many years that I felt like I was just… me. Not a wife, not a mother, just a woman enjoying the day. I hadn’t experienced that in so long, I’d nearly forgotten that I was ever anything other than a mother and grandmother.” She shrugged. “Seems hard to believe that I met and married Hal just weeks before my seventeenth birthday. My entire adult life has been spent as a wife, mother, and grandmother. I hardly know anything else, Dawson. But, that day on the river with you, I felt young again.” She smiled. “You can’t know what a gift that was.”

  “Actually, I do understand.”

  His gentle declaration made her pause, their gazes entwined.

  “When I had my accident, I lost my ability to design ships. I loved that more than anything,” he said. “That fall didn’t just injure my head and leg, it broke my heart. But the worst injury, and the biggest waste, was that I sacrificed my youth grieving my loss. Only after meeting you, did I fully realize that. And though I still suffer moments of confusion on occasion, I refuse to waste anymore of my life because I fear those episodes or grieve my loss.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ve both experienced loss and a broken heart. Nothing’s going to ever heal that heartache. But we don’t have to allow it to consume the rest of our lives, do we?”

  She turned her palm up and linked fingers with him. “We shouldn’t,” she said quietly. “I’ve often wondered why you shut yourself away after your accident. You have a wonderful family that loves you, and you could have easily afforded a full time staff to cater to your needs around the clock.”

  “I didn’t want anyone around me. It was too difficult to communicate.” He shook his head and sighed. “When I woke from the coma, I had to relearn how to talk and tie my own shoes. It was frustrating and… hu
miliating. I was experiencing hallucinations and was easily confused, and that would make me panic. At that point in time, I just wanted to hide from the world. So I did. I bought that little cottage on the hillside, and I mostly kept to myself. I know this isn’t kind to say, but I didn’t want to see anyone, including my family. I just wanted to curl up and lick my wounds in private.”

  Nancy nodded, because she understood that desire to hide away. “That’s how I felt after Hal died. The only reason I got up each day was for my boys. They needed me, and I didn’t have the luxury of shutting myself away.”

  Dawson cocked his head, his eyes searching hers. “I think the mother in you kept going, Nancy. But that girl who married Hal? She’s still curled up in her room, licking her wounds.”

  Nancy’s jaw dropped, and she opened her mouth to refute his declaration, but Dawson held up a hand.

  “I’m not condemning you. I truly understand. But I also know when you were in Crane Landing, I met that young woman. I saw life in that girl’s eyes, and I think she’s ready to step out of that room full of grief and despair.”

  His words shocked her. She wanted to be offended, to defend her right to protect her memories of her beloved husband. But Dawson was right. And he wasn’t condemning her. He was simply making an observation. One that Nancy had been unwilling, or unable, to see for herself.

  Her need to defend herself slipped away with her breath. Her shoulders sank beneath the truth. “After Hal became ill, I forgot what it was like to be a woman. He needed my care full time. My boys needed their mother. We had a business to run and times were hard. Radford was away—he hadn’t returned after the war. Kyle was barely an adult and was forced to step in at the mill. It was all I could do to raise the boys, and to pay the bills, and to help Kyle keep the mill running. I didn’t have time for anything else. And then Hal died, and over the years, I got lost in the doing. Before I knew it, my sons were grown and I found myself a grandmother.” She shrugged. “Circumstances forced me to focus on my family, and I was content with my life. I was lonely for Hal, but I never thought about a new romance. I never expected to meet… you. Where we go from here, Dawson, I just… I don’t know. Spending time with you fills me with such joy. But it also raises questions that make my heart ache. I have my family to consider, and I… I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, but I simply can’t answer your question yet.”

  Dawson looked at their joined hands, and slowly lifted her fingers to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her knuckles and kissed them. “I understand. I know this is a lot for you to consider. As I mentioned when I proposed, we can split our time between Fredonia and Crane Landing. We can travel back and forth often. We can bring your family, every one of them, to Crane Landing for vacations. You now have grandchildren in both places, so there is no longer a perfect solution for you, Nancy, regardless of what you decide with respect to us. Your family is no longer living in one place. I do request, at least, that you’ll give me an answer before I return to Crane Landing.”

  “I will, Dawson,” she said softly. She stood and pressed her palm to his whisker-shadowed cheek. “You deserve so much more than I can give you.” And with one last look into his eyes, she retreated to her room before she committed herself to something she couldn’t undo.

  Dawson remained at the table, watching the shadows from the candlelight dance across the kitchen walls. His heart ached for Nancy and the struggles she’d faced in her life. He sympathized with the vibrant young girl who’d gotten buried by her roles as wife, mother, and grandmother. He appreciated those parts of her life, and he knew they all brought her great joy, but they also demanded a great deal of her. Listening to her talk about having all of her sons at home, and the sadness she felt about her grandchildren growing up and leaving, made him realize how deeply she needed to be near her family.

  He tried to imagine her life here with Hal, in this house. In this kitchen. Was this the chair where Hal had sat during family dinners? Nancy always sat at the end closest to the stove, telling him she had been taking that seat for many years. Did Hal sit at the head of the table beside his wife, or opposite her, as they took their meals as a family? There were so many things about her life that Dawson wanted to know, and yet, at the same time, he didn’t. She’d given her heart to Hal, and there were times Dawson felt Hal crowding him out, even in his absence.

  Dawson imagined her sons as young boys, and then young men, sitting around the kitchen table. He imagined the gaping absence they felt while Radford was away at war, and the fear it instilled as his fate was unknown. He thought about the great responsibility forced on her boys at such a young age. Each had taken on the responsibilities of the family business, and of supporting their mother. Despite the sacrifice and hardship, they had each prospered and made good lives for themselves. And they had taken good care of Nancy in the process. Hal Grayson would be proud of his sons and their hard work, and deeply honored by all they had done to keep his legacy alive at the mill and within his family. And he would be most proud of Nancy and her resilience in the face of tremendous heartbreak.

  Hal’s loss had deeply wounded this family. The man had taken his meager beginnings and built a thriving business based on hard work, honor, and integrity. Each of his sons exhibited those same traits, in no small part because of Hal’s influence. But it was Hal’s ability to win Nancy’s love— a love that had endured more than two decades of his absence—that Dawson envied.

  He knew that Nancy welcomed his friendship, and had even embraced his romantic pursuit, especially while they were in Crane Landing, but now would she make room in her life for him? He was in love with her. He was sure of it. It had become apparent to him the day they rowed up Crane River to the lighthouse. In all of his years of bachelorhood, even before his accident, he had never met anyone who could capture his attention and enchant him as Nancy did. He had courted other women, and even after his accident ladies were interested in his suit, but he had never returned their interest beyond casual courtship.

  Seeing his siblings with their happy families had been a constant reminder of what he was missing, but Dawson had never found his true love with whom to build a family. And after the accident, he’d become so reclusive there wasn’t a chance of finding love. He’d convinced himself that he was content. But then Nancy Grayson appeared and turned his world upside down.

  She had startled him awake. She had poked the bear, and now that he was awake, he wasn’t going to hibernate another minute, nor was he going to let her get away.

  He may not be her first love, but he could be her last. He would show her that she could make room in her heart for him and still honor Hal’s memory. He would prove to her that their love was a risk worth taking, and that she deserved a love, and a life, of her own.

  With a final confident nod, Dawson placed his hands on the table and pushed to his feet. He snuffed the candle, walked across the moonlight kitchen, and returned to his room. He had a plan now and he fully intended to see it through to a successful end.

  As he passed Nancy’s room, he noted her door ajar. She stood in front of her dressing table with her back to him, running a brush through the warm auburn depths of her hair that hung to her waist. The soft curve of her body was silhouetted through her nightshift by the lamp on her night stand. For a moment, Dawson stood frozen in place, drinking in her beauty, falling more deeply in love by the minute. He hadn’t meant to intrude on her privacy, and so he turned away and went to his room. But as he closed his door he knew that somehow, someway, he would help that beautiful woman claim a new love and the life she deserved.

  Chapter Six

  December 23, 1890

  Nancy wrestled two large baskets outside and set them on her front porch. As she buttoned her coat, she squinted to shield her eyes from the glare of morning sun reflecting off the snow. She was thankful that the wind had calmed considerably since the previous evening. She couldn’t tolerate the bitter cold anymore.

  Carefully, she lugged the
baskets down the steps, careful to avoid the patch of ice that had nearly been her downfall the previous evening. Adam or Dawson had shoveled the steps before they left for the orphanage this morning, but a stubborn patch of ice still coated the far side of one tread. The icy walk reminded her of how Dawson’s strong arms had kept her upright on their walk home from the lighting ceremony—and how he’d wrapped them around her and kissed her beneath the full moon.

  The memory both pleased and shamed her. She’d never even thought about kissing any man but Hal. But for all her silent protestations, she longed for Dawson’s arms. She wanted his companionship. She ached to have someone to share her life with again.

  Her promise to Hal was made long ago, and she was a widow with the legal right to pursue marriage with another man. No one would question that. But she had promised to love Hal always and forever. And she did love him. And she always would.

  So how could she feel these things for Dawson?

  Was she so lonely that she was just caught up in his attention?

  Or was it possible to love two men at the same time?

  Her thoughts twisted her heart into knots of discomfort.

  The rattling sound of a team of horses pulling in the drive rescued her from the agony of her relentless thoughts.

  She looked up and saw a Rebecca sitting atop Radford’s sleigh, pulled by a matching pair of bay Morgans named Beau and Biscuit. Looking vibrant and beautiful in her pretty red coat and matching wool hat, Rebecca walked the horses to the steps and came to a gentle stop in front of Nancy.

  “Good morning, Grandma!” Rebecca said, looking happy and comfortable at the helm of her father’s sleigh. The sideboards sported a fresh coat of white paint, and the nickel-plated rails had been polished to a brilliant shine. Nancy wasn’t sure how many Christmases Rebecca remembered but knew this year’s Sleigh of Hope would be a special one for all of them. “Ready for our outing?” Rebecca asked, her smile wide and beautiful, her dark eyes sparkling with youthful energy as she gazed down from where she sat atop the spring cushioned seat.