by Liz Isaacson
She’d told no one about the break-up, though she went to the family dinners every week.
On Wednesday when she showed up with a sack of chocolate chip cookies from the bakery, Wren gave her a side-hug. “The bakery, huh?”
“Well, some of us don’t have time to bake now that they’re working two jobs.”
Wren smiled, but ever since she’d had Etta, she’d seemed tired. Her hair had changed color, and the texture was more like straw than anything else. Dawn’s selfish side reared it’s ugly head once more. She didn’t want to trade in certain aspects of her life, though Etta was a cute little thing that made the sweetest noises.
Wren held the baby now and said, “I’m so glad she’s sleeping. Hopefully, she’ll be napping when I come tomorrow too.”
“Does she not sleep at night?” Their mother joined the conversation from her position at the stove, where she had three pans of potatoes frying.
“Not really, no.” Wren bounced Etta the teensiest bit. “She thinks nighttime is the best time to be awake.”
Dawn agreed with the baby, actually, but she wanted to sleep when she wanted to, not when an eight-pound human let her. She turned away from Wren, wishing she could turn away from her own thoughts as easily.
“When are you going to invite McDermott to meet the family?” Wren asked.
Dawn blinked, and when she opened her eyes, all she saw was white for a moment. Her mother said nothing, but the woman had ears like a bat. She could maneuver in the dark toward any sound and understand words that had been whispered from across the room. Dawn supposed raising nine children could develop keen hearing for a person.
Dawn turned back to Wren, glad no one else was in the kitchen for now. “Um, I’m not seeing him anymore.”
Her mother dropped the spatula she’d been using at the same time Wren’s eyes widened. “What? Why not? You guys were so good together.” Wren seemed honestly confused.
“It’s…I don’t know,” Dawn said lamely. If her father were in the room, she’d never be able to get away with “I don’t know.” If any of the kids ever said that, he’d said, “That’s not an answer. Think about it. You know.”
And she did know why she’d ended her relationship with McDermott. She just didn’t want to say it out loud.
But Wren was staring at her, and the potatoes were going to be extra-crispy for dinner, as her mom hadn’t even attempted to pick up the spatula she’d dropped, nor had she moved to get out another one.
“Look,” she said, flustered and annoyed that she had to answer to her mom and perfect older sister. “I’m not like you, Wren. I’m never going to meet the man of my dreams and have babies and be a wonderful mother.”
Wren opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“Dawn—” her mother started.
“I’m the wild child, Mom. Isn’t that what you always say? Well, I don’t want the plain, boring suburban life McDermott has to offer. Plain as that.” If only she didn’t feel like she’d just told the largest lie on the planet.
She did want love. And stability. And the ability to roam free. Get outside the typical stereotype of what a family should look like. Because with McDermott, she’d never have the typical family.
The front door opened and the twins walked in, babbling to each other about an online shoe sale and if the website offered free returns or not.
“I’m going to go,” Dawn said. “You can keep the cookies.”
“Don’t go,” her mom said at the same time Wren said, “You don’t need to leave.”
But Dawn didn’t want to be there. Didn’t want to endure their helpless, sympathetic looks. Didn’t want to continue the conversation, especially not with more ears present.
“I’m not mad,” she said, which made Jazzy and Fabi stop talking. “Hey, guys.” She turned to them and used a falsely bright voice. “I just had something come up, so I’m gonna head out.”
She got her feet moving, knowing she could escape if she just got going. Behind her, Wren said something but Dawn didn’t wait. She’d just unlocked her car when Wren came out the front door, babyless.
“Dawn, wait.” She approached slower when she realized Dawn wasn’t going to get in her car and drive off. “I’m not even close to a wonderful mother.”
Dawn cinched her teeth together. There was no point in making Wren feel bad because she did all the right things.
“Mom rides me constantly.” Wren sighed and scraped her bangs off her forehead. “Nothing I do with Etta is right. I can’t even get her to sleep at night. I mean, people sleep at night, don’t they?”
For the first time, Dawn took a moment to hear Wren’s frustration and realize that she had struggles and troubles of her own. Maybe she made everything she did look effortless, but that didn’t mean it was.
“If you go, then I have to deal with the twins alone. Berlin isn’t coming, and I can’t handle Jazzy and Fabi while they’re talking about fashion.” The twins had wanted to be fashion designers from the moment they were born, if their mother was to be believed. They both sewed everything they wore, and Dawn had always seen it as another way they excelled while she failed.
“I’m not up for talking about McDermott.” Dawn folded her arms. She couldn’t believe she was even considering going back inside for the family dinner.
“Nope.” Wren shook her head. “No talking about McDreamy. I mean, McDermott.” She grinned at Dawn and waved back toward the house. “Come on, they were already arguing about a wedge-heeled sandal when I left.”
Wren had been true to her word and kept her mouth shut about McDermott during dinner. But when she showed up at the office the next day with her sleeping baby, the first thing she said was, “Tate said McDermott’s been in a funk for weeks. How long ago did you guys break up?”
“Couple of months now,” Dawn said.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Wren seemed genuinely hurt.
“You’ve been busy with the baby. Dawn pulled out the folder she’d prepared for this meeting. “Okay, so we have four new clients on the residential maid service that Jazzy and Fabi have been doing. When I booked the last one, you should’ve heard Jazzy freak out.”
Wren shook her head as she scanned the new accounts and family names Dawn had added to their clientele. “She acts like working six hours a day is too much.”
“She should try doing it between eight PM and two AM,” Dawn said.
“You don’t like the commercial schedule?” Wren peered at her with concern in her eyes.
“No, I love it.” She sighed and sat at the desk. “I didn’t get any new commercial businesses, so you’ll have to add that to the September goals.”
“Honestly, we can’t handle any more clients without hiring more people.” She perched on the edge of the desk and ignored the folder. “And every time I ask Dad about that, he says he won’t do it. ‘Family only.’”
“Which is why he and Kyler are killing themselves and working seven days a week.” Dawn shook her head. “They have to replace Brennan. He worked full time just on the rec center and schools.”
“No one wants to work as hard as we do for our business. They’ve hired and lost two guys.”
Wren went through the accounts receivable and payable and told Dawn that she’d done a great job. “Are you happy you won’t have to man this desk anymore?”
“Truthfully, it hasn’t been too bad. Combined with my commercial cleaning, it’s tough. But if this was all I did, it wouldn’t be so bad.”
Wren nodded, her expression thoughtful. “What really happened with you and McDermott? He’s not happy, and you’re obviously not either.”
Dawn folded her arms and looked at her sister. “He’s been married before. He has a daughter. And I don’t want to be a mother.” She ticked the items off on her fingers as she spoke. “So there’re three strikes against him. Oh, and he lives with his grandmother. Four strikes. He’s out.”
She sounded callous and what she’d said was utterly ridicul
ous. But Wren took a few moments to ponder it, and Dawn appreciated that.
“He shouldn’t get a strike for being a widower,” she said.
“He’ll never love me as much as Amelia.”
“So what?” Wren challenged. “ He doesn’t have to love you as much or more. He just has to love you.” She spoke softly, but her eyes held great power. “Do you think he loves you?”
“I don’t know,” Dawn said again, though at certain moments during her relationship with McDermott she’d certainly felt loved.
“He gets a pass for the daughter too,” Wren said. “He can’t just get rid of her because you don’t want her.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want her,” Dawn said. “I love Taya. She’s a great kid.”
“He can buy a new house.” Wren held up four fingers and put three of them down. “I’ll give you that you don’t want to be a mother. But don’t you think that’s a strike against you? Not him?”
Dawn blinked. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.” And McDermott hadn’t judged her for any of them.
“Don’t make him one of them.” Wren lifted one shoulder as if to say, That’s all I’m sayin’. Then she picked up her baby carrier and balanced it on her hip. “I’ve got to go. You can sleep in again on Monday. I know you like your beauty rest.” She gave Dawn a quick smile and left the office.
Dawn stared after her. Don’t make him one of your mistakes.
She couldn’t get her phone out fast enough.
Chapter Thirteen
McDermott had just written a ticket, meeting his quota for September, when his phone rang. “Hey, Nana,” he said after he picked up.
“I think you need to get over to the station,” she said.
He frowned and cocked his head toward the radio. It hadn’t gone off, and if the police department in Brush Creek needed him, they knew how to get ahold of him. “Why’s that?”
When she didn’t answer, every mental red flag McDermott possessed went up. “Nana?” He drew her name out slowly, quickly calculating how long it would take him to get back to Brush Creek. He’d been patrolling north and west today, and he was probably twenty minutes from the station. Twenty-five from the elementary school.
“Is Taya okay?”
“Taya’s fine,” she said a bit evasively.
“Then why do I need to go to the station?” He’d been dropping Taya at school and then going to work, which was about an hour later than he normally did. Nana Reba picked her up and he made it home about six, just in time for dinner.
Once Taya was in bed, he ran over to the station in time to catch a glimpse of Dawn, but she’d been gone the last three nights. He didn’t want to admit that his heart had taken a beating, that he’d driven by her apartment over the bookstore just to see if there were any lights on.
There had been, and he wondered if she was sick. If she needed help. If maybe cookies would be welcome. She’d told him once that cookies would always be welcome, but he hadn’t stopped by the bakery yet.
“Nana, if you can’t give me a reason to come to the station, I have work to do out on the highways.”
She exhaled like he was being the most difficult man on the planet. “When’s your paperwork day?”
“Not until the new month,” he said, watching as a motorist slowed when they saw him parked on the side of the road.
“All right. I’ll tell her.”
“Tell who?”
“Gotta go.” The line went dead and McDermott stared at his cell, completely bewildered. When he got home, Nana Reba was asleep on the couch. Or at least she pretended to be. McDermott narrowed his eyes at her, trying to determine if her breathing was a fake slow or if she was actually asleep.
Taya skipped into the room and said, “Daddy! Come see what I made at school.” She put her tiny hand in his and tugged him into the kitchen. Dinner in the form of hamburgers and fruit sat on the counter, and he put together a bun with mayo, ketchup, and mustard as Taya talked a mile a minute about the painting she’d made.
“It’s watercolors, Daddy. And I put the black on first, and the water didn’t stick to it, like how we do the Easter eggs.”
He grinned at her. “Looks great, baby. Did you eat dinner?”
“Yep. Nana said she was real tired because they closed up the fields today.”
“Ah, I see.” And yet, she still had time to call him about nonsensical things.
“She said there’s salad in the fridge.”
“Lettuce salad or potato salad?” He was only interested in the non-green stuff, and Taya opened the fridge and pulled out a plastic container.
“Potato. I helped peel the eggs.”
“You don’t say.” He beamed at her because she seemed so proud at herself.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Why doesn’t Dawn come over anymore? I asked Nana Reba, but she said she didn’t know.”
McDermott put his hamburger down and finished chewing, trying to find the right words for a six-year-old. “Remember how I said we were dating?”
She nodded, her innocent blue eyes wide. She’d believe anything he told her. So he chose his next words carefully. “Sometimes, when people do that, they’re learning about each other. You know, to see if they like each other. Like when you make a new friend.”
“Like Kara.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at his daughter. “Just like that. She told you about her pup, and you told her about Thelma and Louise, and you get along.” He took a long breath. “So that’s what me and Dawn were doing. And we were gettin’ along, and….” His voice trailed off, because he didn’t know how to tell his daughter that Dawn wasn’t ready. He barely understood it himself.
He’d never stopped to consider if he was ready to be a father. And certainly no one had asked him if he was ready to be a widower and a single dad.
“Did you get in a fight?” Taya asked.
“Sort of,” he said. “We still talk a little. I think we’ll get back together…eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means sooner or later.”
Taya nodded, though McDermott knew that wasn’t a great explanation either. “I liked her.”
“I did too,” McDermott said, pinching off a piece of his meat to feed to Thelma. “I did too.”
When Dawn wasn’t at the police station for a fourth night in a row, his heart sank down to the toes of his boots. Maybe she’d changed her schedule so she cleaned it later. Or earlier. No matter what, it was a very clear message that said, Leave me alone, McDermott.
But somehow, he couldn’t do it.
He placed a call and stared at the entrance to the police station while the line rang.
“McDermott?” Walker asked, clearly confused. “What’s goin’ on? You okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I just realized how late it is.” And for a cowboy like Walker who got up early, nine-thirty might as well be midnight.
He yawned. “It’s fine. Haven’t seen you up here in the several weeks.”
He hadn’t been able to go since school started. They hadn’t gone while Taya’s leg healed either. “Yeah, or I’d have mentioned that Dawn and I broke up.”
“I know that. You’ve been sittin’ alone at church.”
“Right. So I’ve, uh, been seeing her at the police station. She cleans it at night, and I go in sometimes after Taya goes to bed, you know?” He cleared his throat. “So anyway, she hasn’t been here the last four nights.”
“It’s McDermott,” Walker said, half into the receiver and half not. “I’m askin’ ‘im.” His voice was louder when he said, “Tess wants to know what’s goin’ on with you two. Anyway, where do you think she is?”
“I don’t know. Should I call her?”
“What did you do last time you wanted to get her attention? Get a real answer?”
“I called her.”
“There you go.”
Pure fear struck
him behind the ribs. “I think if I do, and it’s the wrong thing to do, it will be the end for us.”
“But what if it’s the right thing to do?”
“Call her,” Tess yelled from somewhere on the other end of the line.
“Why’d you guys break up?”
“Oh, she’s not ready for all the complications I bring to the table.” He wouldn’t have to explain more than that to Walker. Thankfully.
“Call her. Then you better at least text me back so Tess can sleep tonight.” Scuffling came through the line, followed by both of them laughing, and McDermott basked in the sound of it for just a moment.
With one call done, and another to be made, McDermott gathered his wits about him. He’d had to sequester himself in his closet the first time he’d called Dawn and practically demanded what it would take to get her to go out with him.
“What should I say this time?” he asked the Lord. Nothing definitive came to mind, so he did the only thing he’d been able to rely on since Amelia’s death.
He acted, trusting in his faith that the words would come.
Her line rang once, twice, three times. In the middle of the fourth ring, he felt sure the call would go to voicemail. Then her beautiful voice said, “Hello?”
“Oh, hey,” he said as if he hadn’t intentionally dialed her number. He took a deep breath and launched right into it. “I haven’t seen you at the station in a few nights, and I was worried maybe you’ve been sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“I…miss you.”
She sighed, but he couldn’t tell if it was borne from exasperation or if it was the soft, sweet sigh he’d heard her give after he kissed her. “Hey, can I call you tomorrow? I’m really busy right now.”
He strained to hear something in the background that would tell him where she was. He heard nothing. “Yeah, sure,” he finally said.
“Great, talk to you later.” She hung up, and he stared out the windshield. He needed to see her every day. It had been the only thing keeping him sane these past nine weeks they’d been apart. But without another choice, he eased the cruiser on home and went to bed.
