by L. D. Davis
I know that I am asleep and not dead because I can hear, I can smell, and I can feel.
“My baby girl. My poor baby.”
That’s my mama. Crying quietly as she strokes my arm…at least I think she is stroking my arm. It’s hard to tell if it is her fingers on my skin or my imagination.
After hours, minutes, or possibly only a matter of seconds, I am unaware again. Not dreaming. Not awake. Just…not here, or there, or anywhere.
Again, it can be hours, minutes, or seconds that pass by before I am aware again. This time, it is my daddy. He is holding my hand and singing. He hasn’t sung to me in years. I want to cry as he softly croons “Hello Darlin’” by Conway Twitty. It is an old country song that he used to sing to me.
I remember being very young, standing on his feet as he danced me around our living room, singing this song to me. He had lifted me into his arms and planted extra loud kisses all over my face when Conway requested a kiss from his darlin’ for old time’s sake.
I try to squeeze Daddy’s hand, but I can’t move, and much too soon, I am slipping away again…
More time passes, and Cade is crying and apologizing.
Poor Caden.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Dar. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I feel his tears on my hand, I think. I love him, and it hurts, and it confuses me, so I always let the darkness take me when he comes.
Sometimes I hear other voices. Some I recognize, like Kenzie and Perry. Daisy, and Cherry. I don’t always know what they’re all saying. Sometimes when it is quiet, I hear an echo of their words, mixing together and they make no sense.
Time has no real meaning because I can’t tell how much of it has come and gone anymore. I don’t know how long I am gone or how long I am here. When I hear him, I don’t know how much time has passed since the last time I was aware, or who I last heard, or what my last thoughts were. I only know his voice. His touch. His smell.
“I love you. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. Wake up, baby. Please, wake up. Wake up. I love you, Darla. Wake up. Wake up…”
Woods smoke. Fresh pine. The scent of coming snow in the mountains. Home. Home. He smells like home.
I want to wake up. I claw and claw my way to the surface, only to fall back into nothingness.
More time. More sound. I focus on none of it until I smell him again. Feel his fingers laced with mine. Hear his pleas.
“Wake up. Wake up. Don’t leave me. I love you. Can you hear me? I love you. Wake up.”
I was awake, but I didn’t open my eyes. My heart was speeding. I had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for Connor. My night of baking had caught up to me.
I was lying on my good side, with a pillow I didn’t remember having tucked under my head, and a blanket draped over my body. The top of my head was lightly pressed up against a hard thigh, and a hand absently stroked the side of my head I had shaved weeks before.
A fire crackled in the fireplace, I could hear it and smell it, but it didn’t overpower the scent of the man beside me. The scent of the man that had brought me back to life in July.
“I heard you,” I whispered, opening my eyes finally. I gazed ahead at the flames that were warming the room.
There was a moment’s hesitation and his hand stilled on my hair. “Did I wake you?”
“I mean…I heard you when I was unconscious in the hospital. I heard you, and I smelled you. I didn’t realize it until now. I’ve been having these dreams, just bits and pieces of darkness with voices and sometimes sensations of people touching me. I understand now. They’re not dreams, but they’re memories. I think…I think every time it was you there with me that I tried to wake up. I mean, I tried to wake up for my family, too, especially my dad I think…I think he sang to me.”
Softly, I sang the first few lines of “Hello Darlin’.”
“I’m not imagining it, am I?” I asked Connor.
He began to stroke my hair again. “No. You’re not imagining it.”
We were silent for a few minutes except for Connor’s occasional typing on the laptop balanced on his lap.
“I woke up for you,” I breathed.
Connor’s hand froze in my hair again. “What?”
“I woke up for you,” I repeated. “I know I did. In my dreams, I tried so hard every time you came. I remember the desperation of wanting to open my eyes and just…wake up. I wanted to wake up because you kept begging me to. I heard you, Connor. I felt you, and I could smell you. You have always smelled so…so perfect. You have always smelled like home. You have always felt like home. The doctors said that I woke up because I was ready to, but I think I woke up because of you.”
There was such a long silence between us that I wasn’t sure if he had heard anything I’d said, or if I had even actually said it. Maybe I was still asleep, but no. He finally spoke after he cleared his throat and resumed caressing my hair.
“So, what you’re saying is that you woke up because you got tired of listening to me whine,” he said. He was trying to be funny, but I could hear the slight quaver in his voice.
“Well…I was going to say something totally cliché about fairytales and true love conquering all, but your explanation of your bellyaching annoying me into wakefulness is much more accurate.”
Slowly, I pushed myself up and looked at Connor. He raised an eyebrow.
“True love woke you up, huh?”
I leaned forward and daringly placed a swift, soft kiss on his mouth.
“Nope,” I said against his lips. “Definitely the bellyaching.”
I stood up as quickly as I could and hurried toward the bathroom with my lips still burning from the brief kiss.
Chapter Sixty
I was sitting outside on the porch with Caroline and Caleb when my dad pulled into the driveway early in the evening. I had left Connor’s a few hours earlier, not too long after I had given him that kiss.
I briefly touched my lips in remembrance of it, but refocused on the present as Caroline squealed with delight at the sight of our father and Caleb threw himself into his arms before he could even get all the way up the steps.
“Why, it’s my three youngest offspring,” Daddy said, putting Caleb back on his feet. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Crazy Caleb. Cutie Caroline.” He tickled her under her chubby chin, making her giggle. “And my Darlin’ Darla.” He kissed my cheek tenderly.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, giving him a broad smile.
He took Caroline from my arms. “What y’all doin’ out here? It’s kinda cold, ain’t it?”
“I came out here to wait for you, but then Caleb wanted to come out here and wait for you, too, and then Caroline started screamin’ because Caleb was outside and she wasn’t. So, here we all are.”
The door opened, and my mama stepped outside.
“Supper’s ready,” she announced.
“Can you take the little ones inside please, Genna? I wanna spend some time with Darla.”
She looked at us curiously but said nothing as she accepted Caroline into her arms.
“C’mon, Caleb,” she said, ushering him inside with a gentle hand. “Let your daddy and sister alone for a little while.”
She gave us one last look and disappeared inside with the kids and closed the door.
“I used to think our family was crazy,” I said as I looked at the spot my mom had stood. “You and Mama divorced. Then you married your son’s old classmate and started makin’ babies. Instead of your ex-wife being incensed and talkin’ trash, she comes in, befriends your new wife and loves your new children like her own. Sometimes you still treat her like she’s yours. You buy her gifts. You fix her car or whatever needs fixin’ on your own dime, and you protect her like you do anybody you love, and you welcome her into your home as if it’s still hers. I used to think it was all so bizarre, and it embarrassed me for a little while, but as I got older, I realized how lucky I am. I have this strong, solid family. Unlike other divorced families, there ain’t nothin’ broken
about this family.”
I turned and looked at my dad, who had taken the seat beside me on the swinging bench.
“And y’all were all there for me when I needed you. Every one of you. Sometimes…sometimes I feel so bad for some of the things I have said over the years about being here.”
Daddy stroked his jaw as he let out a sigh. “Darla, I said some things myself that I feel bad about. But it’s in the past, honey. After what happened to you…” He sighed again, shakily. “We just have to move forward. I hope you forgive me for all the hurtful things I’ve said to you over the years.”
I took his big, calloused hand and wrapped both of mine around it.
“Daddy, of course I do. I forgave you a long time ago. And I’m sorry,” I shook my head. “I didn’t mean…this ain’t why I waited out here for you.”
His blue eyes studied me. “What is it?”
“Well,” I said and took a breath. “I went over to Tilda’s today and applied for a part-time position. I only applied for part-time because I’m still healing, and I still have appointments every week, but it’s a step in the right direction, right? I can maybe move up to full-time in the early summer after I get the rod taken out of my leg—if I get it out. We’ll have to see.”
I expected him to smile with approval, and tell me he was happy that I was finally going to pull it together, but he didn’t do or say any of that. He stared at me with his mouth open for several seconds before he blinked and shook his head.
“Darla,” he started, and then released my hand to stand up. “Why in the hell did you do that?”
It was my turn to blink. “Um, because it’s what you’ve wanted me to do since I was sixteen years old?”
“So, is this temporary? Until your leg is better?”
My brow was pinched together in confusion. I really didn’t understand his reaction.
“I don’t know,” I answered with a shrug and a shake of the head and a nod all at once. “Semi-permanent? I don’t know. Why are you actin’ like I just told you I got a job at the strip club?”
“Darla,” he said my name with exasperation as he took my hands. “You never wanted to work at Tilda’s, honey. You adamantly and vehemently refused to work there. What changed your mind? What happened to your plans of leaving this place? Leaving this whole damn continent?”
I snorted with humorless laughter as I pulled my hands from his. I gestured wildly at my leg and the brace on it. “Hello! I can’t go nowhere for the unforeseeable future, Daddy. In case you didn’t get that memo, my damn leg is broken!”
“I know your damn leg is broken, smart ass,” he snapped. “I was there when you came out of surgery. It’s a broken leg, Darla, not a broken head.”
I tapped two fingers on my head. “Maybe you missed that memo, too. I thought you would be happy that I’m doin’ what you have always wanted me to do.”
“I’m not happy!” he bellowed, his face turning red. “Because you ain’t doin’ what you always wanted to do!”
“You hated my ideas and my dreams, Daddy,” I pointed out bitterly. “You told me that my life in Philly was a dead end. You told me that you could get me better jobs down here and that I should be here with my family. You told me that I wanted the impossible.”
“Darla,” he said my name with very little patience. “I told you that your job in that bakery and your boyfriend were dead ends, not your life. I told you that I could get you a better job down here, but I didn’t mean at the damn Tilda’s supermarket, which ain’t no better than your job at the bakery. I told you that you should be close to your family out of selfishness because you are my daughter, and I miss you and worry about you when you ain’t here. I did tell you that you wanted the impossible, but I never told you that you couldn’t have it. I knew eventually you would get your way and fly outta here and not come back for a long time. I would hate to see you go, but I’ll be damned if I’d hold you back.”
He cupped my face in his large, calloused hands and softened his tone.
“I love all my children the same. I don’t love any one of you more than the other, but you, Darla, I am proudest of you. You left here on your own dime, found your way and started a whole new life. I didn’t always like it, and I didn’t always like your decisions, but I was always proud of you. If you want to work at the market, do it because you wanna do it, not because you think that I or anybody else wants you to do it.”
I let him wipe tears from my cheekbones with his rough thumbs before I responded to him.
“I appreciate what you said, Daddy, but I don’t have a choice. My medical bills are probably astronomical. I still have student loans to pay back, and other bills to catch up on and you and Daisy have another baby coming. I need to start supporting myself because I can’t stay here forever. Y’all need the space, and you don’t need to be taking care of your grown daughter.”
“You know I will always take care of you as long as you need me to,” he said, clearly pained by what I said. “You know we’d never put you out on the street and that you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want or need. This is your home, Darla.”
It wasn’t my home. It was just a place to stay until I found a home again, but I didn’t want to hurt him by saying that.
“I know, Daddy, but I need to take care of myself. I need to find my own way—again. I need to make my own home.”
His big shoulders fell a little bit, and his face was so sad as he looked at me. I almost felt as if he pitied me, which only made me feel that much worse.
“Hey,” I said, touching his arm and ready to change the subject. “I remembered something today. I mean, I think I remembered it before today, but I didn’t know what it was until today when I finally pieced it all together.”
He tried to look curious, even though his sadness was still evident.
“What did you remember?” he asked quietly.
“You sang to me when I was in the hospital,” I said softly.
His face softened, and his eyes glistened. “I didn’t know what to say to you while you was laying there. The doctors said you might be able to hear us, but I just didn’t know what the hell to say. I felt so helpless. So, I sang to ya.”
“I heard you,” I whispered. “I just didn’t remember that I heard you until now, but I know that it helped.”
He lowered his head and took in a big shuddering breath. I had a feeling he was going to start talking about how awful it was to see me half dead and bruised and broken in that hospital bed, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted a few, peaceful moments with my dad.
“Daddy, remember when I used to stand on your feet, and you’d dance me around the room while singing?” I asked with a little more cheer than I actually felt.
He raised his head, smiling, even as tears still threatened to fall down his masculine face. “I can’t ever forget that.”
I held out my hand. “Well, I don’t have to stand on your feet now,” I whispered.
He took my hand and placed his other hand on my waist. I put my other hand on his shoulder, and then he began to sing. More than halfway through the song, my daddy started to cry. I wondered how long he had been holding it in, because it sounded so wretched, and so long overdue, as if he had been building up the tears for years.
But we continued to dance as I sang the rest of our song.
Chapter Sixty-One
The text messages began at ten that night.
“What are you doing?” Connor asked.
“Sleeping,” I responded with a smirk.
“Liar. You should come over. Think you can sneak past your parents?”
I snorted. “Really, I’m sleeping. Stop bothering me. And we’re not in eighth grade. I don’t have to sneak past my parents.” Then I added, “But if I did decide to leave, I’d leave out of my bedroom window. You know, because it’s convenient.”
“You’re the best sleep-texter EVER. We’re not in eighth grade, but your dad might not like you sneaking out with the
town’s bad boy.”
I laughed. “What makes you so bad?”
Connor responded quickly. “The beard. Definitely the beard. The tinted windows on my truck, because…you know…dirty things can be happening behind those tinted windows. And I curse.”
Shaking my head, I texted him back. “Your beard is clean, trimmed, and doesn’t have any beard bling. It doesn’t count. Your tinted windows only hide the shame of you eating convenient store ‘baked goods’ and you cuss about as much as a nun.”
“Yeah, a badass nun,” he replied. “Come on. It’s a Friday night. You’re young and semi-single. You shouldn’t be cooped up in that house all night.”
I stared at my phone for a long time. What did he mean by semi-single?
“I think ‘ass’ is the worst cuss I’ve ever known you to say, Connor. What do you mean I’m semi-single? Is that like a semi-soft cheese? A semi-hard penis? What does that mean?”
He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, my face warmed. “I’m not really sure what a semi-soft cheese is. As for a semi-hard penis, I am very familiar with that, especially when you are around. Semi-single means that you might have a semi-boyfriend.”
I felt like I was fifteen again, instant messaging with my school girl crush. I had to stifle a giggle by slapping a hand over my mouth.
“One does not simply have a ‘semi-boyfriend.' Either I have one, or I don’t. Last I checked, I didn’t. I told you I am sleeping.”
There was no response. After several minutes, I began to worry that maybe I scared him off with my comments about not having a boyfriend. Well, what I said was true. I didn’t have a boyfriend, and it was the semi-boyfriend crap that had resulted in such turmoil to begin with. Besides, even if he asked me, I wasn’t sure that I would say yes. Not yet anyway. We only just started to talk again and spend time together. It was just too soon. There were still too many raw and hurt emotions just under the surface.
A tapping on my window had me jumping out of my skin. I shot up in bed and leaned toward the window, my heart galloping in my chest. The tapping came again, and I sucked in a breath before yanking the curtain aside. I fully expected to find some kind of fictional beast at my window, ready to devour me alive, but it was just Connor. His face was illuminated by his cell phone.
