by Ines Saint
He pulled over. She scurried out of the car while he scooted over.
“Let’s go home, Holly.”
“Yes, let’s go home.”
She focused on the road ahead, but her gaze kept flickering to him. Dan sat still, like a statue, but the tension emanating from him made Holly fear he’d explode into pieces. They all would. Nothing could contain that strain and pressure. His knuckles were white and his posture taut.
Half-afraid it was the wrong thing to do, she reached out and put her hand over his left fist. He breathed out, quick and hard.
“Help me. I need to talk or I’ll become even number. I need to talk about it, but I don’t know how.”
Holly swallowed. It felt like this was all her fault, even though she’d had no way of knowing Claire Dodson was Dan’s mother. She wanted to let him know how sorry she was, but that would be selfish. Apologizing was her need, and it wouldn’t satisfy his. “Do—do you know why she had the stained-glass windows in her possession?” was the only question she could think of.
Still he didn’t move. Not even a shrug. But he spoke, albeit in an emotionless, flat tone. “The woman who took care of me until I was five lived in the Craftsman. She’d been a good friend of my grandmother’s and Claire was close to her, I guess. Claire wouldn’t let my dad see me much at first, but she’d leave me there for days at a time. Dad would visit me there, after he found out about me. He took me there when I was older, told me he’d always be grateful to the lady who owned the house for letting him see me behind Claire’s back and for taking good care of me. She didn’t have a lot of money and the house was always in disrepair, but she loved the house. Dad promised he’d fix it up, but she died before he could.”
Holly was floored. So much made sense now. The day they met came back to her. She’d thought him so selfish . . . but there was so much more to the man sitting next to her than she could ever have imagined. Not even his brothers knew everything that had been going on inside Dan.
She glanced sideways at Dan, knowing she had no right to feel as much pain as she was feeling for him. All of a sudden he looked older and tired. “Can’t think,” he mumbled, dragging a hand through his hair.
Holly swallowed. He’d asked her to talk. What could she say? “Tell me a little bit about your father.”
Dan sighed and looked out the window. “He was a good man.” He paused and remained pensive for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “He felt any injustice that came his way was his responsibility. I guess that’s where Johnny gets that from. He was set on doing the right thing, but in his own quiet way, like Sam. He loved a good joke, though he didn’t tell any himself. And he enjoyed our antics, always seemed happiest when he, Sam, Johnny, and I were together.” His features relaxed as he spoke, but his posture did not.
“In what ways are you like him?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Johnny says he was loyal and protective, and that he didn’t like people fussing over him or celebrating his accomplishments. That sounds like you.”
A sound from the backseat quieted her, and Holly looked into the rearview mirror. Ella stretched her jean-clad legs, and her eyes were fluttering open.
“Where are we?” she asked when she was more awake.
“We’re on our way home.”
Ella stretched to look toward the trunk. “Where are the windows and stuff?”
“You slept through it, but the lady we went to see didn’t have anything we wanted,” Dan explained.
“Oh. Can we play scavenge again?”
“Scavenger. And, um—” Holly looked over at Dan. He didn’t look as pale, but he was far from normal. He’d leaned back a bit, but his head wasn’t touching the seat. Still, it was clear talking had done him a little good. “Dan wants to play Twenty Questions.”
“How do you play that?”
“Just ask him stuff. Anything.”
Ella looked out the window and asked, “Where does the sky end?”
A twitch of his lips. Not, by any means, a smile. Not even close. More like he was resigned that life moved on. “It doesn’t really end,” he answered.
“Do bees poop?” Ella asked next.
Dan finally moved. He turned to look at Holly. The side of his mouth went up.
“Yes. Bees poop.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen them. Their poop is liquidy and yellow.”
“That’s just their honey.”
“Fine. Next time I see something yellow and liquidy coming out of a bee, I’ll smear it on your toast.” Dan turned and smiled at Ella. He didn’t look happy, but he looked relieved.
“Ewww!” Ella wiggled her feet and giggled.
“What else do you want to know?” Dan asked.
An hour later, Dan sat back and gazed out the window. Ella had run out of questions, an event Holly hadn’t thought possible.
Dan’s melancholy enveloped her, but she didn’t know how to reach him. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. How did a grown man feel when he came face-to-face with the mother who abandoned him?
“I’m hungry,” Ella called from the backseat.
Holly turned to Dan, uncertain. “Would you like to stop somewhere? Or would you prefer a drive-through?”
Dan turned to look at Ella. “Do you need to stretch your legs, Ella? Or do you want to eat in the car?”
“Can I play at McDonald’s?”
“Sure.” Dan punched McDonald’s into the GPS.
Dan carried a sleeping Ella into Holly’s apartment. It was barely four, but Holly said long drives usually tuckered Ella out. She led the way to the little girl’s room, and he set her down. Holly kissed her daughter’s cheek and forehead, and tucked her in.
They walked out into the living room, and Dan didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to be alone. When it came to his mother, he didn’t know how to give his thoughts direction right now.
“Would you like to sit down a little while?” Holly offered, gesturing to the couch.
“I think your couch must have some sort of spell with my name on it. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time on it,” he said, sitting down.
Holly sat down, too, and gently pulled his head onto her lap. The move was so unexpected, a lump formed in his chest as he lay there. Her hand began smoothing his hair, and he felt her touch tighten that lump.
Stanley hopped onto his chest, and Dan patted his coat. Holly ran her fingers through his hair, smoothed his eyebrows, and ran her thumb along the lines in his forehead. Little by little, the lump disappeared.
“Would you like to talk, or do you need silence?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Her touch became fluttery, less steady. “Would you like me to call Sam or Johnny?”
“No.” Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave the comfort of Holly’s touch. Numbness melted into pain, the pain comforting in its own way. “What did you and Claire talk about over the phone? How did you know her husband was sick?”
He watched as Holly licked her lips. Her hand was still unsteady, her breath equally so. Dan grabbed hold of her hand, placed it over his chest, and covered it with both his hands.
“She said her husband had been in the hospital awhile and it had taken a toll on her. It’s why she didn’t get back to Debbie right away, but she needed the money. Toward the end of the conversation I learned her husband had had a bad bout with pneumonia and he was getting better, but he complained a lot.”
“Maybe she needs the money to leave him,” he scoffed. “Did she seem worried?” Holly’s hands went clammy and he squeezed them. “Tell me.”
“Um, well, it was odd because before then, the whole conversation had been about her. About everything she did for him, how hard it was, how everyone admired her.” Holly hesitated again. “I mean, I’m not saying—I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“You’re saying what you thought at the moment. And it fits with
what I’ve been remembering . . .” Dan trailed off, not wanting her to feel guilty for trying to tell him what her initial impression of his mother had been. “It doesn’t matter.” He sighed and began to get up, but Holly grabbed his arm.
“No, don’t do that.” She looked pained. “Look, Dan, I know your life has been about more than this—you’ve made that clear. But, right here, right now . . . it’s okay to be sad. And it’s okay to be mad.”
He looked down at the floor. “I just don’t get it. I can’t even—I don’t even . . . I mean, who the hell does that? What kind of a person just up and leaves like that?”
Holly’s hand went limp in his own. He tore it away, turned, and punched the wall. His mom leaving had been the catalyst for all those fights, all the stress, all the tension. She’d known how Marianne treated him. She’d known. And it had all been because she couldn’t take care of a puppy?
He shot up. It was time to leave.
Holly stood up and grabbed his hand. “Please don’t go. Not like that.”
He looked down at her and met her eyes. She took his face in her hands, pulled him down, and kissed him, full on the lips. He wound his hands around her waist and invaded her mouth, giving and taking, until she pulled away, breathless. Glancing toward the small hallway leading to the bedrooms, she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re right.” He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I need to go.” He grabbed his coat from a chair and slipped it on. Holly walked him to the door and stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself. He shut the door behind her and pulled her into his coat. She slipped her hands around his waist and cuddled up to him.
“I’m sorry I ever thought you were like her,” he said after a while.
What kind of a person just up and leaves like that? he’d asked. Her entire being had gone cold at those words. “You thought I was like your mom?” she asked, her voice sounding small in her ears.
“Not consciously.” He sighed. “But I see it now. I learned early that some people stumble through life making one bad decision after another, affecting everyone around them, and I didn’t want anything to do with people like that. The moment someone seemed like they were like that, I stayed the hell away, any way I could.”
Silence engulfed them. After a while, Holly looked into his eyes. The gray had taken over the blue. “Dan . . .” she hesitated. “Remember when we were talking about our biggest regrets?”
He brushed a curl away from her mouth and nodded.
Her heart pounded harder by the moment. “I once took the easy way out, because I didn’t know how to navigate the difficult way.”
He shook his head. “Don’t. You don’t owe me anything. I know I was wrong. You’re nothing like her.”
“I know.” Holly’s mouth was so dry, she could barely get the words out. “I mean, I know I’m nothing like her, but I didn’t know all this about you, and now that I do, you need to know something about me—” She swallowed.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, Holly. Johnny’s right. I’m nobody’s judge and jury. Few people are like her. Thank God,” he ended on a bitter whisper.
Holly buried her head in his chest. It wasn’t the right moment to tell him.
He smelled of bergamot and grapefruit and it gave her a way to push past the heaviness in her heart. “Viktor and Rolf Spicebomb,” she mumbled without thinking.
Dan looked down at her and nodded. “You’re that good?” He half-smiled.
“It suits you somewhat, because it’s virile and decisive. But you’re not as polished as you’d have people believe, you’re too down-to-earth for that illusion. I’d dress you in something more woodsy and sensual”—she closed her eyes—“maybe heart notes of cedar and white musk, keeping it natural with black basil and clary sage, and I’d warm it with leather essence or port wine . . . I’ll have to experiment.” She opened her eyes to see a heavy-lidded Dan watching her, as if in a trance.
“That is the most seductive thing anyone has ever said to me.” He leaned down to kiss her, but she stepped out of his embrace.
“Ella might wake up.”
Dan stepped away, wearing the first real smile she’d seen on him all evening. “She wouldn’t see us. You’re a great mom, Holly. Kissing me doesn’t change that. You’re a beautiful woman, too, and hiding from that won’t help you live a little and get rid of regrets.”
Her spirits lifted a little. She’d made mistakes, yes . . . but she was trying her damndest to be a good mom. She’d never leave her daughter. Never. The thought was incomprehensible. “So I should kiss every guy who finds me attractive just because I’m out of her sight?”
“That’s not what I said.” He pinched her chin and turned to leave.
CHAPTER 11
The air was mild, the full moon cast a bright light, and slow-moving clouds obscured the stars. Dan much preferred the stars. Holly was right, the weather here was unpredictable.
He left his car next door and headed downtown to Johnny’s place. It was still early and people were taking strolls and jogging. Some he knew and greeted, others he didn’t know, but they greeted him. It was the Midwest, after all. Manners were important. People mattered. Sometimes.
The pain in his gut spread everywhere. He stopped, put his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths. With every breath, he thought of someone in his life. His dad, Sam, and Johnny, and his nephew. His mother couldn’t have been made of anything he needed if she hadn’t cared about him the way he cared about his dad and brothers.
A few more breaths brought images of Holly and Ella, Heather, his friends, and his hometown, but the heaviness weighing him down refused to lift. The image of his mother standing on the steps, putting on a performance, acting like she cared, wouldn’t leave him alone.
He walked along Star Springs Park and ran into Mr. Linden, his old middle school principal, and Mr. Montgomery, the owner of a few office buildings in the downtown area. Both had given him, Sam, and Johnny more than a few lectures growing up.
They were stringing lights on the bridges, and Dan somehow got roped into putting Santa and elf hats on top of the lampposts. He hadn’t seen these people in years, but it was clear they considered him an old friend. He ended up helping out with the lights, too, when he saw Rosa, Ruby, and Sherry were in charge of those. Much as they’d like to deny it, they were moving slower than they used to and they couldn’t reach as high. Where were his brothers? Usually they’d be all over this.
He caught a glimpse of Marianne, and his body involuntarily tensed. Couldn’t the world leave him alone till tomorrow?
She walked up to him and Mr. Linden, saying, “It feels like old times, having him back, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does.” Mr. Linden shot Dan an appreciative glance.
“His brothers have been trying to get him to come back for years,” Marianne continued, looking on with an indulgent smile.
It was the second performance Dan had witnessed that day. Mr. Linden wasn’t even aware that Marianne hadn’t looked at Dan or directed one word to him. Her tone and smiles were meant to convey that she’d missed Dan, even though she hadn’t said anything to that effect. Sometimes Dan wondered if she was even conscious of it.
A long-suppressed need to find out pushed at him from the inside. “They probably know how hard it is for me to come back more often than I do,” he said, trying for the same relaxed tone, yet knowing he didn’t achieve it.
Their eyes met. Hers wore their familiar harassed look. For once, he could relate.
“Of course they do. You tell them all about it. I wonder where they are now,” she mused before moving on.
Dan turned back to the task at hand, drowning out all that was noise and focusing on the silky sound of water trickling along the rocks in the streams.
“What’s on your mind, son?” Mr. Linden asked after a while.
Dan shrugged. “Not much. Just trying to wind the lights around the pole the right way.”
“Looking forward to the festival?”
“I am, actually.”
Mr. Linden put a hand on his shoulder and looked up at the moon. “I think the man on the moon is frowning at us. He silenced the stars, but we managed to light our own.”
Dan looked around, surprised so much had been accomplished since he’d started helping. He’d once asked Holly if she thought the town was covered in stars. Tonight, it was. Thousands of twinkling lights winked at him.
“I don’t know why, but I’ve never been a fan of the moon,” Mr. Linden said.
Ruby and Rosa walked up to them then. “Don’t let the moon hear you, or you’ll find yourself subjected to its phases until it makes a believer out of you,” Ruby chided.
“More gypsy nonsense, Ruby?” Mr. Linden grinned down at her.
Rosa looked at the sky. “My mom used to say a full moon is a time of revelation.”
Mr. Linden looked as if his jaw was about to drop. “You, too, Rosa?”
Rosa smiled and shrugged. “Many religions believe it has some influence. My mother used to tell us to ask the full moon what we wanted to know.”
Something Dan wished to know crept into his mind before he had time to realize it, and he frowned at himself. He was getting caught up in the nonsense. It was time to go.
A light was on in Sam’s office across the street. Dan said his good-byes.
“Hey.” Sam looked up when Dan entered. Papers were strewn across his desk.
“Hey, what’re you up to?” he asked.
Sam waved him over. “Take a look.”
Real estate listings. Dan sorted through them, one by one. Thirty-three houses plus one mansion was more accurate. The seven-thousand-plus-square-foot English Tudor featuring ornate half timbering, diamond-paned casement windows, and thatched roof sat on the corner of Manor Row and West Main and would be Sam’s trickiest project. Sam watched Dan as he studied the listing and nodded, as if he could read Dan’s mind.
“Do you want to go over there now?” Sam asked.
Dan looked at his watch. It was only fifteen to eight. It had been a long day and he was tired, but he wasn’t tired enough. He wanted to be almost dead by the time he hit the pillow, so he followed Sam out the door.
