Page 100 of Dreaming of Dawson

Dawson looked at me like he was scared I might let that influence my decision, and I knew I needed to say something… and say it fast.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“No-one’s asking you to,” she said. “And I’m happy to speak to them, if you want.”

“No. It’s okay. I’ll talk to them.”

“Why not do it now?” Dawson suggested, and I turned to face him.

“Now?”

“Yeah. I can tell you’re worried about it, and you might find it easier to talk to them if your aunt’s here.”

I could see his point, and although I was dreading the conversation, I wanted to get it over with, rather than dwelling on it… which meant there was no time like the present.

He and Aunt Bernie sat and watched while I connected the call, putting it onto speaker, so Dawson could hear what was being said, and then he took my hand in his again, studying me closely. I got the feeling he was just as nervous as I was, but as it transpired, he had no need to be. Sure, Mom and Dad were surprised, and I sensed a little disappointment in Mom’s voice, but they were happy for me, too. Happy that I was happy. They asked if they could come visit, and through a series of silent gesticulations, Aunt Bernie made it clear she thought it best if they stayed with her, not at the bar.

I put the suggestion to them, like it had been my idea.

“She just wants me to help with her garden,” Mom said, and Aunt Bernie chuckled.

“Not right now, I don’t,” she said. “We’ve got about a foot of snow.”

“In that case, we’ll wait until it’s warmed up a bit, and if you like, Macy, we could bring the rest of your things with us, if you think you’ll have space for them.”

Dawson nodded his head, and I said, “We’ll find space,” even though I wasn’t sure where.

It felt like they were accepting the situation, and we ended the call, promising to make arrangements.

“You wouldn’t have gone back to Boston, would you?” Dawson asked once we were alone in my room. We were packing my things, and having to keep an eye on the time, soI wouldn’t be late for work, but I turned to face him, then put down the blouse I’d been folding and stepped closer, putting my arms around his waist.

“Never.”

“You mean that?”

I nodded my head. “Absolut—”

I didn’t get to finish my reply. He silenced me with a bruising kiss and, although he kept it brief, he left me breathless as he whispered, “I’m so in love with you.”

We finished my packing, both of us smiling, and then he loaded my bags into his car, while I said goodbye to Aunt Bernie and thanked her for all her help.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she said as she waved us off, and I blew her a kiss, knowing I wouldn’t.

Dawson took me to the orchard then, although he stopped his car at the entrance, rather than turning onto the track.

“Are you gonna be okay walking the rest of the way?” he asked.

“Of course, but you can take me up to the farmhouse, if you want.”

He shook his head. “No… it’s okay. As long as you’re happy to walk.”

I knew he was worried about coming face-to-face with Peony, but I felt like he’d overcome enough obstacles in the previous few days. Overcoming that one could wait a little longer.

He leaned in and kissed me, and I climbed out of the car, walking up the track. It was only when I got to the farmhouse and was about to open the door, that I turned around and saw his car was still there. I waved, and although he was too far away for me to see if he was waving back, I didn’t mind, and I stood there until he pulled out onto the street and started back into town. As I watched his car disappear, I thought about howmuch I wanted to be with him. Sure, I loved my job with Peony, but Dawson wouldn’t have to open the bar for another couple of hours, and when I thought about what we could have been doing to fill that time, I couldn’t help wishing things could have been just a little different…

Peony was feeding Rory while trying to hold a conversation on the phone, and from the sound of it, I knew something was wrong. She looked up at me as I removed my coat and scarf and nodded toward Rory, making it clear she needed my help, and although I’d never fed him before, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. I stepped over and took him from her, ignoring his grizzles as I sat down in the chair beside hers, and settled him in the crook of my arm, letting him take his bottle again. He seemed happy enough, and I watched him, his eyes fixed on mine, as he guzzled down his milk. Peony had got up and wandered into the living area of the farmhouse, pacing up and down, clearly frustrated, and she didn’t return until Rory had finished his bottle and was sitting up on my lap, a lot happier with life.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, practically falling into the chair beside me.

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