Page 91 of In the Dust

A smile grazes my face. “Mom had a fireproof box in the shed. We found a bunch of paintings.”

Grandpa nods. “Things always work out, Dixie May. Always.”

I know his words mean more than just finding the paintings. He’s telling me that when I lose him, things will work out. I don’t know how the world could keep turning without him. As tears spill down my cheeks, I sink my face against his shoulder. “You said you remembered this. Did she make you sit still forever for it?”

He laughs, remembering how she used to be about that. I swear she knew the outlines of my face by heart, but she wanted the company. Wanted to make every stroke of her brush paint something real.

A laugh from deep in his chest makes him cough, and I grab him some water. “Your momma, bless her heart.” He smiles, still tracing his hand over the glass. “She painted this when you were a baby, probably two years old. You wouldn’t stop running around, but she was so patient.” His hands begin to shake, and I nearly tell him to stop, but we both need to hear this story.

I take the frame and move some things out of the way to set it in front of us on the mantel. We both take a moment to look at it.

“I remember when she would paint you.”

“Was I a crazy kid?” I finally ask, chuckling through tears.

He nods. “You were everywhere. We would blink, and you’d be half-way across the pasture. “She would paint a little and then grab you before you wandered off for too long, over and over. It took the whole day.” He laughs, throwing his head forward. “It was a really good day.”

I lean into him. “This has been a really good summer, Grandpa.”

He nods. “Yes, it has, Dixie. Yes, it has.”

I shake my limbs. “Okay, drinks?”

“Hot chocolate,” he responds. “Snacks?” he asks.

“Popcorn,” I decide, heading to the kitchen.

When reaching for the milk for the hot chocolate, I find an untouched pie and grab it out to stick two forks into it. We don’t need plates; we need comfort food.

Colton squeezes by, and I had completely forgotten he was even here. “I’m going to sleep in your room. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay,” I respond in a haze, and he catches a tear on my cheek. “Can you move the other recliner right next to his? I think I’m going to sleep down here.”

“Yes, of course, darlin.” Colton grabs my face and kisses me before walking over to talk with Grandpa.

I swirl a dollop of whip cream on our mugs as well as the pie before heading back. Colton’s walking away, and he dips his head to me. He’s so handsome, so sweet—

“You’re going to break your neck if you keep staring at him like that,” Grandpa teases.

I blush. “Oh, stop it.” I laugh, handing him his mug and setting mine on the little table.

He captures my wrist in his hand. “You always look at him like that Dixie. Always.”

I nearly crumble at his words. He knows as well as I do that he won’t be here to play matchmaker for the rest of our lives. But I can’t think about that tonight. I kiss his head and retreat into the kitchen to wipe my tears and get our treat.

I come back with the pie and popcorn, and he lights up. “My favorite.”

“So …” I plop down on the recliner that’s next to his now, thanks to Colton. “What are we watching?”

He mulls over this. “Nothing serious.”

“I agree.”

We flip on some old, shitty horror movies and laugh at the bad acting. I’m leaned against him, my hands wrapped around his arm and my head nuzzled against his shoulder. I know I’m squeezing too hard, not wanting him to go anywhere, but he’s here now and for the next week, month, or year, I’ll be holding him like this until heaven calls him home.

“You know, Dixie …” He taps my hand with his palm, leaving it to rest there. “She would be so proud of you.”

The dam breaks, and sobs rack my body. “I love you,” is all I can manage as he pets my head, as we lay like this while we fall asleep.

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