Page 87 of In the Dust

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Granddad was exhaustedafter our little slow dance and ended up falling asleep on the chair again. I made him some homemade chicken and stars soup, and he was able to eat half of his bowl. Dad took him to bed shortly after that. He seems to be sleeping more and more ever since we brought him home from the hospital.

Luckily Colton is here now, something to keep me distracted from my aching heart.

I made Mama’s famous lasagna for dinner and packed some leftovers for Dad’s lunch.

Colton gathers the few dishes from the table and sets them next to the sink while I fill it with hot water. As I squeeze a few drops of soap in, Colton steps behind me.

He gently squeezes my arms before running his hands down them and into the now bubbling water. The gentle movement causes goosebumps to rise across my skin. He nestles his nose into the crook of my neck, and I can’t stop the wide grin that spreads across my face.

“Dinner was delicious.” He intertwines his fingers with mine under the water.

“Thank you,” I breathe out.

“Did you and Burl have a good day?”

I release his hands and pick up a plate. I begin to excessively scrub the surface with the sponge. “We did.” Don’t cry. “We listened to jazz most of the day. After lunch, we danced a little.”

Colton grabs a towel and takes the dishes to dry as I continue washing. “That’s great, Dix. I’m happy y’all were able to do that.”

My phone starts vibrating from across the room. “Do you mind grabbing that?”

Colton walks over to it, glancing at the caller ID. “It’s Gina. Want me to answer it?”

Maybe she’ll be bringing the paintings soon. I want them back, and I want to hug her neck too. “Please!” I smile, grabbing the towel from him to dry my hands.

“Hey, Gina.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then his eyes flick to me. “Slow down. She’s right here, hold on.”

I give him a curious look, and he just widens his eyes. No more bad news, please.

“Hey, G. What—”

“They want them.”

Colton motions for me to put it on speaker; he’s curious.

“W-What?” I stutter. “Who wants what?”

“Someone wants to buy the paintings!” she sings.

“Gina.” I pause for a moment; this wasn’t part of it. “I can sell mine, but not hers. It’s literally all I have left.”

“I understand.” There’s a muffled sound coming from my speaker. Gina must have covered the phone. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

After a few moments, her voice flows through the speaker. “Okay, Dix. Listen …” She breathes in and out. “I’m not forcing you. I just want you to know the offer because he wants them as a set.”

“I don’t want to know,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

Grandpa wobbles into the kitchen. “I do.”

I shoot him an angry glare, but as I take in his hopeful expression, I realize this could be the miracle I’ve been asking for. This could change everything. All my Grandpa has ever wanted was for us to be together as a family, and he loves this farm.

“What is it?” I whisper to her.

“Twenty thousand per painting.”

“Oh my God,” I stammer. “Who is it?” I ask, not sure why I’m even curious. I’m not selling hers.

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