Page 9 of Dahlia Made A List

For the first time since I’d arrived, silence fell over the room. I looked up. Maia’s expression hurt to see. With the light in her golden eyes muted, my boss and closest friend wore her worry for me like a banner: front and center, unfettered and humiliating. I darted my gaze to the others in the room, strangers and passing acquaintances. Most wore commiserating looks. I guessed anyone who’d ever been in a relationship understood the riot of emotions skittering through me.

I was one sad sack tonight.

And I guessed my habit of oversharing was going to shine through tonight.

Then my gaze landed on Ms. Minerva who wore a tiny smile on her painted red lips. She caught my look and her smile widened to a grin. “That’s a mighty big vow, Dahlia Whitcombe. Just how do you plan on keepin’ it?”

Panic fluttered in my chest, a starling dipping and swirling with no escape. I’d made a lot of decisions, a lot of impulsive promises to myself over the years. Even more since leaving Richland. Had I ever managed to keep even a single one? Would I be back here in a month with another man’s disappointments falling from my lips?

The intelligent spark in Minerva’s pale blue eyes allowed only honesty. “I have absolutely no clue.”

She nodded, took a sip of her dark red wine. Then she leaned back in her seat and smiled, big and friendly. “I always start a new project with a list.”

Maia laughed, the sound soft and easy. A couple of the others did too. Not the mocking sort of laugh I might have heard at home or in my circle of so-called friends in Richland. Rather, it was the laugh of relief.

A dark-haired woman across from me slapped her thigh. “I love a good list.”

“What kind of list? Wouldn’t it be rather short? Item one: No men for Dahlia. End of list.”

“That wouldn’t work. Too easy to mess up. No, we need aproactivelist. A things-to-do list.”

I snorted. “Things to do instead of having sex.”

The room cackled. “I like it. I could see one of our romance characters doing it.”

“No hanging out at The Wooden Onion on a Friday night. No picking up guys down at the Three Corners drag strip.”

My ears buzzed and the starling in my chest battered away at a rib.

“I think,” Minerva said, interrupting the group, “Dahlia should frame this more like a bucket list.”

Ms. Beck spoke. “No offense, Minerva, but isn’t she a little young for a bucket list?”

“Well, I suppose it’s not exactly a ‘things to do before you die’ list, but a Dahlia To Do List. But put down things you want to accomplish instead of things you aren’t going to allow yourself to do. Fill your time, so you don’t have time to think about men and what you’re missing out on.”

The starling fluttered to a jittery pause. “I’ve been wanting to learn to cook.”

Minerva smiled. “Exactly, my girl. What else?”

“It’d be neat to grow some tomatoes. So maybe have a garden.”

One of the men in the group chimed in. “Nothing beats cooking with fresh herbs.”

“And you’re going to be reading more, now that you’re a Shameless Reader.”

A woman my age pointed at me. I’d seen her in the salon just this week when Maia twisted her hair into a series of Bantu knots. “You should go hiking,” she said with a nod. “We have some amazing trails the further west you go. Outside Mapleton, even.”

I’d never considered myself an outdoorsy type. But Three Corners did butt right up to Shenandoah National Park. And maybe that’s what this list could be about. Not about Brandon or the ghosts of my past, but about pushing myself to commit to better choices. Not that I wanted to sack up in a tent with some smelly hiker, but the way things were going now, it was a distinct possibility.

“Let me tell you what Mom and Trooper got up to last weekend.” A woman who looked just a few years older than me said. I’d definitely seen her more than once at Sugar Squared and in the salon. When she came to have her hair done, she arrived bearing homemade gifts, a blackberry jam or sweet onion relish.

“What’s your mom got to do with Dahlia’s list, Vida?”

“Shush a minute and I’ll tell you.” She turned bright eyes to me. “My mother hikes with her German Shepherd most weekends, weather permitting. A couple weekends back, they were out on the trail that starts behind the Gas n’ Apple. They’d been walking about three or four hours, she said, when Trooper started pulling hard. The dog ended up leading her off the trail and up to this circular building. Made of canvas and tree branches, but as big as one of those tiny houses, she said. A mess. They were curious, of course, so when they saw a door, they went right up and looked inside. Sure enough, there was a naked man inside. She’s not one to enjoy the sight of a surprise naked man, so she and Trooper skedaddled on out of there, but just saying.” She paused, leaned in toward the group with an exaggerated wink. “No telling what you might find on a hike around here.”

“Was she drunk and not owning up to it?”

“Now, Ang, you know my mother. That woman was drunk on her wedding night and not a single time since.”

---