Page 121 of Our Long Days
Item number eight:Watch a movie at a drive-thru theater.
Children scream with excitement,squirting one another with water pistols. They’re not concerned with the smallceremony going on in front of the large, red-stained cabin. I’m distracted too. My eyes are on the humble man standing at the side of the stage, hard hat tucked under his big bicep.
Four days have passed since our date. During working hours, Dex is so professional, it’s almost comical. And torturous. I want his hands on me, to kiss him senseless every time the day ends and he says, “You’re beautiful. I love you” before walking away.
This afternoon, before we left for the opening ceremony, I found the notebook on my desk with two new additions in it.
• Visit Harvest Homestead
• Arrange follow-up appointment with ENT
He wouldn’t tell me what the first one meant.
He’s admitted to not arranging regular appointments with his doctor and his dismissal of alternative treatments.
To Dex, ignorance was easier.
We’re both guilty of putting things off until they became impossible to ignore.
After we’re done here, we’re visiting the homestead. What for remains a secret.
Sarah walks onto the makeshift stage, smiling at the small crowd, and speaks into the microphone. “As a child who spent almost seven years in the care system, I know what it’s like to feel you don’t belong, the constant ‘why not me?’ as you watch friends find homes. I found my family at eleven years old, but those years prior, I wished I had a place to call home, even if temporary.” She raises a hand, gesturing to the village of cabins. “That’s why we’re here, at Pine Haven, a year-round camp for children of all ages currently in the foster care system. It’s where I hope kids can come to escape their worries, makelifelong connections, and learn that no matter where they end up, there’s always a home for them here.”
A wave of applause echoes through the open space, bouncing off the two dozen cabins dotted through the trees. Today, the camp opens, a huge project that Dex and the team spent months grueling over.
Sarah smiles gratefully, palms up to quiet the crowd. “This didn’t happen overnight, and it wouldn’t have been possible without the obscene generosity, craftsmanship, and dedication of the team at Moore Lumber. He’s going to hate me for this, but I’d like to invite the man behind it all to the stage. Dexter Moore, get over here.”
Dex’s grunt is audible from my spot at the front, and he narrows his eyes at me when I wolf whistle.
Standing beside Sarah, he begrudgingly accepts the microphone. “This wasn’t in the script.”
Everyone laughs.
“When Sarah contacted me, wanting to hire us for the job, it was an easy decision. We all deserve somewhere to call home. Maine is that to me, and to know an extraordinary camp like this is on my doorstep makes this place extra special.” His gaze falls to his boots when a roar of applause erupts, and he discreetly hands the mic back to Sarah.
“As talented as he and his team are, there’s one individual who kept them all in check, who I’ve gotten to know over the past few months through endless emails, videos, and phone calls. She’s probably sick of me, and I have it on good authority she’s owed a lot of overtime. Everyone, please join me in thanking Florence Sadler.”
My jaw unhinges.
Roughly fifty pairs of eyes turn my way. The loudest round of applause comes from the stage. Two baseball mitt-sized hands pound together.
That’s my girl, Dex mouths.
It’s completely foreign, this ache in my chest, working its way down my arms and legs.
It takes me a moment to recognize the emotion. While attention falls to Sarah as she cuts the ribbon, my vision blurs.
Pride.
For Dex, his team and their achievements, for the beautiful sanctuary Sarah created.
For myself.
Crisp air fills my lungs. Eyes closed, head tilted back, I smile at the clouds.
I’m proud of myself.
“You’re seriously not goingto tell me where we’re going?” I poke Dex in his bicep. “Also, why are you in such a thick flannel? It’s ninety degrees.”
