Page 22 of Quintessentially

They were angry that he’d left the church dinner, that he wasn’t responding to calls or messages, and that he’d turn to some summertime fascination—that was what they called me—instead of being a man and supporting the family.

We walked to the ridge hand in hand.

The last time we spoke, he kissed me and said, “You, Kandace, are not a summertime fascination. My parents don’t know you. Once they do, they’ll love you like I do. I promise.”

“Come back to Riverbend,” I said.

Dax nodded and we turned separate directions.

Full-out sobs are shuddering in my chest as I make my way out of Molly’s room and to the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes, I step into the shower and let the hot water soak my hair and skin as the spray covers my cries.

“Stop it,” I tell myself. “You have not cried about him in years. He doesn’t deserve it.”

In the top of my closet is a box filled with letters I never sent.

I learned things from Ruth.

Dax graduated IU with honors.

Dax was loving law school.

An Indianapolis firm offered him an internship.

Ginny’s—Dax’s mom’s—firm offered Dax a position in Chicago.

He took the offer and moved to Chicago.

With each bit of information, I knew the truth. Never, ever, has Dax wanted a life in Riverbend. Telling him about Molly would only hurt his life and hamper his success. While part of me wants him to know her and her to know him, I never want him to think that I purposely tried to ruin his dreams.

I tilt my face to the hot spray with the realization that this is the way it’s meant to be. Dax has his dream in the big city, and I have mine. I’m capable of success beyond what I have and even more important, I have a beautiful, healthy daughter and a support system that goes beyond the people living in this home.

After drying my hair and putting on my pajamas, I turn off the lights in my room, and walk to Molly’s room. Slipping beside her in the narrow bed, I hold her little body to me and gently kiss her hair.

“You are loved.”

ChapterNine

Dax

Today, I make it to the diner early. Even though I will be working from the hotel room, being on central time in an eastern time zone gives me an extra hour. I’m also here because last night Cory wouldn’t stop razzing me about being an hour late yesterday.

The bell above the door jingles as I make my way inside. The round table in the back of the room is set and ready, but it appears I’m the first one to arrive. There are other customers in the booths and a few at the long bar. I go to the bar with stools. Looking around, I realize that this place hasn’t changed since I was a kid. The vinyl seats are probably new, but the stools bolted to the floor are the same.

When I sit down, beyond an empty stool I see a partially eaten breakfast along with a child’s menu and crayons two seats away. My thoughts go to Amber, Cory’s daughter. While she and Judy didn’t go to Decoy Ducks, this Riverbend thing is making me appreciate the way people live here, away from the late-night meetings at swanky restaurants and bars in Chicago.

The drive back to the hotel last night was spectacular.

Light pollution in the city obscures the beauty of a starlit night.

“Dax,” Joyce calls, coming from the kitchen with her eyes wide. “You’re early this morning.”

“I guess you could say I learned my lesson yesterday.”

“Never too old,” she muses.

“Will you make me lunch again?” I couldn’t see the source of the question, but the voice was sweet.

Just then, a precious little girl with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail comes around the counter and climbs up on the stool. I struggle with wondering if she needs help as she grins my way. Her two bottom front teeth are missing, and her eyes are a golden amber reminding me of my own.

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