Tumble (Dogwood Lane #1)(45)

I take another drink. This time, it goes down without any complications. “Are you serious about Mom?”

He considers this for a long time. By the fourth shifting of his weight from foot to foot, I start to worry. Finally, he speaks. “I’ve known your mother for years. It wasn’t until one day last fall, right before Thanksgiving, when I ran into her at the post office. She was mailing you a box of things because you couldn’t come home for the holiday, and I was sending the same kind of thing to my boy out in Idaho. We struck up a conversation, and I realized I never really knew her.”

“I remember that box. She sent me one of my grandmother’s quilts,” I tell him. A touch of guilt strikes through me. I spent that Thanksgiving alone in my apartment, eating takeout and working on a holiday piece for the magazine. It all made sense then, and I get why I did it even now. But for the first time, there’s a ball of pain in my soul that I wasn’t here. That I can never redo those things with my mom, with my friends, and I missed them for what?

“Getting back to your question,” he says, clearing his throat. “I am serious when I tell you I really enjoy spending time with her. I think she’s wonderful. And I really, really like her pie.”

All I can do is nod.

Someone motions for him across the lawn and he holds up a finger. Turning back to me, he places a hand on my shoulder. “If we can have dinner, the three of us, before you go, I’d love that.”

“I’ll try,” I say.

“That’s good enough for me.” With a final smile, he weaves through the tables to a group of men.

My hand glistens with the melted ice from my plastic cup. I have half a notion to rub it across my forehead to cool myself down but manage to remember my manners. I’m searching for my mom to see if she’s ready when I spy Mia running through the tables toward me.

“Neely! Come with us,” she shouts.

“Where are you going?” I laugh.

“To the creek. Dad is taking me, Keyarah, and Madison. Come with us.”

I look up to see Dane watching me from the lawn, holding the kickball. He grins.

“You sure?” I ask her, my heart fluttering like crazy.

“Uh, yeah.” She opens her palm. A little green-and-yellow bracelet, just like Dane’s, lies in her hand. “This is for you.”

“Mia,” I gasp. I look at her. Her eyes are sparkling, filled with such a pure kindness and affection it brings tears to my eyes. “Did you make this?”

“I did. I made Daddy one a long time ago, and he wears it all the time. Says it’s his lucky charm. And I have a pink one and so do Keyarah and Madison, but we don’t wear them always because of gymnastics.”

I lift the delicate strands from her hand. “Thank you.”

She helps me tie it in place and then inspects her work. With a bright smile, she takes my hand. “Come on.” She pulls me the way she came, through the tables and over a patch of sand. Once we’re almost to her friends, she drops my hand. “Let’s go!”

The girls traipse off toward the tree line that hides a little creek. Their dresses float behind them, their giggles swishing through the air.

“Don’t get near the water until I get there,” Dane warns them.

“Okay,” they shout in unison.

“To be young again.” I laugh, falling in step with Dane. We head down the slope toward the trees. Dandelions create little pops of yellow against the green, the sky a vivid blue with billowy white clouds overhead. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“You look beautiful today.”

“Thanks.” My cheeks flush, and it has nothing to do with the sun. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

“I don’t love shirts like this. I feel like I’m getting strangled.” He picks at his collar.

“I don’t love dresses either. I wear them to work when I have to, but it’s much easier navigating New York in pants, I think.”

“What’s it like there? If you were walking around on a Sunday afternoon, what would it be like?”

I take in the lush green foliage in front of us, the high grass sprinkled with beautiful flowers, and laugh. “I’m not used to seeing pretty things when I walk outside. I usually get a bunch of buildings, a couple of rats, and a man telling me I have to get a new route because a movie is filming in front of me.”

He makes a face. “I don’t know how you live like that.”

“You get used to it.”

We get to the tree line. Dane goes first down the path to the creek. It doesn’t look as worn as it did when I was little, but it’s still clearly marked. The girls’ laughter echoes through the valley.

Birds call overhead and gnats buzz my face. It’s weirdly refreshing.

“Watch your step,” he says. “There’s a big hole up here, and I know you don’t look where you’re stepping.” He hops over a trench.

“That’s not a hole.” I laugh. “A hole is a dip. That’s a . . . cut.”

“Give me your hand.”

“I can make it.”

“Give me your hand,” he says again. His hand stretches toward me. Instinctively, my hand falls into his. “Oh, you got your bracelet.”

“I did.” I think I beam, but I don’t care. “I love it.”