“Dakota?” a woman’s voice said, drawing my name out slowly, as if she couldn’t believe it was me. I hadn’t thought about my pseudo-celebrity status being an issue in Darlington. Back home in the city, I hardly counted myself as a celebrity. I could strut the streets of Manhattan and be left perfectly alone as long as I avoided Midtown and the tourist trap areas. “Dakota, is that you?”
I spun around, pressing my lips into a cheerful smile and fully expecting to be politely asked for an autograph. Only it wasn’t a fan. Not in that sense. Silky straight hair the color of honeyed amber swung in a lobbed bob across the delicate shoulders of my older cousin, Rebecca. Her hazel eyes crinkled happily as she brought her fingertips up to her crimson lips.
“Rebecca,” I said, forcing a smile and placing my palm across my heart. “Hi!”
“Oh, my Lord, Dakota,” she drawled, wrapping her lithe arms around my shoulders and leaning in for a hug. She smelled like cinnamon potpourri and fabric softener, the way I imagined a stay-at-home mom might smell. “What are you doing back in town? I didn’t know you were coming home. We haven’t seen you in…years.”
“Just in town for work,” I said, staring over her shoulder toward a blue minivan parked in front of the store. The outline of a dark-haired little girl with ear buds hanging from her ears as she glanced down at something into her lap caused my breath to hitch.
“You don’t say.” Rebecca studied my face as if she were recalling the last time she’d seen me and all the empty promises I’d made over the years to come see them. “Mabry’s out in the car. I’m just stopping for a coffee before I drop her off at Sunday school.”
“Oh yeah?” My insides burned as I fought away a flurry of livewire anxiety. I’d always kept Rebecca at arms’ length for a reason.
“How long are you in town? You should come over for dinner some night this week!” Rebecca’s mouth danced half-open in a way that told me she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Sam would love to see you, and…”
I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t need to hear it. It was the very thing that defined me, and I was well aware.
“Next!” the barista yelled out.
“Do you mind if I go next?” I said to Rebecca. “Kind of in a hurry. I have to be somewhere by eight.”
“Go ahead, darling.” Rebecca shooed me ahead in line and stood back as I placed my order.
I ordered my coffee, slipped a five dollar bill in the tip jar, and moved down the line.
“Coco!” the barista called out. I wasted no time grabbing my hot cup of comfort and slipping my dark glasses back over my eyes.
“Dakota,” Rebecca called as I was seconds away from the door. “Come over any night this week. We’d love to have you. Please.” She clasped a dainty hand across her chest as a polite way of silently begging. “It would mean the world to us. To her.”
“I’ll plan on it,” I said with a genuine nod before sprinting out the door. My heart squeezed into a dull ache at the thought of going over there. Over the years, I’d promised to come see them when the time was right. And then one year turned into three and then three into seven. Ten years later, I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I couldn’t keep watching from the sidelines through emails and photographs. I couldn’t keep saying, “Maybe next year I’ll be ready.”
I pulled in a lungful of clean, Kentucky morning air as my shoes scuffed the sidewalk. Rebecca’s van was parked next to my rental, and I stole another glance into the backseat where Mabry played some game on her iPad. She glanced up at me, her blue eyes matching mine, and flashed a wide smile rounded off by Beau’s dimples.
It was time.
14 years ago
I broke off a piece of cookie dough Pop Tart and shoved it in my mouth, seated in the high school cafeteria next to my best friend and partner in crime, Annelise. A faint September morning chill settled in our bones as we waited for the bell to ring that would allow us to flood the halls and give us just enough time before class to grab our books from our lockers and make first period.
“There he is.” I nudged Annelise and nodded toward the chocolate-haired boy walking in with a pair of tight blue jeans and a pressed, plaid button down. His neatly combed mane was still damp, as if he were still fresh from his morning shower. “I bet he smells like fresh hay and a million bucks.”
“He’s a junior,” Annelise said. “I found out his name. Beaumont Mason. His parents own that big farm outside of town.”