I’m holding a laptop, working on an expense sheet for my personal finances, skimpy though they are, as I bask in the sun on the front porch. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit here and daydream like usual. I’ve found that every spare minute when my mind isn’t busy, it goes straight to Dane James. This is my way of being productive and keeping my sanity.

I’m crunching numbers in my head, squinting into the noonday sun when I see a lone figure cutting through the field. His arms are bared by a tank top stretched across a wide chest, and I can see a swath of denim on his lower half before it melts into blades of wheat. His jeans are held up by a belt with a chunky buckle, and I know his legs end in dusty old boots. All he lacks is the cowboy hat.

Sweet mother.

My stomach flips over.

Even after all these years, after all that’s happened, it still gives me butterflies to see him walking toward me, big as day.

I watch his broad shoulders as they sway ever so slightly with each step he takes. Even though I can’t see them clearly from this distance, I know that his eyes are trained on me. They’re making the butterflies worse.

I don’t take my gaze off him. It’s rude to stare, I know, but I don’t think I could not watch him right now.

He gets closer and closer until he’s standing at the edge of the field, where he left me last night, and he pauses. From there, he continues to stare silently at me, and I stare silently right back.

What is he thinking? What does he want?

What do I want?

That’s easy—to go back. To go back in time. To undo, and redo. To do better.

Only that’s the one thing I can’t have. Possibly one of many.

Eventually, he resumes his walk, crossing the driveway and not stopping until he’s standing in front of the porch. He doesn’t mount the stairs; he just puts one foot on the bottom step and hooks a thumb in his front pocket. He looks like a picture from a magazine, or a movie poster, right down to the prairie grass twirling in his lips.

“You busy?”

I shake my head.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

Another belly flip, but I still manage to shrug with nonchalance. “Sure.”

He nods, twirling that piece of grass with his tongue, his eyes trained steadily on me, burning me up. My skin starts to warm up. Sweet mother of all that’s holy, no one should be that sexy.

Dane James was always sexy, but was he always this sexy? Or is it just that he’s a full-grown man now, and a little bit of age brings its own kind of hotness? I don’t know. I only know that he’s tearing my insides up, standing there like that. And by the way his lips are curling up at the edges as I stare at him like a witless wonder, I think he probably knows it, too.

I snap out of it, forcing myself to look away. I push my laptop shut. “Let me take this inside and grab some shoes. I’ll be right back.”

I call up to Celina that I’ll be back in a few minutes, set my laptop on the dining room table, grab my shoes by the door, and make my way back outside.

Dane is standing with his back to me now, giving me the perfect shot of his butt. Of the few things that haven’t changed at all since I left, Dane James’ legendary ass is one of them.

“Ready,” I announce as I jog down to meet him. “Where are we going?”

“Toward the river. Got something to show you.”

“Okay.” I can’t imagine what it might be, but I’m more than willing to find out. This is a huge step forward, it seems. Apparently, Dane thought about what I said last night and decided that maybe it’s worth giving me the benefit of the doubt.

At least I hope that’s what happened.

“So, how’s the business going?”

“Fine.”

“You ever gonna tell me how you ended up with this place? I never would’ve seen that coming.”

“Yeah, me neither. Especially not like it did.”

“Momma said you bought it when Alton died.”

Dane slides me a look from the corner of his eye. “Is that what she said?”

“Well, something like that. She was being really weird about it. Is that not what happened?”

Dane looks off into the distance, his jaw muscle flexing as his lips twirl that thin piece of grass. “Did you ever wonder why your stepdaddy hated me so much?”

My brows draw together. “I wouldn’t say he hated you.”

That’s a lie. Alton hated Dane. With a passion.

Dane sends me a dubious glare. “Brinkley, come on.”

On a sigh, I confess, “Okay, fine. He hated you. But truly, I never did know why.”

“Me either. Not for a long, long time. Not until my father died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, by the way. I meant to tell you that.”

“Thanks. He’s better off. His life… It wasn’t the best.”

“I thought he was happy.”

“I did, too, until I found out the truth.”

“The truth?”

Dane inhales so deeply, his tank top looks like it might rip across the front. When he exhales, he reaches up and grabs the piece of grass, throws it aside. For some reason, that gesture speaks to me. It’s almost like he spat. It seemed…angry.

“Zane, he…he wasn’t my father.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean the reason Alton hated me is because I was his son.”

I stop and turn so abruptly my head spins a little. “What?”

The lines of Dane’s face are pinched. His lips are drawn thin and his brow is drawn low. “Yep. Turns out, I’m more one of them than I ever wanted to be.”

“But how? I mean…how?”

“When he died, Zane, I mean, there was a letter addressed to me in with his will. Turns out, he was part owner in Alton’s operation. They had more history than anyone ever knew about. Alton just managed to buy his way into covering it up.

“My mother, Elizabeth, was one of the Shepherd’s Mill elite. She dated Alton and they were supposed to be married. You know how they match-make in this town. I guess I got my rebellious streak from her, though, because she fell in love with a common worker, a guy who worked Alton’s father’s fields.” He slides a squinted look at me. “I guess history really does have a way of repeating itself. At least as far as Alton could see.”

Now I understand why Alton hated the idea of me with Dane. It hit way too close to home.

“Your mother…and Alton?”

He nods. “Her parents were thrilled with the match, of course. His, too. You know how that goes. But she gave it all up to be with Zane. Her parents denounced her, wouldn’t have anything to do with her, or me, and Alton…well, he didn’t take it very well either, evidently. He…he forced himself on her. Took what he said was his, before she could give it away to the ‘trash’.” He glances over at me again. This time his eyes are flashing hotly in the sun. “Sound familiar?”

I pale, feeling so sorry for the woman who suffered so much.

“That’s how I came along. That’s what I’m born from. His hate. His violence.” His teeth are tightly gritted when he adds, “I hate that man. Christ Almighty, I hate him.”

I can practically feel the emotion emanating from Dane. Once I walked this path with a boy whose sadness reached out and touched me. Today, twenty years later, I’m walking it with the man, but it’s his fury I feel.

“Did you confront Alton? What did he say?”

“I went to his house the night I found out. Your mother was there, but Alton wasn’t. I went storming in and I…I said some things I probably shouldn’t have. But I was just so damn mad. I could’ve killed him with my bare hands.” Dane raises those hands and clenches his fingers into tight fists. The skin turns white and he shakes with fury. “It was probably a good thing he was gone. He avoided me like the plague. Until I went back with the papers from the court to claim my half of the company.”

I gasp. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yep. When my mother found out she was pregnant, she wasn’t going to tell Alton, but she started to show and, well…there was no hiding that. He demanded to know if the kid was his. When he found out I was, he gave her one last chance to do the ‘right thing,’ but she wanted to stay with my dad, with Zane. So Alton set out to get his revenge. He threatened her, told her he’d ruin her, ruin the baby, ruin Zane. They’d be homeless and penniless and he’d hate her. Pretty much the same shit he told you, from the sounds of it. She fought it as long as she could, but I guess it became too much. She ended up taking an overdose after I was born. Alton must’ve been freaking out, because he tried to cover his tracks. That’s why he struck the deal with Zane. A thirty percent share of the fields in exchange for his silence and for raising me as his own. So Dad did. Because I was part my mother’s and he loved her. He never told a soul, not until after he was gone.”

Puzzle pieces start to fall into place. Why Alton hated me with Dane, why he singled him out, why he called me Elizabeth the night he came to my room. He was drunk and he thought I was her.

I’m dumbfounded.

I’m furious.

But I’m also so heartbroken for the woman who gave birth to Dane. I feel like I can relate to her in so many different ways. In her shoes, I hope I’d be able to do the right thing, too. I hope I did. I kept my baby. At least I didn’t let Alton bully me into aborting her.

“I…I don’t even know what to say to that. He’s…he’s…God, he was so despicable.”

I feel anger rising in me now, too. He used lies to manipulate me. He knew there was nothing he could do to Dane or his father, but I didn’t. And he was counting on that. He was counting on my love for Dane to force my hand.

And it worked.

I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it. “So he could never have forced you and your father off the farm. All that I did, all that I gave up, all the choices I made and the people I’ve hurt…it was all for nothing.”

Dane stands mutely beside me as my world is being shaken to its foundation.

“He…he used my love for you against me. To keep me quiet, to punish you for…for being his son when his mother didn’t want him. He stole…he stole fifteen years from me, from us, from—” I stop myself, my rage mounting. “He…he… Oh, God!”

I resume walking. I can’t stand still. I can hardly stand to even be in my own skin. I’m so angry, and I feel so betrayed, so deceived, so cheated, I want to hit something, kick something, destroy something. Anything to release the pressure that’s building up inside me.

As I stomp along, I run my hands up into my hair. “How could I be so blind? How could I have let him do that? How? Why would anyone do that?”

Dane growls from beside me. “That’s just the kind of bastard he was.”

I turn and look into his face. I see a perfect reflection of the helpless fury I feel. If Alton were alive, I feel like I could kill him for this, but I won’t ever have that chance. I won’t ever even be able to confront him, to tell him I hope he burns for what he’s done.

He got the last laugh.

And I’m not sure I can live with that.

But I’m not sure how not to.

“How…how do you live with this?” I feel a sob expand in my chest. “How am I supposed to live with this?”

It escapes before I can stop it. I’m livid, and I’m devastated, and I don’t know what to do about either.

“It took me a while to figure that out.”

That just makes me angrier. “How can you be so calm about this?”

Dane jerks me to a stop and towers angrily over me. “I hate that man. With everything that’s in me, I hate him. You don’t know what my life has been like since I found out. If he hadn’t died, I’d have destroyed him and everything he loved, but that lying son of a bitch cheated me out of that, too. He stole everything from me. He even stole you.” Dane is huffing, his wrath more than evident.

“I…I don’t…”

We both fume and pant.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Strangely, Dane seems to calm somewhat. “I’ve wondered the same thing. I’ve let hate rule my life for the last two years. It’s like drinking poison. Every day. But honestly, you being back here…it sort of put things in perspective. If I keep doing it, keep drinking it, I keep letting him win. I’ll be giving him what he couldn’t take, the only thing he didn’t take. My future. But I won’t.” He shakes his head adamantly. “I won’t give him one more thing. Not one more. Not even one more day.”

I listen to his words. I hear them. But he has no idea the true depths of what Alton stole from me, and from him. And when I tell him, not only will he hate me, but he’ll hate Alton all over again. I’ll be stealing what tiny bit of peace he’s managed to obtain in his life. I will have earned his hatred, fair and square, ten times over.

On the verge of tears again, I shake my head, looking away. “I need some time to think about this. Can we…can we do this another day?”

He nods slowly. “Sure.”

I spin on my heel and start walking the other direction. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He nods again and watches me go.

He doesn’t try to follow.

All the way home, my insides burn with fury. Impotent rage. I can’t confront Alton. I can’t make him pay. I can’t even confront my mother, can’t ask her if she knew. I can’t burn a bridge with her because the only person who would suffer is Celina.

But I want to.

And it feels like it’s killing me that I can’t.

This is just one more thing I’ll have to swallow, have to live with, have to try not to let eat me alive. There is a mountain of hurt built up in me, and it seems to be growing larger and larger every day.

* * *

I can’t sleep again.

Shocker.

I’ve spent the last two hours staring out my window into the great, black nothingness. I’m brimming with turmoil and I have no idea how to make it stop.

I head downstairs to the kitchen where I fire up the kettle and make myself a cup of lavender tea. I’m setting the empty pot back on the eye when I hear a soft voice from somewhere behind me.

“Momma?”

I turn to find Celina standing under the archway, running a hand through her long, sandy hair.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. I can’t sleep.”

“Want some tea?”

In the glow from the nightlight, I see her nod. I give her my cup. “Take this one. Go sit down in the living room. I’ll be right in.”

I make another cup for myself and join my little girl on the couch. Her legs are folded up under her and she’s facing my end, so I assume the same position facing her. I smile at her over my steaming mug.

“Nervous?”

She nods again.

Her appointment with the new doctor at Duke is tomorrow. Although I try to break things down and keep them as positive as possible, she still knows that this is an important visit. This visit could give us a lot of hope, or it could dash a lot of hope.

“If the blood transfusions were still as effective as they were, I’d never put you through this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” She’s quiet for a couple of minutes before she asks, “Did we move here because of money?”

My heart sinks. These aren’t the types of things I want to fill my sick child’s mind. “Celina—”

“I’m not a baby, Momma. Don’t give me the whole ‘it’s my job to protect you’ speech again. You’re just avoiding telling me the truth, and it’s making me worry more.”

“Where on earth is this coming from?”

I’m stalling. Lord help me, I’m stalling because I don’t want to tell my daughter the truth and I don’t want to lie to her either.

“See? This is what you always do, but I have a right to know. This affects me, too.”

“I know it does, and I’m not trying to—”

“Yes, you are. I know you’re doing it because you love me, but I’m telling you right now that I want to know. I need to know. Please.” Tears glisten in her eyes and distress is written all over her face. I had no idea my evasiveness has been causing her so much grief. I thought I was protecting her, but it appears I’m only making things worse.

“I’m trying to do the very best things I can for you. You—”

“Mom! You—”

“Let me finish.” Celina snaps her lips shut. “I’ve talked to more doctors about more treatments than you can imagine. I don’t want one man’s opinion on what’s best for you. I want them all. I want to know what the best of the best think, and I want to know all the pros and cons and side effects, and it’s pretty much the general consensus that the experts in hematology, the ones with the most experience with aplastic anemia, are at Duke. So. That’s the main reason we’re here. We’re closer to Duke, it has the better care, I found a job that I can work from home. It’s win-win.”

“And it’s the town you hate. The people you hate.”

“I don’t hate anyone, Celina.” At least no one that’s alive.

“You know what I mean. This place made you miserable, and now you’re back here because of me.”

“I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to be miserable. Being miserable because I’m sick is bad enough.”

“I’m not miserable. And you being sick doesn’t make me miserable.”

“And I know part of it has to do with money.”

“Celina, we’re fine.”

“So you aren’t spending all your money on me?”

“Nope. I’m not.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” And I’m totally comfortable making that promise because I’m not spending all my money on her. Just the vast majority of it. But she doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t know that I’d sell the clothes off my back if it meant getting her the treatment she needs. Moving back here, changing jobs, and uprooting us, facing my old demons…it’s all worth it. For her.

“I love you, Momma.” Her words are so low, I almost don’t hear them.

“Of course, you do. You can’t not love me,” I tease as I tug on the tips of her hair. When she leans forward, I press my lips to her forehead and try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I love you, too, baby girl. You’re my whole world.”

She sits back, dunking her tea bag a few times before taking a sip. “So, the guy who showed up here.”

Dane.

She’s asking about Dane.

Holy shit.

My muscles have seized. I’m not even sure I can blink. But my lips still work, so I sip my tea and utter as casually as possible, “Yeah. What about him?”

“You know him?”

“I do.”

“How well?”

“He used to work here when I was young.”

“Is that all?”

Celina doesn’t look up when she asks; she just stares down into her mug.

“We dated. Sort of. If that’s what you mean.”

“He…he looked surprised to see me.”

“I’m sure he was. I haven’t seen or talked to him in fifteen years. He had no idea I have a daughter.”

“You told me my father was a guy from your hometown, but that he was dead. You said his name was James.”

I nod, sipping my tea, even though my heart is in my throat. I’m praying she’ll drop this. What I told my child about her origin is another inadvisable faux pas from my past. I knew Momma and Alton would never bring it up, and I knew no one else knew, so I thought it wouldn’t be an issue. Of course, I wasn’t expecting Dane James to live here anymore either.

“Is that true?”

I close my eyes and blow into my steaming mug.

Oh Lord.

Oh Lord God.

Don’t let her corner me. Not now. Not before her appointment. Not before she’s married with her own kids and can understand why I’ve done the things I’ve done.

“Momma!”

“What?”

“You said he died. Is that true?”

“I did.”

“Is. That. True?”

“Honey—”

“Is…is he my father?”

I wish for a moment that a hole would open in the floor and it would swallow me up. Just take me out of here, out of this place where I’m surrounded by my mistakes. Impugned by my deceptions.

“Why would you think that?”

“Tell me the truth, Momma.”

“Your father…” I let the word hang in the air as I think of what to say, and how to say it. It’s when I look up at my daughter, at the face that’s nearly a mirror image of my own, that I know what I have to do.

It’s time.

“Yes. That was your father.”

She doesn’t gasp, so much as she just inhales loudly. Slowly. Deeply. Like she’s physically taking it all in.

Much to my surprise, however, rather than getting mad or acting hurt, she just starts to nod. Her only verbal response is a quiet, “I thought so.”

“You thought so? But why? What on earth would make you look at him and think he’s your father?”

“It wasn’t the way I looked at him, or the way he looked at me. It was the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you.”

I rub one hand across my throbbing forehead. What are the odds that I’d come back here after fifteen years and find that Dane James is still here? Like right here?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest.”

“So his name is James?”

“Dane James. James is his last name.”

“Why would you keep this from me? I’m old enough to know.” She’s being surprisingly calm and rational. That in itself is almost enough to worry me.

“The circumstances of my leaving Shepherd’s Mill weren’t good ones. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. Not that I didn’t want to. I was trying to do what was best for him. It was…it was just a bad situation. I could never tell him about you, so I thought for your health and happiness it would be best to just tell you that he was dead rather than let you wonder and worry about a father out there that you couldn’t see or touch or talk to.”

She nods several times, avoiding eye contact, which, in a strange way, hurts me worse than if she were to scream and rant. “I understand.”

“Do you? Do you really? Because I’m thinking that you couldn’t possibly, and that you have every reason in the world to be upset with me right now.”

“It’s fine, Momma.”

“Celina—”

“It’s fine.”

Why can’t I just take this gift and let it go?

I don’t know, but I can’t. I don’t want her bottling up feelings that could rot her soul. I’m a big girl and I knew there would be consequences for my actions.

I just didn’t expect them all to fall out of the sky at the same time.

“Are you sure?” I won’t believe her even if she says yes. This is too huge.

“I know how much you love me. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me on purpose.”

“That’s true. That’s all very true. But, Celina, if you’re angry, let’s talk about it. Or if you’re hurt, let’s hash it out. I know you must have questions, so ask.”

“I do, but I don’t think I want to ask them yet.”

“Why not?”

“I just…” She shakes her head and that’s when I see her level of fatigue. This is just too much for her right now. She’s not sleeping well, her body is under attack, she’s been taken out of her familiar environment. Her stress level is probably already off the charts. “I want to think first.”

She’s smart enough to put things that can wait on the back burner.

How did I have a child so smart? How could this intelligent, mature, pragmatic, gorgeous creature have come from me? How could I have anything to do with such amazingness?

“I understand. And it’s fine, babe. We can talk about it some other time. Any other time. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay. Have you… Did you tell him about me?”

Will the hits not just stop for God’s sake? Can I never outrun the many levels of my own selfishness and stupidity?

“Not yet. He was very angry with me for leaving.” I pause, my pulse pounding. “Why? Do you want me to tell him?”

She pauses as well, clearly considering the query. “Maybe not yet.”

“That’s fine. I respect that. We can talk about it more later.”

She seems relieved. “Okay, Momma.”

“For tonight, why don’t you head back to bed? Maybe you can sleep now.”

As if on cue, she yawns. “I am pretty tired all of a sudden.”

“I sprinkled some fairy dust in that tea. I hope they don’t do a urine test tomorrow.”

Celina gets up and hands me her mug, shaking her head and muttering, “You’re so weird.”

I grin. “But I’m awesome.”

She climbs the stairs, still shaking her head.

This is us.

This is what we do.

And as long as I have us, I’ll survive.