“Actually, if you have time, her back porch has a couple of loose railings. She likes to take tea out there every afternoon, and I’m honestly worried that she’s going to fall through one of these days.”
“Consider it done.” He smiles.
“Thanks so much.” I open my notepad and check off the line that says ‘Get Charlene’s Porch Fixed.’ Because if one of the Hunts says they’ll do something, it’s as good as done.
“You had that on your to-do list?” he asks, amused.
“I did. It’s been on there for the last couple of days. I’ve fallen a bit behind. It’s actually happenstance I ran into you because I was going to call Bradyn this afternoon.”
“You and those lists,” he says with a laugh.
“Don’t mock. They keep me organized.”
“I bet you still add ‘make a list’ to your lists.”
I glare at him, though a smile turns up the corners of my lips. “That happened one time. Dylan never let me live it down.” His name used to roll so easily off my lips. Now, it’s like a boulder falling on my toe. My happiness dies just a bit, so I turn my attention back to my salad.
“You okay?” Riley questions.
“Fine.” I say it a bit sharper than I mean to, so I offer him a smile. “I’m completely okay,” I add.
“Alright. Well, you know that I’m here if you need me. We all are.”
“Thanks, Riley.” Even though Dylan is their brother, they all supported me during the months when Dylan was in rehab. During that whole year, after the initial hospital visit ended horribly, I’d waited for the day Dylan would call and want to see me again, but it’s a call that never came.
“No problem.” He offers me a smile, then returns to his book, so I finish eating in silence, all while my mind constantly replays the moments I had with Dylan before everything fell apart.
“Well, well, Ma, what are you working on?” I playfully hold up a small pair of crocheted socks.
“I don’t want to forget,” Charlene replies, a sheepish smile on her aging face. The floral couch she’s sitting on is one I’ve spent more than a few nights on since her husband’s passing. It also happens to be nearly the same pale pink as the dress she’s currently wearing.
“Forget what? How to crochet?”
“No, about the baby.”
“What baby?”
Charlene’s expression turns frustrated. Which means that she’s grasping at something I’m not comprehending and doesn’t understand why I don’t understand.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say quickly. “Sorry, the baby, of course. Tell me about the baby.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “You know all about the baby, Emmaline. It is yours, after all.”
Mine. “Oh?” I glance back at Ursula, her nurse, who simply smiles sadly.
“Yes. Yours and that Hunt boy—Dylan. How could I forget his name?” She snaps her fingers. “That kid was running around after you from the time he could walk.”
My chest tightens. How many times did I dream about being married to Dylan? About carrying his child and being the one he turned to when things got hard? Instead, during his darkest moments, he pushed me away.
“Ma, Dylan and Emma aren’t together anymore,” her nurse says carefully. “Remember?”
Charlene looks at me, confusion in her blue gaze. “Not together anymore. Since when?”
“Quite a few years, Ma,” Ursula says, once again using Charlene’s pet name. She was an elementary school teacher up until she retired, and everyone has always called her Ma. Even the students called her Ma Thomas instead of Mrs. Thomas. “They haven’t been together in a long time.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. You were going to be married, remember? Baby’s breath and lilacs.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because if I’d been standing, I imagine I would have fallen over, thanks to the weakness in my legs. Embarrassment, sadness, it all hits me as I look at her broken expression.
