insecurities.
In high school Dawson’s casual good looks had gotten him dates with all the popular girls and his souped-up Mustang had made him the envy of most of the guys. Dawson had been popular and cool. Playing basketball and being able to talk to anyone had helped that image.
She, on the other hand, had been mostly quiet and introspective.
Locking up the high school memories in a tight box, she led Dawson out the door and up the flagstone path to the Purple Pansy, not only a well-liked B and B on the northern Arizona tourist route, but her home for all of her thirty-three years. Her aunt had run the B and B since before Mikala was born in addition to giving piano lessons, taking in typing for a temp agency and working as a receptionist on and off. Anna had worked hard to keep a roof over their heads, good food on the table and laughter in the kitchen. Mikala knew she could never repay her aunt for raising her when her mother had left and hardly looked back.
“There’s snow in the air,” Dawson remarked, as they walked along the path profuse with flowers in summer and fall, now barren with the winter cold.
Glancing over at Dawson, she had to look up. She wasn’t short. She was a good five-eight. “Very different from Phoenix.”
“Maybe I can coax Luke outdoors more here and involve him in winter sports. He spends too much time cooped up in his room. Cactus and heat don’t help.”
“Does he have a specific reason for fighting the move?” No one particularly liked change, but children could be more resilient than adults.
“He’s protesting in part because my dad’s staying there. And, of course, Phoenix is the only home he knows. It’s where we were a family. Where he had his mom.”
Mikala saw the sadness in Dawson’s eyes when he spoke of his deceased wife. But she sensed he was hurting more for Luke than himself. Was she right about that? Had Dawson’s marriage been less than he’d expected it to be? Had an unplanned pregnancy made it rocky from the start?
On the patio of the B and B, Dawson looked around at the sycamores and pines, Moonshadow Mountain and Feather Peak in the distance.
“It’s just as I remembered it.”
There was nostalgia in his voice and she wondered exactly what he was remembering.
When they stepped into the kitchen, Mikala caught the scent of vanilla and lavender. The whole house seemed to have that scent, except when she or her aunt were baking. Then cinnamon and fruit smells filled every nook and cranny.
There was surprise in Dawson’s voice when he said, “This changed.”
The house was about a hundred years old and well-maintained. Overall, it had an old-fashioned air, with bronze sconces on walls that resembled oil lamps, ceiling lights with chandelier bulbs and wallpaper with tiny purple and yellow flowers. However, the kitchen had seen a major overhaul.
Glancing around, Mikala smiled. “Stainless steel moved in so I guess it’s more modern. We have a new counter and floor, too. But some things are still the same.”
Dawson’s gaze passed over the oak clock above the sink, the railing above the cupboards holding Hummel figurines, the maple table and chairs that were antiques now.
“She still has the purple pansy curtains.” He couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.
“Yes, she does. They’re fairly new, though, the old ones had faded.”
“This still feels … homey,” Dawson mused, and Mikala had to wonder if his house didn’t.
Decisive again, he motioned down the hall. “Let’s look at the third-floor suite. Two bedrooms would be better to give both Luke and I some privacy.”
As they walked down the hall, Mikala tried to avoid thinking about the fact that if Dawson took the third-floor suite, she’d be on the second floor. Her quarters and her aunt’s were there. Having Dawson under the same roof gave her stomach an upside-down kind of feeling.
The carpet runner on the stairs quieted their footsteps. As they climbed the second flight, she asked him, “How much will you be bringing with you?”
“Just enough to make Luke comfortable. I’ll have his bedroom furniture and the piano trucked up here when we’re ready, but the rest of it I’m going to leave at the house. The market is picking up there, and with everything priced right, I’m hoping a furnished house will sell quickly. If Luke and I are starting a new life, it will be better that way.”
“You might ask him if there’s anything else he wants to keep. Baggage is one thing, Dawson, but memories are another. You don’t want to tear him away from everything he knows. He could be fighting the move because he feels that’s what you’re doing.”
At the landing now, Dawson looked troubled. “I hope I’m not making a mistake. But nothing is working for Luke in Phoenix.”
“What’s your gut telling you?” Mikala asked, as they stood at the door to the third-floor suite, close enough to share confidences and remember friendship that might have been more. If only—
If only Dawson’s family hadn’t moved away, whatever the reason.
“My gut’s telling me this is right.”
“Then maybe I can help him marry the past with the present.”
The word marry seemed to hang between them and she wondered why she’d chosen that word. To remind herself Dawson had been married? That even after two years he might still be grieving? That nothing could come of any attraction she might feel? That she didn’t trust that anyone would stay and not leave, especially a man … especially someone she loved? She’d been left behind more than once and she wouldn’t let it happen again. The memory of Alan Taylor telling her he’d fallen for someone else still stung … still hurt … bringing back a feeling of inadequacy she’d fought against since she was a teenager.
Mikala took a key ring from her pocket. It jangled as she poked an old-fashioned key into the door and turned the lock. The solid wood door swung open. She and Dawson stepped inside to a sitting room where braided rugs in hunter green and navy dotted the floor. The navy leather couch was accompanied by a green and blue plaid chair.
Mikala switched on a multi-colored Tiffany lamp so Dawson could see there was a small kitchen area with a microwave, two-burner stove and a table for two. Yellow curtains and placemats brightened up the small space.
As Dawson assessed the suite, Mikala crossed the room to a short hall. She opened one door to reveal a nice-sized bedroom with a hand-carved oak bed and dresser. A handmade quilt with navy, red, green and yellow patches stretched across the bed. The second bedroom, slightly smaller with a slanted ceiling, had an oak washstand with mirror, a shorter dresser and a double bed. Light poured in the double-hung windows, splashing over the green-and-tan spread.
“This is perfect,” Dawson decided. “I think Luke and I will both feel comfortable here.” He took a checkbook from his inside jacket pocket. “I should give your aunt a deposit.”
Automatically Mikala’s hand closed over his. “No, don’t worry about that. She’ll settle up with you when the time comes.”
Time
