said after she cleared her throat. “I’ll call you once I’ve spoken with my daughter.”
After they ended the call, Mackenzie stared at the phone for several seconds.
“Well?” Rayna was staring at her like a cat gearing up to pounce on a catnip toy. “That had to be Dylan, right? What did he say?”
“He wants to meet Hope.”
Rayna turned the burner on the stove down. “See? Look at that! Prayers in action! This is great news!”
“What’s great news?” Charlie walked through the front door wearing mint-green scrubs. She hung her keys on the hook just inside the door.
“Hi, honey.” Rayna smiled at her wife, Charlotte. “Dylan finally came to his senses and called. He’s agreed to meet Hope!”
Rayna was the yin to Charlotte’s yang. Rayna had shoulder-length wispy blond hair, pretty, Slavic features and alabaster skin. Charlotte, who preferred to be called Charlie, was an attractive mix of Irish and Mexican heritage with light brown eyes, golden-chestnut skin and thick black wavy hair worn loose and long. At first, Rayna and Charlie were just her landlords, but they had become family after Hope was diagnosed. Rayna and Charlie had been in the trenches with them right from the start—cooking meals, running errands and pulling all-nighters watching Hope while Mackenzie caught a few hours of sleep. And Rayna’s church had held fundraisers to help raise money to help pay for Hope’s burgeoning medical bills. It was hard to imagine how she would have gotten through the first year of Hope’s treatment without them.
“Huh...” Charlie kissed Rayna on the lips. “How come you’re happy and Mackenzie’s not?”
“You know Mackenzie resists change.” Ray held out a wooden spoon to Charlie. “Here. Taste this.”
Charlie tasted the sauce. “That’s really good.”
“I don’t think I resist change,” Mackenzie said.
A sleepy-eyed, rotund gray tabby cat named Max appeared. Charlie scooped him up, kissed him on the head. “I thought this was the call you’ve been waiting for all week...?”
“It’s not that I’m not glad that he called. I am. It’s just a lot to take in, that’s all. It’s always just been Hope and me.” Mackenzie rested her chin on her hand. “I like how things are between us now...”
“Resistant to change,” Rayna said in a singsong voice.
Charlie got some water and then joined Mackenzie at the kitchen table. “But maybe this will turn out to be a great thing. You yourself already said that he’s a good guy. What could it hurt to have another person share the load? Between the bakery and managing Hope’s leukemia treatments, let’s face it...you’ve got your hands full.”
At Mackenzie’s feet, Max was preparing for a leap onto her lap. Mackenzie patted her legs for encouragement.
“Oh, my dear lord, what have you been feeding this cat, Ray?” Max landed on her leg with a grunt. “I thought he was on a diet.”
Charlie sent Rayna an “I told you so” look. Rayna was immediately defensive. “He is on a diet! Don’t listen to them, Max-a-million. You’re just big boned!” Rayna pointed a spatula at her. “And don’t change the subject. What’s really scaring you?”
Rayna could read her like a book. “I don’t know. I suppose I am, a little scared. I mean...what if...
“What if...” Mackenzie hadn’t admitted this private thought aloud. “What if Dylan ends up wanting custody of Hope? What if Hope decides that she wants to live with him down the road?”
Charlie and Rayna both shook their heads in unison.
“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Charlie twisted her thick wavy hair into a bun.
Rayna came to the table. “Not a chance.”
“I feel stupid admitting that out loud...” Mackenzie scratched behind Max’s chops.
“It’s not stupid,” Rayna said. “It’s human.”
“I suppose so...” Mackenzie helped Max to the floor safely. “You know what, guys? If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna skip dinner.”
“Are you sure?” Rayna asked, disappointed. “I was going to try out a new recipe on you! And I have wine...”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” She stood up, glad that she lived next door. “I just need some time to...decompress before Hope gets back from the movies.”
“Bath salts, candles and a hot bath.” Rayna hugged her tightly at the door. “Everything always looks better after a bath.”
* * *
Dylan drove slowly up the winding, tree-lined private driveway that led to his aunt’s farm. When he was growing up, and Uncle Bill was still alive, the farm had been bustling with activity. Now the place felt lifeless. The horses were gone, the stable hands and horse trainers were gone. The only thing left were empty pastures, empty stables and Aunt Gerri’s sprawling two-story 1900s farmhouse with its wraparound porch and old tin roof. At one time, Forrest Hanoverians claimed over a hundred acres and were renowned for the quality of their Hanoverian breeding program. Over the years, Aunt Gerri had sold off much of the farm’s land until only the central twenty acres of the farm remained.
Dylan parked his car in the circle driveway in front of the house. Aunt Gerri swung open the front door and waved at him.
“I was just getting ready to play the organ, when I saw you coming up the driveway!” Aunt Gerri called to him from the door. Just shy of her eighty-third birthday, Geraldine Forrest was a petite woman with intelligent bright blue eyes, a steel-trap memory and a kind-hearted disposition. Dylan always marveled at her energy; she kept herself busy going to garage sales, playing the organ at her church and socializing with her long list of friends.
“How are you, Aunt Gerri?” Dylan walked up the porch steps.
“Well...I’ll tell you...I’m fit as a fiddle.” Aunt Gerri held out her arms to him. “Oh! I’m so happy to see you!”
“I’m glad to see you, too, Aunt Gerri.” Dylan hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.
“Okay...so let’s go inside.” Aunt Gerri turned to head back into the house. “You’ll have to shut the door real hard—it’s been sticking lately.”
Dylan ran his hand up the edge of the door. “I’ll fix it for you before I leave.”
“Oh! Would you?” Aunt Gerri beamed. “That would be such a big help. I was finally going to break down and call someone about it tomorrow. You’ll be saving me the trouble. Do you want coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Dylan stopped to straighten a picture of Uncle Bill hanging in the foyer. After his mom died, this became his permanent home. Uncle Bill and Aunt Gerri took him and raised him. This house, with its creaky wide-planked wooden floors and thick crown molding, was his home. It was the one place that never really changed. The one thing he could always count on, especially when
