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Wade needed to workout. He'd spent yesterday crouched over books in the library and then stuffed himself on apple pie at the Wagon Wheel.
The diner had been an interesting place. It looked like an old train car and had vintage newspaper articles and pictures on the walls. According to the plaque inside the creaky front door, the place was started by one Barbara Seymour in the early 1900s. He'd soaked in history from the old newspaper articles and pictures on the walls until a server took him back to a seat.
Blessings was off the beaten path, not far from Lansing and the flowing Missouri River. It'd been founded by a reverend, a Walter Benedict and his wife, Sarah, who'd birthed twin babies with the help of a kind Native American woman. The land had been a beautiful oasis of plains and wild game. Speaking of wild game, the fried chicken tasted amazing.
He slid out of his comfy bed with a groan and felt the tautness of his calves as he plodded into the modest on-suite bathroom. The bright green bathroom walls made the morning seem lighter as he studied himself in the mirror. He'd dreamed about school during the night—running through the halls trying to find his classroom. All the time he'd been searching, he'd known Anna had been there somewhere teaching in another room, but she wasn't offering any help. He'd been frustrated and angry and then just sad.
He wiped his jaw to clear away the cobwebs. Dating a colleague had been a mistake. She'd resented his climb up through the department so fast and blamed it all on his gender. It crushed him that she didn't see the passion he had, not just for the history, but for the students and the next generation. Anna's verbal assault in his office the day after his job offer to stay on as a full-time professor had burst his heart and his faith in good women.
The mirror fogged from the hot water pouring from the faucet, and Wade washed his face. The pretty art teacher, Darcy, hadn't come by the B&B like he'd hoped she would. True, he had no intention of starting another relationship, or worse, using someone when he had no plans to commit. Maybe it was for the best.
He was on the road to clear his head. This wasn't just a trip to re-inspire him to get back to work on the book, it was a time he needed to get away and figure out exactly where he belonged—in the present.
He slipped into his jogging pants and picked up his cell phone on the way out. Grant had texted during the night and asked what Blessings, Kansas was like. That was a great question. He took the main street through town almost stopping for a muffin at a spot called the Home Again Cafe, but made himself go straight on to the park. A little part of him knew he wanted to do more than run. He couldn't resist.
Pulling into the lot, his heart did a little skip when he saw the blue coupe pulled up against the open gate to the pedestrian trail. Darcy was here taking a run in her little black leggings. Her dark, rich hair was probably up in a ponytail again. He liked the way it'd swung around her shoulders toward her chin at the library. Seeing it down with loose curls framing her oval face and those murky green eyes had struck a chord in him. Maybe he'd see her on the trail and not fall down this time.
He locked the car and took a few minutes to stretch before setting off on the five-kilometer loop. This time he'd worn sweatpants and a jacket to stay warm. It was cold in the mornings already, and lesson number two, there was no reason to hurry and sprint because the trail was too rough around the edges.
The trees and their color-stained leaves stretched over the path as he set off at a light jog. He left the earbuds out, something he'd never done before, and it made him feel vulnerable. It didn't last. Relaxing, he noticed the wind ruffling the tree branches in shushing whispers, the occasional chirp from a winter bird, and his own breathing moving in perfect harmony with the perfectly timed smack of his footfalls.
His mind wandered back to the men—and women—who'd pioneered the western trails of the country. What had they thought about beautiful Kansas? Had they admired the fields of bluebells, larkspur, and milkweed? Had sunflowers dotted the rolling hills as thickly as they did now?
He made a mental note to see the blazing fields of sunflowers someday. Maybe heading out on a road trip in late fall hadn't been the best idea. He'd missed the fields of gold by a couple of months.
Taking a deep breath, Wade let the sweat go and cleanse him from the inside out. He pushed Anna's memory and her drama back into the little healing hole inside his heart. He decided not to worry about his job at the University of Missouri. They needed to know if he wanted to stay on as a professor or take a position elsewhere.
He'd set his sights on teaching early in his college career without thinking about the long run. It'd been so easy with his academic skills, he'd just kind of fallen into it. What he really loved to do, he admitted to himself, was read and write.
The final kilometer marker went by, and Wade realized the run had done some good. He felt replenished and ready to tackle more research. It was time to look at the chapters his editor insisted needed more work. Maybe he'd go back to the cafe and grab himself a morning treat after all.
He slowed down as he sailed out of the trees and into the parking lot. There were a few more cars in the gravel lot now and a couple out walking their dog a few yards away from the children's playground.
A woman stretched her legs while standing near one of the parking lot gates. Early morning rays of sunlight that pierced the lifting mist lit up her shiny, dark hair. She turned, and his heart did a little leap.
"Hey!" Darcy's eyes widened in surprise. She was breathing heavy, and her cheeks, neck, and the little patch of skin showing at her throat were flushed red with exercise. "You made it out here again."
He took a few deep breaths to slow his pulse and strode toward the gate to stretch out his calves. "Yes," he said trying not to gasp, "and I didn't fall this time, either."
"That's good news." Her eyes crinkled at the corners. She didn't have any makeup on, but she still looked fresh and beautiful. Stunning, really. "Nice to see you dressed warmly."
"Yes, I've the proper attire for Midwest autumns."
Darcy leaned back against the gate. "It gets cooler here faster than it does where you're from. You'll be pulling out the windshield ice scraper before too long."
"Tennessee?" breathed Wade. "Yes, I guess so, but it's pretty crisp in the November early mornings there, too."
"Oh yeah?"
He nodded. "I didn't even think to bring an ice scraper. I'll have to get one."
"You should, and by the way, I visited Florida once with friends in October, and I thought I was going to die. I mean, it was beautiful and everything, but who wants to be hot and sweaty in the middle of October?"
Wade crinkled his brows. "I love Florida. Who minds a little humidity?"
"I do," laughed Darcy. "We have humidity here, just not that bad, although some days you can tell the humidity just by checking out the frizz factor on my hair. Sometimes it's just—" she cupped her hands on either side of her head and made an explosion noise.
"I'll keep that in mind because I plan to come out again and see the sunflowers in bloom."
"You've come to the right place."
"So I've learned."
Darcy cocked her head. "Have you ever seen Van Gogh's sunflowers? The painting? The brushstrokes are so thick and rich and vibrant. I say they're the closest thing to the real ones!"
Wade rested his hands on his hips and took one last cleansing breath. The morning air cooled his perspiration. "Yeah, I guess, in pictures, but never in person."
Darcy glanced toward the wooded trees. "I went to Chicago once. They brought an exhibit over from Europe and featured it in the Art Institute. It was amazing. I saw Sunflowers, his self-portrait, and of course, Starry Night.
"Wow."
"I painted my bedroom like Starry Night when I was a kid." Darcy chuckled at herself.
"That's amazing. I bet you know all of the history behind it then."
"Oh yes, he painted it in the summer of 1889, but you don't want to get me started."
"Actually, I love history. I'm a professor, you know."
She smiled. "That's right. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a history nut myself when it comes to art. Egyptian, Renaissance, Greek... I'm sorry. You probably have to get to work researching or whatever, and I'm talking your head off."
"It's okay. You love your job." Wade couldn't help but admire her for that.
"I do. I thought I wanted to be an artist, but I needed to make sure I could make a living so that's why I'm teaching. I have to admit though, I did enter a state art contest this year. I'd love to win a grant."
He found himself walking her to her car. "Why not do both?"
She shrugged. "My mom's health isn't so great. She's getting older, still working, and well, she manages a hardware store—not exactly a glowing retirement."
"I see." Wade felt bad for her. He was lucky his parents had something to live on and each other. "It must be just you and your mom?"
"I have a father, but well," she said in a sudden rush, "I have to go. Good to see you out here."
"You, too, Van Gogh."
"You're not calling me Dale Earnhardt anymore?" she teased, walking toward her car.
"That depends on how fast you drive to school."
She chuckled. "I always obey the law."
"Right." He winked, and she pursed her lips.
"Mostly."
She had a perfect little mouth. Her lips were a dark shade of rosy red.
"Hey, dinner? I mean, diner?" Wade closed his eyes and mentally slapped himself. Why was he asking her out when he'd already tried? He felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I meant the diner? It really is a nice place."
"Good chicken, right?" Darcy rested her hand on the door handle of her car and studied him for a long pause. "Would you like to get something to eat later?"
"Tonight?"
"My mom's warming leftover tuna casserole, but I think the diner actually sounds more exciting."
"Ooh," blurted Wade before he could stop himself. "Yes, dinner at the diner sounds great. No artist should have to live on tuna casserole all the time."
"Great. See you there. They may have turkey by now even though the big day is still a couple of weeks away."
Wade's heart leapt in his chest at the idea as his pulse skipped a beat. "You're on."
She left in a cloud of dust again, and Wade sat in his car with the radio on wondering what she listened to on the way to school.
He'd secretly hoped he'd see her on the trail today, but he hadn't meant to ask her out. It'd just happened, and she hadn't left him standing there feeling awkward after he'd stumbled over his words like a nervous schoolboy. In fact, she'd scooped him up and saved him.
The thought of a hot turkey dinner and sitting across from her and talking for a while sent his still-galloping pulse back into overdrive.
***
DARCY RATIONALIZED she had plenty of time before Thanksgiving to finish hanging up the popcorn art around the school. As soon as the last student shuffled down the hall, she scanned the classroom for any last-minute clean up tasks and grabbed her coat. She'd take the rest of the afternoon at home to relax and change before meeting Wade for dinner.
Why was she so excited? Because she was.
Guys like him never gave her a second look unless they were after something temporary. Of course, Wade didn't know anything about where she came from or how she lived, but she'd deal with that later. He was friendly, super smart, and his short, cropped hair, dusting of five o' clock shadow, and strong, solid jaw were incredibly pleasant to look at. Okay, stare at. He must have been lonely to want to meet her at the diner, but he'd kind of asked first.
"Do you think I was too forward?"
Raelynn stood back behind her in the mirror, pulling her gray-streaked hair out of its efficient bun. "You said he mentioned it first. Hand me my brush."
Darcy handed it over and watched her mother brush her waist-long hair out, then she examined her own. She'd pulled the tired locks up into a cute French braid and tied it off below the nape of her neck.
"He seemed excited to get something to eat. He mentioned it the other day at the library, too, so..."
"So, what? The man wants to take you out to dinner." Raelynn gave a hard, determined stroke with the boar bristle brush. "You haven't been out on a date since you moved back."
Darcy leaned over the tiny bathroom sink to apply a fresh coat of mascara. "No one wants to go out with me, Mom. Half of everybody's married, the other half left town, and anyone else is afraid of me."
"They probably don't recognize you, Darcy." Raelynn stopped brushing and grinned. "I miss the black dye job and heavy eyeliner. You've changed."
Darcy studied her face in the mirror. "You're right," she murmured. "I liked it then, just not now. I'm done, you know. A little mascara is all I need. I guess I found myself."
"I'm proud of you. You earned the degree you always wanted, and you're working at the elementary school—the one you actually haunted and drew all over the desks."
Darcy laughed. "I forgot about that! You're right. Fourth grade. I spent an entire day sketching cartoons all over a table in the library and no one appreciated my technique."
"Good thing it washed off, because we didn't have the money to replace it," teased Raelynn.
"I know." Darcy's smile melted off her face. "Good thing Wade Spears wasn't around then or when I graffitied the restrooms at the football field."
Raelynn pointed at her in the mirror with the hairbrush. "Now that was nice. Beautiful. And you were only being patriotic."
Darcy giggled. "The coaches didn't see it that way and neither did the principal."
"Meh." Raelynn waved the brush at her in the mirror. "You've put your skills to good use and now you're inspiring future graffiti artists."
Darcy laughed. "I'm just a substitute for the semester until they hire someone full-time. Hopefully, it'll be me."
The tingle of hot, fluttery nerves that had distracted her from relaxing since she came home went away. She hurried back to her bedroom and found a light blue ombre sweater to change into, then slid into a pair of black skinny jeans. The tunic length came down neatly to mid-thigh, and she added a pair of black-heeled boots. Hoop earrings would look smashing, but she decided to play it conservative with small crystal studs. Not that it mattered. It was just a friendly dinner for goodness sake.
She crunched down the trailer park's gravel driveway pushing away the silly butterflies she felt. When she arrived twenty minutes later, the car she'd seen Wade drive was parked outside the diner. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was already there. Somehow, showing up first might make her look too eager, and she didn't want him to know that a friendly little meal in a bright red train car filled her with a burst of giddy excitement.
Through the front door, her eye caught Wade's gaze through the glass. He was already inside, and the way he smiled at her when she walked in made her heart cartwheel. He actually looked happy to see her.
"Wow," he said, giving her a teasing examination after she greeted him. "I almost forgot you were a school teacher."
"Ha," retorted Darcy. She didn't feel like a teacher at the moment. She was just a girl, and he was a cute guy, and this was dinner.
They grabbed a booth at the back so they could "people watch" according to Wade. They went over the menu together, and she convinced him to try the fried apples with the turkey loaf and potatoes. They chatted about his research, and he explained that he planned to make his way along the old Santa Fe Trail route while he edited his book.
"I imagine I'll end up in Santa Fe, New Mexico when it's all said and done," he explained, "but I spent a summer there a few years ago researching for the book proposal, so I've seen that side of it."
"So you just wanted to see the trail from its beginning?"
"That's right. I live in Missouri now, and I've spent time in Independence where it starts." He hesitated. "I'm on leave from the university right now, so I thought I'd hit the road and, uh, clear some cobwebs."
"I see." It sounded like things were going well for him. "You didn't want to head back to Tennessee?"
"Ah, no," he shrugged. "I go home for the holidays and some summers, birthdays, and anniversaries, so they get plenty of me. I just needed to get away for a bit to do some soul searching."
The food came, and Darcy picked up a buttery biscuit. "What are you searching for exactly?"
Wade looked up from his plate where the potatoes and gravy steamed. "I'm not sure yet. After talking it over with my brother, I realized I needed to get away from Mizzou for a bit. I have a big decision to make. The university has offered me a permanent spot as a history professor. I'd be putting down roots there."
He took a bite of his food, and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Darcy hoped he liked the meal, but his thoughts seemed far away. "Well, I've done that before," she admitted, swallowing the last of her biscuit.
Wade glanced up at her with a question in his eyes.
"Road trip," she explained. "I've taken off for a drive like that—to think and clear my head. I was trying to find some kind of focus so I could figure out what I wanted to do."
"Where'd you go?"
She hesitated but decided to be truthful. He might as well know she wasn't some highly educated art professor with a doctorate and a sophisticated family background. "I quit high school my junior year and took my GED. Next, I set off for Chicago, New York, and ended up in Florida as I mentioned."
"Like a European tour?" He asked it with a funny British accent, and Darcy laughed.
"No, I was just wandering, touring art museums, studying landscapes, and meeting new people. It was fun, but it was hard. I needed to figure myself out."
"Then you came home."
Darcy picked up a napkin and twisted it with her fingers. "I decided to go to art school. I came back and moved my stuff to Topeka about a year later and lived there until last year."
"You came back here to teach art?"
"Yes, because it speaks to me. Life is art. It's like our experiences are brushstrokes. Some are soft, some hard, and some so smooth you can't see them. You can paint over mistakes. You can change the scenery or the mood with just a few strokes of change."
"That's pretty wonderful." Wade didn't ask her why she'd quit school, and she felt relieved. He seemed like the perfect student—he probably graduated with honors.
"This is really good turkey," he blurted. "I'm not sure about the history of roasted turkey legs, but I did just see a documentary about fried chicken, but I don't want to bore you to death."
Darcy raised a brow at him. "I love history, especially the quaint stuff. That's what art is all about. It's our world, our reality as we know it—whether it's the southside of Chicago, Miami Beach, or..." she raised a half-eaten chicken leg and giggled, "some southerner's secret recipe."
Wade grinned, and they burst into laughter at the same time. She liked how he didn't mind her silliness. He was a pretty serious guy, but he seemed to know how to lighten up. They talked about Chicago and the race riots of the 60s, the drama on Miami Beach, and then he told her about growing up in Nashville and how he didn't like country music, which was a travesty.
She showed him her phone's playlist, and he shocked her by approving. Then she impressed him with her history of rock 'n roll, and he quizzed her on her knowledge of the Eagles and the Doors.
It was fun, a perfect night, and a perfect—well, blossoming friendship. Darcy agreed to share a piece of pie and a scoop of ice cream. "I'm stuffed, but okay," she relented. She didn't want it to end. "This ice cream is almost as good as Martha Schobert's place."
Wade's forehead wrinkled as he smacked his lips. "Where's that?"
"Outside of town. It's a little ice cream and popsicle stand not far from where I live."
Before Wade could reply, a voice over Darcy's shoulder snorted, "The Schobert's. What a ghetto place." Other voices muffled their chuckles.
Darcy shot a look over her shoulder and to her horror saw Darrell Busby. He was seated beside his thin, blond-haired wife and across from another couple.
"They're closed. You know that, right?" He spoke to Darcy like he'd just seen her yesterday. She hadn't spoken to the man since high school.
"Yes, I know it's seasonal." Darcy turned back to Wade's questioning gaze but stared down at the pie instead of saying anything. There was no use trying to explain Darrell Busby.
"Downtown Darcy," giggled someone from behind her. Darrell and the others laughed.
Darcy felt her cheeks turn morbidly hot.
"Ol' Downtown Darcy," called Darrell. "How you been, Downtown? I heard you came back."
More tension prickled Darcy's spine. It seemed like the entire diner around them fell quiet or maybe it was her imagination. Her vision seemed to blur and smudge like one of Van Gogh's paintings. Tongue frozen, she could not retort. It wouldn't do any good to pick up the pie and throw it in his face, either.
Finally, she managed to take a breath. "I'm done," she said to Wade in a calm, forced voice. He stared at her with a mystified look on his face. "I should go."
"Okay." Wade glanced past her shoulder then reached for his wallet. "This is on me. Thanks for meeting me here."
"No!" It came out as sharp as an arrow, and Darcy realized she'd almost shouted. "No, I mean, I'll pay for my own." She scrambled to get her purse and ignored the hurt cluck of his tongue.
"I really don't mind."
"I can pay for my own food," she insisted, then realized how defensive she sounded and gave a little laugh. She tried to pretend that she didn't know her cheeks flamed red.
The people in the booth behind her burst out laughing again, and Darcy assumed someone had said something about her. It was high school all over.
She threw a fistful of bills on the table and jumped up from the booth. "Hey thanks for dinner, Wade," she said as kindly as she could manage. She forced herself to ignore the elephants in the room.
"Okay." He gave her a little wave then looked back down at the unfinished pie. "I'll catch you later," he said in a clearer voice. He gave her a sympathetic nod like he understood, and Darcy gave a little wave that hurt her stiff fingers. She rushed out to the car to escape.