“Go, go, go!” Dawson yelled as he watched the kids race in potato sacks across his lawn. A couple fell down as soon as he blew the whistle, but Tucker had helped them back up again. Dylan, ever the little competitor, was ahead at first but then one of the older boys took the lead and won the race.
Dawson walked over and squeezed Dylan’s shoulder. “Good try, buddy!”
“I hate being short!”
“You won’t be short for long. One day, you’ll just start growing like a weed, and before you know it you’ll probably be taller than me.”
Dylan looked up at him. “And then I’ll beat everybody in a race,” he said, giggling.
“Probably so. I used to win all the races because my legs are so long.”
“Kids, time for lunch!” Colleen called. Dylan licked his lips and ran off, eager to have pizza and cupcakes.
“I love those long legs of yours,” Julie said, pinching him in the side.
“Oh, hey. When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago. I got to watch the potato sack race. You see this little bump on my nose?”
Dawson looked closer. “Oh, yeah. I’ve never noticed that before. It’s pretty grotesque.”
She smacked him on the arm. “Stop it. Anyway, I got this when I broke my nose doing the three-legged race with Kathy Schulman. She had the worst coordination of any kid I knew. She would literally trip over her own feet. Miss Dial, my fourth grade teacher, made us be partners, and down I went, busting my nose on the hard Georgia clay. Blood everywhere.”
Dawson stared at her. “Well, that was a very dark story.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I thought it was relevant. How’s everything going?”
“Good. Only two more days after today. I’ll miss these kids.”
Julie wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ve been missing you.”
“I know. Everything seems so busy these days. How’s Vivi?”
“Good. I kept her this morning while Meg met with the dean.”
“She met with the dean? Everything okay?”
“Yes. She actually got offered a teaching assistant position for next semester. I’m so proud of her!”
“That’s awesome. Please tell her I said congratulations.”
Julie looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. You know, about going to our separate homes every night?”
“Yeah?”
“I wish things were different too. I hate being apart so much.”
He froze for a moment. Was she saying something? Was she saying she might want to get married? Should he just ask right now, in the middle of kids eating pizza and screaming?
“So we feel the same way?”
She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I think so. Why don’t we work on our schedules so we can spend more time together in the evenings? Maybe we can switch off on whose house we go to?”
Dawson felt very let down. She wasn’t talking about marriage. She was talking about schedules.
“Sure. Of course. Listen, I hate to run, but Colleen looks frazzled over there. Dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good. I’ll come by around seven?”
“Okay.” He kissed her on top of her head and started to walk away.
“Hey, Dawson?”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do. I love you too.”
With that, he walked away, unsure of what to do. Which risk did he want to take? The one where he proposed and got turned down, or the one where he lived a life that wasn’t quite what he wanted?
SuAnn’s brow was beaded with sweat. She never got nervous, but for some reason she was today. The pie competition was coming up in minutes, and she’d been pitted against the twelve-year champion, Henrietta Bankston.
“Well, hello, SuAnn. Good to see you again,” Henrietta said as she took the station next to hers. All of the competitors were lining up at their makeshift kitchen areas around the convention hall. Visitors milled about, waiting for the competitors to start cooking.
They had a time limit of ninety minutes, barely enough time to make a homemade crust, bake it and then fill it to cook the last forty-five minutes. She’d have to make sure all of her ingredients were prepared so she could hit the ground running.
“Hi, Hen.”
“Henrietta,” she mumbled under her breath.
The host of the pie baking competition walked to the microphone. It was go time. He tapped the mic. “Hello? Is this thing on? Good afternoon, everyone!”
The small crowd laughed and clapped.
“Welcome to our eighteenth annual Seagrove Spring Fling Pie Bakeoff. Our contestants have been furiously working to make the best pies any of you have ever tasted. Here’s how it’s going to work. Each contestant will have ninety minutes from the bell to complete their culinary creation. We will then have our judging panel taste each one, without knowing whose it is, and our new winner will be crowned. That person will win a one hundred dollar gift certificate to Seagrove Spa, a framed certificate and this beautiful hand embroidered apron made by our very own Lila Layton from the Busy Bee Embroidery Shoppe!”
Again, the crowd roared. Funny how excited they got about watching six women bake pies. SuAnn looked over and saw Darcy standing in the wings. She’d asked everyone else to stay away, not needing the extra pressure. But, Darcy had become her right hand in preparing for the bakeoff, so she didn’t mind her being there. Darcy gave her a wink as the bell dinged, and SuAnn went to work.
Within a few minutes, she had her pie shell, infused with chocolate, ready to put in the oven. While it baked for ten minutes, she assembled everything else she needed for her chocolate pecan pie with homemade maple chocolate whipped cream. She’d worked so hard for the last week trying to make it perfect, and now was her time.
At first, she’d planned to make a cherry pie, but when the stupid little lattice pieces weren’t perfect, she’d given up the idea. Crestfallen, she’d found the chocolate pecan pie recipe at the bottom of the recipe box. Turned out, it tasted way better to her and Darcy during their taste testing, so she went with it.
“You’ve got this,” Darcy whispered from the sidelines, like a quiet little cheerleader. “Don’t let that old bat win this again.” SuAnn tried not to laugh.
“Don’t get me distracted,” SuAnn said, waving her hand at Darcy.
She poured and stirred and whisked and fretted, but it started to come together. Every so often, she would cut her eyes over at Henrietta to see what she was doing, but old Hen had her flour and sugar bags stacked up so SuAnn couldn’t see what she was doing. She would occasionally glare in SuAnn’s direction too.
“Twenty-two minutes left, ladies,” the announcer called.
“Are you good?” Darcy asked.
“I think so. Pie’s in the oven, looks to be cooking just fine. I’m going to start making the whipped cream now.”
“Don’t forget that adjustment we made in the maple syrup flavoring.”
SuAnn nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for the reminder.”
It was like a boxing match where Darcy was her corner coach, reminding her of the best way to knock out old Henny. She loved it. As much as she’d promised Janine that she wouldn’t get into trouble and ruin their reputation in Seagrove, she still wanted to win, fair and square.
“Oh no…” she heard Henrietta say under her breath. The woman next to her tried not to make eye contact. Nobody really seemed to like old Hen. Too curious, SuAnn finally looked over at her.
“What’s the matter, Hen?”
“Henrietta,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Never mind.”
After a long pause, Henrietta turned to her, a fake smile on her face. “Sorry, SuAnn,” she said in that sickeningly sweet Southern accent. “I’m just stressed to the max over here. You see, it seems I’ve forgotten my vanilla extract that I desperately need for my whipped topping. My pie just won’t have a chance without it.” She leaned over and whispered, “It’s my secret ingredient.”
Suddenly, SuAnn felt frozen in time. For the first time in her life, she had an obvious decision between good and evil. On the one hand, she could refuse to let Hen borrow her vanilla extract and gain an advantage for her own pie. On the other hand, she was trying to grow as a human being, and wouldn’t depriving her arch nemesis of borrowing her vanilla be an evil thing to do?
Darcy leaned over to SuAnn’s ear. “Did she just ask to borrow something?”
“Yep,” SuAnn whispered back.
“You’re not going to let her, are you?”
“You don’t think I should?”
“Of course not! You’ll win for sure if hers doesn’t come out right.”
SuAnn sucked in a deep breath. “For once in my life, Darcy, I think I’ll be the bigger person.” She turned and handed the vanilla extract to Hen before going back to her own whipped topping. Hen stood there for a moment, like she was shocked, before turning back to her station.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Darcy lamented.
“Well, I’d rather win fair and square than let Hen have an excuse for why she didn’t win.”
Maybe she was actually growing as a person after all.
Dawson leaned against the tree, watching the kids play a game of kickball out in his side yard. That was something he thought he would never see, not having any kids of his own. But he had to admit it was fun to hear their laughter and watch them enjoy his property.
“Have you ever seen that much energy in one place in your life?” Amy asked as she walked up next to him.
He chuckled. “I don't think so. But I love it.”
“Do you have any kids?”
Dawson shook his head. “No, I don't. Always wanted some, though.”
“I have three at home myself. They bring a lot of joy to life, but they are the hardest work I've ever done. Sometimes, I go to my job to get a break,” she said, laughing.
“Yeah, I can imagine having three of them is a lot of work. I think I'd be happy with just one. But, I'm a single guy in my forties, so I don't think that's happening anytime soon.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know about that. You know, there's always adoption.”
Dawson turned and looked at her, still leaning against the tree. “You mean they’d let somebody like me adopt?”
“Are you some sort of serial killer?”
He laughed. “Not yet. But I guess I just thought that they were more looking for families with a mom and dad. Or even single mothers. I don't hear a whole lot of middle-aged single men adopting.”
“Well, it's certainly less common, but we have more and more of that. All sorts of people adopt. Gay couples, single men, single women, families with a mother and a father. It really runs the gamut.”
“That's good to hear. I mean, kids just need a happy, healthy home.”
“So, what are you thinking?”
“About?”
“Are you open to that idea?”
He smiled slightly. “I don't know. It certainly has me thinking. Getting to know these kids has really opened my mind in several ways.”
“How so?”
“Well, take Dylan over there. I've spent a lot of time with that kid this week. Sitting out there on that dock fishing made me feel like I had a son of my own. I was actually imparting some wisdom to him,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I've noticed that you and Dylan really have a bond. He needs that. His father was a pretty major drug addict, and when he took his life a few months ago, he left Dylan here without anyone. He has no family, and he was thrown into the foster system in the blink of an eye. And trust me, the foster system is broken. We have a lot of good foster parents, but we also have a lot of them who aren't so good.”
“I've been doing some reading online about that. Maybe I could become a foster parent at some point.”
“Or, maybe you could become Dylan's dad.”
Dawson looked at her, his mouth dropping open slightly. “What?”
“Pardon me for saying so, Dawson, but you already have a connection with Dylan. He needs a home. A kid his age already has trouble finding adoptive parents, and it seems like you might be a good match for him. I saw him immediately connect with you even on the second day.”
“Listen, I love the kid to death. I really do. Anybody would be proud to have him as their son, but I don't know if I'm ready for that. I don't want to mess him up.”
“It sounds like you might just have a little anxiety about becoming a father. Give it some thought. I don't want to push you. We never want to do that because we want every home to be a permanent, loving home for a kid. But my gut tells me that you becoming Dylan's dad would be the best thing that happened for both of you.”
She patted his arm as she walked away, and Dawson couldn't help but think about what she’d said. The idea had already been planted in his head by Janine the other day, and now here he was faced with the actual opportunity of adopting Dylan. Would Dylan want that? Would Dawson be a good dad to an eight-year-old boy? And how would that affect his relationship with Julie? After all, her kids were grown and she had a grandchild now. How would she feel about him having an eight-year-old son to raise?
Why was it that life always seemed so overly complicated? He remembered something his granny had told him years ago. She said, "Dawson, all the best things in life are the most complicated. That's why they're the best things."
That statement seemed truer than ever right now.
Julie walked down the street, opting to walk to Dawson's house instead of drive her car. Tonight, she just needed to clear her mind. Everything Dixie and Janine had talked to her about in the last couple of weeks was making her head swirl. She loved Dawson, and she would never want to lose her relationship with him. But was she ready to get married again? Was she ready to open her heart and her life in that way?
To some extent, having two houses and somewhat separate lives gave her the ability to keep control. But how much control did you really have when you were in love with someone? If she lost him, she would be devastated. Having a piece of paper to say that they were married wouldn't take that devastation away.
The other side of it was she didn't even know if he wanted to get married. It sounded like he did, but maybe he was just looking to live together or to have more time together. She couldn't assume that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
As she walked along, the sandy road below her feet, she could hear the sound of children laughing in the distance at Dawson's house. When she really thought about it, it made her sad that he had never had the opportunity to be a father. He would've been a great dad. She often imagined him with a little girl, looking up at him with those loving eyes, asking to dance with him at some father-daughter dance.
And then sometimes she imagined a little boy, looking up at his dad as he learned to fish out in the beautiful waters of the marsh, the cordgrass swaying in the breeze. There was so much he had missed out on, and she felt bad for that imaginary child who never got the opportunity to have Dawson as their father.
Her whole life might've been different if they had met when they were younger. But if she’d never met and married Michael, she wouldn't have Colleen and Meg and now Vivi. So she couldn't regret any of her past decisions because they led to her life right now.
She was a big believer in fate, and things happening the way they were supposed to. And, for reasons she would never really understand, she wasn't supposed to meet Dawson until her marriage fell apart. Life wasn't always a linear path to success or happiness. And it didn't always make logical sense.
As she approached the house, she saw Dawson sitting on the dock with a little boy by himself. They were casting their fishing lines into the water, laughing occasionally. She watched as Dawson would take the little boy’s pole, untangle the line and help him throw it back out again. He sat there, so patient and kind, helping to teach him how to bait the hook.
She crouched behind one of the dunes and listened as Dawson talked to him. It was a side of him she hadn't really seen, other than little glimpses of when he would play with Vivi. But she was a baby, and Julie had never seen his interaction with a little kid before.
“I don't think I'm going to get new parents,” the little boy said. Julie's heart suddenly ached with a type of pain she never felt before. What a terrible burden for a little kid to have on his shoulders at such a young age.
“You don't know that, Dylan. God might have other plans for you. You just have to keep up the faith.”
A tear formed in Julie's eye. Dawson was such a good man, and it must've been very painful for him to sit there and hear this little boy talk about never having a family again.
She didn't know the boy’s situation at all, but any kid in foster care must have felt so left behind. Julie couldn’t imagine living without a family.
“Everybody that meets me doesn't want me, though. I try to be good, but they just never come back.”
“You're a good kid, and the perfect mom or dad is going to come along and scoop you up very soon.”
“Mr. Dawson, do you promise?”
“I promise, Dylan. And I'll even say an extra prayer for you tonight, okay?”
Dylan looked up at Dawson, those big eyes taking in everything he said. “Okay. I believe you then.”
Julie slid down and sat on the dune, her arms pulling her knees up toward her chest. She descended into a puddle of quiet tears, hoping no one could see or hear her until she could collect herself. Sometimes, life just wasn't fair.