Page 49 of Love in Riverbend
Ricky disappears into the barn, and the silence between the three of us is deafening. Finally, I speak to Sheers. “I want to be a part of Molly’s life. Can we get along for her?”
Sheers grunts. “Don’t you dare fucking hurt her.”
“It’s the last thing I want to do.”
Ricky appears and tosses me a pair of heavy leather gloves. “Do you two think we can have a truce and get some work done?”
We both nod.
Surprisingly, the truce continues throughout the day. By the time we have two fields cleared and the hay stacked in Ricky’s barn, we’re all talking and laughing like we did when we were teenagers. We’ve talked about everything from college hoops to professional baseball to craft beer and the best whiskey. We’re also hot, sweaty, and yeah, we stink.
I wipe my brow with the dirty glove before saying my so-longs.
“Hey,” Mick says, “if you’re still in town…next weekend, we’re working at Mr. Gordon’s farm.”
If I’m still in Riverbend.
A grin comes to my lips as I lift my hands. “If I can walk.”
They laugh as I take off the gloves and give them back to Ricky. “Thanks, they helped.”
“I knew you went soft,” Sheers says.
I don’t care what he says. I’m about to go on a date with two of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever known.
Chapter 19
Kandace
“You’re both beautiful,” Dad says as Molly and I come down the stairs.
I’m wearing a sundress with a light sweater and sandals, and Molly is wearing pink shorts, a pink and white striped top with a big flower over her tummy, and a white bow in her hair. My lips are pink, and I’m wearing mascara.
“Is it too much?” I ask as Mom walks in the room.
“It’s perfect.”
My stomach is in knots as I fasten Molly into her car seat. Before I back away and shut the door, Molly reaches up to my cheek. “If you don’t like your old friend, we can eat ice cream at home.”
Tears threaten as I stare into her gold eyes. “I do like him.”
“Then why aren’t you smiling?”
Leaning closer, I kiss her forehead and smile. “You’re right, sweetie. I should smile.”
“Miss Pollard says our smiles tell other people we’re happy.”
Miss Pollard is Molly’s teacher. She was also my teacher long ago. That’s the way it works here.
“I’m happy because I’m with you.”
When I get in the front seat, my daughter continues talking a mile a minute. It’s hard to think of her as anything other than a child, yet each day she shows me how intuitive she is and how eager she is to learn.
“Dax is a funny name,” she says.
I look at her in the rearview mirror. “His real name is Daxton.”
“Like Abby. Her name is Abigale, but we all call her Abby.”
