Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
There’d only been a few instances when I wasn’t here when he got home. Each time it was because I’d been out of town.
So when he got inside, he was worriedly calling my name.
“Here,” I called up, patting my cheeks one last time before heading to find him in the living room.
His eyes immediately zeroed in on my face. “You’re crying. Why are you crying?”
I swallowed hard, the words stuck in my throat.
The tears welled in my eyes, however, and he hurried toward me.
“Baby,” he said, cupping my face. “Are you hurt?”
“Not exactly.” I licked my lips, tasting the salt of my tears.
“Tell me,” he said. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”
Not this time, my Dixie.
I studied his face for a long time before saying, “It’s bad, Dixie.”
“Is it a dead body?” he asked. “I can handle a dead body.”
I knew he was trying to lighten my mood, but it only made me cry harder.
Of course he’d be willing to deal with a dead body for me.
He was my hero.
Feeling helpless, he pulled me into his embrace, his head coming to a rest on top of my own as he said, “Shh, baby. Shh.”
Only when the sobs turned to sniffles did he say, “Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I told him about my nightmare.
His breath caught. “Are you sure?”
I nodded against his chest. “The doctor said it was bad.”
“How bad?”
I felt sick to my stomach when I said, “Not making it out alive, bad.”
“No,” he immediately disagreed. “Baby, we have to go to the doctor so they can tell us. Don’t worry. We’ll get the full story before we worry too much.”
I pulled away from him and wiped my eyes.
“Dixie…” I swiped away more tears.
When I did, he looked at a Post-it Note that was to the left of my head.
“What’s this?” he croaked.
I looked at all the bright yellow Post-it Notes that were everywhere.
Then I explained.
“Baby, we don’t know for sure,” he said. “We don’t…”
I was already shaking my head. “I know, Dix. I know.”
Dixie looked like he was about to burst into tears again any second. “But…”
I walked up to him and pressed my lips to his.
His beard hair tickled my chin. “Dix.”
He wrapped me up in his strong embrace, and just like the first day we’d met and he’d walked into my life for good, he held me and promised me he’d take care of me always. For however long I had left.
We stayed like that for a long time.
Hours, maybe.
It was late when he finally pulled away and brushed my hair back from my face.
“What would be the note you’d put on me?” he teased, his tears still bright in his eyes.
I grinned. “You want to tattoo it there so you’ll never forget?”
He nodded, his throat bobbing.
“Let’s go,” I urged.
The tattoo artist, his usual, was there.
He canceled his other clients so he could take my man on.
“What will it say?” the artist asked.
I swallowed and pulled out my Post-it Note and pen.
I love you. With my heart and soul, you are the best piece of me. Smile because I love you. Stay strong, my love. Your Mary.
Chapter
Fifteen
Okay, but first, presents.
—Dixie’s secret thoughts
DIXIE
Present
After looking at the barely there tattooed words on my wrist, a wave of sickness hit me.
I’d been getting bouts of nausea for months, which had been what prompted me to go see the doctor in the first place.
Knowing that putting something in my stomach was the best course of action, I forced myself to get up and walk toward the kitchen.
I got to the pantry, uncaring that I’d already brushed my teeth, and stopped in front of the jar of canning materials that hadn’t been touched since the day that Mary had left me.
Most of them had a layer of dust coating them.
I had a cleaning lady come in now once a month thanks to my grandchildren’s intervening wives who said that ‘living in a dust bowl wasn’t healthy.’
She left this room alone, though.
It was Mary’s paradise.
I stopped in front of the last jars she’d canned.
I had no idea whether they were still good or not.
I didn’t care as I pulled down a jar labeled “applesauce.”
I pulled off the cap with my fingernails and brought the glass up to my nose and inhaled.
The wave of homesickness—Mary being my home—hit me so hard that I swayed.
Chapter
Sixteen
Oh, what fun, it is to ride…
—Dixie to Mary
DIXIE
Past
Mary sat nervously on the sofa as she waited for the kids to arrive.
Lisa and her husband Dean, were the first to arrive, followed shortly by our John and his wife, Susan. Rob, though our Annie was no longer there with him, was third to arrive, followed swiftly by Mark and Patty.
At first, the atmosphere didn’t really click with them, all of them too busy catching up to notice that Mary was sitting on the arm of the sofa, looking worried.