In a Moon Smile (35 page)

“Is she married?” Becca pressed.

Dalton shook his head.

“This is probably a ridiculous question, Dalton, but does this woman know you want to be with her?” Becca asked.

“Not yet,” Dalton said.

Hearing Dalton’s answer made Becca’s jaw drop. “What? You’re kidding, right? Will you explain what you're doing?” Becca, obviously out of patience about a subject that wasn’t at all her business, rolled her eyes. “It’s crazy, Dalton,” she sighed. “I've never seen someone go about finding their life partner in such a mysterious, chivalrous manner.”

On the other side of the dining table, Chesney was not at all enjoying the dinner conversation. A sad little lump was growing in her gut every time she watched Dalton’s face light up about whomever this mystery woman happened to be. Obviously, he was quite in love with her. It was all too much for Chesney’s heart, which had wrapped itself secretly around Dalton, no matter how many times she tried to stop it. She stood up and reached for the now empty salad bowl. “More spaghetti?” she asked in a near whisper. Then Chesney swallowed hard and made her best effort to sound cheerful when what she really wanted to do right then at that moment was to stick her weary head in the damn oven. “Bec? Dalton? More wine?”

Dalton shook his head but smiled and Chesney’s foolish heart bounced around in her chest. No matter how many times she reminded herself that Dalton Moore was already in love with a woman, and it certainly was not her, she couldn’t stop her heart from going into that fuzziness that pissed her off. What was this strange connection she felt toward this man? She dropped her eyes and cleared the dirty plates from the table, careful not to again look up and embarrass herself by offering a lovesick puppy kind of expression toward the handyman or her big mouth best friend.

By the time Chesney returned from the kitchen, conversation had floated away from such personal questions. Becca was talking about her life in Chicago. Then Dalton spoke of some old friends who still live in Boston. Chesney pretended to listen, but she didn’t care about one single word they were saying. She rubbed her eyes, suddenly drained by the emotional stress of trying to hide such a strong feeling of physical attraction and an emotional connection. During the entire dinner, she practically held her breath and the more Chesney tried to talk herself out of those feelings, the more often the handyman visited her in dreams.

When Becca’s cell phone rang, she excused herself quickly, jumped up from the table and disappeared into the parlor.

“Sorry about that,” Chesney said to Dalton. When he looked up with a puzzled expression, she added, “Bec is, well, she’s nosy. I’m sure you didn’t expect to be interrogated about your personal life.”

“No problem,” he grinned.

Please tell me you don’t love a woman, Dalton. Hurry! Tell me you don’t love someone already. I wanted that woman to be me.

When Becca reappeared, she was wearing a cheesy grin. “That was Deke,” she said brightly. “He’ll be picking me up in an hour.”

“Deke?” Chesney started laughing. “You gave your cell number to Deke Wooldridge? And he’ll be picking you up in an hour?”

“Yeah,” Becca said with a shrug. “That’s what I said. So what? He’s a nice guy and he’s cute and kind.”

“Hmm,” Chesney placed her chin in her hand and stared at Becca. “I had no idea you were interested in Deke. You failed to mention that.”

“It’s not a big deal, okay?” Becca spluttered defensively. “Now listen, while I clean up the kitchen, why don't the two of you take a walk, maybe down the lane and back?” As she grabbed the wine glasses, Becca softly nudged Chesney’s shoulder. “Go on, get going.”

“But you just said that Deke would be here soon,” Dalton reminded. “Why don’t Chesney and I clean up the kitchen? Then you won’t have to rush to get ready.”

“Oh, no,” Becca said loudly. “Don’t mess with the plan. Go. Both of you have a peaceful evening stroll down the lane and back.”

“That's okay, Bec,” Chesney growled. Obviously, Dalton was not interested in taking a walk with her and she was so embarrassed by Becca’s pushiness that she secretly wanted to grab Becca’s ponytail and yank it off. “I'll help with the dishes,” Chesney said as she searched the kitchen drawer for a fresh towel.

Oh, no, I insist,” Becca said. “Both of you have worked for weeks inside this house. I'll bet you never have time to enjoy the serenity here.”

That was a big whopper lie. Becca knew that Chesney made time every evening to sit on the porch swing to enjoy the fireflies and the moon while listening to tree frogs and crickets.

“That's a great idea,” Dalton said suddenly as he walked into the kitchen. “Would you like to walk down the lane, Chesney?” Standing so close to her, he took her arm and led her toward the back door. “Fireflies are out in the woods by the meadow, you know. Becca’s right. It's a very nice night. Let’s not waste it.”

Well, now how would Dalton Moore know about fireflies dancing in the meadow by Grace's house? Chesney looked at him for a long moment, even though she
was passively
walking along at his pace toward the door. She even worked up the courage to allow her eyes to question his. But Dalton never stopped smiling.

“Thank goodness somebody around here listens to me,” Becca crowed. Then she shooed them out the door. “Take your time, kids.”

“It’s so quiet here,” Chesney said softly as they made their way around the side of the house and barn toward the lane. “Even after all these months, I'm still so in love with the silence.”

Dalton patted her shoulder then left his hand resting there for a moment. Chesney’s skin tingled, just to feel his touch.

“I knew you would appreciate what's here,” Dalton said. “Of all people, I knew you would be the kind of person who would fall in love with Bean Blossom.”

“But you don't even know me,” Chesney reminded.

Dalton did not answer. He walked slightly ahead of her and even when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she couldn’t see his expression. A few steps later, Dalton had slowed his pace and they were again walking side by side, occasionally bumping elbows or hands. Somehow, she had to get some questions answered. She wanted to know how well Dalton had known Grace. She wanted to somehow decipher why she felt this odd connection. She knew she would sound like a total wing nut, but Chesney blurted the question anyway. “You don't really know me, do you Dalton?”

“I guess not,” he said after a pause. “But then again, you aren’t exactly a stranger. We’ve worked together all summer, right? So why are you asking that question? We’ve become good friends since I came to work for you, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I do look at you like a dear friend.”

I will not tell you the part about wanting you to father my children, Dalton. I will just keep that little tidbit to myself.

“I’m sure this will sound loony tunes, but for some reason, Dalton I feel like we have some kind of connection. Sometimes I wonder if you knew me or maybe I knew you, maybe when we were children? I’m not sure what I am trying to say. But in an odd way, Dalton, sometimes you do seem to know a lot about me.”

Dalton’s expression was unreadable. Then he chose just not to comment at all about Chesney’s thoughts. This response made Chesney feel even more confused and frustrated “I love to walk at night,” Dalton said as he stared into the trees. “It clears my mind.”

“Me, too,” Chesney said. “I also like to sit on the back porch at night. When Grace was alive, she and I sat outside every night to admire the moon. She loved the moon. Did you know that? She planted her garden by the moon. All of her major decisions were based on the new moons.”

“A lot of older people around here lead their lives that way,” Dalton said. “They are very wise and aware of how the universe works. They have a lot of respect for how the sun and the moon work together.”

For several minutes, they walked in silence. Chesney concentrated on the crunch of Dalton’s boots on the gravel lane.

Why can't I just remind Dalton about that comment he made, when he admitted that he knew Grace? It might be something as simple as Dalton remembering her from Sunday school. Why not just blurt out the question and be done with it? Oh, why do I have to be such a chicken shit about every little thing?

Chesney couldn’t find the nerve to ask Dalton the million dollar question that had been driving her crazy, so instead, she asked if his grandparents were still alive.

“Only my grandfather,” Dalton said gently. “He lives across the field from me.”

“And you're very close to him?” Chesney asked.

“He's one of my favorite people in the world,” Dalton said.

In the moonlight, she saw a tender smile cross his face. She immediately felt and fought a very strong urge to kiss him.

What am I, psychotic?

Their conversation drifted back to the projects at Chesney Ridge. Leaves would be falling soon, Dalton said adding that there were still a few last-minute repairs to complete so the house could be closed up for winter. He planned to insulate the plumbing and replace some of the gutters. He promised to bring firewood. He talked about how Chesney would enjoy a cozy fire in the fireplace while the snow fell. While Dalton rattled on about the best ways to build a fire and keep it burning, Chesney’s mind wandered off to romantic fantasies. She wove a passionate moment which included cuddling in Dalton’s arms in front of a roaring fire.

He would kiss me ever so tenderly and run his fingers through my hair and….

“What are you thinking about?” Dalton voice jolted her away from the sappy scene in her head.

“What was I thinking about? I was thinking about gardening,” she said too quickly. “I was thinking about flowerbeds and at least one hundred projects for next spring. I wasn’t…uh…thinking about anything exciting.”

Thank goodness for the darkness. That way Dalton could not see her neon red face. For the rest of the walk, they were silent. Chesney imagined that she could hear Dalton's breath in the darkness. She wondered if he ever ached to take her hand in his or if he ever wondered what it might be like to kiss her. When they were a few steps from the house, Chesney smiled. The porch looked so inviting and cozy, even without ferns and ivy spilling across the railing. She loved the soft porch light, even if it happened to draw every moth from three counties. As they neared the porch, Dalton turned to face her. In the glimmer of moonlight, she saw a thoughtful expression on his face and wondered if he might be thinking about pressing his lips on hers.

“Dalton?” She could barely say his name. She wanted him to explain what they were feeling at this moment. She wanted to insist that he define it. She waited, barely breathing. She hoped with all of her heart that he would lean forward and kiss her.

When Dalton reached out in the darkness to cradle her chin in his hand, Chesney was fairly certain that her heart stopped. He gently lifted her face and gazed into her eyes but said nothing. Then Dalton took his hand away and walked toward his truck.

“Don't forget I won't be around tomorrow, Chesney,” he said. “I'm building some shelving at the hardware store. I'll probably be there most of the day.”

“Right,” she replied, trying not to seem like she was in a fog just because of how his touch affected her. She wanted to ask why he stood there, looking at her that way, as if he had something to say. And part of her wanted to slap his face off for playing whatever weird game he found so amusing. But she said nothing. His touch on her face had made her skin feel tingly. She was stunned, dizzy and a little bit pissed off, too. “While the paint dries in the hallway tomorrow, I will finish waxing the wood on the staircase,” she said lightheartedly. Then she climbed the steps to the door.

“Thanks for dinner,” Dalton said as he opened the truck door.

“Any time,” Chesney smiled.

“See you in a moon smile, Chesney,” Dalton said. Then he got in the truck and drove away.

Chesney could barely breathe. How could Dalton Moore possibly stand there in the moonlight and repeat exactly what Grace said to her every single time she left Bean Blossom at the end of summer? Obviously, Dalton had known Grace very well. But why was he so secretive about it? Why was she so stupid about just asking him outright to tell her about his relationship with Grace?

Feeling suddenly chilled and vulnerable, Chesney stared up at the bright, hazy ring glowing around the moon. “What's going on, Grace? Do you have a hand in this?”

“I can't believe you didn't kiss the poor man during that romantic walk in the moonlight,” Becca said the next morning as she prepared to leave for the airport.

“Really? Well, I can’t believe how late you stayed out with Deke,” Chesney said as she plopped down on the bed next to Becca’s suitcase. “So, is this a love connection?”

“I like him, okay?” Becca said rather shortly. Because Chesney knew her well, she understood this was the way Becca behaved when she felt embarrassed. “I really like him,” Becca said in a softer tone. Then she looked at Chesney and added, “That’s all I’m saying.”

“You like him?” Chesney asked, stunned. “As in
really
like him?”

“Yes, I do,” Becca said with a pouty look. “Yet I’m packing and leaving today since my life is not here in Bean Blossom.”