“What was that look you gave Dawson before he left to go upstairs?”
“What look?”
“I’m not sure. Like the two of you have a secret. I know he’s moving back here so you can treat Luke. Clay told me.”
“You know I can’t talk about that.”
“I know.” Celeste waited a couple of beats, then nonchalantly prompted, “There were rumors back in high school about the two of you.”
“What kind of rumors?” Mikala was absolutely surprised. She’d never given anyone reason to start a rumor about her and Dawson.
“There was talk that Dawson was going to ask you to the prom.”
“Why didn’t I ever hear about it?”
“Because what’s-his-name asked you.”
“What’s-his-name only asked me because all the popular girls were taken.”
“Mikala! You never did have a true image of yourself back then. You were pretty but quiet, sometimes even more than I was.”
Celeste had always been the opposite of her twin sister, Zoie, who had been an extreme extrovert. That’s why Zoie had initially caught Clay’s eye, even marrying him after high school. Clay hadn’t realized until after his divorce from Zoie that Celeste and he were much more suited for each other—especially since Celeste had been Abby’s surrogate mother. After the reunion last summer their bond and chemistry had transformed into love, and they became a family.
Celeste had been quiet in high school, but in a different way than Mikala. Mikala had stood her ground when she’d had to. She’d always championed the underdog. If she’d kept to herself for the most part, that was because she’d felt so different from her other classmates who had moms and dads, a different kind of family than she did. Only with her small circle of friends had she felt more secure.
Even back then, she’d kept her own counsel and was truly surprised about the rumor. “I had hoped Dawson would ask me to the prom. But when Carson asked me first, I accepted because I wanted to go so badly. I wanted to feel pretty and grown-up, like the popular girls. Dawson and I were friends and I didn’t think he thought of me that way—as a date. At least I didn’t think that until—” Uh-oh. She shouldn’t have let that slip.
“Until what?”
“Until the night of the prom.”
Mikala still remembered vividly exactly what had happened. The night had started off with her feeling almost glamorous in a pink chiffon dress with her aunt’s aurora borealis crystals around her neck and on her ears. She’d worn white silk high-heeled sandals and carried a beaded bag. Carson had picked her up and brought her a beautiful corsage. They’d struggled making small talk, but that had been okay. After all, they hadn’t known each other very well. After they’d arrived at the prom and danced a couple of dances, Carson had gone outside with his buddies for a while. Dawson, who’d been there by himself because his date had caught the flu, had asked her to dance.
With him standing before her, looking so handsome and grown-up, his gaze making her head swim, she’d thought about whether she should or shouldn’t dance with him. Even though she’d wanted to more than anything, she’d come with Carson. Yet other couples were mixing it up, exchanging partners, and there hadn’t seemed to be any harm in just one dance.
But the moment Dawson had taken her hand in his and wrapped his arm around her, she’d known this was a dance she was going to remember forever. Their gazes had met as he’d looked down at her, and they’d both smiled. He hadn’t said anything, just held her a little closer. She’d nestled into him as if she’d belonged there. In some ways the dance had seemed like a lifetime. In others it had only been a second long.
When Carson had returned to the cafeteria, she’d seen him the same time as Dawson. Their song ended and Dawson had given her hand a slight squeeze as he’d let go, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. Then she’d joined Carson at their table, smelling liquor on his breath. Despite her growing misgivings, she’d gone with him to his car. Wanting to feel accepted again?
What a stupid thing to do.
The flow of memory breaking, she looked at Celeste. “You know what happened with Carson that night.” Mikala glanced at Abby. She wasn’t going to say anything that little ears shouldn’t hear.
“You told me and Jenny the next day. You told us how Dawson rescued you and took you home.”
“And then he disappeared. I didn’t see or hear from him again until last summer at the reunion.” She and Jenny and Celeste had never talked about Dawson and what had happened. That had been in the past. Though the melody of the song they’d danced to had played in her head over the years, each time bringing back the vivid sensation of Dawson’s arms around her as they danced.
“All I heard was that his grandfather fell and his mom took Dawson with her to Wisconsin to take care of her father. Dawson’s grades were good enough without finals and the school mailed him his diploma. But he and his mom never came back,” Mikala mused.
“No, and his dad moved to Phoenix.”
“I wonder if that’s when his parents’ marriage broke up?”
“I guess,” Celeste responded. “Clay says Dawson never talks about that time. But eventually he moved to Phoenix with his dad, earned a business degree and became CEO of the company his dad had started.”
“Interesting,” Mikala mused.
“His life or him?” Celeste asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
Mikala thought about Dawson’s life and what he and Luke were going through. “Dawson’s still recovering from his wife’s death. And me? Well, you know trust is an issue for me.”
“It isn’t just trust, Mikala. You don’t think you’re sexy enough for a man to want you.”
Mikala nodded to Abby, but Abby was dipping her biscotti into her milk glass, slurping it up and then chewing on the cookie.
Finally Mikala admitted, “My last relationship proved it.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“I haven’t forgotten it.”
“That’s the problem. Maybe Dawson can help you forget about it.”
“Don’t go there,” Mikala warned.
Celeste just shrugged and sipped her tea.
That evening Mikala stood at the door to Dawson’s suite, not knowing whether she should be angry at her aunt or just amused by her. Mikala had had an early evening session and had come in to find her aunt putting together a dinner platter. She’d made sloppy joes, oven-baked potatoes and some kind of broccoli casserole with cheese. She’d handed the platter to Mikala and said, “Why don’t you take this up to Dawson? He’ll probably be glad not to have to go out again.”
“Aunt Anna—” Mikala wanted to start a conversation about why her aunt was doing this.
But always intuitive where her niece was concerned, her aunt had just patted her on the shoulder and said, “It’s just a friendly gesture, Mikala. Go on before it gets cold.”
Her aunt had done so much for her, Mikala couldn’t refuse her anything.
From the hall she spotted light under Dawson’s door and knocked lightly. But Dawson didn’t answer.
Go away, or not go away? The food on the plate was warm but wouldn’t stay that way long.
Since the door was slightly ajar—She wasn’t going to go inside unless he was right there.
Pushing the door open a little more, she saw Dawson was right there, stretched out on the sofa on his side, fast asleep. He was too tall for the couch. His head looked as if it was in