Chapter 13
Dax
K andace is here, in my grandparents’ home. With her being in my thoughts, it is as if she materializes from my wish. Mick said that she had a key, but I never dreamt she’d be here. She is also fucking beautiful, the way I remember her but better.
The only thing missing is her smile.
In the light of the breezeway, I see she’s been crying by the tear tracks on her cheeks.
The pictures upstairs come back to me as I step down to where Kandace is. I have to ask before she leaves. “Who is Molly?”
The color drains from her cheeks as she shakes her head.
“Goodbye, Dax.”
Kandace turns and, opening the door, steps outside.
I pound my fist against the doorjamb as I watch her walk away.
Sitting on the steps, I try to recall the girl I last saw after my grandfather’s funeral. Kandace wasn’t a girl; she was a woman. Outwardly, she’s still as stunning, but something has happened to her. Maybe that’s why Justin is so protective.
The clues start falling into place.
When I asked Joyce about Kandace, she told me to move to town and keep my eyes and ears open.
Shit, I’m in town. My eyes are open wide.
I hurry back into the house and up to the bedroom.
Shuffling through the pictures, I come to one of Molly alone.
She’s staring up at the camera with a blue ice cream cone in her hand.
Her lips are covered in ice cream, and her eyes are wide, filled with joy, and the same color as mine.
Grandma used to make homemade blueberry ice cream. It was my favorite.
The reality hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.
Five years old.
Eyes the color of mine.
Hair the color of Kandace’s.
Breakfast at the diner, only two storefronts away from Quintessential Treasures.
With each revelation, my heart beats faster.
Molly can’t be my child, can she?
Why didn’t Kandace tell me?
Fuck that, why didn’t Grandma?
Grandma knew.
The pictures in my hands tremble, telling me that she knew. She loved Molly as a great-grandmother should.
Why keep her a secret?
The store.
I lie down on the bed and look up at the ceiling as my temples pound.
Fuck, Grandma wants Kandace to have the store to take care of Molly.
I remember Molly sitting at the counter and what she said.
“I’m not going to cook when I’m big. ’Cause I’m gonna sell stuff and make lots of money so Mommy doesn’t have to. ”
Mommy is Kandace.
I reach for my phone.
“My number hasn’t changed.”
Shit, I don’t have Kandace’s number. I didn’t delete it, yet I’ve had numerous phones in the last six years. I’m cursing myself as I find Mick’s number. He’s engaged to Kandace’s best friend. Surely, he knows the answer to my burning question. Mick answers on the second ring.
“Richards, what’s up?”
“Yeah,” I stammer, “um, I’m at my grandma’s house. Decided to stay here. And…shit, there are these pictures…”
Mick doesn’t interrupt me.
“This morning before you all arrived at the diner, there was this little girl.” Shit, I’m crying.
I’m actually crying. The damn tears are streaming down my face.
I haven’t cried since Grandpa’s funeral.
Not being at Grandma’s made it easier to stay emotionless.
Now, with the phone in one hand and a picture of Grandma and Molly in the other, I’m a blubbering idiot. “She said her name is Molly.”
“Fuck,” Mick grumbles. “What are you asking?”
“Is she mine?”
“You need to talk to Kandace about this.”
My voice raises. “Tell me, is she mine?”
“Good night, Dax. Get some sleep and find Kandace tomorrow. She’ll be at the store.”
“Where…?” I have so many questions. “Where does Kandace live?” I could go to her tonight. She walked out on me, not the other way around.
Mick exhales. “Out at her parents’ farm. So does Justin. I recommend you stay away from there until you and she can talk.”
Justin. The light bulb turns on. I know why he’s been such an ass. “I didn’t know, Mick. I didn’t.”
“I’d say what matters is that now you do. Good night.” He disconnects the call.
Now I do.
Fuck.
Falling to my knees beside the bed, I throw the phone on the pillow and reach for the pictures. Based on what I see, I try to arrange them chronologically. I’m hit with how much of Molly’s life I’ve missed—five years.
First step.
First word.
First everything.
It’s after eleven o’clock when I call my mom’s phone. As soon as she answers, I know I’ve woken her from sleep.
“Dax, is everything okay?”
“I don’t know.”
Her voice is more alert. “What is it?”
I hesitate. “Mom, did Grandma ever mention a girl named Molly?”
“A girl? Not that I recall.”
“You’re sure that you don’t know about her?”
“I’m sorry, Dax, I don’t. Who is she?”
I blurt out the answer. “She’s five. I think she’s my daughter.”
Mom’s voice is fully awake. “What did you just say?”
“Grandma has boxes of pictures and well, Kandace…remember her? And a baby. I fucked up.”
“You didn’t know. If she’s really yours—you can get a blood test to find out. If she is, well, Dax, you should pay support.”
“I don’t want to just pay support.”
“It’s the right?—”
“I want to know my daughter,” I say, interrupting. “How did I not know? Why wouldn’t Grandma tell me or tell you or Dad?”
“Honey,” she says placatingly, “I don’t know. Are you sure? Did Kandace tell you?”
“No, she didn’t, but…” My jaw aches from clenching.
“I agree it’s odd that Ruth would have pictures. Maybe there’s another explanation.”
“This is why Grandma wants Kandace to have the store. I’ve been a dick, talking about the worth of the building and inventory.” It hits me that the inventory Kandace has been working on is because of my request.
Mom’s voice lowers. “Dax, you do what’s right.”
“Dad agrees the sale price is too low,” I say.
“Sometimes, there’s more to something than we realize. I trust you to do what’s right. Heaven knows that Ruth’s estate is fine. We’re all doing well. You make the decision.”
A new thought comes to me. “You’re not upset?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I am. I’m blindsided. I’m also the mother of one son. If this Molly is my granddaughter, it’s a little late to be upset. I mean, I thought we had the whole use protection talk.”
“We did.” I think back to the funeral. “She said she was on the pill.”
“Then either it didn’t work, or she lied.”
“Why would Kandace lie?” I question obstinately. “She wouldn’t,” I add, suddenly feeling the need to defend her. “I mean, if her goal was to trap me, wouldn’t she have told me?”
“You and she will work this out, and if you have a daughter, we’d love to meet her.”
“Daughter? What the hell?” My father’s voice came from a distance.
“Good night, Mom. Thanks.”
“What is he…?”
Mom speaks over Dad, “Good night.”
The phone goes dead.