14. Long Way Home
WALK OFF THE EARTH AND LINDSEY STIRLING
14
LONG WAY HOME
Washington, Georgia. After a life lived entirely in the South, and the better half of her teen and young adult years in Georgia, Sadie didn’t know such a place even existed. They’d driven two hours in the wrong direction for a task Dakota still had yet to disclose. After the first hour of asking, Sadie finally resigned herself to giving all her attention to the hefty fuzzball in her lap and to singing along to the radio.
She’d nearly jumped for joy when Stella, who’s stereo controls had been malfunctioning for weeks, actually allowed her to choose a different playlist. Sadie would have hated for Dakota to know how often and long she had listened to his playlist for her… or that she now knew every word to a song she had previously never heard before.
“Ya know,” she said, shuffling Gus to her side and resting her feet on the dash. “If ya told me where we were going, I’d feel a whole lot less like a hostage and likely be a more sunshiney companion for you on this venture.”
Dakota looked briefly in his rearview, before changing lanes. “Oh, you’re plenty sunshiney for me, Edwin.” His eyes flicked in her direction then back to the road. She watched his throat bob slowly before he spoke again. “You should put your feet down. It isn’t safe for them to be on the dash like that.”
“And you should tell me how much longer we have, so I might feel less inclined to stretch out my cramped legs.” She smiled and wiggled her toes just to rub it in.
“You can never make anything easy, can you?” he grumbled, almost to himself.
“You always seem to come into my spaces and give me orders, Dakota Major. So no, I’m not gonna make things easy. Use some of those manners I know your mama schooled you in.”
He sighed, “Sadie, please take your feet off the dash. Your legs are… highly distracting… and I’d certainly hate to be a distracted driver, leading to a possible accident, where your notably distracting legs are crumpled because you were trying to prove a point.”
She slowly removed her feet, tucked them under her legs on the seat, and cleared her throat. Completely shaken but refusing to respond to his speech. “So, you really like Justin Bieber, huh?”
Dakota shook his head, his perfect smile lifting and nearly reaching his eyes. Sadie loved it but squashed that thought down too. “You like vampires. I like Bieber. I refuse to be embarrassed about this.”
“That is your right, Dakota. As an American. And… as a Belieber.”
“I don’t even know what that word means.”
Sadie curled to the side and rested her body on the middle console, finally getting in a little verbal sparring after far too long without it. “It means, sweet, sweet fanboy, that you probably have Justin Bieber’s poster on your wall next to all your tiny miniature animal dolls, and you definitely save the ticket stubs to his concerts—which you’ve attended in more than one city— in your diary…”
“So, you liked your playlist, Sadie?” he interrupted, ignoring the jab about his collectibles and looking extremely pleased with himself. “You seemed to have memorized at least some of it. Which song was your favorite?”
“Not Bieber.”
“Mhmm,” he hummed and then took the exit off the highway. “We’re here. The monster stays in the car.”
She began to argue but lost all sense of words or argument as Dakota pulled up to a bright red, brick Victorian building, surrounded by flourishing oak and pine trees, with Mary Willis Library written across its side in large white letters. “What is this?” she asked in a confused whisper, still studying the beautifully rendered building before her.
“This is the first free library established in Georgia… in 1888… I thought…” Sadie turned to him and watched the flush of embarrassment rush across his cheeks. His hand followed suit across his jaw, as if he could wash the color away. “I thought you might like to come. I asked your mama, and she said you’d never been here.”
“You asked my mom?”
“Um.. yeah. I… Gosh, this feels more embarrassing than it should. Yes. I asked your mom. Do you… want to see it?”
“Yes.” She stared back at him, mentally chastising herself for doing so, and felt suddenly defensive. “Is this for the tally? You’re already ahead, ya know? You’re clearly gonna keep the loft. There’s no need for grand gestures and wild surprises, Remillard. I’m just along for the ride now.”
Dakota, so slowly, put his hand on hers, still resting on the middle console. “That’s not what this is.” His fingers ran across her knuckles once, almost as if second nature. She wanted to scream, This is not friendly! But couldn’t bring the words to her lips. Far too dangerously distracted by his gentle, almost phantom touch against her skin.
“Can we, just for this week, forget about the tally? I just wanted to do something nice for you. That’s all. No motive. Just…” Dakota pulled back his hand and Sadie felt its absence like a blanket being torn off her while far too cozy. It disappointed and excited and enraged her all at once. “This is just one friend doing something nice for another friend. Do you wanna go inside? Our tour is in, like, four minutes.”
She tucked Gus into her side like a trusty security blanket separating her from Dakota and his warm hands and grand friendly gestures. Then she wrapped the leash Mrs. Joan had provided them around Gus’ neck and whipped open the car door, used to the ridiculous screech the rusted hinges made with any movement. “Yes, of course I want to go inside, but Gus is coming with us.”
The library was a sight to behold. Restored original furniture filled the space along with mountains of books, new and old, and breathtaking stained-glass windows that reached to the ceiling in the original portion of the library. Their tour guide, an elderly gentleman who introduced himself as Air Force Chief Charles Frey, proudly wore a Vietnam veteran hat and pristinely white New Balance tennis shoes.
The sweet chief barely batted an eye when Sadie introduced herself, Dakota, and then Gus, as their child, declaring they were on their first family vacation. And, bless him, Chief Frey completely ignored Gus’ fragrant and excessively loud gas as the cat trotted in circles around them, exploring his surroundings.
Sadie would forever have the sound of Dakota’s barely muffled laughter etched into her memory. A warmth, not unlike the blanket of his presence or the soft touch of his hand against hers, buried deep inside her when she thought of the way he lit up with their shared mischief.
He later recovered and bonded with their guide over his own history as the son of an Air Force veteran. Dakota was seamlessly charming with friends and strangers alike, so it was no surprise when the two men fell into quick camaraderie, discussing the various places the military had taken their respective families, the best jobs—AFSCs, Sadie learned—the Air Force had to offer, and the aircraft with the most potential.
She and Dakota eventually followed Chief Frey around the library grounds before returning to the cool interior, Gus in tow, learning the deeper history of the establishment and taking in the lovely intricacies of the architecture that had been preserved over so much time. When Sadie had gushed over the books for over an hour, Dakota had gushed over the Chief’s valiant, life-long career, and Gus had laid himself prostrate across the library floor, refusing to move, they decided it was probably time to go.
“Now, son,” Chief Frey said, grasping Dakota’s hand in a firm shake as they said their goodbyes, “I’d be glad to see ya again. Especially if it means you’re invitin’ me to your commissioning. It’s been a time since I’ve been to one of those. I’d salute ya and everythang.”
Dakota laughed. “Oh, I’ll, uh… I’ll keep ya in mind for sure, Chief. I can’t thank you enough for fitting us in today.”
“Yes, thank you so much.” Sadie offered her hand and then embraced him in a full hug. “I loved it so much. I can’t wait to bring my parents back here. They’re gonna lose their minds.”
The chief’s eyes crinkled as he smiled wide at them. “We’ll be happy to have them. Y’all sure are a beautiful…” he cleared his throat, “family. Your…” He paused. “I’m sorry, I can’t possibly call that cat your son. Ya may love him like a child, but he smells to high heaven. Y’all are beautiful. That cat stinks.”
Dakota erupted into laughter, shaking the man’s hand again. “You held out as long as you could. Thank you. We won’t be bringing the cat with us ever again.”
“I’d be happy to give you and your folks a tour, though. Whenever you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Dakota said and then took Sadie’s hand, threading their fingers together as if it was something they’d done before—not a ground-breaking, very unfriendly gesture—and led them back to the car. Sadie found herself suddenly incapable of argument.
“Kota?”
“Hmmm?” he hummed and whistled a soft tune.
“We're holding hands.” She held their intertwined hands up between them but didn't feel inclined to let go.
“Yup. We are. Do it for Jeb, Sadie. He's a sucker for an HEA.”
“Whose Jeb? And what do you know about HEAs?”
He gave her fingers a squeeze and then twirled her around, hand above her head, the other on her waist.
“Jeb, my dear, is the chief, and he's watching a couple in marital bliss with their beloved son-cat, strolling into the sunset to their happily ever after.”
When she turned to glance back, Dakota pulled her close. “Don't look. Wouldn't want to embarrass him.”
“I don't believe you, Remillard.” Yet she still didn't let go, deciding it was just much easier to walk through a parking lot this way. Wouldn't want to stumble on any loose gravel.
“But do you hate it? The hand holding?” he asked, and she thought he pulled just a little closer.
“It's weird how much I don’t hate it.”
“Grood.” He gave her hand another squeeze before releasing it to open her door. “Maybe we'll try again.”
Once they’d settled, strapped in, arranged Gus accordingly, and finagled the passenger window which had suddenly decided to slide down without prompting, Dakota clapped his hands once and turned to her. “Alright, Edwin, are ya ready for our next stop?”
For the first time—with excitement in her belly and a strange, new sense of companionship with the man to her left—Sadie didn’t lurch at the sound of her middle name on his lips. Instead, she relished it.
“Oh, oh… him! Let's do him!” Sadie squealed, barely managing to keep her backside in her seat with the thrill. She inclined her head to the car beside them. A man, completely oblivious to them or the game they’d been playing for hours, picked his nose as he drove with a Jack Russell Terrier happily perched in his lap.
“Well, he’s searching for treasure, to be sure,” Dakota said, wiggling his eyebrows at her before returning his eyes to the road.
“He’s an undercover agent…” Sadie began.
“In South Georgia?”
“Yes,” she nodded and readjusted her headband, “an undercover agent in South Georgia, searching for stolen treasure.”
“In his nose.” Dakota peeked again at the man to their right. “Wow. He’s really diggin’ in there. I’m concerned.”
“Kota! Come on… play with me!”
“Alright, alright.” He relented and made as if he were thinking deeply. “He’s been on the search for this stolen treasure for years, but what he doesn’t know is that his dog…”
“Gulliver.”
“Right,” he nodded. “Gulliver can actually read, recount, and reenact classic literature.”
Sadie bounced in her seat, scaring Gus, who finally gave up on snuggling in her lap and pounced into the back. “Wishbone! You know Wishbone?!”
“‘Course I do. My parents tortured us with old DVDs of that dog.”
“Tortured?” Sadie clasped her chest and threw her other hand over her forehead. “I can’t believe this. You’ve shocked me dead. Dakota Major. You don’t like Wishbone?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What’s not to like? Literature. Plays. Drama. It’s amazing. I refuse to accept this.”
He shrugged. “Sorry. It’s true. The girls, of course, loved it. You could chat all ya want with them about it.”
She slumped in her seat, a little disheartened without quite knowing why. Would he rather she talked to his sisters than him?
“Alright, I know you’re probably dying to tell me… so just go ahead. What was your favorite episode?” he asked, surprising her with his interest.
“Pride and Prejudice, of course. Furst Impressions,” she answered, proudly.
“You know the episode names? What were you spending all your time on? For goodness’ sakes, Sadie… didn’t you have friends as a kid?”
She knew he’d said it flippantly, not knowing the way his words struck so close to reality and the deep hurt she’d carried with her for too long. But that old pain sprang up, regardless, and she answered in kind, brimming with blunt honesty.
“No, actually. I didn't. Not really. I didn’t have built-in friends in siblings. I didn’t have cousins or neighbors or playmates. I had my parents. We traveled, and they worked, and I dove into fiction… I watched Wishbone, read books, learned, and dreamt about other places and worlds that I didn’t exist in.”
“Oh…” The air rang with an uncomfortable static and the light hum of the radio playing Dakota’s curated playlist at a low volume. “That must have been a really hard way to grow up. Lonely.”
“It was,” she admitted. “I love my parents and the life they gave me. The traveling. The adventures. It was unique, but it could be really lonely at times.”
“But books were good to you.”
She smiled, despite her lingering sadness. “Yeah. They were.”
“What are men to rocks and mountains and… books.” He laid his hand on hers, giving a gentle squeeze and, without missing a beat, put it back on the steering wheel.
“Did you watch Pride and Prejudice again? Needed to freshen up on your literature?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I, um… I read it. Last week. Just did some light reading before spending quality time with a profound bibliophile, like yourself.”
“And what a mighty vocabulary those big books have given you…” Sadie adjusted in her seat, that uncomfortable itch returning to her. The one she couldn’t put her finger on but always seemed to lead back to him. “Dakota?”
“Hmm?” he answered, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Did you read Pride and Prejudice for me?”
“I thought it might be important… to you,” he answered, and Sadie felt herself filled with a million more questions.