Dreaming August Read online

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “How are…what have…Valentine’s getting so big.”

  “Yeah, I hear kids do that.”

  Benny quelled the urge to press her palms to burning cheeks already giving away too much. Dan Greene shifted the toddler in his arms. Waiting? What could he be waiting for? Benny pretended she didn’t know exactly what and instead moved to the counter, her back to him.

  “Jo!” he called, startling both her and the baby. “Come get your kid. I have to go home.”

  Johanna Coco McCallan pushed through the swinging door, arms outstretched. Flour on her cheek, long hair in a knot on top of her head, she swooped past Benny with a look of surprise and a wave before scooping her daughter from Dan’s arms.

  “Sorry, Dan. I didn’t realize—”

  “No worries.” He kissed the baby’s round cheek. “Will I see you and Charlie for my niece’s graduation party?”

  “We’ll be there. Caleb will be watching the bakery, but we’ll have Tony and Millie with us.”

  “I’ll let my sister know. See you, Jo. Benedetta.”

  Benny waved over her shoulder, eyes resolutely on the menu board.

  “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  Johanna’s voice turned Benny around. There were others in the bakery. They sat at tables, sipping coffee out of to-go cups from the coffeehouse next door. It was a deal Johanna struck when first she opened her bakery in Bitterly—she wouldn’t serve coffee if the coffeehouse didn’t serve baked goods. The result was a sort of co-op suiting not only the two businesses, but the town as well.

  “What’s curiouser?” Benny held out her arms for Valentine, a chubby little cherub as fixed an icon in CC’s as Johanna’s mud cookies and shepherds-pie-pies.

  Johanna handed her over. “Dan. I usually have to pry Valentine from his arms before he’ll give her up.”

  “She’s a special girl.” Benny’s heart pounded. “I don’t blame him.”

  “Well he was sure in a hurry to hand her off just now.” Johanna pulled the elastic from her hair, piled it high again and secured it in place. “Did someone say something to him?”

  “I only just walked in.” She bounced the baby, avoiding Johanna’s eyes. “Dad was hoping for some of your pie-pies. Any left?”

  “One or two. Charlie said you turned him down.”

  “I did. Out at the cemetery. When I got home, Dad was inconsolable that I would pass up a pie-pie.”

  “Then I’ll go grab one for him. You mind holding her?”

  Benny clutched Valentine closer. “Try taking her.”

  Johanna scooted around the counter and into the back. Valentine watched her mother vanish, but didn’t cry. Smiling a wet, baby smile, she reached for Benny’s turquoise pendant.

  “No you don’t.” She tapped it away from the baby’s mouth, but not out of her hand. Valentine studied the blue stone, her baby brow furrowed with thoughts Benny couldn’t begin to guess at. Would she dream in blue that night? Holding the baby closer, Benny closed her eyes and allowed her own tremulous joy rumble through her.

  A boy. She was positive. And already, she loved him so much.

  “Here you go,” Johanna came at her, the bagged pie-pies outstretched and already spreading buttery patches in the paper sack. “Tell him he got the last two.”

  “I’ll trade you.” She offered Valentine, who reached for her mother with a little squeal. Benny grabbed the sac. “Crap. I didn’t bring any money.”

  “I’m not charging you for leftovers, Ben.”

  “They’re not leftovers until tomorrow.”

  “They’re leftovers the minute lunch is over. Seriously, don’t be weird.”

  “Thanks, Jo.”

  Johanna waved away her thanks. “Now if I can get these laggers out of here, I can go home. I should have gotten Dan to do it before he left. He’s good at clearing a room.”

  Benny laughed along with Johanna, even if it made her woozy. Funny man, Dan Greene. Always joking, lightening even the darkest moments. Dependable. Loyal. Kind. Everyone’s favorite plow man in winter, landscaper the rest of the year even if he liked to pretend he was an ornery old bachelor and dedicated grouch. It was part of his charm, and Benny had always liked that about him until she more than liked him for it, which was entirely unacceptable.

  “How are you doing, Ben?”

  Benny bit her lip. “I’m okay. Just—you know. Same old, same old. I—I hear Nina is coming back to the States for the holidays.”

  “You heard right. And she’s bringing back a surprise.”

  “Nina? A surprise? That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “I know, right?” Johanna laughed. “But she’s not talking. I’m dying of curiosity.”

  While those stragglers finished up and left, while Johanna tidied up the front and her stepson did the same in back, Benny listened to her talk and talk and talk. About Nina and the trendy but authentic Curiosity Shop she and Gunner founded in New York City. About the honeymoon Johanna and Charlie finally took, meeting her sister and brother-in-law in Bora Bora, sailing those South Seas islands that never stopped being exotic. As long as Johanna kept talking, Benny didn’t have to say a word. Any wondering about Daniel Greene was safely off topic, even if the conjured image of him so tenderly holding Valentine would not quit. And then there was the way he looked at her the moment she first walked in.

  She rode her scooter home in the dark, the only light coming from the stars overhead.

  Star light, star bright,

  First star I see tonight.

  I wish I may, I wish I might,

  Have this wish I wish tonight.

  Benedetta revved the tinny engine, pretended the tears instantly drying on her cheeks came from forgetting her goggles in her rush to be out of the house. They had nothing to do with Dan, or the gentle way he held Valentine, or how her heart had stuttered that moment before she forced it to still.

  * * * *

  “Don’t come through the kitchen. I just washed the floor.”

  Dan Greene grumbled under his breath, pulled his work boots off and tiptoed across the kitchen floor already dry anyway, to the mudroom opening into the breezeway and separating the kitchen from the family room. He made a show of closing the door loudly.

  “Thank you,” his sister called as she came through the kitchen carrying a load of laundry.

  “Hey! You told me to stay off the floor.”

  “My feet are clean.”

  “So are my socks.”

  “I was afraid you’d walk on it with your boots.” Evelyn offered him her cheek, which Dan dutifully kissed. His sister looked tired, more so than usual. He took the laundry basket from her and loaded clothes into the washer.

  “I can do it,” she said.

  “You can’t do it while fixing me a plate of whatever’s left from your little scavengers’ dinner.”

  Evelyn pursed her lips. “I thought you were bringing home pie-pies.”

  Dan shoved the last of the laundry in, closed the door a smidge too forcefully. Benedetta had walked into the bakery and all thought walked out of his head. If he wasn’t sure before, her behavior in the bakery cinched it—Benny wasn’t just avoiding him, she was trying to pretend he didn’t exist.

  “I forgot,” he said. “I was playing with Valentine.”

  “She’s a sweet little thing. How is Johanna?”

  “Fine. Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “No reason. Just making conversation. Come and sit. I’ll fix you a plate.”

  Dan did as he was told, as he always did what his older sister asked of him. And even what she didn’t. Like putting the laundry in when she was so tired the weariness manifested in deep splotches under her eyes. Like selling the cramped but adequate house they’d bought together after their parents died, to move into hers when Paul left her sick and struggling. Sitting at the table, he tucked into the warmed egg noodles and peas while Evelyn took cold fried
chicken from the fridge.

  “Not a fit supper for a man who works as hard as you,” she said.

  “Better’n what I’d have made for myself, back in the day.”

  “Back in the day”—she snorted—“you were young and could eat mothballs on toast and then go out frogging all night long.”

  “You saying I’m old?”

  “I’m saying you’re older. We both are.” Evelyn sat opposite him. A bulb was out in the overhead fixture, casting even deeper shadows under her eyes. Dan worried about her, about keeping up with the kids, her job, and the constant battle with Lyme disease left untreated for too long. “Eat,” she said. “It’ll be disgusting if I heat it up again.”

  “How are the plans for Mabel’s graduation party going?” he asked around a forkful of peas. “Oh, yeah, Jo, Charlie and the younger kids will be here.”

  “No Caleb?”

  “Someone’s got to mind the store.”

  Evelyn grinned. “Mabel’s going to be disappointed. She has a little crush on him.”

  “He’s too old for her.”

  “He’s only seventeen, Dan. She’s off to high school next year.”

  “There’s a big difference in them three years right now.”

  “I suppose.” Evelyn sighed. “Plans are going fine.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Just tired.”

  “Did you make an appointment with your doc yet?”

  “I will.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “You’ve been saying all week. Come on, Ev. You think I want to raise your brats if you croak?”

  She laughed. “They do have a father.”

  Who they hadn’t seen since Christmas. “Paul’d take them out to Denver. You don’t want your kids raised with all the weirdos out there.”

  “You’re awful, Daniel.”

  “Just make an appointment. Putting it off is what got you in the first place.”

  “I know. You’re right.” She pressed palms to the table and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll call right now and leave a message. Okay?”

  “Heat me some more noodles while you’re up.” He held out his plate. “Please?”

  Evelyn swatted him in the back of the head, but she took his plate and spooned more noodles onto it. Sticking it into the microwave, she talked to her doctor. Dan listened carefully to the message she left—a vague name, number, and, please-call-back-at-your-earliest-convenience.

  “There. Happy now?” His sister put his plate in front of him, set the phone on the table.

  “You going to follow up tomorrow?”

  “If they don’t call? Of course.”

  He frowned. She was more stubborn than he was, and the reason why something a course of antibiotics could have fixed became a lifelong disease she would never quite escape. Dan knew she wouldn’t call the doc back any more than the doctor’s office would return her call.

  A bump upstairs lifted both their heads. Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Joss must be trying to fly again. I’d better go see. You okay eating by yourself?”

  “I ate by myself a long time, Ev. Go.”

  A squeeze to his shoulder, and his sister left him. Dan listened to her tread up the stairs, to her voice if not the words she said to her son. Picking up the phone, he hit the redial button.

  “This is Daniel Greene,” he said. “Evelyn Taylor’s brother. She just left you a message to give her a call back. Now I’m leaving you a message to make sure you do.”

  Chapter 2

  Spirits of the Winds and Leaves

  “It’s going to rain. Let me drive you.”

  “Ma, come on.” Benny adjusted her goggles. “I’m thirty-six years old. When are you going to stop treating me like a baby?”

  “I worry about you on this thing.”

  “It’s a scooter. It doesn’t go over thirty miles per hour.”

  “People have been killed at lesser speeds.”

  “Where do you get your facts from?” Benny glanced skyward. The cloud-cover was definitely thickening, getting darker. She leaned forward and kissed her mother’s cheek, revved the hair-dryer-like engine. “I’m going to see Henny after work, so don’t wait dinner for me.”

  “I’ll leave it in the oven.”

  Benny pulled away. Clarice’s voice, whatever she was saying, faded. Her mother would watch her until the road curved and took her precious baby from sight, wring her hands, and then head back up the driveway, shaking her head as she went. Benny didn’t have to see the scene to know it by heart.

  “How do you stand it?” she’d asked her brother once. Peter had smiled and shrugged.

  “She’s Ma. She can’t help it. I don’t mind having someone cook all my meals and wash my laundry.”

  “Because you’re still in your twenties and unattached,” Benny said. “Wait until you have a serious girlfriend. Or a wife. There is a reason Tim lives in North Carolina.”

  Another smile, a sadder one. Another shrug, half-hearted. While she and Tim were a respectable four years apart, Peter was a full decade younger than Benny. The oops-baby born long after her parents thought it could happen. He’d been everyone’s baby, the favorite of every teacher he ever had. At twenty-six, despite the personality and appearance that had the ladies beating down the doors, he remained a devout and determined mama’s boy.

  The first raindrops fell. Benny twisted the throttle, pushing the scooter to its limits. The scooter sailed into the gravel lot just as the skies released. She did not like being late, even if there were such a thing at Savvy’s. The place opened when it opened, closed when it closed, and as long as the employees got their work done, her boss was happy.

  “For goodness sake, Benny. I’d have come to get you. Why didn’t you call?”

  “It’s fine, Savvy. I got here before the rain.”

  “Barely.” Savannah—Savvy—Callowell looked her up and down. “You sick?”

  Benny gulped. “No. Do I look that bad?”

  “Now don’t be defensive. You just look a little…stressed, I suppose.”

  “You live with my mother and then talk to me about stress.”

  Savannah laughed, the might of her single quirked eyebrow easing. Benny had been one of the first applicants after this small black woman bought the old Larson farm in very white Bitterly, Connecticut six years ago. After the stir died down, Larson’s quickly became Savvy’s to all but the oldest residents, and Savannah became a good friend.

  “So, what’s up for today? You want me to get started on the tomatoes?”

  “Let’s go to my office.” Savannah turned away without waiting for a response.

  “What is it?” Benny hurried after her. “What’s wrong? Did I leave the hose on again? Your office flooded, didn’t it?”

  “No, Benny.” She gestured Benny in, flicked on the lights and crossed to her desk. Twisting in her red-leather-rolly-chair, Savannah clicked at her keyboard. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

  “Tell you?” Sweat beaded Benny’s upper lip. She forced her hand to keep away from her belly. “About what?”

  “All those late nights. I wondered what you were doing.”

  “I wasn’t doing…I mean, I was, but…” One week of being the nearest thing to happy she’d been in six years. One week! “How did you know? I thought no one—”

  “Well, sugar, why did you let it go live if you didn’t want me to know about it?” She pushed away from the computer, motioned Benny in. “It turned out really beautiful. Thank you, Benedetta. I forgot all about that picture you snapped of me.”

  Savannah smiled back at her from the screen, short hair coiled into spikes and dirt on the white tank top accentuating every farm-chiseled muscle in her thin arms. The blur over her left shoulder Benny had cropped out at least a half-dozen times was still there, but otherwise, it looked damn good.

  “I totally forgot about this,” Benny s
aid. “It’s just a blogger site. I scheduled it to go live and then—” She spread her fingers. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately. Sorry, Savvy. I meant to tell you so you could tweak it if you wanted.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about blogging.”

  “It’s simple, and fun. You can write daily posts or weekly or whatever you want, but all the information anyone needs to find your farm and what it’s about is right there on the main page. There are links to pictures and a few testimonials I might have made up but are completely true. Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” Savannah took both Benny’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “You’re a wonder.”

  “I was bored and couldn’t sleep. I’ll give you the sign-in and password. It’s all yours.”

  “Will you show me how to…tweak it? Is that the right word?”

  Benny laughed, this time without the queasy feeling. “Sure. I’ll pull up another chair.”

  * * * *

  Despite Savannah’s assertion she knew nothing of computers or social media, she caught on quickly. By lunchtime, Benny was out in the greenhouse, nibbling at a sandwich and thinning blossoms off the tomatoes finally ready to be planted in the ground now that all danger of frost was done.

  “Too many on one stem doesn’t give them enough room to grow,” Savannah once told her. Benny hated denying even one blossom its chance at becoming a tomato, but she’d been working at Savvy’s long enough to know her boss was right. It still bothered her every time.

  She forced herself to eat her lunch. All the prego-books she read said she’d start showing soon. Tall as she was, she’d never been supermodel thin. Voluptuous, Henny used to call her. She preferred the exotic sound of zaftig. Keeping her curves would buy her another month, maybe two before her pregnancy became too obvious. If her mother found out, it was all over. Worse would be for Dan to figure out that Valentine’s Day had gotten him a bit more than laid.

  She had to tell him. She had to. What kind of woman, what kind of mother kept a good man from his child?

  Benny plucked, ate. Not only did Dan have the right to know his child, their child had the right to know his father. Not even her most confused and reluctant moment chased that knowledge from Benny’s head. But how? When? What would she say?