The Ballad of Dixon Bell

Kelsey snapped her fingers. “I saw a sign at the diner. Charlie takes plastic now.”

“Really? I haven’t eaten there in years.” Kate wasn’t sure why, but the suggestion seemed like the perfect solution for her dilemma tonight. “So, here’s the deal. Kelsey, you put some kind of shirt over that tank top.”

“Why?”

Kate ignored the question. “And the two of you agree not to fight, not even to insult each other for the next two hours. If you get into an argument while we’re eating in public, I will drag you out by your ears and you’ll be grounded for the rest of the summer. And that’s a promise.”

The two teenagers glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, a kind of mutual commitment. Kelsey looked at Kate again. “Do I really have to wear a shirt?”

“Only if you want to drive the car.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kelsey stopped the Volvo in front of the diner. Kate let out a long, relieved breath. “That was good. You’re getting to be a very smooth driver.”

The girl’s increasing confidence did not, however, serve to ease Kate’s anxiety about being responsible for teaching her daughter to drive. And in just two years, she would have to start all over with Trace.

He walked a step behind as she and Kelsey crossed the parking lot, past a couple of pickups parked next to each other near the front door. “Next time, Kelse, maybe you could park in a regular space.”

Kelsey turned and stuck her tongue out at him. “There aren’t any spaces, you jerk. It’s all gravel.”

“But people usually line up at the same angle, in a row, more or less. You aren’t anywhere close to these trucks. Talk about dumb.”

Kate gave him a quelling glance. “Talk about this anymore and we’re going home without dinner.”

Since Trace ate almost constantly, in order to support his still-growing frame, the threat worked beautifully. The three of them got inside the diner without another cross word being exchanged.

The bell on the door jingled as they came through, drawing the attention of the four people talking at the counter. Kate was aware of Abby Brannon and her dad, Charlie, the owners of the diner, and Adam DeVries, one of her classmates from high school…familiar faces she might have expected to find here any night she chose to come. But the fourth person was, again, totally unexpected.

“Dixon?” She whispered his name, feeling as if she’d conjured him up from her dream in the kitchen.

But he heard her and got to his feet, looking just as good as he had this afternoon—tall and cool in khaki slacks and a light-blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back. “Hey, Kate. Two accidental meetings in one day— I’d say I’ve got a lot of good luck going for me. And it’s not raining this time.”

“No…no, it’s not.” Thank goodness she had combed her hair and put on some lipstick before she left the house. “It’s a lovely evening.” She recovered her manners and pulled away from his deep-brown gaze. “Hi, Abby. How are you?”

“Just fine.” The other woman came around the counter. Hands on Kate’s shoulders, Abby kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here. The kids come in all the time, of course, but I only get to see you out in the car, waiting to take them home. Have a seat.” She led them to a booth on the wall. “What can I get y’all to drink?”

The kids ordered soft drinks and Kate asked for iced tea. Abby whisked away…and then two tall, handsome men pulled a freestanding table and a couple of chairs over to extend the booth. Adam sat down on Kate’s side of the table and Dixon sat across from him.

“It’ll be easier on Abby this way,” Dixon explained when Kate looked at him. “If you don’t mind?” His grin was apologetic and yet confident, inviting her to share a private joke.

“Of course not.” And she didn’t, except that seeing him again had seriously disrupted her ability to think. Her heart was pounding under her ribs, her breath had caught in her lungs. She didn’t think she could actually eat in this state.

Kelsey and Trace were staring at Dixon, confusion and even a little suspicion on their faces. Recalled to her responsibility, Kate made the introductions. “Dixon, these are my children. Kelsey and Trace, this is Dixon Bell. You’ve met Miss Daisy Crawford—he’s her grandson. He went to school with Abby and me, but he’s been gone for a long time and just came home. You know Mr. DeVries, of course.” She only hoped they wouldn’t comment on the fact that DeVries Construction competed with their dad’s company for business around town. “How are you, Adam?”

Adam nodded toward the kids, then gently shook the hand she extended. “J-just f-fine, Kate. I t-trust you’re the s-s-same. All r-recovered f-f-from the w-wed-ding?” Courtly in manner, tall, with dark hair and a construction worker’s muscles, Adam should have been anybody’s dream husband. Kate had never understood why he was still single.

Dixon leaned forward. “Somebody’s just married?”

Kate met his gaze. She could feel herself blushing, though there was no reason to be embarrassed. “Pete Mitchell and my sister, Mary Rose, got married a few weeks ago.”

“That’s terrific. I haven’t had a chance to call Pete since I’ve been home. I’ll be sure to look him up and offer my congratulations.”

“He p-p-plays b-basketball on S-Saturday mornings,” Adam commented. “With Tommy C-Crawford, Rob Warren and m-m-me. F-find one m-more player and w-we could g-go three o-o-on three.”

Trace looked over at the suggestion, then quickly went back to staring out the window into the growing twilight. But Kate saw that Dixon had noted his interest.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said just as Abby came back with their drinks. Then he turned toward Kelsey, on his right. “I noticed you got out on the driver’s side. You’re working on getting your license?”

“Uh-huh.” Kelsey darted a glance in Dixon’s direction, but didn’t meet him eye to eye.

“I learned to drive in my grandmother’s New Yorker—this big yellow boat of a car, ’bout thirty-some years old now but it only has fifty thousand miles on it because she never goes more than a few miles outside the county line. I never did learn to parallel park that monster—the officer who gave me the test was a second cousin once removed, or something like that. He let me slide.”

“Parking is the worst,” Kelsey agreed. “Backing up is almost as bad.”

Dixon nodded. “It’s always hard to know which way to turn the wheel.”

Trace snorted, but Kelsey was captivated. She and Dixon embarked on a discussion about driving that lasted through most of dinner. Listening to their easy dialogue, Kate wondered where Dixon’s inordinate charm had come from. When had the awkward, inappropriate boy become such a lady’s man? Miss Daisy possessed more than her fair share of social skills, of course, but Kate didn’t remember a single hint in the young Dixon Bell of the charismatic skill he was using to draw Kelsey out of herself.

And then she wondered if he’d used that same skill on her this afternoon, if the flattering interest she’d basked in was just a tool Dixon plied on any woman within talking distance. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had been a zvery smooth operator fifteen years ago when she’d first known him. Still was, if his success with various younger women around town was all that rumor reported. Recently, so she’d heard, he’d settled down with just one of those young women and was planning to marry her. Despite his image as a man about town, L.T. was a conventional soul at heart. Perhaps he’d just needed to find the right person…

A person who wasn’t her. The knowledge that L.T.’s real problem with their marriage had been as simple as falling out of love with his own wife struck Kate with the force of a felled tree. Devastated all over again, she stared down at her chicken casserole and knew with complete certainty that she couldn’t possibly manage another bite.

DIXON SAW a stricken look take over Kate’s beautiful face, but couldn’t figure out what might have caused it. He and Kelsey were getting along just fine—he’d exerted himself to reach out to her, wanting to make sure Kate knew that her kids were no barrier, as far as he was concerned. The boy would be harder to get to know. Trace had a hunger about him that Dixon had seen in runaways and abandoned teenagers, a hunger for attention, for guidance, which Dixon had no trouble at all attributing to the boy’s father. L.T. LaRue had left his son at a vulnerable point in the boy’s young life, with an emptiness that only a father could fill. Dixon understood that void, having grown up without his dad. At least he’d had Miss Daisy. And Trace had Kate. But even the most loving mother couldn’t completely take a father’s place.

“So what’s everybody having for dessert?” Abby Brannon stood at his shoulder, surveying the remains of their meal. “Kate, honey, you’ve hardly touched your food. Is something wrong?” Kate shook her head and Abby didn’t press for an answer. She moved around the table clearing plates, a woman of ample curves and ample concern for everyone she encountered. He remembered her as a shy girl, coping with her mother’s terminal illness even as she got ready to leave high school and start her own adult life. While he had struck off on his own, ranging far and wide in an effort to discover who he was, Abby had stayed at home. Was she satisfied with what she knew about herself? About the rest of the world?

Then again, Dixon wasn’t sure he was satisfied, after everywhere he’d been and everything he’d done. And look at Kate—valedictorian of the graduating class, voted Most Likely to Succeed, the one student among them whom everybody was sure would launch a brilliant career and make her mark on the world. As he recalled, she’d planned to be a lawyer like her dad. Thirteen years later, she was a spurned wife in the same little town she’d grown up in. Yet another of life’s ironies.

She certainly didn’t seem happy, didn’t radiate the kind of confidence and joy he remembered adoring in her all those years ago. She was still breathtaking, with her dark hair, her pale, perfect skin and her slender figure, but muted, as if a shadow hung over her life. The shadow of L.T. LaRue.

“Who are you planning to kill?” Abby leaned over to take his plate and slide the knife out of his clenched fist. “And what do you want for dessert? Lemon meringue pie? Chocolate cake and ice cream?”

Dixon deliberately relaxed. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, too. And just coffee, thanks. I’ll save dessert for tomorrow.”

“All you disciplined people.” Abby sighed. “Why do I spend my time making pies for people who won’t eat them?” Shaking her head, she headed toward the kitchen with a trayful of used plates and glasses balanced on one arm.

“I don’t know how she does it.” Kate, too, was shaking her head. “Always smiling, always ready to serve, and she works harder than anybody I know.”

“A-Abby’s a w-wonder.” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Charlie s-s-still comes t-to w-work, but s-since his heart attack, he m-mostly v-visits with the c-customers. Abby’s d-d-definitely the p-prime mover around here.”

The bell on the diner’s front door jingled, announcing new arrivals. Dixon glanced over out of curiosity, only to have his gut tighten with a combination of irritation and dread when a young woman wearing a mind-bending red dress stepped inside, followed by L.T. LaRue.

Beside Dixon, Kelsey gasped and stiffened. On the other side of the table, Kate and Trace and Adam couldn’t see, without turning around, what was going on. But all Kate needed was her daughter’s face. As she stared at Kelsey, reading the girl’s reaction, what little color she had left in her cheeks drained away. She pressed her lips together for a few seconds and took a deep breath.

“Well, this has been fun.” Her voice shook slightly. “But Kelsey and Trace have homework, so I think we should be getting home. Adam, if you’ll excuse us—”

DeVries had taken a quick glance over his shoulder to gauge the situation. “Of c-course.” He got to his feet to let Kate slide out of the booth. Dixon did the same for Kelsey, all the while keeping an eye on LaRue. Abby, bless her heart, had herded L.T. and his girlfriend to the other side of the diner. For a minute, Dixon thought disaster had been avoided.

But LaRue let his companion sit down and then strutted across the room to stand directly in Kate’s path of escape.