Her whole family saw his coming here to help them as a great sacrifice. But Ella knew now that the reminder of Andy was a comfort to him, and that his actions were as selfish as they were noble.
And still she looked at him like she was grateful, like she respected him, like she cared.
I don’t deserve her caring. I don’t deserve any of this.
But whatever he thought, it didn’t stop Ella from sharing a few words with him between chores these last few days, or her mom from thanking him and wrapping a motherly arm around him for a quick half-squeeze as they walked back from the barn each night, or her father from inviting him to play a game of chess after dinner and calling himson, as if he knew how that word might fill Dalton’s empty chest.
Now he was going to be sitting around the family table at Thanksgiving, like an actor in a too-perfect TV special.
Or maybe like a frustrated family member in an advice column. People were always complaining aboutholidays with family—that there were arguments about politics or past grievances, that they disliked one person or another, or felt put out at how much they had to cook or clean, or pretend to like someone’s over-sugared glazed yams.
But Andy’s family seemed to be wholeheartedly looking forward to the meal, and only sorry that the house wouldn’t be fuller.
“It’s a small Thanksgiving this year,” Mary remarked more than once as she pulled pies in and out of the oven and stirred the green beans. “I can’t believe my sister went on a cruise. Can you even imagine?”
Dalton honestly couldn’t imagine, no matter how many times Mary brought it up. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a woman alive with more practical and humble sensibilities than Mary Bennett. The woman loved nothing more than the coziness of her regular work routine, and the comfort of her own home. It was strange to think she had a sister who liked to treat herself to fancy vacations.
“She’s earned it,” Michael put in. “She and Tom have worked their fingers to the bone for years, and he’s always talked about seeing more of the world one day.”
“That’s true,” Mary allowed. “They run a small grocery store, Dalton. It’s very demanding.”
“It makes sense they might like to have a little adventure then,” Dalton agreed, smiling at the evidence that Mary’s sister was like her after all. Everything about this family made sense. The other shoe never seemed to drop with these people.
“I’m so glad Lori and Dan are coming,” Mary said. “Itwill be fun for Dove to have two more children in the house.”
“Two more kids?” Dalton asked, grabbing the potholder she had just dropped before she could bend over for it.
“Oh, yes,” Mary said. “Danny is a little older than Dove. He’s in third grade this year. And Olivia is five, so just a year younger. The three of them always have a wonderful time together. They’re always especially interested in the farm, since their family lives in the city.”
“That’s great,” Dalton said, meaning it. “I’m sure they love the chance to see what life is like here.”
“We’redone,” Dove yelled, sprinting into the kitchen and hugging her grandmother, who was holding the tray of biscuits she was about to put in the oven.
“Is that so?” Michael asked, looking up from the mashed potatoes he was seasoning. “Good job, young lady.”
“Mama helped,” Dove said.
“I’ll bet she did,” Mary said with a secret smile.
Dalton figured she was thinking correctly that Ella had probably done just about everything herself, with a bit of assistance from her little helper.
But it was so like the family to encourage Dove to take pride in her contributions.
One thing he noticed about the way Dove was growing up was that no one ever seemed to yell at her, and he was very certain they had never raised a hand to her. She made mistakes all the time, but they talked to her calmly, and they told her they believed she could do better.
The first foster family he’d stayed with probably would have said that a child would turn out rotten if they didn’t experience what they calleddiscipline.
But Dove wasn’t rotten at all. She didn’t beg for material things. She appreciated what she had, and she tried her best to do better when she made a mistake.
He wished that he’d gotten some of the Bennetts’ kind of loving discipline early in his own life. He might not have been so rebellious if he’d felt more understood. And then maybe he wouldn’t have messed up so much with the families that came after. Looking back, it was easy to see that they had all been good people who really had wanted to help him. But at the time, he’d been a hot-headed, damaged kid, convinced that the whole world was against him.
The thought of one particular foster mom’s look of hurt and disappointment after he pulled something colossally stupid put a lump in his throat.
Could she have been like a real mother to me if I hadn’t been so angry? Would she have loved me if I had let her?
When he thought about it now, he figured that he’d probably sensed that she wanted them to be close, and some self-sabotaging part of him had made him prove her wrong and show her that he was unlovable again and again.
But the past was the past. He couldn’t do anything about it now. Normally, he tried to simply put these thoughts out of his head.
