The Dream - Whitney Dineen Page 0,20
have asked me to recite the alphabet in Swahili. I cannot seem to form a coherent thought, so I sit there like a giant stuffed halibut. Davis takes over. “I was walking to my workshop when I saw a beautiful woman strolling down the street like she owned it.”
“That was Ashley, huh?” his grandmother asks excitedly.
“Yes, ma’am, it was. She was wearing the very dress she has on today and she plumb stole my breath away. I could smell her perfume when she passed. It was like grapefruit and sunshine, and I felt like I’d been punched right in the heart.” Then he elaborates, “It was like getting sucked up into a spring tornado. I didn’t know which way was up, but I knew in that moment, she was the one for me.”
His grandmother fans herself rapidly with her hands. “That is the most romantic story I’ve ever heard. How did you ask her out?” she wants to know.
Davis gives me a conspiratorial grin and answers, “I just stopped her on the street and said, ‘I don’t know your name, but I know I need to take you out to dinner tonight.’”
His grandmother turns to me. “What did you say?”
I somehow manage to find my voice. “I told him while I appreciated the offer, I had a previous engagement that night. I gave him my phone number and suggested he call and ask me out properly.”
“Did you have another date that night?” she demands.
“I didn’t,” I admit. Then, because apparently I’ve lost all ability to retain my dignity, I add, “I’ve never dated much. I just wanted your grandson to know I was a lady and not some fast girl he could pick up on the street.” Davis stares at me intently as I say this.
“Bravo!” she cheers. “He’s a good boy, but it’s important he had to work to get you. That’s a surefire way to make a relationship last.”
“That’s what I thought,” I agree.
Davis joins in the conversation. “She was worth all the hoops she made me jump through, Gran. More than worth it.” There’s a seriousness in his tone that doesn’t seem to fit the current game we’re playing. My body starts to thrum, and I feel the same kind of anticipation I do when I light the fuse on a firecracker and run for safety before it goes off.
I break our staring contest and look down at the place setting in front of me, hoping to divert my attention long enough to still my accelerating pulse. I don’t know what kind of china this is, but I’d bet my last dollar that the butter dish alone cost more than all of my dinnerware and cutlery combined.
“How did you propose?” Davis’s grandmother wants to know.
Luckily, Lee and Gracie come in with the last of the platters before Davis can answer. His mom moves to the seat on the other side of me and instructs, “Let’s hold hands for grace.”
A powerful sensation surges through me as we all sit linked together. The collective love in this room is an entity unto itself. I wonder what in the world it would be like for this to be part of my daily life. Lee prays, “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for the miracle of family. We thank you for the gift of love, and the honor of being able to share in your wondrous creation. Bless our food and bless our homes. Amen.”
I look up and notice Davis’s eyes are trained on me again. His gaze is so intense, I can’t begin to know what he’s thinking. But I’ll tell you this, even if he doesn’t remember our shared history, something is going on in that brain of his, and it’s causing a massive fluctuation in my blood pressure.
I break away from Davis’s scrutiny and let my eyes consume the scene of familial harmony that surrounds me. Even though Mrs. Frothingham rarely knows who she is anymore, she helped create this remarkable family, and I don’t doubt that every last one of them is grateful to her. In the back of my mind, I find myself wondering what dinner with my grandparents would have looked like. Considering they got divorced before my mom was even born, I’m guessing it would have been nowhere near this congenial.
Chapter Eleven
December 9, 2007
Dear Molly,
Jessica Holt has been coming by Davis’s locker at least three times a day for the last month. While I’ve yet to witness any signs of coupledom, I’m guessing that’s