 
Deep in the Heart of Dixie copyright 2010 Heidi Sprouse

"God has given you one face, and you make yourself another."

-William Shakespeare

Prologue

Owen Granville awoke sprawled across the bed, in a tangle of covers, still fully dressed, and with a pounding in his head. The sunlight stabbed at his eyes, making him squeeze them shut and cover his head with a pillow. His mouth was like cotton. "Get me coffee and some aspirin, girl! Now, damn it!"

He didn't know how long he laid there but the throbbing in his head didn't get any better nor did his mood. "You're going to be sorry you made me come out there, missy!" He growled, yanked off the covers, and stumbled out of the bedroom. There was no sign of life in the living room. A quick search revealed a bed that had not been slept in, an empty kitchen, and no one in the bathroom. The house was silent except for the sound of his harsh breathing.

Owen squinted in the light boring into his eyes and picked up the coffee pot in hopes of making something to cure his God-awful headache when it dawned on him—his poor excuse for a step-daughter hadn't come home with him the night before. He couldn't clearly remember the last time he'd seen the little crybaby. He flung the pot against the wall, taking no satisfaction in the sound of the shattering glass. The girl had run away, damn her. She wouldn't get away with it, not if he had anything to say about it. But for now...he was going back to bed. To hell with her and her mother. To hell with everyone.

Chapter One

"Here she is, a real beauty," the park manager announced as the door swung open. The all too familiar smell of stale beer was a wall that almost pushed Jamie out. Backing down had not carried her this far and she wasn't about to start now when her goal was in sight. Her spine straightened, her jaw set, and she put one foot forward to take one more step just like all those that went before on this journey. She found herself in a dingy, living room, definitely not a step-up from her last home.

Dust motes drifted in the weak sunlight that fought its way in through dirty curtains and dirtier windows. More dust was caked on the dog-eared sofa, threadbare chair, on every surface. Mama used to say the dust bunnies were making babies; they were competing with China inside this trailer. The place was a perfect fit. It matched the way she felt on the inside.

"All right, sweetheart. Just sign right here, hand over $150, and it's all yours. Make sure I get the same the first of every month. The park supplies electric. You'll have to get your own propane tank filled." The manager's breath was worse than the smell of the trailer. He leaned over her shoulder, making her cringe inwardly. He was greasy in every sense of the word, from his hair, to his sweat-stained t-shirt, to his spotted jeans. Slick Nichols was a name that suited him. She imagined him oozing out the door like toxic slime in a cartoon.

She leaned on the counter stained with coffee cup rings, and quickly wrote her name, hoping he didn't see the trembling of her hands. She stepped back and brushed a curl of flaming red out of her eyes and prayed that he would leave.

"Dixie Mason...sounds like a movie star name. Are you a movie star, honey? You don't look old enough, a little thing like you." He leaned in closer, his beer belly brushing against her. A suggestive smile stretched across his face that made her want to puke all over his scuffed boots. The floor was so filthy, no one would even know the difference.

Dixie...not Jamie, not anymore...could feel the heat blooming in her face until it probably matched her freshly dyed hair. She knew what kind of movie star he meant. Accustomed to being unforgettable, she had chosen to reinvent herself as someone bright and loud in appearance, someone she could hide behind. Snapping the gum in her mouth to pluck up some badly needed nerve, she answered smartly, "No, I'm not a movie star. My mama was a true Southern girl, through and through. That's why she picked my name. And I'm eighteen, just turned this past December." So what if she stretched the truth by nearly a year? She was at least eighteen on the inside. If anyone took a good look in her eyes, they would see someone much older than her years staring back at them.

Slick took his paper, pen, and odor and left her with a key and blessed silence. Dixie put her hands to her denim hips and surveyed her surroundings. The task of making it a home threatened to do her in. There was no help for it. She had to start somewhere. But for now...tired to the bone, she dropped down on the couch and closed her eyes if only for a little while.

She dreamed....of her beginnings, which was no surprise, when she felt like a little baby learning how to crawl. It was fitting that her independence day would dig up stories of how her life began. When she looked back on her short seventeen years, they felt as if they stretched on much longer what with the bumps, twists, and turns along the way. There were moments that stood out like bright, red dots on a road map. Her personal map had a blinking, neon sign over it on December 20, 1994. She knew the story well because it was written on her heart. She heard the words with every beat, Mama had told them so many times.

It was a cold night, bitter cold, the kind of cold that grabbed your breath and hurt your toes. The storm started with big flakes falling. They looked like pieces of the sky were breaking apart and coming down. By midnight, it had become a sheet of white, whipped around by the wind. Laura Ray had been in labor for hours. There would be no going to the hospital. The midwife down the road would have to do. Daddy was driving truck, coming home as fast as his wheels would turn. The power went out at two in the morning, frozen on the clock on the wall to mark the time, the same time that a baby girl's cries broke through the darkness.

The midwife cleaned the new arrival by candlelight and swaddled her in blankets, along with the new mother. There was no heat and the woman prayed it would come on before her patients suffered from the chill. Looking at the young mother's eyes would melt and warm anyone's heart as she gathered her little bundle in close and breathed in her baby scent. "Hello, Jamie Ann Ray. Just wait until your Daddy sees you." Named after her father, she had his sweet smile and wisps of soft, brown curls. But her eyes of bright blue, as big as the world, were her mama's.

Come morning, the power and heat returned, wrapping them all in light and warmth, bringing with it a visitor. An officer appeared at the door, a shadow of sadness darkening his eyes. Daddy would never come home, never see his baby girl. His truck had wrecked, sliding off the road in his rush to get home. As near as they could tell, when Jamie took her first breath, James Ray had taken his last.

The next four years were hard for Jamie to remember, the pictures in her mind fuzzy with the passing of time. It must have been hard for Mama, taking care of the both of them on the salary of a waitress in a small-town diner. And yet, whatever memories Jamie had of that early part of her life, they were of happy times and Mama's love wrapped around her like a cozy blanket, one she couldn't live without. Then, Owen came into the diner and had his eye on Mama. He must have done something right, sweet talked her, because it wasn't long before they married. Whatever he did right went wrong the moment he moved in and things had never been right since. They both learned quick to be scarce, like a dog kicked too many times, tucked away under the porch. Owen's tongue was sharp, his head hard, and his hands were heavy. Mama and Dixie stayed out of his way, especially when he'd been drinking or he couldn't sleep...or they looked at him the wrong way.

The dream shifted to the next dot on the map, bearing an angry, bold glow what with the glare and freshness in her mind, all starting and ending with a coffin. "Sometimes, you have to turn yourself around and start from scratch. When you have a chance for a do-over, don't fret. You're sure to get it right the next go round." Mama's words were a hollow echo, rattling around in Jamie's head as she knelt with knocking knees beside her mother's still form. Laura Ray had always told Jamie that becoming a mother had been her fresh start, like the glory of a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.

"Your turn, Mama. Time for another do-over, I guess." Her daughter whispered. "But Mama, we were supposed to do this together. How can I make it alone?" She ran a finger down a pale, careworn cheek and the chill set her insides to quivering like jelly. Hard and cold like a statue, the wax figure lying in that coffin was not her mother. Mama was a soft and warm place to fall, all lit up, like a firefly's flicker but her light had been snuffed out. Seeing her this way was almost as terrible as the winter creeping up inside of Jamie. An icy lump had dropped down to the pit of her stomach on the day she found her mother lying in a heap on the kitchen floor in a spill of flour and sugar. It continued to spread, numbing her until she could barely move. Get much colder and she might as well climb into that box and lie down next to her mother.

The shaking took over, head to toe, as she huddled beside the coffin. Jamie didn't think she would ever be warm again without the candle that was Mama. The one spark that kept her going, kept her from turning to a solid block of ice was the firm belief that Mama's light burned someplace else, bright and beautiful as the stars they had wished on every night.

Jamie closed her eyes and pressed her head to her mother's chest. Nothing. No reassuring rise and fall. No hummingbird's flurry. Mama's heart just couldn't take it anymore, broken too many times. There was only one good thing to come out of this—her step-father couldn't hurt her mother anymore. It was Jamie's turn to make tracks and she had to move fast. There was no choice. Come hell or high water, he wouldn't raise a hand to make a mark on her again and there would be no waiting around to see him try.

"Quit your blattin'. People are coming in." The voice, deep and gravelly over her shoulder, grated on a spirit worn raw and made her skin crawl. It was everything she feared, everything she despised. Jamie didn't turn around. Squaring her shoulders, she wiped her face, leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek for the last time, and took her place to receive the mourners. She fixed her eyes on a painting on the wall of a butterfly in a meadow on a bright day. "Fly, Mama," Jamie whispered softly and didn't care who saw as the tears started all over again.

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Jamie perched, rigid on the edge of her chair, a tissue clenched in her hand during her mother's memorial reception at the Holiday Inn. Should anyone touch her, she was going to shatter like the time she dropped Mama's china teapot. No one approached as if she was the invisible girl, the story of her life. If people ignored the problem, maybe it would go away. Jamie had decided—this was one problem she was going to make go away. The pieces of the plan fell into place while her step-father was making arrangements at the funeral home, a scheme to truly disappear and never be found. She and Mama had daydreamed about their getaway from time to time. Jamie would have to take matters into her own hands.

Her heart was a bird fluttering its wings against her rib cage and she folded her arms around her middle to hide the way her hands shook. Fear welled up with the sour taste of bile, hard to swallow but she choked it down, watching, waiting for her moment to slip out in the midst of the crowd when her step-father was occupied. Jamie couldn't count on guests being a distraction to Owen Granville. Everyone knew he was a mean, hard man. The evidence had been plain on his wife and step-daughter even if people ignored what they saw.

No one talked to Owen. They kept their distance, skirting around him, staying on the fringe of the room as if he had the plague or some force field that warned others to listen to their instincts and stay away. Perhaps that had been the reason no one came forward to help Jamie and Laura over the years. They had been too afraid of the consequences. Tall, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a darker soul, he was a foreboding figure lurking at the corner of the bar. He was like an evil villain out of a movie, the kind Jamie and Mama would peek at from behind a pillow while giggling and munching on popcorn, when Owen wasn't home.

A few men, that had the misfortune of being employed with the widower, paid their respects. They did so because they liked Laura. There was no love for Owen. They briefly acknowledged his presence for propriety's sake. Giving a wave or a nod and hint of a handshake, they made a hasty retreat.

Jamie did not waste her own chance for freedom. She crept out of the banquet room as soon as her step-father was in deep, drowning himself in whiskey at the bar. The skies opened up, pouring down rain and drenching her, making her shudder until her teeth clacked in her head. She scurried by the side of the road, a slim, lonely figure in a black dress that was stuck to her skin with a riot of long, brown hair tangling around her face, tugged by the wind. Once she was out of sight from the hotel, she ran for all get out, not caring who noticed her or what anyone thought. Her stockings tore and mud spattered on her dress. Desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and Owen, she paid her clothes no mind. She let the tears fall again, not even bothering to wipe them away as they mingled with the rain. Even though she had lost the one person that mattered in her life, a hint of hope flickered, buried in her heart. It was the longing for something more, something better, like Mama taking flight out of that chrysalis.

They lived on the outskirts of Albany, New York. The name of the town wasn't important—it had never been home. It was a dirty place, overcrowded with people that rarely smiled, plodding to factory jobs with only their own troubles in mind. Never a kind word. No shoulder to lean on or helping hand. No one had ever paid attention to her in this place that was like a beat-up, worn-out shoe and this girl was ready to kick it off.

Jamie burst through the door of their poor excuse for a house, the door rattling on its hinges and a bitter draft chasing after her. It was a two bedroom cottage in disrepair on a dead-end road, just like Mama's life. Things were not going to be the same for her daughter, she promised herself, angrily wiping tears aside every time they blurred her vision. She worked quickly with fumbling fingers that didn't want to work, taking little to avoid Owen's notice. She grabbed a backpack, stuffed in a few items of clothing, and the $200 Mama had hidden in a coffee can. That sorry amount had been their "Do Over" fund that they would take for a new start to be happy, just the two of them. Too late for Mama, a "do over" was up to Jamie. "And I'll do it right, Mama, I promise," she whispered fiercely as she pulled the door shut. She didn't look back. There was nothing left for her there. Only bad memories with a few breaks of sunshine with Mama.

The bike trail ran behind the house. Jamie walked as fast as her feet would carry her, broke into a jog, pushing the past behind her. A mile later and she was at the bus station, heart a trip hammer, bent over from a stitch in her side, sucking in great gulps of air. She bought a ticket and boarded the bus, sliding down in her seat where no one could see her from the outside, her hair a curtain between her and the world. There was nothing sad about leaving her home of thirteen years. It had been a dark place where Owen's shadow crushed her and Mama. It would not cloud Jamie's skies any more.

The bus ride was a nightmare, spent constantly looking over her shoulder, seeing his face in every passing car. Four hours later, she got off at a truck stop in Scranton, Pennsylvania, heart in her throat, peeking over a hunched shoulder. If anyone bothered to look, they saw a quiet mouse of a girl who kept her head down with her eyes glued to the ground. Her clothes were dark, her features hidden behind a fall of hair, making her easy to forget. She scurried into the bathroom, shedding her black dress before stepping into the shower. She applied hair color with shaking hands and tapped her foot while she waited for it to take. She was too jittery to stay in one place for too long, afraid he would find her, somehow. Every time the outer door opened, she hunkered down, sure his face would be peering around the curtain.

When the new shade was set, she dressed in jeans, tall, black boots, and Mama's "night out" shirt, low cut and of some kind of flimsy material. It floated around Jamie's body and almost showed something but not quite. Make- up was last, something colorful and overdone to disguise a face that was never seen. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, reassuring herself that he would not recognize her. Night had skulked into that bathroom. Day, shining bright, would walk out. Satisfied with the stranger that stared back at her, she threw away any evidence, including her dress. When she stepped out, a smile was pasted on her face and her chin was tilted up high. Jamie even tried a little bit of a strut like she'd seen those girls do on the television soap operas. She boarded another bus. Four hours later, they crossed the Mason Dixon Line. Staring out the window as the grass grew greener and the blossoms began to pop on the trees, she opened the window and sucked in deeply, face pressed to the crack. The warm air washed over her and she breathed easy for the first time in too long. Let the thaw begin.

Chapter Two

Jamie...no, Dixie!...awoke with a start, fresh tears on her face. They were for the father she never knew, for her mother, and for herself. If only Daddy had made it home that snowy night, everything would have been different. They would all be together, happy. She wouldn't be here, all alone, with Owen Granville's shadow hounding her everywhere she went.

Shaking off the sadness that threatened to pull her back in, Dixie fought the urge to hide again. She had spent most of her life learning to be invisible. Sometimes it didn't work and Owen would lay into her, but most of the time she must have managed because no one ever noticed her. At school, no one asked about the occasional fat lip, the long-sleeved shirts on the hottest of days, or the bruises when a pant leg rode up. Their eyes would slide away or stare through her as if she wasn't even there.

Those days were over. Dixie Mason had to be seen if she was going to make it on her own. No more crawling under a rock or being scared. She had two orders of business. The first was easy—buy some odds and ends to make her trailer a home and some food to get by. She would need to spend a few of her dwindling dollars. Her second mission was the hard part—finding a job. She would have to crawl out of the turtle shell she had hidden in for so long. She tried to pull together the bits of her heart to take her next step forward.

The door of the trailer clicked as she walked outside and breathed in deeply. The air was warmer and sweeter than it had been back home. It was April and the North was not ready to embrace spring yet, still hanging on to the tail end of winter. Here in West Virginia, it was already in full bloom. The air pressed in on Dixie's clothes, made them stick to her skin and dampened her hair. She didn't mind. Seventeen years in a place that was cold in every sense of the word had been enough for her. The hotter the better. Bring on the sun.

The mile into town passed quickly. She soaked up the sunshine, the green, and the explosion of blossoms around her. Everything was alive and made Dixie feel that way for the first time in her life. She was almost sorry when she reached the Dollar Store. She found knickknacks, cleaning supplies, towels, and toiletries. It wasn't much, but enough to settle in. Item number one on her to-do list—check. She walked outside and stared at the Mom and Pop store across the road. Five minutes crept by before she gathered the courage to walk over and go inside for item number two.

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Nothing new ever happened in Dale's Hollow, West Virginia, not in all of Jake Lee Jackson's nineteen years. He'd been watching the same fly land on the same windowpane for the last few hours—scratch that, for the last few weeks. He sighed heavily and propped his chin on his hands, elbows on the counter. He fought to stay awake as the God-awful heat and the buzzing of the fly conspired to lull him to sleep.

Jake had always hoped for adventure, some excitement, and spent much of his childhood in one scrape or another. Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were his heroes and he daydreamed of joining them in their mischief. God, how he wished he'd lived in those days! Named after the greatest Southern generals in American history, make that the greatest generals of all time—Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson and Robert E. Lee, he could climb his family tree directly to those two fine men. Too bad they weren't here to straighten out the mess in the Middle East, show those terrorists what's what. Jake had tried to live up to his heritage, certain his life was meant for something bigger, more important, something more entertaining than a fly landing on the wall in his family's general store.

Not that Jake didn't love the place. It was a fine store, a small shop made out of clapboard that had been in the family for generations. Make that one more link to his heritage, like the glory of his name. Mama kept up appearances what with making him add fresh white paint, red trim, and pots of matching flowers on the steps. The locals had the convenience of the necessities close at hand, their very own Grand Central Station for gossip, and somewhere to have a sit down in the red rockers on the porch with a checkerboard to pass the time. Folks didn't have to go all the way into Winchester and most wouldn't anyway because the store belonged to them. Jake loved the feeling of coming home, the penny candy, and doing a service for the old faithfuls that moseyed in on a daily basis, but he still longed for something to shake it up a bit.

The bell rang over the entrance, making him sit up straight and tall as change, in the form of a sweet, young thing, breezed through his door. She was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen that wasn't airbrushed or fake like those girls on TV and the movies. All of that caked on make-up couldn't hide the real deal. A mess of red curls trailed down her back and framed her face, almost hiding eyes so blue they somehow caught the sky. She paused for a moment and seemed to look straight into his heart. His mouth went dry as he watched her make her way down the aisles, pick up the basics, and return to the counter. She stared him in the eye but he could swear she was scared to death. Her voice was firm when she spoke, suggesting otherwise. "I'm interested in the job." It was a soft, musical sound from up North, far off places, a different world.

Dixie swallowed hard and hoped the young man behind the counter couldn't hear her heart hammering. He was a cool dip in a clear pool of water on the hottest of summer days. Tall and tan, the boy had a tumble of brown hair falling into eyes as green as the leaves on the trees. His smile was easy, his gaze honest, and he looked like someone who could be a friend. She'd never had a friend and she sure could use one right now but she had to concentrate because she needed a job even more.

Jake extended his hand, noticed her start with just the slightest of jumps, her eyes skittering away for an instant when he took her hand and gave it a shake. "I'm Jake Lee Jackson and who do I have the fine pleasure of meetin' on this laziest, longest of spring days?" His words spilled out in a slow drawl like honey dripping from a spoon.

She saw the warmth in his eyes, heard the laughter behind his words, and she went loose inside. The cold pit, sitting in the bottom of her stomach for as long as she could remember, started to melt. It was replaced by a butterfly's flutter. "Dixie, my name is Dixie Mason."

She thought he was going to bend down and kiss her hand like the dashing Southern gentlemen in "Gone with the Wind." Mama had loved that movie and they watched it over and over. Dixie couldn't help being disappointed when he simply held on a little longer and gave her that sweet, crooked smile again. "So, a Southern name for a Yankee? It suits you just fine. As for the job, this is my Mama and Daddy's store and they said I could do the hiring since they've put me in charge. You're the first person to inquire and that sign has been hanging there for over a month. I'd say that makes you qualified. Fill out this here application and you're hired."

He handed the paper across the counter. Dixie hoped he didn't notice her quivering as she wrote. The only thing required was her name, age and address. Unbelievable—some people still had trust and faith in others, something that had been sorely lacking in her life. She hadn't thought ahead about what she would do if she was asked for proof of identity. Life seemed to be giving her a hand for a change. She didn't need anything yet. "When do I start?"

Jake dipped his head and winked. "Well, today would probably be too soon. Let's make it tomorrow at eight in the morning. I'll show you the ropes. The pay is under the table, ten dollars an hour to start. You'll get more if Mama thinks you deserve more. You're getting paid off the books to be in keeping with the family tradition. My ancestors used to run moonshine. The least Daddy can do is pull one over on the taxman now and then." Dixie reached out, shook Jake's hand, and gave him a smile that would make him happy to die today. He'd done seen everything he ever needed to see.

"Thank you very much, Jake Lee Jackson. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early." She walked out on legs that were shaking and sat down on the porch. Tears of relief threatened to fall, making her squeeze her eyes shut. She pressed her head to her knees and sucked in a deep breath. She'd done it, found a job, just like that. She could get on with the business of starting a new life. She and Jake Lee Jackson had something in common even though they didn't know it. She had a name filled with Southern pride, a way of life, and hope, and she planned on living up to it.

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Jake found himself drawn to the window, a moth to the fire in Dixie's hair. She was perched on the edge of the porch, hugging her knees. The slightest tremor ran through her body. She took a moment to wipe her eyes before standing up. She straightened her back and walked purposely down the road. He wondered what her story was. One thing he was certain of—judging by the light in her eyes, this job meant the world to her. He'd bet his last dollar that he'd hired well.

"Granville, get your sorry butt off my premises and don't come back. The only reason I kept you around this long was because of Laura. She's gone now and so are you!" The manager at the lumberyard shouted at his employee. Generally an easy going man, it was the first time he'd lost his temper with one of his workers.

Owen was still bleary-eyed from the drinking binge that had begun the day of the funeral. His face was covered in stubble, his clothes rumpled and dirty. He certainly wasn't faring well on his own. Red in the face, he was shaking from uncontrollable anger, no longer held in check nor did he have his regular outlet at home to use for a punching bag. He drew his arm back, ready to let his fist fly at his boss' face.

Gary Thomas Jones had been a military man and survived a tour in Viet Nam. He definitely could handle a good for nothing drunk. He easily blocked the oncoming blow then twisted Owen's arm and yanked it behind his back. "I told you to get the hell out and I mean now!" He willingly gave the man assistance, turning him in the right direction and sending him out of the gate with a forceful shove. "Make sure you don't set foot on my property again or I will call the police." He turned his back and slammed the gate shut, leaving Granville sprawled in the mud as rain began to pelt down on the disgruntled man's face. Nothing put out the fire of Owen's anger. Jamie Ann Ray was to blame for the state he was in and she would pay.

Chapter 3

Mama always said a good house cleaning always made her feel better. That's why the first day of spring meant official Spring Cleaning every year. Dixie would help to give the house a total overhauling, spit shining it from top to bottom in every room and outside as well. Laura Ray believed that the season's arrival meant a fresh start for the world and never gave up the hope that it would rub off on her as well.

The magic of cleaning for the season hadn't worked for Mama but Dixie was determined to do everything possible to make sure things went right for her this go around. She'd given herself a new name, changed her looks, and moved to an address that was far from the ghosts—living and dead—of her past. If a good house cleaning could help her to be reborn, then that is what she would do in honor of her mother. "I'm going to do it, Mama. I'll live the life you wanted us to have."

Once a decision was made, Dixie gave it one hundred percent. She pulled her hair back, dug out her ratty jeans and slipped on an old t-shirt. The windows and doors were thrown open wide, a warm, breath of fresh air washing away the remnants of previous inhabitants and the stink. The old trailer proceeded to receive a scrubbing that would have made Mama proud. Elbow grease was applied to every surface, top to bottom. Window cleaner and newspapers made the glass shine. Floors that had never seen soap and water revealed a pretty, floral pattern. The dust bunnies were sent packing and the couch cushions were pounded out in the yard until they regained some fullness and their original color. Slowly, the trailer made a transformation into some place tolerable.

Dixie was a flurry of motion, hardly taking time to breathe as she tackled each task, until the closet stopped her in her tracks. The closet...it had been her only escape since she was a little girl. Once inside, she imagined she could disappear, travel to another world like those kids in The Lion, the Witch,and the Wardrobe that they read about in school. She imagined her real daddy would be waiting for her and they'd climb up on a unicorn. It must have been a magic closet because Owen never found her there. Dixie would burrow in behind the clothes, wrap herself in a long, dark coat, make herself small, and disappear. Whenever he started to drink, she would seek out her hiding place. He would become louder and louder, his shouts followed by bangs, thumps, and Mama's crying. There was nothing Dixie could do but wait and wish she could pull Mama inside so they could ride away forever.

Dixie shook off the memory. There would be no more hiding in closets. She cleaned the small area with a vengeance, her breath coming in sobs, unaware of the tears making tracks down her dirt-streaked face. She left the door open. There was very little to put inside anyway. When she was finished, a few items of clothing hung on the rack. She sank down onto the floor, sat with her head pressed to her knees, and waited for her nerves to settle. A few deep, breaths and she was on her feet again. She took a good, hard look at the results of her efforts. Everything gleamed around her, shining and bright. If only it was as easy to clean out her insides, take away the darkness, and make them sparkle like starlight.

Dixie forged ahead, adding final touches to make the place become her own, courtesy of the Dollar Store. She placed small bouquets of fake flowers here and there, trinkets in the windows, set out bright new towels in the bathroom, tossed colorful, throw rugs on the floor, and hung curtains with tiny strawberries. Someone had left behind a small radio which provided the perfect background music as Dixie sat on the steps and sipped iced tea. She felt honest-to-goodness satisfaction for a job well done, all by herself. Her eyes drooped shut and a humming rose up from somewhere deep inside of her. It was the part of her that remembered what happiness was, buried deep in those early years when there was only a little girl and her mama.

"Hello, sugar! Welcome to the neighborhood!" A rich, musical voice sang out, drowning out the radio. Dixie's eyes snapped open and she sat up straight, taking in a big, black woman standing at the foot of her stairs. She was larger than life in every sense of the word, from her height of at least six feet, to her broad hips, her booming voice, and the size of her heart. Her hair was piled high on top of her head, her hips swaying to some inner music beneath a dress that was a splash of color.

Before Dixie could say a word, her visitor stepped forward and thrust out a hand for her to shake. "My name is Thelma Louise Lincoln, pleased to make your acquaintance. When the slaves was freed, my great, great granddaddy took the name of that great man, Abraham Lincoln, and I've still got it, Lord bless him but you all can call me Thelma Louise. I've brought my peach cobbler. It's won first prize at the county fair for nigh on twenty years and it's nice and warm from the oven. Let's shake a leg and have a bite."

Dixie's mouth had fallen open at this run-on speech. Thelma Louise pumped her arm up and down until she nearly took the limb off at the shoulder. Somehow Dixie found the presence of mind to shut her trap and gesture to the door for her newcomer. "Won't you please come in?" Mama had always said to give courtesy in exchange for courtesy, not that they'd ever had call for it back home. No visitors ever brightened their door.

"Why, sugar, I thought you'd never ask!" Thelma Louise winked and bustled ahead of her young neighbor, nodding in pleasure as she scrutinized the trailer. "My, my, honey. This looks like a new place. You must have worked those little fingers to the bone. By the way, what's your name, child?"

Dixie felt herself blush at the praise, a warm spot growing inside of her. She cleared her throat and spoke with pride. "I'm Dixie Mason and thank you for the compliment. Would you like iced tea with your cobbler?"

Thelma Louise waved her aside. "Honey, you don't need to be waitin' on me. I invited myself in so let me spoil you for a spell." She proceeded to take over the little kitchenette, finding dishes, glasses, and silverware. She dished out two very generous helpings, which might explain her considerable size, and poured two glasses of tea. Tipping her head toward the sofa, she beamed in appreciation. "Ah, honey, this floral sheet just brightens up that saggy, old couch and those throw pillows just make it pop. You is a natural Martha Stewart is what you is, sugar. Now sit yo'self down and have a sweet piece of heaven while you tell me about yourself."

Dixie kept her eyes glued to her cobbler. She skirted talking about herself, something she'd never been good at. After all, what was there to tell? It was easy to oblige with the eating. She closed her eyes in pure delight, sighing in contentment. "Oh, Miss Lincoln, this is amazing! Can you teach me how to make it?"

The older woman leaned forward and squeezed Dixie's hand. "Why sugar, I'd love to share the secret of my cobbler with you. The recipe has been passed down from my great, great grandma Lincoln. It's never been written down, only told daughter to daughter and since I don't have one, you'll do and please call me Thelma Louise. Miss Lincoln sounds like my grandmamma. I hope you don't mind my sayin' so, honey, but you's in the South now. Don't go gettin' no more of this powdered tea mix. No, honey, you get yo'self real tea bags, at least 7 or 8 o' them, puts a cup of sugar in a glass pitcher, add hot water and let the whole thing sit out in the sun all day. You'll have yo'self some of the best sun-made, sweet tea you's ever had. Now, that's enough about tea. Tell me about yo'self, child."

Dixie took a deep breath. Stick to the truth—just not all of the truth. "I lived up North until my mama died a short while ago." Her throat choked up and she had to look down, blinking hard and fast to hold back the tears that were always close to the surface when it came to Mama. When she continued, her voice was rough around the edges. "When Mama died, I had no one left. I had nothing but bad memories on my tail so I decided to move down here. Mama was from the South and she loved it so much that I was sure I would too. That's my story—here I am."

Thelma Louise dabbed at her eyes with a napkin and patted Dixie's hand. "Oh, child, so young and already alone." She gave the younger girl a soft pat on the back. Another napkin was made handy for any more tears on either side of the couch. "You have no one looking out for you?"

Dixie looked away. "No one who cares for me or that I care about." She could feel her heart aching all over again at the realization of how alone she really was. Starting a new life had been a dream for a long time but she'd always thought Mama would be there by her side to share it.

Thelma Louise's large hand swallowed up the younger girl's smaller one, the dark skin a sharp contrast to Dixie's pale white. Thelma's hand was rough, calloused from hard work and time, but warm, much like the woman who owned it. "Honey, you listen to Thelma Louise because I'm older and wiser too. I saw something just now, sliding away, tryin' to hide in those baby blues. You can run from yo's troubles, darling, but you can't hide fo'ever. Someday, they's goin' to catch up. If's and ever they does, you can call on yo' next door neighbor in number one because now that you're here, I care about you."

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At closing time, Jake walked the railroad tracks, cut through the fields, and meandered through the cool, dark woods. He skipped rocks in the swimming hole before stripping down and jumping in. He needed to cool off, but no matter how long he dunked under or how hard he swam, he felt hot enough to sizzle. He couldn't wipe away the picture in his mind of that sweet thing, Miss Dixie Mason. She was cut from a different cloth than all the rest around these parts, a crazy quilt full of mysteries to be pieced together while all the rest were predictable, solid flannels or cotton.

No longer bothering to push thoughts of Dixie away, Jake floated on his back and replayed the scene of her coming from start to finish. He'd freeze and focus on personal favorites, like the instant she set foot inside or the dash of colors that made a sunset in her hair. He pictured the blue of her eyes, so big and wide, a blue that he could never match on anyone or anything else, no matter how he tried. He wondered—what had brought her here from the North? Who were her people? What was her history? In the South, one's family and past were everything. Many families could trace their origins back to Europe and the Mayflower. That love of heritage made him naturally curious about others. In Jake's mind, where a body came from had a lot to do with what made him or her tick, said something about where they were headed too.

One other question loomed large in his mind. What was she afraid of? Even though she had stood tall and proud, her voice steady and strong, her eyes told a different story. There was only one way to find out. He'd have to get to know her. Jake didn't mind that one bit. His Southern charm just might come in handy, help him find the door to her heart.

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Thelma Louise didn't stay long but she was there long enough to make the cracks in Dixie's heart start to mend. For the first time in her life, she had a friend. Taking the older woman's advice, she dumped her powdered tea down the drain, followed Thelma Louise's steps for sun tea, and placed the pitcher outside. There was plenty of daylight hours left to set it to brewing. That task completed, she turned up the radio. Humming to herself, she stepped out into her little, side yard and started to dance. She didn't care who saw her. She didn't care that she was covered in dust. She didn't care that she lived in a trailer park in a single-wide of an unsightly shade of green that defied description. All she cared about was someone had reached out to her, touched her, the first someone besides Mama.

Dixie had always thought there was something wrong with her to be treated the way she had been by Owen. Get put down enough times and you tended to believe it. He'd convinced her she was nothing, a nobody going nowhere. Getting away from that...monster... made her see what she could not before. Her mama had been the sweetest, most wonderful woman in the world, yet Owen had hurt her the most. Owen was the problem, not Dixie or Mama. Enough. No more wasting energy on that man. He was not even worth the time of day. Dixie pushed him aside and lost herself in the music.

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Jake followed the crick until it trickled into Nichols' Trailer Palace, as the locals jokingly called the small plot of land with a collection of trailers in various stages of disrepair. He couldn't help but shake his head as he glanced at the pitiful, tin shacks lined up in rows with little space and no view. A person could suffocate just looking at them and started him to tugging on the collar of his shirt. He didn't know how anyone could stand such close quarters.

A body was meant to have space and open air, hills to roam, trees to climb. It was not the first time that he thanked God that the Jackson family had been able to hold onto the sprawling, antebellum farmhouse he called home. The place had been razed in the War Between the States, reborn, and passed down. The glory of a home was a part of him. It was the kind of place where a soul could grow and bloom. There was no doubt, as the only son, it would be his one day.

Nichols' Park Lane was the first road in the 'trailerhood.' It turned into the next road, which did the same and so on to form a square with a sad excuse for a park in the middle which consisted of a few, straggly trees, a tiny puddle of a pond, and a fire pit. Jake didn't have to search too hard for what he was looking for. His feet became planted in the dirt as he watched the scene before him. He'd have another memory to replay in his mind later on.

Dixie was twirling in her postage stamp of a yard. Her head was tipped back, a smile stretching across her expressive face. He uprooted his feet and ducked behind a tree to watch her without drawing attention to himself. Amazing—that was the only way to describe her with her hair forming a blazing halo and her face lit like a torch. Jake's mouth dried up again and a heat wave washed over his body once more. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and turned away, not wishing to intrude. She danced for herself and no other. He'd have to wait until she came to work to get an eye-full of her, pick her brain a bit. Had to get home, have a cool down, bring his temperature to normal limits before she turned him to ashes. A glass of ice water and the fan would have to make do. He couldn't sleep in the swimming hole. It was going to be a long night with Miss Dixie Mason on his mind.

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Some kind of lonesome settled in that night, taking the edge off of the warm, fuzzies Thelma Louise had left behind. The crickets chirped and the bull frogs hummed but that didn't hide the fact that Dixie was all alone. All those years growing up, Mama had often come crawling in to bed to keep her company. Even if she stayed in the next room with Owen, her daughter knew she didn't have far to go to find her. Tonight, Dixie couldn't get to Mama, no matter how hard she tried.

Dixie curled up in a ball and whispered to herself, "You're Dixie Mason and you are one brave girl." That might have been true in the light of day but Jamie Ann Ray was there for one more night before the new girl took over. She stared up at a pale slice of moon hanging in the sky and took some comfort in knowing it was the same moon that had been looking down on her and Mama all her life. It would have to do.

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Owen sat in the dim light of a flashing neon sign, drinking away his severance pay at the local dive. A cruel smile lit his face at the image of the payroll clerk's face when he came to collect his due. The little runt had turned red as a tomato when Owen wrapped his hand around his scrawny neck and lifted him up off the floor until his feet dangled. A rumble of laughter filled his chest with satisfaction. The company may not have wanted to pay him but the clerk couldn't say no.

The burn of humiliation made the newly unemployed man grip his shot glass with barely contained anger. It never got any easier, being kicked out on his butt. Somehow, Laura had always softened the blow. As for the girl, she usually stayed out of his way. He grunted in disgust—she had been useless. But Laura...Owen motioned to the bar tender to fill the glass again and gulped it down, hoping its fire would help him forget that no one was waiting for him at home.

Chapter 4

Dixie woke up with the dawn tapping on her windows, sunshine tiptoeing in through a crack in the curtains while songbirds played a wake-up song. She stretched like a cat, long and luxurious, from her toes to her fingertips. Her fingers danced through her hair, tousling it, because it didn't matter what it looked like, just that she felt good for the first time in...she didn't know how long, not since she was a little girl. Those days were hazy and ever since Owen came into their lives, there was a dark cloud hanging over her and Mama, one they couldn't shake. The sky was clear here with nobody keeping watch and Dixie could do as she pleased. There was no one to pick at her or size her up only to cut her down.

She jumped out of bed and yanked the window hangings open wide. Her old home had always been dark and gloomy for a step-father who was usually sleeping off a hangover. Everything was dictated by his moods which were generally as black as pitch and just as sticky, dragging everyone into the muck. No more. The windows were raised to allow the breeze to roam freely, the sunshine danced on the kitchen floor, and Dixie found herself dancing with it. She turned on the radio, twirled a few more times, then hummed along while she stood at the counter and ate her breakfast. A quick flit through the shower and she felt as new as the day, right as rain. It was strange. She was so much lighter, light enough to walk on air or join the birds in the sky. She had spent thirteen years weighted down by Owen's anger. Now she could float away like Tinker Bell, maybe find her Peter Pan.

Getting dressed for work was hard, this business of being seen. She wasn't used to it. The day she arrived, she had to be loud, with an explosion of fiery curls, over the top makeup, and clothes that shouted, "Here I am!" Dixie was someone who was miles away from Jamie Ann Ray, strong enough to face Slick Nichols and take on the world. Today was different; it was her first job. She wanted to look respectable for Jake Lee Jackson, settling on jeans, a simple, peasant blouse in white, and flip flops. Easy on the cosmetics, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The girl next door stared back out of the mirror. Staring at her reflection, Dixie couldn't help smiling at what she saw. There was no need to worry about hiding anymore. Owen would not recognize her. He had never truly seen her. After all those years in her life, he wouldn't be able to pick her face out of a crowd.

Jamie, no... she didn't answer to that name anymore. She was Dixie now. Jamie Ann Ray was gone along with anyone who laid claim to that name or truly cared for the person she used to be. Dixie gave herself one final inspection and found herself acceptable. She could pass for a small town girl in a Mom and Pop store even if she looked more like someone from the wrong side of the tracks rather than a Southern belle.

The walk to the store was settling and peaceful, everything that the city in upstate New York was not. People took their time, ambling past, nodding and calling out, "Mighty fine day," or "Morning to you, Miss." Cars drove more slowly, in no particular hurry to get where they had to go. They would get there when they got there. Even the bees buzzed lazily like they had all the time in the world, dipping themselves in too many flowers to choose from, drowning themselves in honey.

The air was heavy and damp, warmer than up North. It felt too good, easing its way in to all of the cold and dark places left behind in Jamie Ann Ray. The heat was a soft glove wrapping around Dixie and holding her tight, making her feel safe. Maybe that explained the reason no one rushed in the South. Everyone was too hot to be bothered.

Dixie's heart lifted, along with the tilt of her chin, as Jackson's General Store came into view. The windows sparkled in the sun, bright, red flowers popping on the steps, while two, old men in long white beards held down the rocking chairs on the porch. They looked like two Confederate veterans, fixtures left over from the Civil War. They nodded appreciatively as Dixie walked by.

"They should have coffee," she thought to herself. Everyone up North loved to suck down coffee, any time of day. Personally, she couldn't stomach the bitter taste the strong brew left in her mouth but that was probably thanks to Owen and the many times he'd given her a slap for getting it wrong. Maybe Jake would be interested in adding a coffee pot for customers to help themselves and something sweet to eat to go with it. Best wait a while before making a suggestion. Today was only the beginning. She had to get her feet wet before diving in to touch bottom. Painted an inviting white with red trim, every time the door opened, a bell rang cheerfully. The glass window on top winked in the sun, allowing people to peek out or in depending on their point of view.

The air shifted slightly from the fan on the wall. Otherwise it was warm, stick to your skin, can't breathe kind of warm, and promised to be getting warmer before the day was through. Jake, resting against the counter after unloading heavy boxes, was dripping with sweat and creating a small puddle. His eyes couldn't help but glow at the sight of who walked through his door, perking him up enough to stand tall. "Well, if my morning didn't just get the good added to it. How do you do this morning, Miss Dixie?"

There was friendly humor in his welcome that complemented his easy, drawn out way of talking. It made Dixie want to stretch out on a cool patch of grass with him and listen to him talk for hours. She pulled her thoughts from that direction and focused on the business at hand. "Please, Mr. Jackson, call me Dixie, just plain Dixie. What should I do first?"

Jake tipped his head, bringing to mind the days of the past when gentlemen like the men on the porch would wear a hat and touch the brim. He did it quietly and in a dignified way, because a true Southern gentleman only had respect for the fairer sex, but always showed definite appreciation. "There's nothing plain about you, Dixie, not one little thing. As for me, it's Jake...Mr. Jackson is my daddy. Now, let me bring you up to speed on what you'll do around here. This here register, she's an old timer, left over from the War Between the States and it's right easy to use. There's a book by the register with prices if any are missing. It also has Mama and Daddy's cell numbers if in case you have an emergency. That's it—we like to keep it simple up here. I'll walk you through the store so you'll know where everything is. The main thing you need to remember is that we like to make it easy going around here."

Jake gave her a crooked smile. Dixie could swear she was starting to drip like an ice pop and would be a melting at any moment. The work here might be simple but being around Jake lee Jackson would definitely be anything but easy. "Come on this way, sugar. I'll show you what's what. Don't worry, darling—I don't bite." With a wave of his hand, he led her to the storeroom in back. Dixie felt the heat rise in her face at such a casual, sweet name like "sugar." She knew it was common in the South, but when Jake said it , she could imagine what it would be like to have someone use such a sweet name just for her. For a girl that had been called much worse and been made to feel like nothing, sugar was sweet to the soul as it was on the tongue. She would not forget.

"Dixie? Dixie, are you still with me , darlin'?" Jake spoke softly. Instinctively, he somehow knew better than to be loud and abrupt. That wasn't his style anyway. All he knew was Dixie looked like she was miles away.

Dixie's eyes focused on Jake's then skittered away and she blushed even more hotly at the directions her thoughts had carried her. "I'm here." She made a concerted effort to pay attention.

"This here is the storage room where you'll find everything that's out on the floor in the shop. I just nearly broke my back dragging in the latest shipment. There's a cooler all the way in back for our refrigerated and frozen items. Anytime we run out of something out on the floor, look back here. You should find it. Daddy takes pride in keepin' the place well stocked. He doesn't want anyone to go without. Things are well organized, thanks to me. I get that from Mama. If something isn't here or someone asks for something we don't carry, jot it down in the log at the counter. Daddy checks it at the end of each day. If you have an emergency, call Daddy's cell, all right? Mama is always next in line if you can't get him. Come on out here."

They walked out of the store room to a small bathroom with flowers on the sink, air freshener casting out the scent of roses, and neat as a pin. "This store is Mama's pride and she keeps it that way. She's been the one doing the tidyin' up around here but that will be part of your job now. There's all kinds of cleaning supplies in this closet. If you need anything, tell me."

Jake resumed the tour of the store which was well-lit and decorated with a combination of a woman's touch and Southern heritage. The confederate flag, prints of antebellum belles, plantations, generals and soldiers dressed the walls while memorabilia of the South and Jake's family was artfully displayed on shelves that bordered the room, high up near the ceiling. Dixie could have spent hours taking it all in. She was fascinated by anyone who had a connection to family since she never had one.

Owen had stamped it out all prospects of a family. He wouldn't let Mama talk about her Daddy and there were no surviving relatives. The only thing Mama did manage to pass on to her daughter were tales of her grandma who had lived in Gerrardstown, just outside Dale's Hollow. Dixie's great grandmother might have brought Mama here, to Jackson's General Store, when Mama spent her summers visiting as a little girl.

" Dixie, there you go again, gal, miles away. Come back to me so I can show you how to run this dinosaur of a cash register. I've been trying to talk Daddy into putting in a computerized system but he says no way, no how, this here is tradition." Jake led her through how to use the register, showed her a drawer filled with a calculator, writing supplies, a phone book, and the log book for inventory issues. He continued to talk in his slow, measured way, never rushed, with no end to his patience. It was soothing, setting her at ease while she practiced with a mock order and discovered she could do something useful. The tinkling of the bell announced the arrival of a customer; perhaps Dixie would have her first sale.

A young woman, close to Jake's age, walked in. She was the picture of a true Southern belle, with long, flowing blonde hair, green cat's eyes, and a bright sun dress that recalled the frills of old. Her make-up was applied perfectly, her nails were long and painted, and she walked gracefully perched on high heels that made Dixie's feet hurt to look at them. She was followed by two shadows dressed in similar ways with their noses tipped up to the air in the same fashion.

"Well, Carole Sue, a good mornin' to you," Jake greeted her, the temperature in his voice dropping by several degrees. He nodded curtly at her friends. "Laura Bell, Bobbie Jo. What brings you all in here? You don't set foot in a measly place like ours too often."

Carole Sue surveyed the merchandise and Dixie with obvious disdain. "Mother needs milk for her famous, heavenly cake and she didn't want to wait." She paused to let her gaze fall on Dixie then slide away. "It looks like you forgot to take out the trash," she said with an unbecoming sneer.

Jake came around the counter and towered over the three girls with his considerable height and a formidable glare, echoes of long-dead generals flaming in his eyes. "I'll expect you to speak with respect in my store and apologize to my new employee and friend, Miss Dixie Mason. She's a genuine lady, something you'd never recognize if it was a snake and up and bit you."

Carole Sue's eyebrows crept up to her hairline. "Why Jake, I do declare that I have found a sore spot. I'm so sorry, Miss Mason." She smiled sweetly but her words dripped with the poison of sarcasm. "Now, Jake, honey, don't you get yourself all hot and bothered. Be a good boy, run along, and get me that milk, will you?"

In answer, Jake took two easy steps to the door and opened it. "Oh, I can't do that, Carole Sue. I'm sorry to tell you we're clean out of milk. You'll have to go to Food Lion in Inwood." He barely refrained from kicking their well-dressed behinds as they went out the door babbling about the imposition and his nerve. They'd never been turned away in their lives. He shifted his gaze to Dixie once they were gone and gave an apologetic shrug of the shoulders. "I'm sorry. They think that they rule this little town. Someone ought to bring them down a few notches, make them learn a lesson in humility."

Dixie flushed, embarrassed by his gallantry. She was accustomed to taunts like theirs—her step-father's and the sharp pokes from boys and girls at school. There was an uncomfortable gnawing in her stomach but it wasn't from the nasty words and looks. Dixie was not the genuine article that he believed her to be. She resolved that she would give him no reason to regret hiring her or defending her honor.

"There's no need to apologize, Jake. I'm used to people like Carole Sue." She swung around quickly, searching for a way to make herself busy, when she accidentally knocked the staff coffee pot off the counter. There was a crash, glass shattering everywhere. A bloom of coffee stained the floor, splattering all over Jake's light-colored clothes. Dixie knelt down, her hand flying up instinctively to shield her face. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I'm so clumsy! I'll clean it up, right away!" She scurried away to the bathroom, leaving a dumb-founded Jake behind her. He had no idea what was the matter, only that she'd turned white as a sheet and acted in such a way that he had the sinking suspicion that she thought he would strike her.

Dixie took refuge in the bathroom, back pressed to the door, and slid to the floor to grip her knees as shudders ran through her, starting at her head and traveling down to her toes. No matter what she told herself, she was four years old again. She had wanted to help Mama to welcome this stranger into their home. She carried a cup of coffee to Owen but tripped and it spilled on his leg. His hand shot out like a striking snake, slapping her cheek and sending her sprawling on the linoleum. Mama went after him for it and she paid while Dixie ran upstairs and hid in the closet, making herself small and tucking herself into a ball. Hours later, when Mama's sobs had stopped and the sound of Owen's truck moved further away, Dixie tiptoed out. She climbed up on the step stool to look in the bathroom mirror. A black and blue starfish was stamped over her left eye and the side of her face. When she crawled into bed with Mama, she discovered that their faces matched. It was the first time either one had been struck in anger.

"Dixie, sugargal...don't you mind this none, really. I drop the blasted things left and right. We've got a stash of extra pots just in case of any catastrophe. I've got one that's already brewing. Please come out. You're not in trouble over this." Jake stood outside the door, keeping his voice soft the way he did when gentling a spooked mare back home. Hand pressed to the door, forehead touching the smooth wood surface, he wished he could reach inside and convince her no one meant her any harm.

Dixie wiped her face, gathered together cleaning supplies, and picked up what was left of her nerves. She squared her shoulders and pasted a smile on her face before stepping out. "I'm sorry about that, really. I'll try not to make a mess out of things on a daily basis. You can take it out of my pay to replace the coffee pot." She didn't meet his eyes, her words coming out in a rush.

Jake caught her chin and looked into her eyes, pinning her down with nothing but kindness in his soothing tone and touch. "Stop apologizing. It happens to everyone and you don't owe us anything. It's all right, really—I've been through so many of those pots, Mama says we should take out stock in the company." He took the cleaning supplies from her hands and started to take care of the spill himself, something Owen never would have stooped to doing. Dixie paused for only a moment, a warm glow spreading inside of her, before she joined him in his efforts. Jake meant what he said, really wasn't riled up. After her first day was behind her, playing her new part wasn't so bad. She liked this new girl's life a whole lot better than the old one. If only she could get rid of the raw spot Mama left behind.

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Empty beer cans littered the floor. Dishes were piled in the sink and on the counter, dirty clothes strewn about. The owner, sprawled in his recliner, was as unkempt as the house, hair unwashed and five o'clock shadow on his face. Owen scowled at the fuzzy image on the television. The cable had been shut off that morning, leaving only two, lousy channels. The power couldn't be far behind—no matter. There wasn't any food to be kept cold anyway. His last six pack sat beside him on the floor. He had half a mind to torch the place and watch it burn to the ground.

It was all Laura's fault, leaving him like she did. Damn her! And then there was the girl...he heaved himself up out of the chair and began to pace. God help him, she wouldn't get away with it. He'd clothed her, fed her, and put a roof over her head for most of her life. Now it was time for her to take care of him. He'd go get her, drag her back here, and keep her in her proper place. He'd use his belt and the fists God gave him if he had to but first, he had to find her.

Chapter 5

Dixie quickly settled into her new routine at Jackson's General. Happiness was a bubble bobbing higher with each day that went by, stretching out the time and space from what she left behind. Waking up each morning, she half expected it to burst. It called to mind the one time Mama brought her to a candy shop when she was small. They had a little spending money, a rarity, and Dixie was told to fill a tiny, brown bag with sweets. She picked all kinds but mostly her favorites, Swedish fish, and chewed on them for days. Rising early, walking to work, passing time in the peaceful quiet broken up by bursts of chatter with the regulars, felt like having that sack of candy. As for Jake hanging around, strong and steady, keeping a watch over things, well he was like the great, big lollipop Mama surprised her with back home that night. She couldn't believe it was hers, for keeps.

Dixie was so happy, she wished the store wasn't closed on Sundays but the Jacksons were church goers. They believed Sunday was a day of rest, meant to be spent with family, thankful for all the Lord had given. If people needed something, they could plan ahead and get it before Sunday. Dixie thought more places should go back to the old ways but couldn't get enough of her home away from home. She felt useful, had a purpose, and wasn't locked away in a stuffy, cramped space waiting for Owen's next explosion of temper. She would've been content to spend every spare minute with the locals, soaking up their welcome, being treated like one of their own.

Most of her life had been spent hiding, the darkness broken by brief moments of light with Mama when Owen wasn't around. School had been torture, a place where she was an outcast, painfully lonely and alone. Never rescued by the adults that were supposed to be looking out for her, no boy or girl had ever tried to be her friend either. For the first time ever, Dixie thought this flower might start to bloom with her petals turned to the sun and leaves reaching for the sky.

During her second week at work, Dixie brought up the idea of complimentary coffee for the customers, resolutely putting her coffee pot incident behind her. Jake wholeheartedly accepted her initiative and bought one of those new-fangled, single cup makers, cups, and a variety of coffees and teas. Dixie made cookies and pastries to provide a fresh-baked treat, giving the regulars something that put a spring in their step when they dropped by.

Jake beamed his approval with the increase of traffic and business in the mornings. "Daddy says I've got to learn to make my own decisions since I'm running this business now and one day it will be my sole responsibility. I definitely made the right decision when I hired you and accepted your advice. I've got to start somewhere, even if it's with something small like coffee and sugar so, thank you, Sugar." He gave her a wink, his honey voice dripping down and melting her insides all over again.

Dixie made a habit of delivering coffee and a pastry to the two gentlemen who laid claim to the porch rockers each morning. Jasper Stuart and Walter Washington were only too happy to oblige. The two widowers were interchangeable in plaid, button up shirts, overalls, and wide brimmed hats to hold back the glare of the morning sun. The only way one could really tell them apart was by knowing Walter sat on the left, Jasper on the right. Long flowing beards of snowy white drifted down their chests while wire-framed glasses perched on the end of sharp, pointy noses. One could believe they'd survived from the time of the Great War between the States, rocking away, reliving yesteryear.

"If I was fifty years younger, I'd have my eye on a youngin' like you," Jasper told Dixie, displaying a toothless grin as he accepted his daily installment of the hot brew. He took a sip and sighed appreciatively, his eyes drooping shut. "Heaven, I tell you. This tastes like a piece of heaven. You wouldn't be interested in an older man, would you?"

Walter tugged on his friend's arm. "Now, you listen here, Jasper, you might be a descendent of Jeb Stuart, that astounding Cavalry general, but I'm of an even older bloodline. Remember old George, our first president? That gives me seniority and first dibs so I'd be the one to lay claim to Miss Dixie."

Dixie laughed at their daily banter, her heart fluttering at their attention. Southern charm did the trick regardless of how old the man was if he knew how to use it. "Now boys, don't go fighting over little ol' me. I'm sure there's enough of me to go around and plenty other fish in the sea ready to be snapped up on your hooks ." Their good-natured laughter followed her while she swept the porch and scrubbed the windows until they gleamed. The two elders had resumed their game of checkers when Dixie headed inside to check the shelves and the books. She enjoyed organizing the shop and working with numbers in the ledger—low and behold, she was good at it.

Jake walked in whistling cheerfully at 8:30. Dixie did such a good job that he didn't even have to come in if he didn't want to but did anyway. It gave him a chance to spend time with her, talk to her, just look at her. The days weren't long enough to take a drink of her sweetness. He couldn't get enough and hoped if he was patient, she'd take down those walls around her heart and let him in.

It had only been two weeks and yet Dixie felt like she'd been in Dale's Hollow her whole life. Jake didn't know her secrets, she kept busy, and did her job well. She spoke shyly to her employer, taking in more than she offered. If matters turned to topics of a personal nature, she steered clear, a shadow making those incredible blue eyes turn dark. Whatever caused that shadow, Jake didn't like it and wanted to wipe it clear away, forever, if only she'd tell him how to do it.

"Any of that coffee for me?" Jake asked, soft and low like the quiet purr of a cat when it gets its belly rubbed. Dixie could listen to that voice all day. And to look at him—it wasn't just that he was handsome, although he was the best-looking boy she'd ever seen—but to watch someone so comfortable in his own skin, she couldn't look away. He knew exactly who he was, where he was meant to be, and where he was headed in life. He had a close-knit network of people who cared about him and a strong family tree to hold him up. He exuded confidence. Maybe some of it was rubbing off on her.

Dixie reached under the counter and pulled out the mug she'd picked up just for him, steaming with a special blend created by experimenting with different flavors. "Here you go, sweet and light, just like you."

Jake tipped back his head and a rich, rumble of laughter rolled over her. "You found a cup with the confederate flag? You've got me pegged, darlin'. Let me drink this down and then I've got more inventory to haul around. Just consider me the pack mule, not that I'm complaining, no mam. 'Quityerbellyachin,' that's Mama's motto and one I try to live by." He took a few minutes more than was necessary to savor the brew and the view while Dixie worked at the shelves, bending over and giving him an eye-full of long legs and a little shake of those hips that she wasn't even aware of doing. Jake felt the temperature rising and knew it was time to get busy so he could cool off.

The latest shipment waited outside. The delivery truck had been in first thing and left the boxes against the wall. The final stretch, lugging them inside, was up to Jake. By the time he dragged everything in, his arms and back were sore, he was ready for a tall glass of something cold, and was very thankful it was Saturday. They'd be closing up shop soon. He walked to the counter to find an ice-filled glass of Dixie's sweet tea, the glass sweating in the heat, waiting for him. He shook his head and took the first life-restoring swallow, swiping an arm across his forehead before any drops started falling off of him. That girl could read his mind.

Dixie had rotated from stocking shelves, to caring for customers, to standing at the back window to get a glimpse of her employer. Talk about a heat wave! She'd found herself fanning herself after watching Jake's muscles flex and the sweat dripping off of his body. Just the kind of boy the girls were falling all over in those mushy, love stories Mama loved. Just the opposite of who Mama had chosen. When he brought the last box in, she scurried to the fridge to get his cold drink. She pressed it to her cheek for a quick cool down, set it on the counter, and took up sweeping the floor when he came inside.

Jake exhaled slowly through his nose as he watched Dixie's body sway with the dance of the broom. A loose, red curl dangled and rested on her cheek, drawing him like a magnet. It took everything he had to stay put and keep on drinking his tea instead of touching that inviting curl. He'd give anything to be that bit of hair on her face if he could be that close to her. He cleared his throat and hoped she'd chalk up the huskiness in his voice to the heat. "Hey, Dixie...this here is the best glass of sweet tea I've ever had and I've had plenty. Who gave you the recipe?"

Dixie finished sweeping and approached the counter, filling a glass for herself and pressing an ice cube to her chest for just a moment, rubbing it up around her neck before tossing it in the trash. It sure was hot. She had no idea what she was doing to the temperature of the boy next to her. Spike his body heat much higher and he'd be down for the count. "Thelma Louise, my neighbor, told me how on my first day in my new place." She smiled to herself, fond of her new found friend. "She's some character. You'll have to meet her sometime. Her peach cobbler is to die for."

They finished their drinks, both suddenly struck shy by their awareness of each other. Dixie could not help but notice how Jake's white t-shirt and jeans hugged his body close, showing off all of the right places. Jake found himself breathing in deeply of the fresh breeze that was Dixie in her pretty sundress with daisies. The uncomfortable silence might have stretched on indefinitely when Jake glanced up at the clock and was relieved to see it was nearly closing time. "So, what are you up to this afternoon, sugar gal?"

Dixie welcomed a topic to discuss even though she had nothing exciting to share. "Oh, nothing much...I'll hang some laundry on the line, fiddle with my patch of a garden—it's my first one. That's about it. How about you?"

Jake pushed away from the counter, his habitual smile lighting the way. "I am going to play ball on our local team, the Dale's Hollow Diggers. We're up against the Gerrardstown Bulldogs. The excitement is sure to be staggering. What do you say to coming along or is your laundry a more appealing option?"

Dixie laughed as she took their glasses to the bathroom sink, busying herself to cover her sudden blush and fluster. She could feel her heart tripping and a mess of butterflies fluttering around deep down in her belly. Jake had asked her to a game! Was this her first date?

"Oh Dixie darling, you're leaving me hanging. What do you say?" Jake called from the counter, his own heart picking up its pace in anticipation. This just might be his first date with the mysterious Northern girl that had blown into his life and made the old and tired seem brand new.

Dixie splashed water on her face and looked her reflection in the eye before nodding. "Okay, I'll come. But if my laundry gets out of control or my plants die, I'm holding you responsible." She walked back out into the shop where Jake waited for her, holding the door wide open.

He tipped his head, and she nearly saw that invisible hat again. "It's a burden I am willing to bear if I can have your dazzling company." He took Dixie's elbow and escorted her outside, leaving her to wait patiently in one of the rockers while he checked every door and made sure all was as it should be. He took every aspect of the shop seriously, including locking up. "All right, sugar gal. We are all set. Let's go—the field's not too far."

They poked along the back country road, enjoying the sunshine and each other's company. There was no need to move fast what with the heat rolling over them and holding them down. The temperature was a ready excuse but Dixie was glad for any reason to spend more time with Jake. Listening to the drone of the cicadas in the trees, sliding their eyes sideways trying to sneak a peek of the body by their side, hands dangling closer to one another with each step. Jake finally caught Dixie's fingers in an off-hand way and set her heart to tripping. Funny. Most of her life, she'd turned tail when any boy came near in school yet all she wanted to do was get closer to Jake. There was something to be said for Southern charm."Thank you so much for inviting me. This will be my first live ball game. I've only seen them on TV before," Dixie babbled eagerly, distracted by his skin on hers. She failed to mention that Owen was glued to every game and expected to be waited on hand and foot. She'd been backhanded many times during one of those nightly games if she wasn't fast enough with a beer or forgot the chips. She stomped on those dark memories, refusing to let Owen ruin this moment.

Jake stopped dead, a look of pure amazement on his face. "You've never gone to a ball game? Didn't they play ball in your hometown up North? If not, you Yankees are definitely deprived even though you do have the Yankees ball team. They're not half bad but I'll take a game with some good ol' country boys any day."

Dixie couldn't help but giggle at his enthusiasm about America's favorite pastime. "We had a ball team, I just never went to go see it. We didn't have much money for a paying game and I couldn't go to the school games because I had to help out at home." She nearly bit her tongue. What had possessed her to rattle on about all of that? Next thing, she'd let slip the fact that Owen didn't let her out of the house except to go to school which was plain unnatural. Jake would think she was a freak or take pity on her and she didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her. She'd wasted enough time wallowing herself.

Jake had just been given a little glimpse of Dixie's previous life and wasn't happy about what he saw or the way she clammed up all of the sudden, her eyes sliding away from his. He nudged her shoulder with his own and gave her his infectious grin. "Well, you'll get your fill today. I'll make sure you get a front row seat." True to his word, Jake installed her on the bottom bleacher with a large soda and a bucket of popcorn, making her feel utterly spoiled for the first time in her life.

Dixie sat back and let herself get caught up in the camaraderie of Jake and his team mates. There was the easy give and take of being friends since childhood. They all made a point of introducing themselves during warm up, several telling Jake they'd be next in line if ever Dixie changed her mind. She found herself blushing again and figured she'd better get used to it. The stands soon filled with kids home on spring break and families out for the day.

The soda was cold and the salty popcorn dripped with butter. She dipped her hand in again and again, even when she was full. The last time she had the fresh popped treat had been at a small, traveling circus when she was very young, in the time before Owen. It was a memory she only took a peek at every now and then, one that she cherished because it was a bright spot with Mama. Today, she made a new memory, sure to shine each time she pulled it out.

The game passed all too quickly. Dixie had been watching a slow, lazy drift of clouds overhead when Jake came up to the plate. He gave her a wink and took his batter's stance, concentrating on the pitcher. The ball sailed over the plate and there was the loud crack of the bat as Jake's arms snapped forward, hitting a homer. Dixie was on her feet, whistling and cheering, watching him make the dust fly on his way around the diamond. She might as well have been at the World Series with the way her heart was hammering with excitement. She made a big show of jumping up and down, clapping her hands when Jake crossed home plate, only to sink down in her seat, self-conscious because nobody else lost control of themselves. She didn't care. When Jake looked her way again, she blew him a kiss.

The game closed with a victory for the Diggers. The Bulldogs were good sports but insisted they'd get them the next time. Jake visited with his friends for a while then turned to the empty bleachers to see Dixie, patiently waiting for him. His heart swelled at the sight of her. He'd been afraid she would slip out like Cinderella at the ball. "How did you like the game?" He dropped down next to her on the bleachers, stretching out his long, lean form and resting his elbows on the seat behind them.

Dixie passed the salty treat his way and followed his lead, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Tilting her head his way, her face lit with her smile. Her eyes were shining so bright, she was giving the sun some competition. "It was so much fun! I wish I knew how to play."

Jake put a hand to his heart and tipped over, off the bleacher, in an untidy sprawl on the ground. "Did I hear you correctly? You don't know how to play?! Oh, this won't do. Get on out here, sugar gal. You're having your first lesson today, with as many as it takes after to get it down right. Baseball is an American institution, like apple pie. Every warm blooded body needs to know what to do with a ball and a bat."

Dixie followed him out onto the field. They started with a simple toss, back and forth, back and forth before Jake let her try a pitch. "Let me get on home plate. Okay, look for the sweet spot, over the plate, about the level of my waist and bring it on home, darlin'."

She pulled her arm back and let it fly as hard as she could. There was the resounding crack of the bat and Jake hit the ball far out into the field. He pushed his ball cap back on his head and whistled, long and low. "Whooee, you have got some arm! You're a natural, sugar. We might need you to be a substitute pitcher. Want to try batting?"

Dixie was game for anything that gave her more time with Jake. She stood at the plate and hefted the bat. Jake stood back and gave her advice. "Put your hands together on the grip and bring your elbow up...no, not quite. You're choking up. Let me show you, sugar gal." He came up behind her and brought his arms around her, positioning her arms in the right place. Their awareness from earlier in the day returned, full force. Dixie could feel herself beginning to tremble while Jake's arms tightened on hers. "Now follow through, honey."

They swung the bat together. "Nice, that was real nice. You're getting the hang of it." Jake's voice was hoarse. His arms were still wrapped around her. He couldn't bring himself to let go just yet.

Dixie nodded. "It was really nice." The bat slipped from her fingers. Jake turned her around, his hands cradling her face while her empty arms were filled by his warm, solid body. She thought she might get lost in the forest in those eyes. It wouldn't be a bad place to be caught wandering for a long while.

Jake dipped down and set his lips on hers, testing the waters then diving deeper. Time slowed to a stop until there was only the two of them and this kiss. They finally broke apart to come up for air, forehead to forehead. "That was even better than baseball," Jake whispered. He swallowed hard and roped in his pulse. He was his mama's son and had to mind his manners. Dixie could only nod. It was her first kiss.

******************************************************************

Owen tore apart the house, leaving a path of destruction behind him and not caring. He yanked clothes out of Laura's closet and threw them on the floor. He reached up on the top shelves and knocked everything down. He pulled all of the dresser drawers out and dumped them. He repeated the process in Jamie's bedroom, the hall closet, the kitchen drawers, the attic, and the basement.

Nothing—there was no sign of where the girl went, no pieces left of his wife's past. It was as if nothing existed outside of Laura's time in this house. He roared in frustration and hurled dishes at the wall, shattering them all until none were left. Finding that good for nothing was impossible—she could be anywhere.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guest book from the funeral. He grabbed it and flipped through the pages, looking for a lead. None of the people who knew him would be of any help but there had been a few old friends of Laura's. His finger stopped on one name—Mary Adams of Georgia, a childhood friend. He remembered her rambling on about all the good times they shared when they were little girls. Maybe she would be able to give him a connection to Laura's history. Long ago, in their brief courtship, Laura had babbled on about summers down South with her grandmother. He could have cared less and didn't pay attention. Once he moved in, she shut down about anything that happened before because Owen wasn't interested in truly knowing her and it was too painful to remember what her life used to be, would never be with him. Owen wished he'd paid attention to the few bits and pieces she had shared but it was too late now.

The funeral visitor might hold the answer he was looking for. He picked up the phone then ripped it out of the wall; it had been disconnected. Spinning around, hands tearing at his hair, he caught sight of the coffee can where Laura kept spare change. There was enough for a few phone calls. He stepped out into the pouring rain that mirrored the mood he was in and walked to the convenience store to use a pay phone. His anger flamed higher and he cursed Jamie's name every step of the way for reducing him to this state.

Chapter 6

Dixie felt as if she floated on a cloud the whole way home from the ball field with Jake rambling by her side. She couldn't remember a thing about what they said to one another. When they reached her trailer, he sat with her on her stoop to drink another glass of her sweet tea then leaned in to have another sip of her honeyed lips. He left shortly after saying he had to go before he completely lost his mind. Watching him walk away, 'Cinderella's Fella,' kept playing through her mind. All those Disney movies with Mama, waiting for the prince to come, she'd never imagined it could really happen to her. When would she turn into a pumpkin?

All Dixie knew was that boy had managed to steal her heart that afternoon. Night dropped down and she lay on a blanket in the yard, staring up at the stars and wishing he were there to share them with her. She went to bed and dreamed of him. They were in the ball field again, all the people were gone. The sun was shining brightly, a gentle breeze played with their hair. Jake was dressed in a tuxedo, she was in a shimmering gown of silver. He held her in his arms and they danced round and round until night fell and the stars above lit nature's ballroom. They looked exactly like Fred and Ginger in those old movies Mama loved to watch with Dixie. She came awake with the feel of his arms holding on and her lips still hot from the kiss he planted on her. What a strange new sensation, letting someone into her heart this way, aching and feeling good at the same time. She wasn't sure where he would take her, only that she wanted to keep going. Dixie couldn't wait to catch up with Jake, to see him and talk to him, make sure it wasn't all a dream. Too shy to drop by his house, fearful of being forward, there was nothing to do except get through the time between now and then when they were at work again.

She'd have to bide her time because Sunday came first. Talk about the laziest of days. A turtle plodding alongside the road had more get up and go. Dixie tried some baking to occupy her hands and mind that was stuck on Jake Jackson but nearly keeled over from heat stroke in her sardine can of a trailer. Shower number two gave her a slight revival until she started to wilt on her stoop. The old ladies in the park were out in their house dresses, fanning themselves under their umbrellas while their men hid under wide-brimmed hats in nothing more than undershirts, shorts, and knee socks pulled up high. Even the dogs wouldn't make more of an effort to move than a half-hearted flap of their tails to swat away a fly.

Unable to sit still what with the jitterbugs under her skin, the heat couldn't pin Dixie Down. She dipped her toes and fingers down in the dirt of her garden, yanking weeds with more energy than was necessary. Her knees hit the floor while her hands scrubbed a spotless home. She poked around the park and on the country roads. She flipped the pages of a book, reading the same one over and over and glued herself to the TV.

No matter what she did with herself, the pictures kept popping into her head every time she closed her eyes. Jake Lee Jackson, at your service, mam. Sweet as pie, full of melt in your mouth goodness. Hip propped against the counter with that crooked grin and the words dripping off his tongue with that Southern drawl that made them sound even better. The way his muscles filled out that white t-shirt when he had some heavy lifting. Those lips of his, and his body up close, making her just want to wrap herself around him like a ribbon on a present. Somehow, the day finally came to a close and dragged off to bed...to stare at the ceiling, wide awake, and think of him.

The next morning Dixie was up with the birds. She took extra care getting ready for the day, spending longer in the shower, dousing herself with a floral scented spray on sale in the Dollar Store, and wrapping her hair in a French braid. Hands on hips, she stared into her closet, debating. She wanted to look pretty, something she'd never had to worry about before as the Incredible Disappearing Girl who was always covering up. How she looked never mattered, only that no one would see what was underneath the clothes. The bigger, baggier, and darker the better. Jake deserved someone who looked fine. Flicking through a few more items from the thrift shop, her fingers skimmed over a sundress in pale blue, a perfect match for her eyes. A light touch of makeup and Dixie thought she'd pass muster—even Miss Carole Sue couldn't find something wrong with her today. Might even turn that peaches and cream skin green with envy.

After careful consideration, she popped apple turnovers in the oven for the morning treat because they were Jake's favorite and then she was ready. The trip into town seemed to take twice as long, Dixie was so eager to get there. A few of the local men passed her by, admiration clear in their eyes, dropping a whistle or a compliment out of an open window. By the time her feet touched the porch at Jackson's General, her cheeks were hot with all of the attention and she wondered if she'd chosen wisely after all.

"Good morning, sugar gal," Jake's honey tones flowed over her the moment she stepped in the door. She pressed herself up against the sturdy wood and closed her eyes, suddenly in need of support because her legs had turned to rubber at the sound of his voice. Shouldn't that have stopped by now? What was the matter with her and why was her heart suddenly pounding like she'd been in a race with the blood rushing in her ears? Her experience with men being limited, Owen caused the same reaction, rooted in fear. This thing with Jake was a whole other ball game.

"What are you doing here so early? You're supposed to have it easier now that I'm here, remember?" She gathered herself together and followed the sound of Jake's voice. Peeking around the counter, she was surprised to see him below eye level, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He looked like he couldn't catch his breath.

Jake found himself sitting behind the counter, unsure of how he got there, pulling himself into something presentable. He had a case of Dixie Mason and he had it bad. Something about her in that blue dress, looking like a soft flower and giving him a peek of those cute little legs and more of that fine skin that brought to mind the fresh, Georgia peaches, just in that morning. The girl had him feeling light-headed and his knees so wobbly, he nearly dropped like a stone. Good thing that stool was handy. Jake had always been a goner for a girl in a dress, starting with little Susie Murray on the first day of school in kindergarten. The dress had been pink, like cotton candy, with lots of fluff, frills, and a matching bow to top it off in her goldilocks curls. Jake took the bow in the school yard and after she gave chase, he stole a kiss too. Got him his first shiner and he'd taken a shine to the fairer sex ever since.

Miss Dixie Mason had Susie and all the rest beat. There was no denying the fact that she had him hooked. Worse than baseball cards, bubblegum, or snitching whiskey and cigars from his daddy's liquor cabinet, he didn't think quitting her could be done and wouldn't even want to try. Jake hadn't had more than three hours of sleep at a stretch since spending Saturday afternoon with her. His every waking moment had been filled with the way she seemed to fit just right in his arms, her scent like walking through Mama's garden, those piece of the sky eyes, and that fiery hair. He'd made a point of arriving early, had his first two cups of coffee already, trying to make the clock tick faster, to bring her through his door. Then to catch sight of her in that dress, with that hair piled on her head...she was like a princess come walking in and he was bound and determined to be her prince.

Dixie stepped around the counter with a shy smile and reached for his hand. Her touch was electric, making him jump to his feet and nearly tip the stool over, his head crashing into the shelf above. He stood rubbing at the offended spot with a grimace on his face. The whole fiasco set him to laughing at himself and she couldn't help but join in, if a little nervously. "Are you okay? You seem a little jittery."

Jake grinned, attempting to be casual. "Ahh, it' nothing, just drank two cups of coffee while I was waiting for you. Guess I don't hold my coffee well. I've got to tell you...you look mighty fine this morning, pretty as a picture. Well, not just this morning. You're always pretty as a flower bloomin' in Mama's garden, but especially this morning. Aw, shoot, you've got me tripping over my tongue, girl."

Dixie's telltale blush returned and her lashes brushed her cheeks as she stared down at her feet. "Thank you. If you don't mind my saying so, you look awfully handsome yourself." It was true. His short-sleeved button down shirt was a pale green that lit up his eyes and made them glow. Jake was a breath of cool air in off-white clam diggers and sandals and looked every bit the southern gentleman, head to toe without even trying. One would think he'd lord it over others, that his family had money and a position in this town, but he was the sweetest, most down to earth person Dixie had ever met. She would never forget that he was the first one to give her a chance.

They found themselves staring at each other, an awkward silence standing between them. They were saved by the ringing of the bell as a firecracker burst through the door. "Wooee, Jake Lee Jackson, who's this pretty little thing you're swoonin' over and why haven't I ever seen her before?" The young woman was the real-life version of what Dixie had tried to be when she first arrived. Her coal black hair was piled high on her head, giving big hair its name with a scarf like a gypsy keeping a mess of curls barely contained. She was an explosion of color, the rainbow splashing across a dress made of some filmy material that floated wherever she went. The girl was loud and over-the-top inside and out. Eighteen and just out of high school, she had lived in Dale's Hollow all her life, had shared a playpen with Jake since they were in diapers, and she knew all the comings and goings that went on in their small town. This new, little gal was an exception to the rule and she just had to get all the goods on her.

Jake reached out and gave the newcomer a hug then wrapped an arm around Dixie's shoulders and drew her forward. "Sue Ellen Butler, this is Miss Dixie Mason. She just moved to Nichols' Trailer Park and she's our new Godsend. Dixie, this is Sue Ellen. She's one of your neighbors and we've been best friends since we were knee high to a grasshopper. How was your visit at your daddy's?"

Sue Ellen shook her head and gave him a long-suffering look. "It was something to be endured, the obligatory spring visit in Tennessee. I won't have to go back until Christmas if I'm lucky. At least I went to Dollywood." She extended a hand for Dixie to shake. The latter couldn't help but notice Sue Ellen's nails were painted in brilliant hues to match the dress. "Honey, it sure is nice to meet you and know there's someone my age in that park. I thought I'd be rattlin' around with a walker and no one to talk to all my life. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get some shopping done for Mama."

Jake shook his head, that signature sense of humor warming his eyes. "My, but that girl can talk your ear off. If she stops by, get ready to sit a spell because Sue Ellen never runs out of steam. It's always been her biggest downfall. Every grade school teacher mentioned her overactive tongue and never did make no difference anyhow. Listen, sugar gal, I've got to run a few errands for Daddy and I'll be back soon." He turned to go then swung back her way again. For a moment, Dixie thought he was going to kiss her again when he reached past her. "Excuse me, darlin', but I've got to take a piece of heaven with me on the way. Those apple turnovers are making me drool. I could smell them before you even floated through that door. Thank you for keeping some skin on my bones. Bye, sugar." A wink and he was out the door, leaving her tongue tied this time. She stood at the door, pressed to the glass, and watched him pull out in the red, 50's pick-up with the Jackson's General logo on the side. She sighed then gave her attention to her job.

"Miss Dixie, do you have any fresh eggs in back? Mama insists they be as close as newborn for anything she's going to bake or it just isn't worth it." Sue Ellen called from the refrigerated aisle, a few items swinging in a basket on her arm. Hand on her hip, she cocked her head in the direction of the counter at the front. A smile warmed her features like sunshine after rain. Another friend falling Dixie's way?

"Just a moment, Sue Ellen and I'll check. I agree with your mama. Fresh eggs make all the difference." Dixie ducked in the storage room and checked outside. Sure enough, that morning's shipment was waiting against the wall, ready for Jake to cart them in. She brought a carton to Sue Ellen and placed an armful more in the fridge. She glanced outside and saw that their morning fixtures had taken their places in the porch rockers. Balancing a tray loaded with coffee and turnovers, she pushed the door open and made a delivery to the appreciative Jasper and Walter. She watered the plants, swept the floor, and returned inside to man the counter in preparation for Sue Ellen's checkout. Obviously her customer had learned to be very particular about her groceries because she was hemming and hawing over each item.

The bell rang again, announcing the arrival of Miss Carole Sue and friends. They all looked like they had walked out of the pages of Southern Living without a hair out of place, make-up artfully applied, crisp in summer dresses in a classic style. Once again, they were looking down on the rest of the world in high heels. If they were up any higher they'd be dizzy from air that was too thin for the likes of them. Carole glanced at Dixie out of the corner of her eye, discounted her, and walked down the aisle, face screwed up in disgust upon sight of the other customer in the store. Her friends followed close behind. Sue Ellen looked up, her forehead creasing with a frown, then approached the register. "Carole Sue, Bobbi Jo, Laura Bell, good mornin' to you."

In answer, Carole Sue put a foot out in front of Sue Ellen, tripping her up and sending her to the floor. Her basket went flying, the eggs crashing down and splattering Sue Ellen's face and clothes, leaving her sputtering. Carole Sue and her friends giggled while she reached out and nudged Sue Ellen with her toe. "My, my look what the cat dragged in. You know, Sue Ellen, you probably wouldn't be so clumsy if you didn't take up so much space."

Dixie's hands curled into fists as the ring of children's cruel laughter echoed in her ears and she was on the playground again. The others were pointing and taunting a little girl who looked so out of place in her dark, long-sleeved sweater and pants on a hot, summer day when everyone else wore shorts and sundresses. She pulled herself out of that train wreck of a memory and yanked the door open, the bell clanging and getting the attention of the posse in disguise as ladies. "If you cannot treat our customers in a civil way, then you are not welcome here. Kindly leave the premises." Dixie kept her voice steady although her insides were flip-flopping until she almost felt seasick. Drawing herself up to her full height of about 5'4", fire flashed in her eyes, showing she meant business.

Carole Sue was struck speechless but only long enough to fill her lungs, red in the face with shock and outrage. She marched to the door and glared at Dixie. "Well, I never! You just wait until my daddy talks to Mr. Jackson. You'll be looking for a new job and no one else in this town will give you one if I have any say so and I do. Come on girls." The others trailed after their ringleader and went down the steps.

Furious that anyone would dare to behave in such a way, Dixie searched for the first thing she could get her hands on and grabbed an apple out of the basket by the door. She stormed out on to the porch and called out, "Hey, Queenie! You can't walk all over everyone just as you please." She waited until they all turned around then let her missile fly, making the fruit smash at Carole Sue's feet and splash on her dress. "Next time you come in here, I won't miss!" Those baseball lessons with Jake had come in handy.

The three marched away in unity, rigid with indignation while Dixie felt the shaking inside take over the outside. She closed her eyes and fought back tears. That's for Jamie, for all the times no one stood up for her. She felt someone's hand brush her shoulder and Jake was pounding down the stairs, his own eyes snapping with fury. "Carole Sue, don't even bother talking to your daddy. This here is my store and you will not be coming back. My daddy and I see eye to eye on the matter of manners." His voice was loud and clear. When he turned back, Dixie gave him a grateful smile before scooting inside.

Sue Ellen was kneeling on the floor, picking up the items in her basket and trying to clean up the egg shells. Dixie squeezed her arm. "Don't you worry yourself about that, I'll mop it up. Come on in the bathroom and we'll get you straightened out. I just cannot get over the nerve of some people. It's beyond me why anyone thinks they have the right to walk on someone else."

She offered a hand up which Sue Ellen accepted. Once in the bathroom, Dixie grabbed a washcloth, added soap and warm water, and began to dab at the other girl's dress while Sue Ellen washed her face, her eyes tearing. "Oooh, that girl makes me so mad I could spit! She has been this way since we were stuck with each other in grade school and she still thinks she owns the world. If only I could give her a piece of my mind. Thanks for giving her a piece of yours."

Dixie smiled and squeezed her hand. Add another brick in a friendship being built that day. "Think nothing of it. I've had my share of the same and it was the least I could do." A warm spark, deep inside, was burning higher. Standing up for someone else was even better than doing it for herself.

Sue Ellen gathered the smaller girl into a hearty embrace. "Honey, you and I are going to be the best of friends. I have to help Mama with babysitting during the week. I'd love to get to know you better. Could I stop over and visit with you on Saturday afternoon when you get out?"

Dixie's smile was warm and genuine. "I'd really like that. Let's find you some new eggs and get you checked out. Your mama probably misses you!" She quickly and efficiently took care of Sue Ellen with hearty assurances that they would get together on the weekend while Jake took care of the mess on the floor, silently fuming and mopping with short, jerking movements. The rest of that day, Dixie was quiet, mulling over what had happened with Carole Sue that morning. It was a revelation, this getting fired up for what she believed in. It felt good. She felt stronger, taller, better than she had in a long time. She could get used to it. Several times throughout the day, she caught Jake looking at her with open admiration shining in those amazing eyes and she had to admit that felt good too.

The rest of the week went quickly with Jake and Dixie dancing around each other and the kiss. It was not repeated and Dixie wondered if another would ever happen again. Had she imagined that Jake enjoyed that brief instant as much as she did? Was it because they were at work and he wouldn't do anything unprofessional? Regardless, she relived that moment on the ball field many times and daydreamed about the next time, if there was a next time.

Saturday morning rolled around. The day looked promising with the sun shining, not a cloud in the sky, and a light breeze to keep the temperature tolerable. Dixie pulled on denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt that looked like a bandanna, sure to keep Jake's blood pumping, with her hair piled on top of her head. She looked cute, lively and even a little sassy. Maybe he'd give that kissing business another try. The thought had her own heart skipping a beat and made her nervous at the same time. Who was this new person she was turning into?

Jake nearly had to pick up his jaw at the sight of Dixie's long legs coming up the road and onto the porch. He gulped down his coffee, bringing tears to his eyes as he scalded his tongue. "'Morning, Miss Dixie. You sure are looking pretty today." Pretty was getting tired and didn't come close to doing her justice but he couldn't think of anything better at the moment. The thoughts flew clear out of his head whenever he laid eyes on her.

A knowing smile stretched across her face. Still learning, she'd been right on the money with that cute, little outfit. "Why thank you, Jake. What are you doing in here so early today?" She reached behind him to get her own cup of coffee, brushing his arm with hers and giving him the nudge to take another swallow. It was still too hot and made him wince and start to sputter.

"I've got to work on the roof and thought I'd start early before it gets too hot up there." His tongue could not be spared from a good scorching. Maybe his body could do some cooling off if he kept busy enough. Spend much longer with this sugar gal and the steam would be rolling off of his body.

Dixie's eyebrows rose warily. "And what are you doing on the roof?" She handed him a slice of freshly made banana bread, taking pleasure in the way his eyes got to glowing like the sunrise. Mama had always said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Judging by the shine in Jake's glimmer-green gaze, Mama was right.

Jake appeared to be on the same wave length after his first bite. "Mmmm, sugar. You keep this up and you will have my heart forever. As for the roof, I need to fix some loose shingles after that wind storm the other night. Don't you worry your pretty head. I'm good at carpentry."

Dixie crossed her arms, her expression doubtful. "I'm sure you are. You're good at anything you set yourself to doing. I still don't like you going up there. Why don't you hire someone to do the job?"

"Darlin, my ancestor General Robert E. Lee almost led the South to victory and my other relation, General Thomas 'Stonewall' Jackson could make his men walk barefoot through thick and thin with him walking beside them. I'm not going to let a roof get the best of me. Besides, I really do know what I'm doing. Daddy has me do this kind of work all the time, has for years." He patted her on the back and headed out the door.

Dixie didn't like it one bit. She did her duties inside—sweeping, dusting, inventory—but her mind was on Jake. She paced back and forth then peeked out the window only to see the ladder. She jumped when she heard thumps above her head from time to time. She was about to go outside and spot him when a steady stream of customers kept her hands busy but not her overactive imagination.

Two hours went by with no end to the customers who decided to "have a real chat and bring out the welcome mat," as Ms. Franklin mentioned, a relative of the Benjamin Franklin, thank you very much. Was there anyone down here that wasn't related to someone of great historical significance? Sometimes, Dixie felt like she'd walked into a history book. That morning the shop had the most business the place had seen to date and most of those dropping in made sure to connect the dots to their past! While Dixie tried to keep all of their stories straight, Jake still must have been occupied as evidenced by the pounding of a hammer and stomp of footsteps overhead.

"Lord sakes but that boy can do whatever he lays hands to or sets his mind to thinkin' on," Mr. Will Jefferson—a distant connection to the one and only Thomas, of course—drawled to Dixie as he stood at the counter and sipped the best cup of coffee he had tasted in his life. He had taken to stopping by each morning just for the coffee and Miss Dixie's company. Being a widow was lonely work and she offered a little bit of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy day. "You know that boy finished high school at 15 and college in two years. He could have done anything, gone anywhere but all he wanted to do was come on back home to run the family business. Roots run deep, really matter to him. Only nineteen and already he carries himself like a man with grown-up responsibilities and a mature bent of mind. Something I think you understand." The old man gave her a knowing nod, sizing her up. "No, you don't find many like him."

Dixie nodded distractedly, giving half-hearted "hmm's" and "I see's" in what she hoped were the right places. She looked out the back window. Who knew what possessed her to pay any mind to the doings outdoors at that particular moment? There was a rush of motion, a blur of colors, and a body went pell- mell through the air with a startled shout. Dixie felt rooted to the floor, her heart slamming against her rib cage. It took only an instant and then she was moving fast. The elderly Mr. Jefferson proved to be remarkably agile and actually beat her to the entrance.

"Well, boy, you are quite a sight!" Mr. Jefferson leaned against the door. Thank the Lord Almighty for its sturdy construction and support. He began to wheeze with laughter, regaining the color he had lost when he saw Jake's fall and feared the worst. He fanned himself with his straw hat, hoping his heart would stop its galloping fit to thump out of his chest.

Dixie covered her mouth to hide her own smile but she couldn't disguise the mirth dancing in her eyes. Light-headed with relief, she grabbed hold of the side of the dumpster that had conveniently broken Jake's fall. She felt dizzy again at the realization that only a half hour later it would be emptied. There would have been a much different ending to his story with a much harder landing if he'd fallen then. She shuddered at the thought.

"Go ahead, sugar, get a good, ol' , belly laugh out of this one. I'm sure I'm right entertainin' to look at." Jake urged her, a banana peel sliding off of his hair, his clothes covered in goo, a disgusting odor clinging to his skin. All three of them lost it then, raising Jake one more notch in Dixie's book because he could laugh at himself. Owen had never laughed except at the expense of others.

Jake hooted until his sides hurt, giddy at his close call, then heaved himself over the rim of the dumpster. "Whew! I must be part cat to have survived that one. Figure I've got a few more lives to spare. Good news—the roof is fixed. I've got to go home and make myself presentable. I'll be back shortly."

Mr. Jefferson shook his head, his sharp, black eyes glinting as he watched the young man leave. "That boy is something else, special I tell you, really special. There's no other like him around these parts. A girl could do much worse. How his poor mother has survived him, I do not know. Well, I'd best be getting home to Gracie. She'll need to be let out and she's waiting for me to share my turnover with her, spoiled little dog. I'll see you on Monday, Miss Dixie."

Dixie waved goodbye then went out to the porch and dropped into one of the chairs. She rocked back and forth, waiting for her heart to behave itself and her bones to turn back from jello, glad there were no customers to allow time to regain her composure. Jake returned to find her that way, looking small and a little pale. His hair was still wet, slicked back against his head. He wore jeans and a short, sleeved green button-up shirt, open over a white t-shirt. His eyes sparkled and his smile was wide. Coming out on the right side after a near-death experience was quite exhilarating, made a body feel right cocky. He pulled up the other rocker and sat down beside Dixie. "All's quiet now, eh? You all right, sugar gal? You're looking rather peaked."

She nodded, reached out, and touched his hand. "You really scared me. Don't ever do that again. You are the first, true friend I've ever had and I don't want to lose you." Her chin started to wobbling and she looked down but not before a few tears squeezed out.

Jake covered her hand with his own and put a finger under her chin. "Remember, I've got Southern blood in these veins. Makes me darned near invincible and for you, sugar gal, I'd make get through the fires of hell and back again. Why do you think those Southern boys made it as long as they did in the Great War? They had a special belle waiting at home. I'm not going anywhere, okay? That's a promise. "

Dixie took a deep breath and began to feel a little steadier. She just might be able to stand up. "Okay, as long as you keep your promises. The people in my life haven't done a good job of that." She stared back at him, watched him nod, and her insides were melting all over again.

Jake brushed her lips with his and leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm part Lee, part Jackson. I keep my promises. It's in my genetic code." He didn't know how long they sat that way, only that he started to drift away on the ocean held within her eyes but somehow forced himself to pull back. Couldn't go too far or too fast with this one. Slow and steady, that was the way to win Miss Dixie. "Listen, Mama and Daddy are tired of hearing me yammering on about you and they'd love to meet you. You're invited to dinner tomorrow. Say you'll come, please."

Dixie couldn't refuse him. She nodded even though it was hard swallowing the lump of fear that suddenly lodged in her throat. She'd never been to someone else's home for dinner, much less the home of a wealthy family. "All right...what time? What should I wear? What should I bring? What if they don't like me—"

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. "Calm down! You don't need to bring anything except you, you can wear a mop on your head with a garbage bag for a dress if you like, and I'll come get you around noon. We can spend the afternoon together. And like you, why, shoot honey, they'll fall in love with you, I guarantee it. I've got good taste. I only bring the keepers home and here's a secret, sugar gal." He gave her a wink and that crooked grin. "You're the first one." Jake stood at the door, watching her go, trying to get a hold of his runaway heart. She'd said yes and he likened spending the day with her to his free fall off the edge of the roof, scared out of his mind until something caught him. Dixie was a soft landing with a mettle of steel underneath. Well worth the fall.

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Dixie left trying to feel reassured. Her head was crowded with thoughts and pictures of Jake while her pocket was filled with money. Looking forward to pay day was a nice change. Pay day with Owen meant his blowing a load of money in a bar and getting drunk. It meant beating day for Mama, and Dixie too if she couldn't get out of the way or tried to stop him. Once in a while, he might try to make up to Mama the next day by taking her shopping but most of the time she was in too rough of a shape to be seen. The mailman or the paperboy still got an eye-full and set the neighbors to whispering.

Dixie forced her thoughts back to Jake and the dinner invitation. She hoped he was right, that his family would like her and she would like them. She didn't see how they could be anything but wonderful if they raised a son like theirs. She knew she was sorely lacking in social graces and upbringing. The thought of facing them thrilled her and terrified her at the same time. How could she, a nobody, live up to someone the likes of Jake Lee Jackson?

Jake's dreamy eyes and sweet smile had her head in the clouds when she walked up to her trailer to find Sue Ellen sitting on her steps. She was a riot of red today in another gypsy-like dress and scarf that was wrapped around her head and entwined through a braid. She jumped up and nearly scooped Dixie off the ground with her hug. "Honey, I feel like I've been waiting here forever! After a week of babysitting for my mother, who insisted I give her a break after my three weeks away, I thought I would go absolutely crazy if I didn't get to talk to someone my own age."

Dixie couldn't help but laugh. "I'm glad to see you too, Sue Ellen. Come on inside and we'll have some sweet tea." She unlocked the door and opened it to discover her little house looked as cute as could be with new additions. There were hand-me down and home-made crafts, flowers, pillows, throw rugs, pictures added to the walls, and Sue Ellen's flare for decorating. She could give someone like Martha Stewart competition and that was her plan when she finished her night classes at business school.

Sue Ellen put an arm around the astonished girl's waist. "I do hope you don't mind, honey. I went around the neighborhood all this week to ask for house warming gifts for you and everyone was so happy to oblige. They all love you, simply love you. Slick used his key so I could come in and he even stayed to supervise and make sure I didn't do anything shady. As if I ever could dream of doing such a thing to sweet, little you! Please don't be upset. I just wanted to do something nice for you after you were so good to me standing up to that pack of hyenas the other day at Jackson's General."

Dixie's eyes had filled with tears. She turned and gave Sue Ellen a hug that was strong enough to squeeze the breath out of the larger girl. "Thank you so much, Sue Ellen. No one has ever been so good to me before. Now I know why my mama loved this place so much. Sit down on the sofa and I'll get us something in a jiff." A short time later, Dixie returned with sweet tea and cold chicken on salad with bacon, sliced eggs, cheeses and a medley of vegetables. Strawberry shortcake was the dessert.

Sue Ellen finished every bite and barely restrained herself from licking the plate. "Dixie, honey, you are magic in the kitchen. You ought to open a bakery or write a book of recipes, something like, 'If You Bake it, They Will Come.' I need lessons. I'm the kind that burns toast. Where did you learn how to make heaven on earth in the kitchen?"

Dixie poked her finger in her whip cream and sucked on it while she settled on an answer she was able to share. "My mama taught me before she died. She was the best cook ever. Every night, she'd have me sit at the table in the kitchen, watch her, help her, listen to her talk about her recipes. I've heard them so many times I've memorized them." Mama's cooking and her love were the only bright spots in Dixie's life. When Dixie came home from school, the smell of a fresh baked treat was waiting for her. Dixie would never forget that home-baked goodness waiting just for her, those lessons, Mama's patience, or her insistence that a girl needed to know what to do in the kitchen to take care of herself. Had she known Dixie would need those lessons soon? Dixie felt her eyes fill and swallowed hard.

Sue Ellen put an arm around her new friend. "You miss her something awful, don't you? What happened? You can tell me, honey. I'm a good listener and I've got strong shoulders to lean on. You've seen the size of them."

Dixie shook her head. "It was all so quick. She had a heart attack. There was no warning. I found her and it was already too late. I couldn't stay there anymore without Mama. She was the only one I loved and who loved me, unconditionally."

Sue Ellen sighed in sympathy. "My mama and I fight like cats and dogs but I'd be lost without her. I don't know how you do it, all by yourself. I couldn't. I'd just be a lump, crying in the corner."

Dixie stood up and cleared away their dishes, wiping her eyes with a dish towel at the sink. She filled the sink with hot, soapy water and buried her fingers in the suds. Burying the depression that threatened to rise up wasn't as easy. "Most of the time, it doesn't seem so hard, but right now, I don't want to be alone. Would you like to spend the night?"

"Oohee, a sleepover! Honey, you don't have to ask twice." Sue Ellen picked up her purse and started rummaging. "And that means a make-over! Sit yourself down, sweetheart. Let the expert make magic happen." She proceeded to do Dixie's make-up and nails.

The nail polish was still wet when a knock sounded at the door. "If there's a girls' night going on in there, I want in!" Thelma Louise announced before letting herself in. Her arms were filled with a DVD player, movies, popcorn, and ice cream. "I come well-armed. I can smell a sleep over from a mile away!"

Sue Ellen jumped up and took the burden from the older, African American woman. Once she put everything in its place, she threw her arms around her. "Thelma Lou, I have missed you! I see you kept everything in order while I was at Daddy's. I wouldn't have expected otherwise."

Thelma winked knowingly. "I sho' did, child. You know no funny business will happen on my watch. I made sure this little gal here knew she had a neighbor she could count on, too. I hope you don't mind my inviting myself but I couldn't help it when I heard you two in here. This DVD player is for you, sweetie. I bought myself one of those blu-ray thingies so I don't need my old one anymore."

Dixie felt her heart growing bigger. Was there no end to the goodness here? She half expected she would wake up and find herself back in that old shack with Owen. "Thank you so much, Thelma! The three channels I get aren't too exciting. Now I can watch all of my favorites and Mama's too. Please sit. I'll get the popcorn popping and we can really make a night of it."

Dixie would never forget that first girls' night she'd ever had. They stuffed themselves until they could barely move, cried during "An Officer and a Gentlemen" and "The Color Purple," and all fell asleep in the living room. She had finally found a safe haven, a place where she had friends like Mama, friends that could see her, liked her, and wouldn't go away.

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Owen fumbled with the phone in the booth, dropped his change, then scrambled on his hands and knees while curses poured from his mouth. He dialed information first for Mary Adams in Georgia, only to discover there were 20 of them. He'd left the guest book at the house and couldn't remember the street address, if she'd even written one. His anger peaked until his head was pounding as he dialed number after number without any luck. Finally, on the final number, a woman answered. "Yes, this is Mary Adams. How may I help you?"

With his final thread of self-control wearing thin, he throttled his voice down to a hoarse murmur, doing his best to sound the part of the grieving husband. "This is Owen Granville. Are you the Mary Adams that was friends with my wife, Laura?" His fingers tapped on the wall of the booth. So help him, he'd send his fist through the glass if she wasn't the one.

"Why yes, Mr. Granville. I know we already spoke at the funeral but I truly am sorry for your loss. Laura was such a sweet woman. I have many fond memories of her. What can I do for you?"

Careful, he couldn't make her suspicious. "I...found some things that had belonged to Laura's grandmother and I thought there might be someone in her old, home town that might want them. You wouldn't happen to know the name of the town so I can get some information? I just...I'm so upset since Laura...I can't keep my thoughts straight." His voice shook, a convincing touch. He held his breath and waited.

"Oh, that's no problem. I spent a lot of time with Laura in Gerrardstown, West Virginia. But I really don't think there's anyone left, Mr. Granville. Mr. Granville? Are you still there? Mr. Granville?" There was no answer except for the bang of the dropped receiver against the booth.

Owen jogged back home, mud splashing on his clothes, shivering from the rain and wind that continued to intensify. He finally reached his steps, planning to wrap up in some blankets, find a change of clothes that were dry even if they were dirty, only to find a paper on the door. It was an eviction notice with a padlock barring his entry. He backed away, hands to his head, dumbfounded. How long had it been since he paid the rent? Laura always took care of the bills because he couldn't keep them straight. He couldn't even remember how much time had gone by since Laura died.

It didn't matter. If he couldn't live there, no one would. He grabbed the gas tank from the dilapidated garage and started liberally splashing fuel all over the house and garage as well. Once doused, he lit a match then dropped to the ground. The laughter of a lunatic rang out while the flames grew higher. Owen wasn't cold anymore! As for a place to live, the girl would have to put him up for a change. The question—how would to get there? The fire of his anger blazed higher. How much damn harder was she going to make this on him? He'd take it out of her hide, teach her a lesson to never leave again. It would be over his dead body.

Chapter 7

Dixie woke up feeling...happy! It was a feeling so unfamiliar she had a hard time recognizing it. She'd slept in, the sun was shining, and the smell of some down home cooking was teasing her taste buds. To have good friends, to have someone waiting for her, to have someone care about her...nothing could compare. She stretched, wrapped up in her robe, and pulled her hair up into a pony tail. Her bare feet didn't make a sound, allowing her to sneak up on the kitchen.

Thelma Louise and Sue Ellen were in rare form. They'd taken over the job of breakfast, figuring their hostess deserved to be pampered. "That girl needs some TLC I tell you. Something bad's done happened to her, I just know it. I means to fix it."

Sue Ellen nodded, whipping eggs for an omelet and swaying to the music on the radio. "I'm on board, Thelma Lou. You have any ideas, you just let me know. I'll help in any way I can. Between the two of us, we'll have her right as rain in no time."

Dixie cleared her throat and walked in with a big smile. "It sure is nice to have people fighting over me instead of with me. Boy, something smells good in here!" She flitted to Thelma Lousie and gave her a hug, doling one out for the gypsy girl next.

Sue Ellen grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and did a bow. "Sit down, Mademoiselle! Your breakfast is served!" She began to load up the plates, dancing as she did. A favorite song was playing on the radio, one that took hold and had her belting it out at the top of her healthy lungs.

Thelma Louise couldn't help but laugh. "Girl, you shake it!" She started to hum along to the radio, filling glasses with orange juice. "Ooh, I've got comfort food for all of us to start this beautiful day God gave us. Eat up, missy!" She nudged Dixie's arm and set a plate down in front of her.

Dixie's eyes grew wide. There was bacon, an omelet, grits, toast, and fresh fruit. Obviously, someone had brought groceries to her kitchen to supplement a much smaller, modest selection. One bite and her eyes closed in delight. "Girls, whoever did the cooking...this is amazing!"

Sue Ellen sat down, wiggling her eyebrows, and started eating followed by Thelma Louise. "Thelma Lou is the one who can teach you the art of Southern cooking. I can manage an omelet—one of my very few specialties. Most everything else I touch is a disaster."

Thelma Louise took a bite and grunted in satisfaction. "This is mighty fine if I do say so myself. Sue Ellen tells me you're a wizard in the kitchen too. We'll have to give each other lessons, honey. Make sure you eat well. You need reinforcements for that day with Mr. Jackson."

Dixie's cheeks felt like they'd caught fire, butterflies starting up a mad flurry in her belly. She pressed her hand to her stomach and choked down her last mouthful. Breakfast might be making a reappearance. Glancing up, her hand was snatched by Sue Ellen whose eyes were bright with excitement. It was hard to fight a force as strong as the combined team of two big girls with even bigger hearts.

"As soon as we've cleaned up we're going to help you get all dolled up." The younger of the dynamic duo gave Dixie a quick squeeze before getting back to the serious business of eating. Sue Ellen polished her plate and started clearing. Behind her, the sniffles began. Both visitors stopped what they were doing and gathered close. Southern girls protected their own. When the new addition came to Nichols' Lane, she was officially adopted, ready or not.

It was suddenly hard to swallow. Dixie stared down at her plate, everything blurring in front of her as tears threatened to fall. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Her voice was very small. "No one else has ever been as nice as you all in West Virginia—except for Mama."

Thelma Louise set down her fork and took Dixie's hand, while Sue Ellen dried her hands on a dish towel and took the other. They could feel the younger girl's trembling. A look passed between the two women, clearly concerned. "Child, why shouldn't we be nice to a sweet thing like you?"

Dixie shook her head and mumbled. "Not many people have been good to me in my life." She bit down on her lip, fighting back the urge to cry. It was all so hard, going back and forth between this new life and the old. Sometimes, she didn't think it was real. She'd wake up and find herself back in Jamie Ann Ray's bedroom, doing a disappearing act.

Sue Ellen hugged her, hard, joined by Thelma Louise, making a circle of friendship, giving everything they had to send Dixie their love. "Well, it's high time they started and time you get used to it. Haven't you ever heard 'what goes around, comes around?' All the good in you, just being you, is finally coming back. You've come to the right place, sugar, and we'll keep it coming." Thelma Louise and Sue Ellen both fought the urge to cry, taking in the hurt in Dixie's eyes. Life had been rough on this girl. Someday, she'd trust them enough to tell them what happened, give them a chance to really make it up to her. Until then, they'd be patient, a net to catch her when she fell.

Dixie hugged her new friends with everything she had in her. She wanted to give something back to them but didn't have anything except herself. Her emotions threatened to take over again but she held on. "Thank you. You don't know what it means to have real friends. You're my first."

Thelma Louise dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "Land's sake, I've got something in my eye! I'm going to rinse it out and tidy up. Sue Ellen, why don't you help Dixie get ready? I'll join you shortly." She bustled off to the kitchen, muttering to herself over the mess some idiot had made of that gal. There was fear in those eyes and she figured a man put it there. She knew it had to be so because in her experience, the root of life's troubles could be traced back to a man. If...no, when she had a chance to catch up with that son of a gun, she'd teach him a thing or two.

Sue Ellen made Dixie sit on her bed and began pulling clothes out of the closet. "All right, girlfriend. The key is to look pretty without looking like you tried. You want to come off natural." She caught Dixie's raised eyebrows. "I know that I don't look natural but someone like Jake is out of my league. Anyway, go ahead and start picking out what you like and I'll tell you if it's a go or a no."

"I don't know about this, Sue Ellen. I'm out of his league, too." Dixie picked out several outfits, tried them on, took them off, tried several more. The more she put on, the worse her case of the jitters. In the end, she closed her eyes and landed on the sundress with daisies.

Thelma Louise walked in just as Dixie twirled in a circle for Sue Ellen. "That's just perfect, child. A breath of fresh air, that's what you is. You's pretty as a sunrise or a meadow full of wild flowers, growing free and blowing in the breeze. That boy lays eyes on you and he's a goner."

A shy smile tugged on the younger woman's face. She was slowly opening up before them, blooming with their careful attention. "You really think so? Daisies were Mama's favorite and I heard Jake mention that he likes them too. He's always picking some on his way in and putting them in the window."

Thelma Louise nodded, gently snagging Dixie's arm and bringing her back to the bed. "All right, now let's do that hair and make-up. Sue Ellen, you do the make-up, I'll do the hair. I've had loads of practice. I used to work in a beauty salon, honey." The curling iron was fired up, the spray bottle was put to work, and a large toothed pick was unearthed from the depths of Thelma's purse. While she primped, pulled, and shaped, Sue Ellen cast a spell with the hefty supply of cosmetic products in her suitcase she called a handbag. The girls went to work in earnest. When they were done, they stood Dixie in front of the mirror and stepped back to let her take a good look at herself.

A stranger stared back at her, shining waves of red hair framing her face and rolling down her back. Carole Sue couldn't hold a candle to the beauty in the mirror. Her new face was tastefully done, applied lightly to bring out the blue of her eyes and brighten her smile yet make it appear as if she'd been born that way. She looked like someone fit to go to a Southern gentleman's home. Dixie almost believed she was a princess, come to life out of those fairy tales she and Mama watched years ago.

Speechless, Dixie hugged her friends, and choked out a thank you when she could speak, reluctant to say goodbye. The fairy godmother and her assistant made an exit before the prince arrived at the ball. Dixie sank down on her steps and waited, still dumbfounded by the power of her new-found friends. The words, "Cinderella's Fella," rolled off of her tongue again and she sang them softly while taking out snapshots of Jake that had been tucked in her mind from the first day she walked into Jackson's General Store.

At exactly noon, the sound of horse shoes rang on the pavement in the trailer park. A small, open carriage, its wood carved with intricate designs and padded with thick, red velvet, pulled up by Dixie's meager home with Jake as its driver. He nearly drove it into a neighboring home, he was so taken by a sight that took his breath and yanked it away. He finally understood what all that yammerin' on about Shakespeare meant in English class when he said Juliet was the sun. So was Dixie, with the light catching in her hair and her eyes, daisies floating around her on that dress, one tucked behind her ear. He stooped down and picked another, finally able to breathe again, and offered it to her with a bow. "My lady, your chariot awaits." He might sound foolish but he didn't mind being a fool for this sweet bit of something special.

Dixie looked up at him and couldn't help but answer that slow smile that always traveled up to his eyes and lit them like a torch. She was finding it hard to suck in the air that he breathed, Jake was so handsome in white pants and a button down shirt that matched the summer green of his eyes. "You really know how to make an entrance don't you?" She took the hand he offered, let him boost her up into the carriage, and admired the view as he sprang lightly into the seat next to her.

"It's a Southern trait, sugar gal. We have charm, we have dash, we have manners, and we always know how to treat a lady." He leaned over and dropped a butterfly kiss on her lips. "You look beautiful, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and believe me when I say I've seen plenty of pretty girls in nineteen years. You can't be beat." He picked up the reins and drove out of the park, unaware that he had made her blush again.

The ride was all too short. She could have stayed in that antique carriage forever, taking in the sunlight, the rolling meadows that burst with flowers, breathing in the clean air that washed away all the bad memories. All too soon, they pulled into a long, winding driveway, lined with towering trees that formed a canopy of leaves over their heads, dappling their skin with sunlight and shadows. Jake softly nickered to the horses to stop to allow Dixie time to appreciate the view. The fairy tale continued.

The house stood before them, high on a hill. It was a large, sprawling farmhouse, painted a soft yellow with a white trim. A glory of flower gardens dressed the front, wrapped around both sides and continued to the back. "Mama's pride," Jake murmured, catching Dixie's eye. Her hand came up to her mouth in awe to gaze at the large garage, well off to the side, a smaller copy of the home. Set a good ways to the back there towered a barn with a stone foundation, stained a golden brown instead of the traditional red. Pastures went on as far as she could see with horses prancing, standing, sleeping while white ducks gathered on a pond. She turned to Jake, wide-eyed. "It's incredible...I...I don't feel like I belong in such a beautiful place. It's like I'm Cinderella waiting to lose my glass slipper. I've been pinching myself so hard I'll be black and blue. How long has it been in your family?"

Jake's voice was soft, fierce pride gleaming in his eyes and evident in the set of his shoulders. "This here land has been in the Jackson family since shortly after the Revolution. At one point, it was much bigger, a grand plantation. When my great, great granddaddy came home from the War Between the States, all that was left of the big house were the charred remains. Those damn Yankees burned it to the ground." He paused to give her an apologetic look and throttle down the anger that still burned in his gut when he imagined the destruction. Jake had a vivid imagination. It took him a moment before he could continue. "But he had my great, great grandmamma, skilled hands, and a strong back. He built the house that stands there now and it has been passed down to the eldest...or in my case, only...child ever since."

He gently caught her chin in his hand, all seriousness. "As for belonging here, you fit perfectly. You're pretty as a picture, strong as stone, and you stand up for what you believe in. That describes my family to a tee." He hopped down and reached up to put his hands on her waist. It was easy to lower her to the ground, she was that much lighter than the stock he hauled back and forth at the store on a daily basis. He tied the horses to a post for the time being and took her hand. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Mama and Daddy."

Dixie wanted nothing more than to dig her heels in or bolt but she did neither. What she wouldn't give to run back to the safety of her little trailer and hide under the covers. One look at the boy beside her and she took a deep breath. These were the people responsible for her livelihood. The least she could do was be civil and meet them, even if it did scare the dickens out of her. Sensing her nervousness, Jake held her hand and led her inside, never letting go, giving her a smile of encouragement whenever she looked his way.

James and Sara Jackson were on the patio in back, relaxing in lounge chairs and sipping sweet tea. They rose to their feet in unison and immediately set to the task of putting their guest at ease. "So, this is the Miss Dixie our son has been rambling on and on about. It's no wonder, a sweet thing like you. I do believe you have got my son under your spell. I'm James Jackson and I'm pleased to meet you, sugar." He bent over her hand and actually kissed it, making Dixie's cheeks flame again. She hadn't known people really did that still, thought it only happened in movies. James Jackson looked like he could've stepped out of a film, the image of his son when older except for hair the color of golden honey.

Sara reached out and gave Dixie a hug, reminding her of Mama and making tears spring to her eyes. She smelled of flowers, like Mama always did and had big, blue eyes so like her mother's. Her hair was a dark brown and wavy like her son's. She wore it pulled back in a twist while her cream colored pants and sleeveless blouse made her look every inch the lady of the house. "Welcome, Dixie. Won't you sit and have sweet tea with us?" She gestured to one of the lounge chairs. Jake sat beside her and they both settled in to enjoy the cold beverage on that warm day of early summer.

"This tea is just perfect, Mama. That little bit of mint goes a long way in cooling a body down." Jake winked at his mother with amusement. Her iced tea always gave her troubles and they teased her unmercifully. He wondered if someone else made today's batch. Daddy perhaps? Far be it from Jake to ruin the secret. They all drank in silence until Dixie plucked up enough spunk to speak.

"Thank you so much for opening your home to me and for the opportunity to work in your store. This is so beautiful, like something out of a story book. I've never been to any place like it before in my life." Dixie gazed out at the flowers and the fields. How Mama would have loved it here. She could never stop talking about her vacations at her grandmother's. Dixie wished she could find the place where Mama had found such happiness. Perhaps Jake would be able to help her find it. He knew the history of the area so well, surely he could locate where her great grandmother had lived. The longing to have Mama there with Dixie, to share this place, was so strong it hurt.

It was as if Sara could read her mind. "Thank you, Dixie. You know, Jake didn't mention how young you are, so young to be out on your own. Don't you have any family up North to look after you? They must miss you terribly."

Dixie glanced down at her feet, a flood of heat rushing to her cheeks again. "My Daddy died the day I was born and Mama died just before I came here. There's no one else left. My great grandmother lived in Gerrardstown. That's what brought me here. Mama loved it when she used to visit. Now I know why."

Sara reached out to squeeze her hand. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry about your family. What a heart ache. I hope you'll consider our home yours and us as an adopted family any time you need anything, you hear?" She glanced meaningfully at her husband.

James cleared his throat. "Absolutely. I'm sure Jake would love to have you in the family, but not as his sister. " Jake rolled his eyes at his father who went on as if he didn't notice. "By the way, I want to commend you for how you handled Carole Sue. We take out the trash in our store."

Sara nodded, a steel glint in her eye. "Regardless of the fact that the riffraff might be well dressed. That girl should have had her mouth washed out with soap years ago. I saw her mother in church and I made sure to drop a few well intended comments about her daughter's behavior. It did not go over well, let me tell you."

They visited for a while longer when Jake stood up, restless, unable to sit any longer. "Mama, if we have a while before dinner, I'd like to take Dixie for a walk around the place." The girl beside him was too much of a temptation. He had a much better understanding of the strain Adam had been under with Eve in the Garden of Eden. If he didn't get moving, he'd behave in a way that would make his mama blush.

Sara nodded, understanding in her eyes. "That's your polite way of telling me you've had enough of sitting around with the old folks making nice. Go on ahead. Make sure you give her the grand tour. Dinner's at three."

Jake bent over his mother as she raised her face to his and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Mama, you and Daddy could never be old but thanks for always knowing the right thing to say." He reached out for Dixie's hand and she gladly took it. Jake gave her a sideways grin with a bit of mischief in it. A wink wasn't far behind.

"It has been very nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. Thank you again for the invitation." She gave them a little wave, took Jake's gentle tug as a signal to get moving, and stayed by his side. He took his time, trying to make it stretch. Each moment he spent with her wasn't enough. There was no doubt. She was an addiction and he had to have more and more.

They walked through the back gardens, down a hill, and across a rolling stretch of lawn until they were stopped by the white fence that closed off pastures for as far as they could see. Dixie leaned on the top rung to watch the scene unfold before her. Horses were scattered over the land, at least twenty. Some raced in high-spirited abandon. Others grazed or slept. A mother nuzzled her colt which frolicked around her feet. A long sigh escaped the girl watching. "I wish I could be one of them, no cares, so free."

Jake turned to look at her, watch her hair stream behind her and her dress swaying with the wind. "I think you already are like them. Another time, when you're dressed for it, you can take one for a ride." He received a small smile and a blush in answer. He led her to the pond next where they dropped down on the dock. Jake slipped off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants and poked his feet in the water. Dixie shrugged, slipped off her sandals, and did the same, squealing at the water's chill. "When in Rome, huh?" Jake asked her, tipping his head back and letting loose laughter that sounded like no one else.

Dixie loved his laugh. It came so easily while laughter had been hard to come by in her house. "Yeah, you've got it. So, do you spend a lot of time down here?" She pictured if this were her home. She would be laying out here in the sun every day, riding the horses, running barefoot through the gardens.

Jake wriggled his toes in the water, startling the sunfish that had come for a nibble and scattering them. He stared into the pond but his thoughts carried him over the years. "Every day. My granddaddy taught me that fishing and being close to water and God's green earth are essential for good health. You don't know how many times we sat here together with our poles in hand, casting a line. Grandma would pack a sack of sinful treats and we'd spend the entire day when I was little and then on summer vacations. Sometimes he told me stories, of his life, our family, the South...the world. Other times, we didn't say a word. It didn't matter. We were together." His voice became hoarse on the last. "He died last year. God, I miss him." He blinked rapidly and turned away only to feel a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know how it hurts, losing someone close to you." Dixie's voice trembled, her thoughts turned to Mama. It was still so raw, the hurting place deep inside. Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever heal. Being without Mama was like dying a little bit at a time for the rest of her life.

Jake wiped at his eyes and took her hand in his own. "Listen to me going on and on. You know so much about me and I hardly know anything about you, like the fact that your great grandma lived down here. I'll take you over to Gerrardstown one day. It's an itty-bitty place, I'm sure we can track down your family's home. Now, tell me about New York. Is it as exciting as it looks in the movies, you know, the lights, the hustle and bustle, where interesting things are always happening? Nothing happens around here. It's been the same since the War between the States ended and it always will be."

Dixie's eyes became shadowed and the shield came up. "New York City is three hours away from my home town. I never ever went there even though Mama and I really wanted to go, go see the Rockettes and the Christmas tree with the skaters at Rockefeller Center..."her words trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. She forced herself to continue. "My home town, it's something between a city and a town... it's horrible, where I'm from. It's jam packed with people, and dirty, with nothing but noisy, ugly factories. That's where they all work and none of them are happy about it. No one will give you the time of day, everyone keeps to themselves. You can't breathe and nothing grows, no trees or grass or meadows. Nothing ever changes there either but I'd take your nothing new any day to mine. It's a place I hated every day I was there. That's why I had to get out when Mama..."she broke off. It was too close...to the hurting, to the truth.

Jake's hand was the slightest pressure on hers. "I'm really sorry about your mother, Dixie. Try to remember, you're not alone anymore." They just sat that way, unaware of time passing them by. They were quiet, comfortable enough to not say a word until Jake's father wandered down to call them to dinner.

Once again, Dixie was taken by surprise by the warm welcome people of the South continued to give her. Jake's family gathered her in, set her at ease, made her feel like she was one of their own. The conversation and good-natured banter rolled over her as delicious dish after dish was passed around the table until Dixie thought they would have to roll her away. When it was time to leave, both of Jake's parents gave her hugs and urged her back anytime. The funny thing was, Dixie believed them.

Jake took her home the conventional way, in that it was a car but convention stopped regarding what Dixie was accustomed to. It was a cherry red, Corvette convertible. "Daddy's first car, a 1958, all original. A gift from my Grandaddy's collection. Ain't she a beauty?" Jake asked her playfully, holding the door open for her.

Dixie could only nod her head as she slid onto the white leather seat with red stripes. The wind whipped through her hair on the drive over curving, country roads. She couldn't help throwing up her arms and giving a rebel whoop. "I have got to be sleeping. Don't ever wake me up!"

Jake tipped his head back and gave his own whoop, one to rival the Dukes of Hazard, taking obvious pleasure in Dixie's. "Girl, we'll make you a true Southerner yet." He took the long way back to Nichols' Lane. Over a river, and through the woods, making the ride stretch. He would have gladly traded all he had to make the day last with Dixie.

Neither wanted the ride to end, but in all too short of a time, they pulled in front of her trailer. Once again, Dixie couldn't shake the recurring feeling of being Cinderella just before the carriage became a pumpkin when she walked up her steps. She reached the top and turned to him. "Thank you for everything. I really had a wonderful time."

The wind ruffled Jake's hair and the setting sun lit his eyes until they matched the deep green of the meadows around them. He definitely fit the role of the handsome prince. "So did I." He dipped his head down, stole a kiss, took another and made it stretch. This one left their first at the ball field in the dust, picked up their heart beats, had them both fighting for air. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Dixie sank down on the step, her legs unable to hold her, and lifted a hand as he drove away. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. She closed her eyes while dusk fell around her and let the day replay in her mind. Spending more time with Jake made her believe the South would rise again. Maybe it already had. Southerners, at least those that had become her friends, knew what was most important—home, family, and love. In having those things, they had it all. She hoped she'd learn their lessons well.

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Owen had nothing, no home, no food, no family, nothing but the clothes on his back and the two hands God had given him. They hadn't done well by him yet. He had no one to turn to, to take him in or help him out of a rough spot. Most of his life had been a rough spot. Started with his daddy using him for a punching bag. A frightening gleam lit his eyes and he smiled at the memory of the last time his father hit him. It shocked the hell out of the old man when Owen hit him back, knocked him flat on his butt, and made him bleed. Owen walked out that day and he never looked back but it gave him satisfaction to give the old man pay back.

There was only one way he was going to get to the girl—work. Easier said than done. He already had a reputation in town that kept anyone from hiring him on. He ended up going two towns over, found a meat packing plant that needed temporary help. He figured two weeks would do, be enough to get him a few meals and make it to Gerrardstown. It was filthy, grunt work, not fit for anyone but it was the best he could get. Story of his life.

He made it one week. The bossman threw him out, told him to take his dirty, stinking carcass out of there. So he hadn't bathed in God knew how long or washed his clothes. They just got covered in blood and gore working with the meat. He didn't know why the boss was so particular. Being drunk on rotgut...that might have something to do with it.

No matter. He collected his week's pay and walked out the door but made sure he'd be remembered when he slashed the bossman's tires. He laughed all the way to the bus station and bought his fare that would take him to Pennsylvania. Half way there. He'd think of something when he got there.

Chapter 8

Jake stayed up late into the night after Dixie came to dinner, hitting rewind on their day as he ran it through his mind. A few more pieces of the puzzle that was Dixie had been given to him. He would have to be patient for the rest to fall into place. Until then, he'd do what most any Southerner of the male persuasion was best at, paying attention to a girl and using his God-given charm which he had spent plenty of time cultivating and perfecting. It had been practice with all the others as he was growing up. This was the one that mattered most. If he had his way, this one would be his last.

He might seem young to be thinking about such matters but he had an old soul. He already knew his place, his work, and where he wanted to spend his life. It had just been a matter of time, finding someone to share it with him. He was quite certain he had found the one for his heart if she would let him all the way in to hers. Jake was ready to start the art of courting, something that had been lost up North but never forgotten down in the South. Some traditions never grew old.

On Monday, Dixie walked in to find a bouquet of red roses waiting for her with a note. "Roses are red, violets are blue...neither can hold a candle to you." She had a candle's glow carrying her through the rest of the day. Each time Jake wandered through the shop, and he made sure it was often, she couldn't help but giggle. She finally understood how a girl could lose her mind when she was in love. She buried her face in the flowers throughout the day. On the way home, she tucked one behind her ear and slept with it beneath her pillow.

On Tuesday, steaming tea, because Jake knew that was what Dixie liked best, and lop-sided, blue berry muffins sat on the counter with another note. "Sweets for the sweet and something hot and steamy too because...that's what I think about when I think about you." Jake made his own cup of coffee, insisting she stay put, and sat down to join her. "I made those muffins myself, Great, Great Grandmama's recipe handed down from before the war. She even added a part about making sure they came out crooked, really." They both burst out laughing. "They don't look pretty but I promise that they taste good, honest. I made sure, tried some first. Great, Great Grandmama's recipes never fail." He told no lies—they were some of the best she'd ever had. Dixie would have to borrow that recipe for morning refreshments at the shop. They sat together and savored the treat, making the moment linger. Dixie found herself wanting to draw out all the time they spent together.

On Wednesday, a hand-made, high-backed stool stood behind the register with Dixie's initials carved into it. The note attached said, "Because a girl like you should be treated like a queen." Before, Dixie had to stand behind the register or use a stool that was much too short. She would stay on her feet rather than not be able to watch what was going on. She sat down and the room filled with delighted peals of laughter—the stool even swiveled, allowing her to spin like a little kid would do. He thought of everything. Dixie felt sinful to be off her feet but she made sure to give her new seat a whirl whenever Jake walked in the door in order to show her appreciation.

On Thursday, she found a CD player with a stack of CD's—some she had mentioned to her liking and some that were Jake's favorites, "for exposure,"—and a basket of books. The expected note was tucked inside one of the books. "Music and reading for those slow days when paint drying on a wall would be more fascinating. You hardly ever take any time for you. Be sure to take a mini-vacation now and then. I'll be offended if you don't. Slavery went out a long spell ago." How did he do it? The books were exactly the kind she would have chosen for herself, the music was perfect, playing all day in the store. Whenever there was a lull and her tasks were done to her satisfaction, Jake was happy to catch her with her nose in a book. It gave him a little peace of mind to see her enjoying herself. He didn't think she was used to being happy. High time for her to start.

On Friday, Jake locked up the store and grabbed hold of Dixie's hand. He had made a habit of walking her home at the end of each day, regardless of her protests that it was unnecessary. Tonight, instead of heading to her trailer, he turned toward the little diner in town. They reached the door and he bowed. "After you, mademoiselle." Stepping inside was like stepping into the past with the feel of the fifties. A checkerboard floor of black and white tiles gleamed with polish, while customers had a choice of inviting seating: booths of heavy red padding and white table tops or a bar with red bar stools. A jukebox in the corner played oldies, providing the perfect background music for waitresses in white, jaunty caps, little, white dresses and red checked aprons that flitted around the room.

Dixie couldn't think of a better way to end the week. It appeared Jake Lee Jackson had made it his personal mission to spoil her. Perhaps that was how he treated every girl in his life. She felt a little stab of jealousy at the thought of others that went before her. Dixie didn't want to share. Jake had been making little steps into her heart and she was ready to throw the door open wide. She never wanted to wake up from this fairy tale or lose her Prince Charming.

Saturday finally rolled around. It was God-awful hot, clothes sticking to your skin, sweat dripping down your back, making everything start to droop kind of hot. Dixie stood in front of the fan, an ancient machine that barely turned, and let the breeze lift the hair away from her face. Jake sat on the stool at the counter, slumped over, a bottle of cold water pressed to his forehead. It was five minutes to closing time...and the clock crawled slower than molasses.

At two minutes to go, Jake stood up so fast, he nearly knocked his stool over and had to catch it. "That's it, we're done. I don't care what Daddy says. We have got to modernize and get air conditioning in this place. If I had a union, they'd be forming a protest. I'm surprised you haven't done it yet. Let's go." He held the door open for a smiling Dixie, shut off the fan and turned the key in the lock.

Dixie tipped her head back and laughed, a sweet musical sound she hadn't made nearly enough in her life so she was making up for lost time. She couldn't help giving in when Jake took his water bottle, dumped the whole thing over his head, and shook off like a dog. He turned to her and gave her that slow smile that made her insides melt every time and turned her brain to mush. "I don't know about you, sugar, but I need to cool off and there's a swimmin' hole just a small piece up the road that will do the job. You want to join me?"

They ambled down the country road, too hot to hurry, not that Southerners ever did. It was their way. A body would get there when it got there. Dixie found it easy to match her pace to the young man beside her. Jake pointed out places that were special to him and wildlife, both plants and animals, aplenty. Wide-eyed with appreciation, Dixie took in every word he said. She'd seen so little in her life before coming here. Her main scenery had been the inside of her house, the school, and the journey in between. She had only been smothered while a place like this could make her soar. Jake casually reached a hand out to her and she took it, feeling a little thrill go skittering her spine and something warm crept up inside that had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with the boy strolling by her side.

Jake felt a little zing of his own as he took one step closer to knocking down Dixie's walls. Stronger than Fort Sumter, sometimes he wasn't sure he'd ever make his way in. He hoped he'd have a patch of his own on her life quilt. Maybe she'd need to make a brand new one that was big enough to hold Jake. They ducked under a fence, crossed a field of wheat so high they couldn't see over the top, and made their way into a shaded wood. Deeper and deeper, it pulled them in until they were covered with sweat from head to toe and ready to climb into an icebox. The swimming hole appeared, a welcome escape, just in time.

Jake was not shy as he shucked his t-shirt and shimmied down his shorts all the way to his boxers, jumping in with a war whoop that would've made his namesakes proud. His breath came out in a hiss the moment he broke the surface. The blessed cool of the water felt like heaven on his overheated skin, pulled him under to dunk again and again. Dixie didn't need an invitation. The heat's sizzle must have affected her brain because she didn't have to think twice when she pulled her sundress over her head. Her bra and panties would have to make do as a bikini. She dove in and sighed with the cool rush that traveled from her head to her toes, making way to every inch of her body.

Jake swam over and tugged on her toe. They laughed and splashed, played like they were kids again until they became aware of each other and stilled. They were all alone...water dripped from their hair, down their backs and over their shoulders. They approached one another slowly, the pond rippling around them. Dixie placed her hands on Jake's shoulders and he gently put his on her hips, gauging her eyes before he took the tumble, falling into her. The kiss was slow and sweet, stopping time and raising the temperature within in a way that no water could cure. Jake leaned in closer and his hands wandered up her back only to freeze at the sensation of raised scars under his fingertips. Dixie tensed, her eyes widened, and the color spilled from her skin.

"Darlin', turn around... please." He spoke softly, his voice still like honey as always but with an unmistakable edge that meant, "Don't argue." The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. He suspected she'd spent plenty of experience being scared in her life, judging by the marks he'd felt on her body. Dixie closed her eyes tightly and slowly obliged, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. This was it. The clock had struck midnight, Cinderella was coming home from the ball, he would know the truth about her, and the fairy tale would end. She would go back to being who she was before, an invisible nothing, going nowhere, and no one would care. Where would she go next? What would she do without her friends?

He quietly inhaled, held his breath, and bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. Very lightly, Jake's fingers skimmed over her beautiful skin, marred by several raised circles that could only be made from the butts of cigarettes. Someone had committed an unspeakable horror, using that milky, white canvas as an ash tray. This was no accident. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep his voice calm. He wanted to scream and shout. He badly wanted to hurt whoever had hurt her, instill fear in the monster that stamped fear on Dixie's body. It still lurked in her eyes, had never truly left her. Now Jake had a taste of why. "Dixie, sugar,...who did this to you?"

His voice was soft velvet, soothing the raw places inside that she thought would never heal even though her body did. But Owen had left her physical reminders lest she forget...the poor excuse for a man made sure of that. Dixie took a deep breath and a shudder ran through her that had nothing to do with a chill. "It was my stepfather. His name is Owen Granville."

Was it the blood of generals long dead that boiled in his veins or perhaps the inbred code of honor of a Southern gentleman who knew the priceless value of a woman? A white hot anger practically blinded him. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could a man, a father for God's sake, lay his hands on someone like Dixie, on a girl, on someone in his charge? The scum had to be lowdown and dirty, committing an atrocity Jake could not have brought down on his worst enemy. Jake Lee Jackson could not stomach such behavior nor understand. He gently took Dixie's hand, turned her around, and tipped her chin up so she could look him in the eye. "Tell me about it."

Prince Charming still looked down at her. He hadn't run away. Maybe he really could rescue her from her nightmare. Nearly hysterical, she half expected a white horse to come charging to the scene. She took a deep breath and opened the door she'd kept locked since she ran away. "It started when I was four. That's when Owen Granville married my mother. Until then, it was just Mama and me. Mama somehow managed but life was very hard on her, supporting us all by herself and I'm sure she was lonely. Then one day, Owen walked into the diner where she worked. He must have been good to her, or maybe Mama was just tired of being alone so she let him in. I remember he was nice to me when he took me to a street carnival. He won me a teddy bear..."Her voice trailed off and her eyes were far away.

"They got married and that's when we found out what he was really like. He hurt me sometimes, usually somewhere that no one could see, but Mama got the worst of it. He hurt her so bad, she hardly ever went out. She was too scared to run away and I couldn't leave Mama, no matter what Owen did to us." Dixie's voice broke and the tears she'd held inside finally broke loose. "The day he did this...to my back...was the day Mama threatened to leave. He grabbed hold of me, pinned me to the floor with his knee in my back, and burned me, said he'd do a lot worse, make Mama watch and then he'd kill us both. Mama never risked it again, not after the way he hurt me."

Jake's hand was a gentle pressure on hers, practically a feather touch, reminding her he was there. "Your mother's death gave you the nerve to leave?" Amazing. That this sweet girl could be standing here today, not curled in a ball somewhere. He had a better understanding of the words, 'Steel Magnolia.'

The hurting place inside, just barely held together, opened wide once again. "When Mama died...her heart gave out, too weak to go on. She just couldn't take anymore and neither could I. I thought I'd die too if I stayed any longer. The day of her funeral, I made the decision to leave. I couldn't take being in that house, without her, all alone with him. I emptied her secret stash in a coffee can, packed my backpack, and skipped town while he was getting drunk at her memorial reception. I took the bus and when I had a chance, I got off at a truck stop and changed everything I could about the way I looked. What you see is what you get."

Jake opened his arms wide, and waited patiently, ready to catch her when she quietly fell to pieces. Trembling, sobbing, drowning in memories, she held on tight until there was nothing left and there was only the sound of her hiccups and breathing. Jake cupped her face in his hands and tipped her head so he could look in those eyes. "So, Miss Dixie. Who did you used to be?"

Shyly, she whispered, "Jamie Ann Ray after my father James, but that girl is gone now. I won't ever be her again." She stared down into the water, her reflection staring back up at her, shaken with ripples like her inner trembling. A pale face with eyes that had seen too much stared back at her. She closed her eyes shut, fighting to forget that girl.

He had finally been handed most of the pieces. Now it was up to Jake to glue her back together and never let her fall apart again. "There's something my Granddaddy used to say whenever there was trouble. He'd say, 'Boy, if God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.' That's what's happening for you, Dixie and here you are, on the other side and you'll never have to go back."

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Jake paced back and forth in his family's living room while his parents sat and waited to hear him out, for him to calm down, to pull himself together, if that was even possible. He'd just got back from walking Dixie home, had held her hand the whole way. They had not talked on the way back to her place. She didn't need talk. She just needed someone to be there for her. He couldn't stand leaving her, knowing what she had been through, realizing he'd only hit the tip of the iceberg. As soon as he arrived home, the storm brewing in his eyes had drawn his parents to him. If anything bothered their son, they were there to hear him out, support him, and offer any solutions. Jake couldn't think of an answer after what he had heard today. He had never personally known anyone who was treated in such away and it turned his stomach.

"He burned her! Can you believe that Daddy? Can you picture anyone doing such a thing to Mama? What kind of monster...I feel like I could be sick thinking of it. I think I could kill the man with my bare hands if I could only lay my hands on him and right now I want to hunt him down like the stinking, dirty dog that he is! God, I can't stand it, that someone would hurt her like that!" He stopped, breathing hard, and pressed his hands to the window sill, his head bowed as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to erase the image of her back. How many more scars did she carry both outside and within?

Sara Jackson stood and went to her son, laid a hand on his shoulder. She own heart ached with his pain and for Dixie. "I know that you're angry, Jake, and you make me so proud to stand up for her the same way you do for anything you believe in. But you can't let her see you this way. You already knew you had to be careful with her. Now you must think of her like delicate, spun glass. She's a treasure to be held very lightly, treated with every bit of gentleness and patience that you have or she could break."

Jake turned around and buried his face in his mother's shoulder but not before his father saw the intense emotion that marked his son's face, forcing James to turn around and give Jake some privacy and himself some modicum of control. He had been raised by the same code that dictated his son's life. One cherished the gift of a woman and anyone who abused that gift deserved to be whipped. "I am going to be everything she needs, Mama, and I'm going to start by giving her back the childhood she never had." His voice broke on the last and he pulled away, wiping at his eyes and rushing to the escape of his bedroom. He was going to crumble and Mama and Daddy didn't need to watch.

Sara went to her husband once Jake had left the room, wrapped her arms around his waist and felt the tension that stiffened his body like stone. She laid her head against his back. "It's unbelievable, James. I sensed that the girl had been through hard times but nothing like this. What can we do?'

He couldn't speak for a moment. When he did, his anger was barely held in check. "I'd like to find a tall tree and a short piece of rope for this Granville or tar and feather him but that wouldn't be good enough for him. For now, we'll be a support system for Dixie in any way necessary and I'm going to talk to our lawyer. I want to find out how we can protect her and see what recourse she has to make the man pay because he will pay, Sara. No one treats a girl that way, especially a girl our son loves." He turned around and took his wife in his arms.

Sara took comfort in his strength and his sense of honor. "Jake does love her which means we must love her too. I have faith in both you and God that all will be made right with Dixie. We have to make it so. Time and patience are what is needed and we have plenty of both. "

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Folks around those parts said Jake didn't have a mean bone in his body and the boy had a soft heart. He was the sort who walked old ladies across the road, carried the groceries out for an over-worked mother, set the field mice free from the traps that his Daddy set. On the other hand, Jake had never backed down from a challenge, not once in his life. He took on the bully in elementary school, a little worse for the wear, but came out on top. When it came to sports, he pushed himself to the limit, using his size, his strength or his brain to overcome. He set the bar high for his studies, nearly burning out but reaching his goals in record time.

But this challenge with Dixie...he didn't know what to do, only that he had to find out and fast. Jake lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, seeing Dixie—her ruined skin, the pain in her eyes, that beautiful smile that she could still put on even with all the hurting. No matter what he did to distract himself, he could not erase the images that had been branded in his memory. Imagine what it must be like for her to have lived through such horrors.

He tossed and turned, running through every possible scenario of what he would do with Owen Granville. He even toyed with the idea of hopping a train up North and hunting the man down. He'd be going into the belly of the enemy. In the Southern state of mind, the War Between the States was still fresh, the wounds barely healed. Wouldn't take much to rip off those scabs, make them bleed. It would take all he had to go up there but Jake would go in a heartbeat for Dixie. Press flaming cigars all over the man's body. Set him on fire, a living torch. That turn of thought only chased sleep further away. With no hope of relief, he went to his desk, turned on the light, and began to write. It was a list, a "Honey Do" List of everything he had to do with that sweet honey of a girl.

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Dixie went to bed that night, feeling so much lighter. It was as if a heavy stone had been pressing down on her shoulders, driving her down into the ground. To let someone know the truth, who she used to be, why she had left, even to say Owen's name aloud had somehow given him less power over her. She wasn't ready to tell anyone else, not yet, but she was glad Jake knew her secrets because she could open her heart to him and know that he would handle it with care.

She drifted off to sleep, smiling with the image of Jake as a knight in shining armor on a tall, majestic steed of white riding up to her door, scooping her up, and carrying her off into a sunset. Surprise, surprise, the happy ending couldn't hold, shattered when Owen's dark shadow came creeping in, bringing nightmares with him. He was there, next to her, standing over her bed, in the trailer. His harsh breathing filled her ear as the stubble of his beard scratched her cheek and the stench of alcohol nearly strangled her. She gagged and coughed, tried to gather enough breath to scream. His sweating fists closed around her arms and dug in until she thought they would cut to the bone and he yanked her from her bed, ready to throw her against the wall as nothing more than a piece of furniture.

Dixie sat up straight, the scream dying in her throat as she came awake. She was shaking, her face wet from crying, her heart pounding in her chest. She pulled on her shorts and t-shirt and ran out into the night, away from the memories. Eventually, she came to a meadow and stopped, breathing hard. No more running away. "I am Dixie Mason and I am strong and free. I do not run," she whispered to herself fiercely. She chanted the words over and over, getting louder and louder until finally a loud shout burst from her lungs. Say it like she meant what she said and the words would ring true.

Dixie might not be alone anymore, she might have others on her side, but it began with her. She should have stood up to Owen long ago, even if that meant going to the authorities to do so. One look at the marks on her body and they would have followed through. Someone would have done the right thing. Look what had happened when Dixie reached out down South. She could have gone when Owen was at work, made sure they protected Mama, got a –what was it called?—a restraining order. Hindsight was twenty- twenty but it was too late and it wouldn't fix anything. She couldn't bring Mama back but she did have the here and now. High time she made the best of what God gave her. She flung herself back onto the tall, cool grass of the meadow and stared up at the stars. It was true, what she told herself. She was strong, stronger than Owen and free to be whoever she wanted—and Dixie Mason was who she wanted to be.

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He made it as far as a truck stop in Scranton, Pennsylvania. By some rare stroke of luck, they were desperate for a bathroom attendant, even had a small closet of a room with a cot where he could sleep. It was unbelievable what pigs people could be in public bathrooms in ways they would never dare at home. Owen cleaned their filth each day and showered at the end of every shift, unable to stomach the stench that clung to his clothes and his skin. They supplied uniforms, a step up in clothing and he had a change on a daily basis. It made him want to spit, the level he had been reduced to thanks to the women in his life.

On the third or fourth week—it was hard to keep track when all the days ran to each other, Owen was scrubbing the women's bathroom when he noticed something black poking out from behind the garbage that was set in the wall. He put down his mop, pulled the bag liner out, and reached down, pulling at a piece of fabric until it came free and a dark puddle of material spilled into his hands. Looking closely, Owen realized that he held his wife's dress. He remembered buying the thing for his mother's funeral. He had thought it a strange coincidence that the label on the tag carried the same name as his wife, Laura Ray. She had wanted something else but he told her he knew what was good for her. The last time he saw it was when he pulled something out of the closet and threw a wadded up ball at the girl for Laura's funeral. As soon as he earned enough money, he would complete his trip, he would find her, and when he did, that girlie would get a welcome she'd never forget.

Chapter 9

Dixie flitted around her little kitchen, adding the finishing touches to her pies—Mama's pies, actually, they were her recipe—to bring to the fair. Sue Ellen and Thelma Louise had been baking up a storm and insisted Dixie join them. Jake's mother would be making her own contributions as well which meant Jake wouldn't miss it for the world. He'd told her the two girls he loved most were having a cook off—his heart was gone for sure.

Dixie smiled to herself at his choice of words. He had used the word love. That she was lovable, loved by someone as amazing as Jake...it still took her by surprise. If this was all a dream, she hoped she would never wake up. A bang at the door interrupted her thoughts, followed by the loud entrance of two outrageous women. Sue Ellen wore a get-up in a yellow that was bright enough to blind the eye while Thelma Louise made her presence well known with her laughter, thick and rich as melted chocolate.

"Dixie-honey, if those pies are any where's near as good as they smell, you have got us beat, hands down!" Sue Ellen puffed as she made her way in, arms filled with her own baked goods. She set down the box and eyed Dixie's outfit, shaking her head. "Unbelievable. Just look at her, Thelma Lou. The girl has got a body to die for, the face of an angel, looks good in anything, and she doesn't even know it!" Subtle was definitely not in Sue Ellen's vocabulary or wardrobe. She wore a yellow sundress and wide-brimmed hat, bringing to mind a big banana on the move. She'd give anything to be a natural beauty like Dixie in rolled up jeans and the simple, white peasant blouse she'd worn her first day of work. Her hair was a tumble down her back, catching fire in the sunlight when she moved. Somehow, she became prettier the longer she lived behind the guise of Dixie Mason, perhaps because she could finally wear her happiness without fear.

Thelma Louise reached into a bowl in the sink to get a finger full of apple pie filling. "Mmmm, sugar...this is it. You've got a winner. You are going to take them by storm this year at the fair. They won't forget Miss Dixie Mason, mark my words." She scooped up two pies in her ample arms, her white sundress swaying as she hummed her way outside. "Ooee..it is going to be a hot one today. Glad I wore my sandals and white. Let's load up the trunk of my car and head on over to that fair."

All three squeezed in the front. They were squeezed in tight like sardines but nobody paid any mind. More baked goods were in the back seat, making their mouths water and their stomachs rumble on the ride. "I just love the fair. Don't you, honey?" Sue Ellen inquired cheerfully.

Dixie dangled her hand out the car window, let the wind whip her hair back. If she was a bird, she'd get loose and fly. "I've only been once, when I was four. I can't even hardly remember it." Mama had taken her. Her heart ached for that little girl and all she missed, all Owen took from her.

"Only once! My Lord, Dixie, you and I have a whole lot of making up to do for lost time then. You are going to do it all, in style!" Sue Ellen squeezed her arm to make her point. "We'll hit all the vendors and shop 'til we drop, eat greasy, gooey food that will have to be scooped out of our arteries, find time for rides, and fit in winning the bake-off."

The fairgrounds were thirty minutes away, giving Sue Ellen and Thelma Louise a half hour to tell Dixie everything about the fair until her head was swimming and she was bursting with enthusiasm. They bounced their way across the large field that doubled as a parking lot, the rides and the midway towering over head. Children's laughter, music, animals, and the sound of motors revving at the truck pull washed over them the moment they got out of the car. Each woman carried a picnic basket laden with baked treats to woo the taste buds of the judges. Once in place, they were free to roam. Thelma Louise joined some friends of her own age group. "You kids don't need an old woman like me. Go on now and have fun. I'll see you at the ribbon ceremony."

Sue Ellen tugged Dixie to the ticket booth and bought them both wrist bands for the rides. "I insist, sugar. You're my guest at this fair and I'm making sure you have the best time ever. When you were little, it was your Mama's treat. This go around is on me!" They began a whirlwind of rides...the tilt o' whirl, the ferris wheel, the roller coaster, you name it, they tried it.

They'd just stepped off of a ride that shot them up in the air like a rocket, only to drop them down so fast Dixie was hunting for her stomach around the region of her toes. Someone's hands caught her and twirled her around. "Hey, good lookin,' what you got cookin,' Miss Dixie Cup?" Jake was a looker himself, in jean shorts and a white t-shirt that made his tan all that darker. He dropped a quick kiss on her nose, then her lips, and wrapped an arm around Sue Ellen and planted one on her cheek. "And you're looking mighty fine today too, Miss Sue Ellen."

Sue Ellen laughed and batted Jake on the head with a Chinese fan they'd picked up at one of the vendors. "You charmer. If we hadn't been friends since diapers, and if you weren't with Dixie, you'd have me following you around like a puppy dog. Well, kids, I'm plumb tuckered from the rides for a while. I'm going to go sit down in the shade and eat an ice cream. You two go have fun, you hear!" She slipped away before they could argue. The heat wave rolling off of the lovebirds was so intense, Sue Ellen needed a serious cool down.

Dixie shook her head. "That wasn't obvious, was it? What's this Dixie Cup you're calling me?" She leaned against a white picket fence that bordered one of the rides, her face tipped up to him expectantly. There was no doubt he was the sun in her sky.

Jake stared down at her, thinking that she reminded him of a sunflower, blooming brightly in the sun, outshining all the rest of the blossoms far below. "Boy," a voice whispered in his mind, "you are a goner." Taking a breath to anchor himself, he gave her that lop-sided grin and opened those summer green eyes real wide before pouring on the honey. "Why sugar, you are the cutest, sweetest, little thing I know, just like those itty-bitty cups that come in a tiny box with a special design on each one. You can't get anything more special than what I've got on this little package standing next to me."

How did he manage to do it every time? Her cheeks started to burn and her head was getting light. He made her forget how to talk for a moment. Dixie had to untangle her tongue. When she could catch her breath again, she asked lightly, "You been here long?"

Jake rolled his eyes and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Have I?! We were here at the crack of dawn. Even the roosters were still tucked snug in their beds. Not only does Mama enter her culinary delights each year, but she is on the set- up committee for every, single, plumb one of the display buildings. Guess who was recruited to help lug things in, hangs things up, move things around? I feel like a pack mule and if my back goes out before the day is done, you'll know why. The abuse I take, being the only son."

Dixie patted his cheek in sympathy. "Oh, you poor baby. You'll have to have some of my pie. It has curing powers. Mama says so!" A shadow passed over her face. Mama had actually told her that about her baking on a day when Owen had been particularly rough on his wife, leaving a trail of dark fingermarks on her neck and a puffed lip. Dixie had been six and cried to see it. Mama made the pie to cheer her up but no one was there to make Mama feel better. Dixie tried but she was only a child and even when she grew up, she was never big enough to stop Owen, too scared to try.

Jake squeezed her hand. "Where'd you go...missing your mama?" Every time he saw her hurt, he wanted to take all the shadows away and felt so helpless. Now that he knew more about her, he couldn't help but imagine the terrible things that happened to her and her mother. It filled him with a wasted anger, unable to go back in time and set things right. He had to remind himself he could only do something about today and whatever came next.

Dixie smiled although her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "Yes, she's never far from my mind, but how she would have loved all this!" She would not say more about Owen. Jake had heard enough. Why make him have to deal with the trash? It was bad enough that she still had to throw it out of her mind every time it cluttered up again.

"Then let me give you a good time for you and for your mama because I'm sure she's looking down on you, keeping an eye out and making sure you're all right." She gave him a sad, little smile and nodded. Jake pulled her down the dirt lanes, watching carefully for anything that might perk her right up. He stopped when he saw her glowing at the sight of a little girl with her face buried in cotton candy. The tyke had a curtain of dark, brown curls hanging down her back, blue eyes that sparkled, and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Her mother wiped cotton candy off her nose then her father scooped her up and set her on his shoulders, the music of her giggles trailing after her as they walked away.

Jake's heartache grew deeper. That little one could have been Dixie on her one visit to the fair. That little girl should have been Dixie, carefree, laughing, held by a circle of love. Jake cleared his throat and stepped up to the booth. "Two cotton candy sticks, please. I'd like one pink and one blue." Dixie stood close by, eyes wide with wonder, watching the worker twirl the white stick round and round the machine, building the confectionary treat. Jake couldn't get enough of watching her. For Dixie, everything was new, like seeing things through the eyes of a child. He handed the pink one to Dixie and kept the blue for himself then let himself enjoy the view. This was better than going to the movies, seeing her lean in too close and end up with pink goo all over her face. "Let me help you there, darlin.' You've made a right mess of yourself." He started at her forehead, licking the cotton candy from her eyebrows, moved down to her nose, finally landing on her lips. He licked his own in pleasure when he was done. "Nothing better than fresh made cotton candy...except when it comes with a pretty girl like you."

Laughter, sweet and pure, rang out and filled the air. "Jake Lee Jackson, you are shameless, just shameless. Let me try some of your blue. It's only fair since you ate some of mine." Dixie asked him playfully. She pulled off a piece to get a taste, tossed the gooey glob in his face and ran.

Sputtering, wiping the sticky mess off best he could, Jake tossed it in a garbage can and ran after her, keeping sight of the flame in her hair and her white shirt in the crowd. He finally caught up with her in the alley filled with games, both of them out of breath and bent over with laughter. "You got me good, girl. You've made a downright mess out of me." He quieted as he realized it was true. The girl had him turned inside out and upside down with no signs of stopping.

Dixie stepped in close and leaned her hands on his chest. "Let me see what I can do to fix you up." She proceeded to return his favor, taking a swipe at any spot on his face that had traces of blue, then moving to his generous mouth even though there was nothing left there. Scandalous, that's what she had become. She was way behind schedule when it came to boys. Time to catch up.

Jake pulse started to race and his belly twisted into knots tight as a pretzel. His toes curled up and it was hard to breathe. Oh, what this girl could do to him! She could even make him forget his name and he didn't care. The only thing he needed to remember was this girl in his arms and he was right where he belonged. Each time he saw Dixie, Jake felt like he was coming home.

"Well, if it isn't Jake Lee Jackson. I still can't believe you don't have better taste than to go dumpster diving." Carole Sue sneered. Laura Bell and Bobbi Jo stood close by with disdainful expressions marring their beauty. The three stood with hard smiles that looked fake, like everything else about them. They were shiny packages with all the trimmings but nothing inside the box.

There was a blaze in Jake's eyes, hot enough to burn Carole Sue to a cinder. "Carole Sue, my mama was right when she said someone ought to wash your mouth out with soap and put you over her knee for a spanking. I'll be happy to oblige right now. You're long overdue." His voice rose in volume and he took a step closer to her. His eyes held a dangerous glitter that meant business. The girls, who weren't good enough to be called that, turned tail and scurried away. Jake turned to see Dixie's cheeks flaming with anger and humiliation, but there was something else he didn't like—fear. Of him? His fingers were a feather touch on her cheek. "Don't pay her no mind. If you want to know the truth, she feels threatened by you. She's jealous of you because you're prettier. She's always tried to stomp out the competition. You know that movie, 'Mean Girls?' Princess there is the original. Carole Sue is just a spoiled brat who's had a silver spoon in her mouth her whole life."

"I wish she'd choke on that spoon. Let me be the first to cram it down her throat." Dixie glared after the girls, hot enough to set them on fire if they came close enough. Hands balled into fists, she looked like she could have been a Southern general if given the chance. The war might have gone the other way with Miss Dixie Mason in charge.

"Sugar gal, you look like one, tough cookie right now. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side. Let me see what I can do to make this up to you." Carnies called out from every booth on either side, tempting fellas to win one for their gals. Jake stopped when he saw one that was right up his alley.

"Step right up! Get three chances to knock down a bottle. Win your sweetheart a prize!" The man calling out was particularly rough around the edges with a scraggly beard, missing teeth, a pierced nose, and an assortment of tattoos that were not the least bit attractive. His eyes lit up in appreciation as the young couple drifted in his direction. Easy money, no doubt.

Dixie's expression was doubtful. "I really don't need a prize. Don't waste your money, Jake. Did you see that last couple? That fool boy spent about a week's worth of wages and they walked away with something that could've come from the dollar store. All of these things are rigged." She turned to leave.

"Hold up a minute, sugar gal. I've got the experience and have the inside scoop with this one." He blew on the first baseball and polished it on his shirt like it was an apple. All of his attention focused on the glass bottle that seemed much too far away. He pulled back and let it fly. There was a satisfying smash and the glass shattered to pieces.

"All right, buddy, pick your girl a prize," the worker told him half-heartedly. His hand swept the air, gesturing to a selection of small, pitiful prizes. They weren't even worth any mention. A row of medium stuffed animals sat above the slim pickings found at the bottom. The best of the best dangled at the top. Jake saw hardly anyone walking around with one of those and set his sights on the best. That's was the way he did things. Go all the way or don't go at all.

"I'm not done yet," Jake told him in a slow drawl with an easy grin. He let the next ball rocket through the air with the same result. "If I'm not mistaken, that means a medium prize. Why don't I have a go at one more?" He leaned over to give Dixie a kiss and let the last one go, making it three in a row. "Now, fancy that. This game can be won if you set your mind to it, just like anything else, right, sugar gal? Pick yourself out whatever you want, Dixie Cup!"

Positively glaring, the man pulled down a huge, golden retriever stuffed animal. Dixie buried her face in its fur. "I've always wanted a real one but this is the next best thing. Thank you, Jake. I love it." She returned the kiss on his cheek, those blue eyes shining. The clear sky above didn't have a thing on that girl. Jake put a hand to his heart and started to playfully stagger, giving Dixie no choice but to loop his arm over her shoulders. Snug as a bug in a rug.

It was Jake's turn to turn red. "Ah, sugar—it was nothing. I love to make them give those prizes away. What can I win next for you—wait a minute!" He slapped his forehead after glancing at his watch. "We've got to hurry! It's just about time for the ribbon ceremony for the baked goods and you'll be taking home a prize. My taste buds don't lie." He grabbed Dixie's hand and hurried her through the fairgrounds. He'd been there so many times, he knew the place with his eyes closed plus every short cut. They were huffing and puffing, red-faced and out of breath, but they made it just in time.

A large, round, balding man with glasses on the end of his nose and rosy cheeks was walking back and forth in front of the pies, ribbons in hand. He hemmed and he hawed, and took a few more bites of each. Dixie couldn't help but giggle. "He looks like he really enjoys the job of being the judge," she whispered to Jake. The size of his stomach suggested this was a man who had sampled many pieces of pie in his life and enjoyed them all.

Jake gave her a knowing grin. "Oh, yeah. Mayor Johnson loves to eat. That's why they've picked him as the area expert when it comes to sampling our ladies' finest sweets. Keep your fingers crossed, sugar. He's about to award the ribbons." The yellow third place ribbon went to Thelma Louise for her peach pie, anything with peaches being her specialty. The red second place ribbon went to Jake's mother for her strawberry rhubarb. She'd be pleased. She hadn't even placed last year and had been perfecting her recipe ever since. If Jake knew his mother, and he did, she'd be aiming for first place the following year. However, it looked like she'd best prepare herself for some serious competition. Finally, the blue ribbon for first prize was awarded to an apple pie. Not just any old apple pie, this one was a piece of heaven.

"This creation, by a Miss Dixie Mason, is just a slice of perfection. This little gal ought to open a bakery. Where is she? I'd like to shake her hand and see if I can get a special cook when the occasion calls for it." The mayor glanced around the room, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

"Why here she is, Mayor Johnson." Jake called out and gave a reluctant Dixie a little nudge forward. Dixie glanced back at him uncertainly, then pasted a smile on her face and stepped out of the crowd to approach the mayor. All heads turned to follow her progress. A smattering of applause rose up. Thelma Louise, Sue Ellen, and Sara Jackson set up a good cheering section of their own while Jake's whistle was the loudest sound of approval.

Mayor Johnson pumped her hand with a firm, warm grasp and gave her a smile that was equally welcoming. "Honey, this is the best pie I've ever had and I've had a lot of pie in my time. About the only thing I think it needs is a heap of ice cream piled up on the side. You think about selling it and I guarantee you'll be a success." He placed a medal over her head to accompany her ribbon. A photographer snapped a quick shot of the smiling duo.

Dixie beamed at his praise, smiling shyly at the applause of the crowd that had gathered. The only thing to mar the moment—Carole Sue fuming in the corner. She had not won first place for the first time in five years. She gave Dixie a look that could melt metal, turned and flounced away, leaving Dixie with the uncomfortable feeling that it wasn't over. However, her rival was soon forgotten as women surrounded her to congratulate her and welcome her to the fair. A banter began, like a bunch of hens clucking in the barn yard, passing round recipes. All of the baked goods were cut into small samples, fresh milk from the dairy exhibit was poured, and everyone enjoyed tucking away the sweet treats.

Dixie personally fed Jake samples of each pie, ending with hers. "I'm sorry I beat out your mama." She sought out his mother and was relieved to see her give Dixie a wink while chatting with friends. The older woman proved to be a wonderful sport when she raised a forkful of the prize winning prize and took a great bite. Those with her followed suit.

Jake held a hand over his heart and closed his eyes. "Oh, darling, don't worry your pretty, little head. She'll just ask for your recipe and recruit you to bake for her for whenever there is a need . She'll pay you well, too. She ought to. The mayor wasn't lying—this is incredible." They lingered a while longer, letting their stomachs settle and then it was time to hit the rides.

Darkness fell, colorful lights transforming the fairgrounds into a magical place. Dixie found herself sitting close to Jake on the Ferris wheel, their knees bumping, a little thrill running through her every time they went up and over, sending her stomach for a tumble. A lump of fear started in her throat and slid down fast to regions below when the ride came to a stop. They were perched at the tip top, the car rocking gently in the wind. She glanced down and her face went white with each sway of the car at such a height. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said breathlessly and closed her eyes tightly.

Jake took her hand. "Now, now, sugar, you'll be fine. Breathe through your nose and don't look down. Look up at the stars or out over the mountains...or at me." His voice was hushed, dropping down low, his hand tightening on hers.

Dixie opened her eyes and stared directly into the green of summertime, spring time, and Christmas trees, and everything wonderful that came to mind about that color. "It's not so bad when I have a view like this." She felt herself being drawn closer until her lips were stuck on his again. Her eyelids drifted down, her body went limp, and she let herself fall into him. She didn't mind if the ride never started again. With the power this boy had inside of him, it was a wonder that the South didn't win.

When they finally made their way off the ride, both were burning with thirst, throats parched until they were bone dry. Jake suspected it could not be remedied with any kind of drink but he went off in search of fresh squeezed lemonade while Dixie sat down on the grandstand bleachers to stare up at the stars. They were so bright and hung so close it was as if she could reach out and pull them out of the sky. She stretched her feet out and leaned her elbows on the seat behind her. A bit of a breeze picked up, soothing after a day that had been hot enough to melt ice cream the instant it was scooped in a cone. Tipping her head back, she filled her eyes with the glittery lights from above and imagined Mama was one of them, twinkling back at her.

"Ooh-ee, a pretty thing like you shouldn't be sitting out here by your little, old lonesome." A throaty voice slithered inside the shadows, the burning ember on the end of a cigarette making a red glow. A man stepped out of the darkness, his clothes smudged with dirt, stubble on his cheeks and dark hair straggling to his collar. He was tall and wiry from pushing his body in manual labor on a daily basis. His eyes glittered in the moonlight, hard dark stones in a face that was all angles. He dropped down next to her on the bench and brushed her arm with a calloused hand, making the hair rise on her skin. "What you say we take a walk, pretty girl? Find ourselves someplace more private like."

Dixie pulled her arm away, wary of the dangerous glint in those shadowy eyes. She'd seen those eyes before, set in a different face. Owen's. "Leave me alone. I'm waiting for someone. He'll be back any minute." She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, praying it was true, debating on the wisdom of staying or running.

He took a slow drag on his cigarette and reached out to brush a strand a hair out of her eyes. "Now, honey, we both know no one is coming for you. You might as well have a nice night with me." He reached out and skimmed his fingers over her cheek. Dixie felt herself die a little inside.

"Get your filthy carcass away from her or I'll make you pay!" Jake's voice was fire and steel all in one as he yanked the older man, at least five years his elder, maybe more, clear off the bleachers and sent him sprawling in the dirt. The drinks were forgotten, tossed to soak into the ground while Jake rounded on his opponent with the stance of a boxer. Thank God Daddy thought boxing, along with fencing, were essential to a Southern boy's education. Hours of practice at the punching bag and with an instructor made this a piece of cake. Hardly worth breaking a sweat. Tell that to Jake's heart, getting ready to gallop straight out of his chest.

The stranger hauled himself up to his feet and stood over Jake with the advantage of several inches. "I'd like to see you try, boy. I'm older than you and I've worked hard every day of my life. Give it your best shot. You don't look like you've done much more than pick up a silver spoon or two."

Looks were deceiving. Just because Jake came from a privileged background, that did not mean he didn't push his body to the limits. He made sure to do any kind of labor around his store rather than hire out. It gave him the satisfaction of making it his own. Beneath the polish and good clothes, there were better bones and hard muscle. One couldn't forget those distinguished ancestors either, coursing through his blood. He pulled back and launched a solid punch to the older man's jaw.

With a cry of surprise, the man threw himself at Jake. In the grunting and scuffle, neither saw Dixie slip away. It didn't take long. Jake sent the message loud and clear not to mess with him or his girl. Rubbing at his sore jaw, he stood firmly in place, shoulders set until the threat scuttled off with his tail between his legs to go back to one of the carny trailers. "It's all right, sugar gal. He won't bother you again." Jake turned around but no one was there. Heart hammering in his chest, he began to search. Never a dull moment around this one.

He found her curled up with her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly, beneath the grandstand. "Dixie, what are you doing hiding back here? That good for nothing is gone. I would never let him hurt you." He crept under the bleachers and sat down beside her, mirrored her position, and waited.

Her eyes were hidden in the shadows, her voice small. "It was the noise that always got to me...the yelling, the sound of his fists hitting her, skin on skin, Mama's crying. No matter how I hid, I couldn't get away from the noise." She pressed her head to her knees. Her shaking, begun when that scum first laid eyes on her, couldn't seem to stop.

Cautiously, Jake reached out and took her hand. "No more hiding, Dixie. I'm sorry about just now. I had to make a little ruckus. The likes of him need a big sound to scare him off. I would never hurt you or let you be hurt."

She squeezed his hand with a grip that became fierce. When she turned, the moonlight caught her eyes and lit up. Her feelings ran strong. "I know. There's been no one else like you. You're my Prince Charming. I can count on you, no matter what."

*************************************************************

"G'night, Dixie Cup. See ya on Monday. I'm missing you already." Jake made sure that sweet smile was on her mind when he drove away. Dixie sighed and sat down on the steps, taking a while to stare up at the dark canvas stretching out over her head. She pictured herself floating up into the sky, drifting around the stars, sinking into a cloud. The image was even better when she imagined Jake by her side. She started to nod off and almost fell off the steps. Time for bed. She went inside, put on her pajamas, and slipped under the covers. The window was open, letting a cool breeze slip in to play with her hair. The hum of the crickets in the field was a lullaby, carrying her away. Her Golden Retriever prize was tucked tight in her arms, her first animal friend for bedtime.

That night, she dreamed of Mama. They were in the meadow Dixie had run to the week before except this time it was day time. The sun was high overhead, the tall grasses were a deep green, and the wild flowers were popping up everywhere, blossoms of white, pink, yellow, and blue. Dixie felt like she had been walking forever when she reached the middle and stood still, wrapped up in a warm breeze. She was waiting, but for what?

"Jamie, love, I'm here." It was Mama's voice, that same sweet sound she knew so well but with something new added to it...pure happiness. Dixie turned around, blinded by the sun. She blinked, squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again and Mama was there, more beautiful than she'd ever been in their life together. Her big, blue eyes—Dixie's eyes—were bright with no more shadows left by Owen. Her hair was a dark, shining tumble, past her shoulders with a daisy tucked behind her ear. A simple, white dress floated in the soft wind. Her feet were bare and she stepped lightly, almost walking on air.

"Mama? I've missed you so much. Why did you have to leave, Mama?" Dixie felt the burning of tears, fought them only to let them fall. The sobs broke loose, shaking her to her core. Her mother opened her arms and gathered her in, holding on tight.

"Let it all go, sweetheart, let it go. I'm so sorry for all those wasted years, all the hurts. I should have protected you better. That's a Mama's job. I'm so proud of you, doing what I never could. I didn't want to leave you, baby, but my body just couldn't fight any longer. You're going to be all right. You're strong enough to do what I never could. Remember, I'm always watching and I love you so much. This is the Lord's day. Do something wonderful with it. That's what Grandma used to say."

She rested her hand, soft and warm, on Dixie's cheek then dropped a feather kiss on her lips. Their time together only lasted a moment before Mama slipped away, heading toward the sun. She was joined by the silhouette of a man who took her hand and then her head leaned against his. They both turned back to look at Dixie and waved. Dixie knew who it was. She had seen old photographs, could feel it in her gut. It was her daddy.

Dixie ran after them. "I will do something good with today, I promise, and every day. But wait, Mama, Daddy...I love you so much. Let me come with you. Don't go, please!" No matter how she ran, she couldn't catch up. They became two shadows that faded into the sun and the meadow disappeared. Dixie awoke to find herself in her bed in tangle of sheets, cheeks wet with tears once again.

She had heard that lost loved ones often came back in a dream. Dixie hoped that was true. It had felt so real. She reached up and felt her cheek where Mama had touched her and could swear she still felt the warmth of her hand. She had thought of Mama often since she had died but couldn't feel her presence. It had seemed that Mama was gone completely until that night. In the early morning light, she seemed closer than ever. Dixie hugged herself and smiled at the memory. Mama was so happy! And Daddy...finally they were back together again, where they belonged. It didn't matter that Dixie was on her own. She could live with that as long as Mama and Daddy would be waiting for her someday. She curled up in a ball, holding on to her puppy dog prize, and rebuilt the dream from the beginning.

The early morning light slid into dawn. Dixie knew what she wanted to do with this day. It was the Lord's day and she would start on the right foot in His house. She took extra care with her appearance that morning, scrubbing hard in the shower, making sure she was clean. It wouldn't do to have a speck of dirt in church. Searching her closet, she chose a dress Sue Ellen gave her. She'd outgrown it about age twelve or so and passed along the item in question and a bag of others because 'after all, honey, I'm not fittin' in those clothes by no stretch of the imagination.' It reminded Dixie of Mama's in her dream. Her hair was tamed with gel and pulled back in a simple braid. Just a hint of makeup and she was ready.

The walk on the back, country road was quiet except for the bird song and chorus of crickets. Turning into the lane of the little, white church, Dixie paused for a moment. Her only memory of church was one time with Mama when she was very small. It was Christmas Eve and the place was lit with candles, draped in greens, and filled with music from the choir. It was their last Christmas before Owen. Dixie had been mesmerized by the children re-enacting Baby Jesus's birth in the manger. At the end of the service, she even broke away from her mother to touch the baby doll to see if it was real. Mama had laughed and they went for dessert and hot chocolate in the diner where Mama worked, then went home. The next morning, Dixie woke up to find out Santa had left her a baby doll just like the one at church. She'd called it Jesus and went to bed with it every night. After Owen came, she held it close when she hid in the closet and she prayed Baby Jesus would take her and Mama away from that place. He only took Mama.

Aggravated with herself for crying again, Dixie wiped her eyes, picked up her chin, and resolutely strode on to the church. She didn't look back or think about her life before. Dixie Mason had no past, only the present and a future like a mystery package coming on her doorstep and no idea what was in it . She stepped inside to find a crowd of people already seated in the pews. A choir in robes of white trimmed in gold stood at the front with a large, wooden cross hanging on the wall for everyone to keep their focus. Her first temptation was to be a quiet mouse and sneak into a pew in the back but she stiffened her spine and headed to the front. She had just as much a right to be here as everyone else and she wanted to be up front, in the middle of everything, where she could feel closer to the Lord and His messengers.

Jake sat in the family pew, on the right, in the front row. His family had sat in this pew for at least four generations going back. He tugged at the tie that threatened to strangle him and straightened up from a slouch when he caught his mother's eye. What torture it had been as a boy to sit in an itchy suit with the mandatory tie on those hard, wooden seats for what felt like an eternity, listening to the preacher drone on and on. Time actually seemed to stand still, to go backward even, as he daydreamed of being anywhere else. Where were the likes of Tom and Huck now? When the preacher mentioned the fires of hell, Jake couldn't help thinking it had to be more interesting.

As he got older, he'd like to believe he had the maturity to appreciate the value of church. It built character, his granddaddy would always say. That might be so but Jake still wished he could be elsewhere, say with a particular girl with fire in her hair and the sky in her eyes. Something made him glance behind him and there she was, standing in the aisle, straight out of his head, searching for a seat. She looked like an angel in a white dress with nothing fancy about it except for the fact that she was wearing it. That alone made her look good. He nudged his mother who sat beside him. She followed his gaze, her face brightening with a smile, and whispered in her husband's ear. James Jackson nodded and with an echo of his son's smile, stood up and gave Dixie a slight bow.

Dixie lit up like a candle. There was no other way to describe her. She spoke softly, thanking the tall man who looked incredibly handsome in his white suit and pale blue shirt. Dixie knew—this was what Jake would look like in twenty years. She slipped past him, accepted a hug from Sara Jackson, and dropped down in the empty spot beside Jake. "Good morning, Jake. I'm surprised to see you up so early after our late night at the fair."

"Shoot, sugar gal, it don't matter none how late I was up. Even if I didn't sleep all night, I would be expected to go to church. It's a true Southerner's obligation to pay respects to the Lord on Sunday. The only time I ever missed mass, I was sick as a dog. Even then, I tried to make it out the door but passed out from the fever on my way down the steps. Mama near tanned my hide after that and made me promise never to pull a stunt like that again or she'd kill me. Up and dyin' wouldn't make the Lord happy." His eyes glinted with mischief as he peeked at his mother to see if she was listening. She shook a scolding finger at him, proving he should have known better. She was a mother. She saw all, heard all, and knew all.

The choir began, stopping conversation, and practically lifting Dixie from her seat, their voices were that pure and sweet. The preacher, young and filled with enthusiasm, spoke from the bottom of his heart. Dixie was certain souls were saved every time someone listened to the man. By the time it was over, she vowed she would live a better life, knowing the preacher could see straight to her heart. If he could see, then definitely God could too. She felt her cheeks grow hot and her stomach begin to churn. How would God feel about her lying about her name, changing her looks, leaving her step-father behind? She'd have to wait until the Day of Reckoning to find out.

Jake offered his arm as they stepped into the aisle, a chivalrous gesture that recalled days of old. He took note of her change in color and frowned in concern. "Dixie, are you feeling all right, sugar?" They walked outside to be met by a wall of heat and light. He laid a hand on top of hers, giving her a connection.

Dixie raised a hand to shield her eyes and become accustomed to the contrast from the darker interior of the church. "Oh, I'm fine. I think the heat's getting to me a little. I'm still not quite used to this after living up north in the cold for so long." They had no idea how cold it had been, in every way.

James Jackson laid a hand on her shoulders in a fatherly manner. "What you need is a good meal in a pleasantly cool atmosphere. Won't you join us for lunch? We always have room for one more at the table." He smiled at her encouragingly and waited expectantly.

Sara linked her arm with Dixie's, forming a chain with her son. "Dixie, we insist. Please come. We'd all enjoy your company." She met her son's eyes and read his message loud and clear. Complete agreement was the only way to interpret the bolt of green he sent along with that honey dripping, stomach dropping, breath-catching smile, a smile that not only worked on Dixie. It had been perfected on melting the heart of a mother.

Dixie let herself be carried away by their kindness. "I'd like that very much." She felt Sara give her arm a reassuring squeeze then watched her walk ahead, arm and arm with her husband. One couldn't help but admire the couple. They carried themselves with grace and confidence, like a king and queen in a fairy tale. Why wouldn't they? Both were attractive, had the benefit of wealth, heritage, and education. Dixie would do her best to emulate them but she knew she didn't have a chance in ever being their equals.

A white Cadillac sat in the shade of a tree. Jake opened the door for Dixie, a mirror image of his father paying the same courtesy to his mother. Jake slid in next to Dixie in the back seat, his father settled himself behind the wheel, and they took a pleasant drive through the country on winding roads, enjoying the scenery and light conversation. Dixie's jaw dropped when they turned into a tree-lined drive that seemed to go on forever, a canopy of leaves forming high overhead that covered them with shade and dapples of sunlight. The lane finally opened up in front of a gorgeous, Southern estate. It towered above them, a majestic queen of architecture in white with black trim and pillars lining the porch. "Wow!" Dixie murmured, unable to say more. At any moment, she expected to see ladies in dresses that formed bells around them with parasols, hanging on the arms of men in suits that looked like the colonel from Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Jake couldn't help but laugh at her expression, but when he spoke it was with great reverence. "Yes, it's something. This is the real deal, a Southern plantation home. As I mentioned before, most of them were burnt, ransacked, and they're long gone. All that remains are paintings or the tales of old men and women passed down by their ancestors. Whispering Willows still stands mainly because the family that owned it banded together and fought those damn Yankees—pardon the expression." He raised his eyebrows apologetically. "I hear Mrs. Willows even threw potatoes. Whatever they had on hand, they made do. It's a Southern thing."

Looking at Jake's tall, strong body, with his shoulders held firm and his eyes glowing with pride, Dixie had no doubt that he could hold his own ground with whatever he had within reach. Home, family, and his values were things he held dear and he'd defend them with all that he had. Definitely a Southern thing. Dixie stared at the home before her and the close-knit family at her side and wished more than anything she could go back in time to see the Confederacy in its true glory. It had to be quite the sight to behold.

James held out an arm for Sara to take and he escorted her up the stairway to the door that was held open by a man in a white suit. Jake waited expectantly for Dixie until she followed suit. Shaking her head in wonder, she followed his parents inside a grand entryway with a huge chandelier dangling overhead. Hold that thought about the past; the present was amazing in itself. The man in white, quite distinguished with a sweep of dark hair streaked with silver, led them through a formal dining room out to the veranda. Several other diners were already seated while a piano played softly in the corner, adding to the atmosphere. He seated each woman and bowed to the men. "I am Louis, your maître'd. Robert, your waiter will be with you presently but if you have anything you need, come see me." The words flowed out, taking their sweet time, dropping down low. What was it about a Southern accent?

Jake loved the dazed expression on Dixie's face. "How do you like it, sugar gal?" He made a sweeping gesture of the tables draped in fine linen with fresh flowers and candles burning on every one. From beyond the veranda, there was an incredible, lush garden and lawn stretching to a river. Jake's parents were patient, giving the girl time to find her voice.

"This is the most beautiful place. I've never been to any place like it. I never even went to a restaurant before in my life, unless you count McDonald's. Mama took me there, once or twice." She turned to them with wide eyes, the eyes of a child dazzled by the wonders of the world.

Jake took her hand, his heart suddenly hurting. To have never gone to a restaurant. Things like that would pop out of her mouth, have him running into a brick wall, stumped on how to climb it. "I'm going to have to remedy that and take you to all the good places around here. Mind you, they aren't all fancy, are they, Daddy?"

James laughed, his green eyes twinkling. "Oh no! Wait until you try Big Mama's Catch of the Day! That place is rough around the edges but it's the best place for hush puppies and fresh fish. Do you remember the first time we went there, Sara?"

Sara smiled, looking like a young girl again as she pressed a hand to his chest. "I wanted to kill you! I'd never set foot in such a disgrace! The shack looked like it was about to fall down, we were the only white people there—I thought they'd lynch us—and then the boy cleaning tables dumped my drink down my blouse. That first date was almost our last!"

James took her hand then, his expression softening in memory of that day. "Until you had your first bite and you were done for. I'll never forget it. I was hooked on you, right from the start. You have no idea how beautiful you looked, steaming mad and drenched in iced tea. What did make you stay long enough for the meal to arrive?"

His wife became lost in her husband's gaze. "Because you had me from the beginning. Watching you in that place, looking like you were in your element, at home no matter where you went or who you were with. Never too high or afraid to get down low. You made yourself belong. I was afraid that if I walked away, somebody else would settle right in like two peas in a pod."

James leaned forward to brush her cheek with his lips. "Never. You've got me for good, darling.' You can't shake me because I'm stuck on you like bees swarmin' around the honey." They were interrupted by the arrival of their waiter, a handsome blonde man also dressed in white with a royal blue vest that made him very dashing. Jake's parents broke apart, laughing softly, and turned their attention to the menu.

Dixie placed her order, a feat in itself with the wide variety of selections, then sat back and soaked the place in. She attempted to concentrate and make conversation when Jake or his parents spoke to her, but mostly, she was quiet, lost in thought. She found herself drawn time and again to Jake's parents, the way they looked at one another, their caring words and gestures. There was no doubt that the son had learned from two, excellent role models. A lump formed in Dixie's throat, making it hard to swallow and her eyes inexplicably filled with tears. "Please excuse me," she murmured and rushed away from the table.

Jake stood up, ready to go after her, when his mother touched his arm. "Let me see if I can help," she told him and followed the younger woman's retreating figure. Sara walked into the bathroom to hear the sound of soft crying from one of the stalls. She stood by the door and touched it, wishing she could reach inside and stop the hurting. "Dixie, honey, are you all right? What can I do to help?"

Dixie cleared her throat and stepped outside, wiping at her cheeks, trying to hide the evidence. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Jackson. This is so nice of all of you. I don't mean to ruin your afternoon. You've been nothing but good to me, treating me like a princess. I feel like I'm getting every little girl's dream but I don't belong here. I keep expecting you'll realize that and show me the door."

She looked so sad, so lost. Sara's heart went out to her. She looped an arm around Dixie's waist and led her over to the wicker sofa in the sitting room attached to the Ladies' Room. "You are wrong about that one, sweetheart. The good Lord brought you our way and our son needs you like the very air that he breathes. Let's take a moment so you can collect your thoughts. Something has upset you. What is it, honey?"

The comfort and closeness of a mother, someone Dixie missed terribly, were too much. The tears, barely stopped, started flowing again. "It's just...I sit and watch you and Mr. Jackson...and I think of Mama. That's how it was supposed to be for her, how people should treat one another. She should have had that instead of...that monster. I think that's why she died...it was a broken heart. I should have done something, should have reported him, should have made her leave. Why didn't I do something?"

Sara took a delicate handkerchief, a bit of lacy nonsense, from her purse and handed it to Dixie and gathered her hand in her own, struggling to keep her own voice steady. "Honey, you were only a child. You were afraid and didn't know where to turn. It's not your fault or your mother's. The blame rests on your step-father and the many people in your life that should have done something. Don't waste another moment tearing yourself apart. We can't bring back your mother. We can't do anything about the past. But I'll promise you one thing, Dixie Cup," Jake's endearment brought a smile in return. "We're going to do everything in our power—Mr. Jackson, myself, and Jake especially—to make now and what's next as wonderful as you."

Dixie fell into her arms. "Thank you for everything you've done, Mrs. Jackson. You're good people who pay it forward. It's something new for me to get used to." They took a few minutes to regain their composure. Dixie felt lighter as they walked back out to the table and made sure she wore a smile.

Jake pulled out her chair, his beautiful eyes centered only on her. "Are you all right, sugar gal?" He'd been taking in a lesson in patience from his father. Prepared to barge into the ladies' room in one swoop, James suggested his son have better sense. Seeing Dixie's red-rimmed eyes did something to his insides. There'd be no more reason for crying, that was his vow, a promise he made to himself as her dress rustled beside him and the breeze played with a strand of her hair against her cheek. What he wouldn't give to be the breeze, easy and free, able to carry her away.

"I am now. Your mother is an amazing woman." She sent an appreciative smile across the table to Jake's parents. His hand found hers and gave her a squeeze. Amazing appeared to run in the family.

Jake nodded toward his mother, reverence in his words and gaze. "All that I am and all that I hope to be I owe to my mother. Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. He must have been a smart man. More Mamas like you in the world and there'd be no more wars."

Sara blushed and waved him away. "You unbelievable charmer, you!" Their waiter arrived at that moment to deliver tantalizing dishes and refill their drinks. The table grew quiet as everyone devoted their attention to an incredible meal. After appetizers, salad and dinner, a dessert cart arrived with treats that looked too good to possibly turn down even though everyone was stuffed. Dixie studied everyone's behavior, where to put the napkin, which fork to use when, how to sit up straight. Jake continued to send her into a tailspin. He might only be 19 years old but he was much wiser, wearing responsibility and his heritage well. The give and take in conversation with his parents, the ease of shifting from topics of business at the store and the national news—she could hardly keep up and yet, being with Jake put her at ease. Dixie needed a grown-up because she had grown up fast herself.

They walked out of the restaurant at four o'clock , barely able to move. James suggested a walk on the grounds, through the gardens and down to the river. They sat down on benches by the water, enjoying a gentle breeze and the beautiful willows drooping into the river that gave the old plantation its name. Swans drifted by, so beautiful they almost made Dixie cry again. Everything was too much. It actually hurt.

James leaned back and toyed with his wife's dark hair, so like his son's. "So, darlin', what would you like to do on the rest of this blessed day?" His words were slow and lazy. In no hurry to let the day end, he was willing to make it stretch. The means to that end was up to his wife.

Sara let herself sink into his supporting arm. "Going home and being sinfully idle sounds perfect to me. We can go out on the patio, share a chaise lounge. I do believe that is what the Lord intended after working hard all week. How about you kids?"

Jake sat with his arm around Dixie, mesmerized by the sunlight setting fire to her hair as it was caught by the breeze. "Mmmm, I can't think right now, I'm so full and sleepy...wait a minute. How about the drive-in movies? There's a good double-feature and plenty of popcorn. What do you say, Dixie Cup?"

***************************************************************

Jake dropped by Nichols' Lane that afternoon in the work pick-up. Before the movies, they took a detour into the small, neighboring town of Gerrardstown. He had done his homework and pulled up in front of a sweet cottage in the village, set back against the trees. He nodded his head in appreciation, pulling out his pride. "This little mouse of a house may not look like much but it's a historical landmark, sugar gal. Turns out you've got some strong Southern roots tying you down and they started growing right here. Take a look at your great grandmama's place. It was built by Calvin William's, a very distinguished soldier in the Southern war. He saved an entire company of men and lost his leg to boot."

He took pause long enough to bow his head in recognition to a venerable ancestry. "I checked the records and this was Grace William's place. Calvin was her husband's grandfather. It stayed in the family for a short time and then it was sold. You've got something to be proud of, just like me. A piece of you belongs here. No wonder you're blooming where you planted."

Dixie got out of the truck, walked up to the white, picket fence and let it hold her for a while. The wood was warmed by the sun, strong beneath her hands. Hold on long enough and maybe some would rub off along with the past. She pictured a white-haired woman in an apron rocking on the steps, shelling peas, and a brown-haired little imp of a girl running through the yard, barefoot, wearing a smile that was competing with the strawberry jam on her face. Dixie felt a shift, a little peace finding a way in, full circle in the place where Mama had found happiness. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jake standing by the truck, giving her privacy. She reached a hand out to him and he came forward to take it. "Thank you. You are so sweet going out of the way to track bits of the past down for me. How can I ever repay you?"

Jake shrugged. "It's nothing, sugar gal. History was my favorite subject and I eat up anything I can about the South. Now in days gone by, a girl would have given a boy a token of her favor, a hanky or a perfumed note. How about a little ol' kiss to tide me over for now?" Dixie stood up on tiptoe, happy to oblige.

The minutes slid one into another until they didn't know where the time went, something that tended to happen a lot when they were together. Dixie found herself in the work pick-up truck at the local drive in that night. Excitement bubbled up, making her tap her feet and fidget in her seat on another round of firsts—her first movie with a boy and first trip to a drive-in. Dusk was skipping into darkness when Dixie stood in line with Jake for popcorn and sodas. She slipped into the bathroom to freshen up. Just a final dab of lip gloss and swish of the brush through her hair until she'd be back by Jake's side when an unwelcome voice was heard leaving a stall.

"Well, well...if it isn't the incredibly over-rated Miss Dixie Mason. I saw you come in with Jake and I must tell you, he is way out of your league, honey. The Jacksons are a true Southern family that only marries into other equally wealthy, well-bred Southern families. They've never gone with an outsider and they're certainly not going with a gaudy, glitzy excuse for a lady like you. A northerner of all things unspeakable! You'd better walk away before you embarrass yourself." Carole Sue's words practically dripped venom. She stepped up to the sink next to Dixie, crowding her and practically pushing her out of the way.

Dixie had no doubt—the girl would claw her eyes out if she could get away with it. What Carole Sue didn't know was Dixie had sprouted a good set of sharp claws of her own. She pushed herself up against the Southern belle and stared her down, sparks spitting from her eyes. "Let's get something straight, Miss Carole Sue. I've been stepped on and put down for most of my life but I promised myself I won't let that happen ever again and definitely not from some annoying little bug like you. So let me make myself very clear," Dixie's voice dropped low and she jabbed a finger at Carole Sue's ample chest. "I didn't choose Jake, he chose me, something that obviously put a bee in your bonnet because you can't have him. You already lost your chance, long before I kicked up any dust in this town. Truth be told, you're not good enough for him so back off and find someone as miserable as yourself to sit on your high horse with you. I'm sure you'll both fall off soon enough." Dixie turned and marched out of the bathroom, her cheeks flaming and breathing hard. She didn't look back but held her head high like the Confederate flag waving next to Jackson's General, a rallying sign any time her spirits dropped down to her shoes.

Jake eyed her suspiciously. "All right, what happened, sugar-gal? Something's got your goat." He glanced from left to right, looking for trouble. It didn't take him long to find it in the form of Carole Sue and her minions, sending dagger eyes their way. He reached for the handle. Somebody had to put them in their place.

Dixie grabbed his arm. "Stay. I've dealt with it already. There was just an annoying gnat in the rest room. I stomped on it and I don't think she will bother me again." She slid closer to Jake, shared his soda and let him rest his arm on her shoulders. She made sure to give Carole Sue an eye-full when she pressed her lips to Jake's in a kiss that was hot enough to melt butter.

Laura Bell shook her head in disgust, sitting in between Carole Sue and Bobbi Jo in Carole Sue's daddy's Mercedes. "How can you stand it, Carole Sue? That no good hussy with the likes of Jake Jackson. It's plain wrong. Somebody has got to knock that girl down a few pegs, put her in her place."

Bobbi Jo took a noisy slurp of her drink and crinkled her nose. "Really, when we all know you've always had your heart set on him. What's wrong with him anyway? You two would make the perfect couple. Why, everyone has married you two off since you started to walk."

Carole Sue stared at the two across the way, still locked together, and anger burned in the pit of her stomach. A sip of her drink did nothing to cool her down. She could practically feel the steam coming off of the top of her head. "It's not Jake's fault that witch has got him under her spell. Don't you worry, girls. I'll take care of her. Somehow, someway, she'll get what she deserves and we'll run that Yankee tail back up to the northern side of the tracks."

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Owen made it as far as Maryland on a broken-down bus. He had the clothes on his back, enough money for a few meals, and a thumb for hitching rides. The wall of heat was nearly unbearable, almost doing him in after New York's bite. How did they live like this? Moving forward, the days ran into one another while the nights were spent sleeping in the hay of an open barn or under a tree. He walked along back country roads, taking twice as long. It was too dangerous to stay on the interstate. The skies opened up. Why should he expect otherwise, the way his life was going since Laura left him? Because that was what she had done, in his mind. She had deserted him and then...that blasted girl abandoned him too. It was his duty as her parent to hunt her down and teach her a lesson.

Nine cars out of ten passed him by, but he managed to get rides and slowly make his way until he crossed the border into West Virginia. A bus had a flat tire on the side of the road. Owen offered to change it for a ride, making it that much closer to his destination. But first...he needed a sleep and a drink or two. Who was he kidding? He needed a whole bottle. He forked over the last of his money ,really going in style to sleep in a dive with a cheap bottle of rotgut to see him through the night.

Chapter 10

Dixie kicked off her shoes as soon as she walked in the door. It had been a long, hot week at Jackson's General. How people lived in this heat without air conditioners, she did not know. The trailer was absolutely steaming when she opened the door. She propped it wide open, heedless of the flies that would find their way in, and turned on the fans she had purchased for each room. They managed to shift the air, just barely. She hit the shower, leaving it on the coldest setting, shivering and loving every minute. If she could, she'd dive into a pool of ice cubes! She climbed out, put on shorts and a little halter top, then pulled her hair up in a knot on top of her head. A cold glass of ice tea and a wet towel accompanied her to her lounge chair in the shade.

Her thoughts turned to Jake, as they so often did more and more. Being with Jake was fireworks on the fourth of July, pop rocks and soda pop, and a rollercoaster all at once. Sitting on the edge of her seat, white knuckles popping out from gripping the car, stomach flopping like a fish on land and never wanting to get off the ride. That train of thought had her temperature spiking and the sweat running down her skin. Get any hotter and she'd be a puddle. Eventually she dozed off, easy to do when it was so God-awful hot, even with the pictures of Jake running through her head. When she woke up, darkness had fallen and Dixie was so sticky, she didn't think she could peel herself off the chair. The air was heavy enough to be pressing down on her until it was hard to get any more air into her lungs. There was an odd stillness to the night. Nothing moved, not even a breath of a breeze when lightning split the sky.

The sound of a fast approaching vehicle came from the road and Jake's truck was peeling into her drive. Jake jumped out and ran to Dixie's door. "Dixie! Where are you, sugar gal?" There was urgency in his voice. Dixie ran around from the back where she'd been glued to her chair.

"Jake, I'm right here. What's the matter? I thought you were going out fishing with your daddy tonight." She took his arm, cooled down fast by the fear in his eyes. Tension was nearly crackling off of him at a touch, and in his eyes, a live wire and that scared her more. Jake lived the Southern way which meant laid back, take it slow and easy.

Jake took hold of her arm. "Grab anything that's really important to you, Dixie Cup, because the Big Bad Wolf is about to come knockin.' A tornado is on its way and we don't have long. They're evacuating all the trailer parks in the area. Hurry! We have got to scoot. This place will be nothing more than a toaster blowing about if that thing lands right on top of us." He and his father had been ready to go out on the boat when the weather alert was announced on the radio. Jake had dropped everything and broke all traffic laws, frantic to get to Dixie and beat the storm. Anyone living in one of these tin cans didn't stand a chance.

Dixie rushed inside, grabbed her purse, her coffee can with a stash of money, and her photo album. Jake was already standing by the truck, holding the door and the wind had started to pick up. Clouds were rolling in and the lightning flashed in increasing bursts across the sky. Dixie reached the door and climbed in then reached out for Jake, running her free hand nervously through her hair that had fallen down from its knot. "Wait, Jake. We've got to make sure Thelma Lou and Sue Ellen are safe and what about the others? What if they don't know? Where can they go?"

Jake shook his head. "Always looking out for people, aren't you, sugar? The elementary school down the road is the shelter. Anyone who's watched the news should have headed there and we don't have time..." He took one look at her face and knew she wasn't accepting no for an answer. "But we'll check quick on your neighbors." They circled the neighborhood. Sue Ellen and her mother were home without a vehicle. They climbed up into the back of Jake's truck with his help, followed by a grateful Thelma Louise who would not drive at night in a storm, "No way, honey child, no how!" They went down the remaining lanes, Jake gripping the wheel, anxiously eyeing the sky, praying they had enough time. Most everyone else must have heard the weather report. A mother with five little ones gratefully accepted a ride along with none other than Slick Nichols, who didn't have a running vehicle at the moment although there were several of ill repute clustered around his trailer.

Jake stepped on the gas and flew to the peace of mind in the solid, brick building down a blessedly short strip of road. With Dixie's help, they herded everyone inside where a crowd was gathered in the gymnasium. Jake found a corner and sat down, giving Dixie a little tug. "Come on, sugar gal. Set yourself down, put those arms around my neck, and keep me safe. I'm feeling a little scared." He teased, letting his grin slide up to his eyes.

Dixie closed her eyes as the thunder crashed outside. "This is my first tornado. All I can think about is "Twister." What if the wolf gets in, blows the house down?" Maybe if she yammered on enough, she could forget about the weather. If they were lucky, they'd all be laughing when this little storm blew over.

Jake shook his head. "Now, Dixie, you know I'm smarter than that. I picked the bricks. This place will hold. Hopefully, the weather will turn out to be a pussy cat. Hey, it might skip right over us." He gave her a squeeze of encouragement which settled the butterflies in Dixie's stomach until the lights went out. "Don't worry, sugar gal. That happens when we get a little rain and wind blowing about." He held her tightly, clamping down on the fear that kept snapping at him. Not for himself. For Dixie, Mama and Daddy back home, and these people gathered round. There was a moment of absolute silence and a horrendous clamor like a freight train rushing by, just outside the building. The walls shook, babies cried, and children screamed while mothers and fathers tried to offer comfort.

Dixie huddled in close to Jake, praying his arms were strong enough to hold off the world. If anyone could keep her safe, she knew it would be this boy—no, man. In some ways, she was brought back to her younger years, hiding in the dark, in the closet, scared to death while a storm went on outside her bedroom. Except the storm had been man-made, brought down by Owen and this time, even though she was terrified, she was not alone. She'd rather take on nature and believed she would make it through. There would be light at the end of the tunnel.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. A gentle rain washed over the building, startling after the raging thunder only moments before. Someone turned the generator on, flooding the room in light. Around the room, families clung to each other, thankful to have been spared. Jake gave Dixie a hug and breathed a sigh of relief. "We're all right, Dixie Cup. Let's go out and see the damages." He took her hand and led her outside.

"Oh...my...God." Dixie stopped, unable to believe the destruction around her. The worst that had happened up North were some branches in the road, a little water damage. Mama had to get out pots and pans to catch all of the leaks. Here the trees were torn out of the ground, roots trailing out of them, tossed pell mell like nothing more than twigs. Vehicles were turned over or on their side, carried far from their original spot, some piled on each other like a child's toy box. Miraculously, Jake's truck, tucked in against the building, had made it through although a tree limb had shattered a window. The others straggled out of the school, dumbfounded and in disbelief.

Jake loaded up his passengers, brushed the glass off of his seat, and they made the journey back to the trailer park. Everyone was on pins and needles, wondering what would await them at home. The ride took three times as long as they dodged trees, avoided downed power lines, and had to take a detour through a farmer's field. When they did finally make it to the park, Jake's jaw dropped. One lane of trailers was flattened like a giant had walked through and stomped on them. Trees were gone, debris was everywhere, and cars, as if no more than Matchbox toys, had landed on top of some of the trailers.

Sobbing broke out and wailing from the back of the truck. The mother of five had lost her home. Slick's had been damaged, all of the windows knocked out and the door yanked off, some of the vehicles laying haphazard in farfetched places. The homes of Thelma Louise, Sue Ellen, and Dixie, as well as the three other lanes of the park had been spared. Jake pulled over and set to work to begin the heart and back-breaking task of helping the people who had lost everything. The girls pitched in without missing a beat. A call was put in to the local fire department to update them on the situation and everyone in the park pooled together their efforts to clear up what they could and salvage anything possible.

Dixie ushered the homeless family, that had shared the back of the truck, into her trailer to settle in for the night. They would go to stay with relatives the next day. Thelma Louise whipped up some dinner while Sue Ellen brought blankets and pajamas thanks to an extra stash her mother kept on hand for the children they babysat. Dixie went back out, brought cold drinks to the men working outside, and added an extra set of hands but she felt so small looking at all the damage around her, like Jamie Ann Ray shrinking away from Owen's marks on her Mama.

In the wee hours of the morning, the local fire departments and emergency response team took over the operation. Jake leaned up against his truck, the only thing keeping him from falling flat on the ground. Right about then, it was looking like an inviting place to be. His face was streaked with dirt, his body covered with sweat, and so tired he could barely stand. "I think we've done all that we can tonight." He still managed to give Dixie his crooked grin but it wouldn't take much to chase it away. "I'm beat, Dixie Cup, feeling like a grown-up tonight and can't say that I'm partial to the experience."

She took his hand. She was equally filthy and exhausted but her baby blues were shining bright looking up at her Prince Charming. " Thank you so much. You didn't have to do this. None of these people belong to you." She had watched him with wonder all night long as he proved himself to be a natural leader, organizing crews and pitching in no matter how hard the job. He had worked himself to the bone with no reward except for the assistance to these average people who struggled to make ends meet. Every word was true that Mr. Jefferson had said about him the day of the dumpster dive.

"It doesn't matter that they're not mine, Dixie Cup. They're important to you. Besides, they may not be my family and friends but they're my people and we've all got to help each other out of the bad times to get to the good. That's just our way down here. We pull together and we look after our own. What do you think got us this far in the first place?"

Dixie leaned up against him and pressed her head to his chest. "I wish I had more people like you in my life." A hush fell between them while the sounds of the workers continued in the background. "Growing up, I had one person that stood between me and the world—my Mama and she wasn't big enough." Her voice got smaller and smaller on its way to fading to nothing.

Jake laid a hand on her head, unable to hide its trembling. When he spoke, his voice shook ever so slightly, stirred up by this sweet girl. "With all my heart, I wish the same, sugar gal." He pressed his hand under her chin until her deep, blue eyes met his. "Mama always says that there are blessings within every heartache. If I could, I would go back in time to take away the hurts that were done to you but I can't. What I can do is thank God the road carried you to me. If your life had been any different, you wouldn't be standing in front of me now."

Dixie's hands traveled upward as if of their own will to cup Jake's face in her hands. "I thank God for you too, Jake. I didn't think He was watching out for me until I found you." She closed her eyes with a smile as his forehead found its place, leaning on hers. They let the world go away for a while longer, holding each other up when they were both ready to fall.

Jake was the first to break the silence. "Sugar gal, we need to get some sleep. Your place is occupied tonight. Why don't you come on over to our place? I let Mama know that we're okay and she's already got the guest room ready for you because she hoped you would say yes."

Dixie nodded. "All right. Let me just tell Sue Ellen so she can make sure the Andersons are taken care of and my place is locked up." She plodded down the lane to Sue Ellen's, amazed to find the girl awake, cooking with Thelma Louise for the workers. With the assurance that the world would keep turning in their capable hands, she returned to Jake's truck to find him drooping inside, arms folded on the wheel with his head leaning on the wheel. Dixie touched his arm lightly, reluctant to wake him. "I'm ready, Jake. I'd drive but I don't know how."

Jake gave her a taste of honey with his smile, dog-tired as he was, stepped out of the truck, and walked around to the passenger side. "Remind me, sugar gal, and I'll give you driving lessons. Talk to me. Keep me awake."

He climbed back in and pulled out. The twenty minute drive took nearly an hour due to the path of destruction left by the storm. By the time they reached his house, he could hardly see straight. Dixie held his arm, guiding him and giving him whatever support she could. The outdoor light, triggered by their approach, flooded their path. James and Sara rushed out at the sound of Jake's truck in the drive. Like a mama bear protecting her cub, Sara went straight to their son and wrapped him in her arms. "I'm so glad you're all right. You must be dead tired." She gathered Dixie in next. "And you too, Dixie Cup. What a night!" She wrapped an arm around Dixie's waist and led her inside.

James took one look at his son and looped Jake's arm over his shoulders. "Come on, son. Let me help you inside, get you into bed." They took their time. He bore Jake's weight for the journey upstairs to his bedroom and made for the bed.

Jake shook his head, words slurred as if drunk. "I've got to take a shower first...I'm a mess." He gestured at his dirt-streaked clothes and skin.

His father shook his head but did as asked and brought Jake into the adjoining bathroom. Letting go to turn on the water, he had to move fast enough to catch his son when he swayed where he stood. With gentle and caring hands, he helped him to strip down, get in the shower, and waited nearby until the water was turned off.

Slightly revived by the rush of water, Jake took the towel handed to him by his father, wrapped it around his waist and stepped out on shaky legs. He laughed self-consciously when his father offered his strong arm again. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel as weak as a kitten and I'm not sure I can put one foot in front of the other."

James helped his son to the bedroom, handed him his pajamas, then pulled up the covers once Jake dropped like a sack. "You have been working under incredible stress, pushing your body beyond its limits for hours. If I know my son and I dare say I do—you haven't taken a rest all night. Always biting more than you can chew and fighting your way through it anyway. I'm afraid you'll pay when you wake up but I am so proud of you, boy, you don't know how proud." He bowed down from his considerable height to drop a kiss on his son's forehead. "You about near scared your mama and I to death earlier, being out in that storm. We've got a few new gray hairs to show for it. Thank God you're nothing more than sore, here in your own bed. Love you."

"Love you, too, Daddy. I'm glad you and Mama were safe. I kept thinking about the two of you while we were in that gym, wishing I was home. I figured if the end was coming, this is the only place on God's green earth that I'd want to be." Jake's eyes drooped shut and he gave into sleep without a fight. James turned off the light then paused to lean on the door and watch his son. When he slept, he looked like a child again. How he wished he could turn back the years to a time when it was much easier to keep Jake safe and sound, under his roof and in his arms.

Sara came up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist. "He's all right? Dixie practically fell asleep standing up." She let go to walk in, pull the covers tight around her son's shoulders and brush hair out of his eyes. Her hand lay on his forehead before she bent down to kiss his cheek. She turned back to see her husband's face twist with strong feeling before he turned away. She quietly pulled Jake's door shut then went to her husband's side and took his hand. "I know what you're feeling because I feel it too. Now let's go to bed before it gets the best of us."

************************************************************

Dixie stretched then wished she hadn't because her body was sore, muscles strained from pulling and lifting more than her body was accustomed. Things were popping in straightening up wasn't easy. In all her life, she'd never worked that hard. A glance at the clock had her moving anyway. It was past noon! A steaming shower and a pair of shorts and shirt left by Jake's mother made her feel like she could show her face. She made her way downstairs to the patio where James and Sara sat drinking coffee and eating a late brunch. "Good morning. Thank you for the clothes, Mrs. Jackson, and to both of you for having me for the night."

James stood and pulled out a chair. "Think nothing of it, sugar. I'm glad we could oblige. After the good job you've done for us and all you mean to our son, it was the least we could do. Have something to eat, darling. You need a little more meat on those bones."

Sara filled a plate and set it in front of Dixie. "We're so glad your home was spared. How bad was it for the others?" Her sympathy was evident in every look and word. She poured a tall glass of orange juice and waited anxiously.

Dixie sighed heavily, the images of the previous night still all too clear in her mind. "It was bad enough. Five trailers were completely destroyed, one with a single mother and five children that stayed in my place last night. The other four belonged to an elderly gentleman, an elderly woman, a young couple, and a teacher who's saving for a house. There wasn't much we could save but we tried. Some of the other places were damaged, but nothing too bad. I don't know what those people are going to do."

James touched her hand in encouragement. "Don't you worry, sugar. Sara and I have already been on the phone with people this morning. We've got quite a few connections, bankers, contractors, local businesses. Everyone's coming together and we've got some used trailers coming in as soon as the clean-up is done and there will be something to give everyone a fresh start."

Dixie dropped her fork in shock. "Am I still dreaming? I feel like I've been in a fairy tale ever since I got here." She glanced from face to face, waiting for the punch line. "Is there a hidden camera or something? Are we on one of those reality shows?"

Sara laughed. "Honey, this is how it is around here. You just had to change your geography. Besides, it's Independence Day. We have to remember the sacrifices that were made so we could have what we do. We'll gladly make some of our own so that others can celebrate today too."

"Happy 4th of July," Jake called out softly, his characteristic pep missing. He moved gingerly. His father had been right. Everything ached, even places he didn't think could hurt. He eased his way into a chair, unable to hide a wince as his breath came out in a rush. If he was still a kid, he'd be whining and carrying on. Too late. Besides, there was a girl present. He couldn't be a wimp in front of her.

Dixie could not hide her concern. She went to his side and knelt down beside him. "Oh, Jake, I knew you did too much last night but there was no slowing you down. Is there anything I can do?" She felt a little better when his hand took hold of hers and gave it a good squeeze.

Jake's smile was one thing that could not be affected, stretching from ear to ear. "Dixie Cup, just knowing you care goes a long way. I'm going to try a shower in a little bit, see it that loosens things up a bit. How about you, sugar? You did a fair share yourself, you know." He thanked his mother for a heaping plate and picked for a little while, head propped on his hand.

Dixie shrugged in an off-hand way. "I'm a little sore but I'll live. I'm not sure I can say the same about you though." Even lifting a fork seemed to be an effort as Jake had already set it down. "You want me to feed you?" He shot her a look but had to laugh any way.

"You look like you got hit by a train, son. Why don't you go on back to bed and rest a while?" James urged him, trying to take a load off of shoulders that always carried too much. That Jake had even managed to crawl out of bed was an accomplishment. Right about now, the boy looked ready to topple out of his chair.

Jake gave him a drooping grin, chin propped on his hand. "I think I'll take you up on that because I feel like I got hit first and then the engine ran over me. I'm taking a shower as a hot as I can stand it and then I'll lie down for a while. I'm sure I'll be up for fireworks tonight. You'll stick around, won't you, sugar gal?" His puppy dog eyes couldn't be resisted.

"Sure, Jake. You go take care of yourself and I'll talk to you later." She couldn't hide her worry watching him move like an old man to return upstairs.

Sara excused herself to go on ahead of her son, get his shower going, and set out a change of clothes. Once he made it to the shower, she found Dixie and made a request.

Jake walked out of the bathroom to find Dixie waiting for him on the edge of the bed. She patted the spot next to her and gave him her best smile even though she looked scared to death. "Your mom found some ointment she says will fix you right up. Come lie down and I'll make sure you're covered."

Who could argue with that request? "No reason to be nervous, Dixie Cup. I don't bite." He struggled to pull off his t-shirt, almost gave it up, but did it and stretched out, wearing only his shorts. Dixie began with a light and tentative touch but as she felt him relax from her ministrations, she put her muscle into it and was thorough, from his arms down to his legs. Jake let a long sigh. "Darlin,' did someone turn the heat up in here? You've got something bewitching in those fingers of yours. If I could move you might have to worry about me not being the nice boy my mama raised me to be."

Dixie playfully pushed his head down into the pillow. "Hush up and get some rest, you hear?" A few good, healthy groans proved she did her job well. Jake's crossing over to Neverland, sound asleep for the count, only went further to reinforce her good work. She set a trembling hand on his back, feeling its reassuring rise and fall. Eyes closed, a prayer of thanks went heaven-bound for sparing this boy, for all he'd done, and for giving her the nerve to give the boy a back rub.

Late in the afternoon, Jake walked outside to find Dixie sitting on the dock, dangling her feet in the water. She looked up at him with a smile when he dropped down next to her. "Hey you. You look much better." She nodded approvingly.

"Hey yourself. It's all because of you and your magic touch. What have you been doing with yourself while I've been a horrible host?" He brushed a strand of fiery hair out of her eyes. Before he could stop himself, he dipped in quicker than a hummingbird for a kiss.

Dixie leaned up against him and splashed her feet. "Oh, I helped your Mama in the kitchen and then she told me to go relax and wait to hear about a 4th of July surprise from you. What's the surprise?" Her tongue couldn't stop running with the barely contained excitement of a child.

"Well, Dixie Cup, it just so happens to be a Jackson family tradition to head to Granddaddy's cabin on the lake for Independence Day and stay for a few days. It's our vacation too. Everyone knows we close the store until the 10th. Daddy probably posted the sign today. The surprise, which really is no surprise, is you're invited if you'll accept."

Dixie clasped her hands together, getting younger by the minute. "A vacation, on a lake, really? I've never had a vacation before or been to a lake! I don't believe it! But what about the park, won't they need help?"

Jake shook his head and fought a grin. Give her pigtails and he'd peg her at about five. "No, they've got it covered, what with all the people Mama and Daddy called. Mama even drove over and grabbed some of your clothes for you. What do you say?"

Dixie gave him a kiss with a promise in it. "How can I say no?" She was getting good at this. Better keep practicing, make sure to make the moment stretch. It had to be worth his while.

An hour later, they were at a log cabin tucked in by a small lake. It was a modest place, with plenty of room but nothing overbearing or fancy. Rustic, lived in, and comfortable. Jake and his father brought in the supplies while Dixie worked with Sara to prepare dinner and dessert. By six o'clock, they sat on the back deck with a table made cheerful by a red and white checkered cloth, a candle, and wildflowers that Dixie gathered from the lawn.

Jake pulled out a chair for Dixie just as James did the same for his wife. "Wow, this all looks really good. You've outdone yourself, ladies." He reached for a piece of garlic bread then dished out some antipasto.

Sara pointed across the table. "I was just the assistant. Dixie is the one who really pulled this together. You weren't kidding about her cooking, Jake. I just might have to hire your girlfriend for my next party."

Dixie cheeks grew hot, not only at the compliment, but also at the title of girlfriend. It was hard to believe but that's what she was. After they polished off a meal of stuffed shells and chocolate cream pie, Jake led her down to the water. They stretched out on the shore on a large blanket and stared up at the sky, watching the light fade into darkness. They drifted off for a while, only to be brought wide awake by colorful flashes and the popping of fireworks in the sky.

Dixie stared up in wonder, felt the same way about the young man lying next to her and his touch on her arm. "This is amazing...being here, watching this with you. You're so lucky. You know exactly who you are!"

Jake laughed softly, watched her face light up from the display overhead. Watching her was better than any light show. She'd spoiled him on all the rest. He tugged his thoughts back to her words. "I'm not as sure as you say. Who do you think I am?"

Dixie rolled on her side to look him in the eye. The colors of the sky washed over them both interspersed with darkness. "You are Jake Lee Jackson, son of the South and generals long gone. You are traditional, old-fashioned, and have true values. You know your place, you know your family, you know where you have been and where you're going. You have a future ahead of you and you're set on getting there one step at a time but you'll never forget the people around you and you'll never hurt them. You'll kill them with kindness, win them with charm. You are the South."

Jake reached out to touch her. Something about her voice and how it trembled on the last made him afraid she might break. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Tell me something...who are you, Miss Dixie Mason?"

Dixie looked down at her hands, her voice very small and quiet. "I...don't know yet. I've spent most of my life afraid, hiding. I could never be me and no one saw me anyway. And now,...I still don't know what's real and what isn't."

Jake held her hand and didn't let go. His voice was soft as Mama's silk robe, a carefully guarded present from her daddy, one she hung on and cried the night that she died. "Here's who I think you are. You are Dixie Mason, a northern star shooting its way South. You sparkle and sizzle, plumb full of wishes—your daddy's, your mama's, yours...mine. That's why you light up a place wherever you go. You're brighter than the sun when you smile. You make me look forward to my day because you are in it. You're smart as a whip, cook like a dream, and stronger than steel. As for who you'll be...you'll figure that out as you go and Lord have mercy on us all when you do."

Dixie felt the tears trembling beneath her lids and she let them fall. "I think that you have just told me more about myself than I ever knew. I don't know if you're a fortune teller or off your rocker but...I think...no, I know...I love you, Jake Lee Jackson."

He brushed her tears a way and gathered in close. Fragile. Handle with care flashed through his mind. This was one package that needed time and patience as she opened up more each day. "I love you too, Dixie Cup." His heart filled to bursting. There was only one way to seal a moment like that, under a rainbow shower of lights in the sky. Southern boys had perfected it long ago. Jake settled in for a kiss. Breathing could wait for later.

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Fairy tales. They were real. The moment she slipped into Dixie Mason's shoes, magic happened. A home. It might not be much but it was hers. Friends. Honest to goodness, got your back, rainy and sunny day friends. A job...and the prince. Maybe Tinkerbell spilled a bucket of pixie dust on her way to Neverland or the Fairy Godmother made a wrong turn. Aladdin's dog might have buried the Genie's lamp under her trailer and the prince probably needed glasses. Dixie didn't care. She'd stepped into the pages of a story book and hoped she'd never come out. The week at camp was one Dixie would remember for the rest of her life, lazy days spent swimming and sunbathing. Gardening and cooking with Sara with a joy and freedom she and Mama were never allowed. Having no schedule to abide by, no watching the clock waiting for Owen to get home or those awful moments when he took them by surprise, showing up on his lunch break or when he was fired—again.

James took her and Jake out in the boat each day and taught her the wonders of catching a big one, letting it go. Dixie had never been fishing, didn't know a rod from a reel or how to poke a worm out for bait but the day she caught one no bigger than her hand, she was hooked. The more time she spent with the man, the more she played pretend that he was her daddy. Mornings were Sara's, helping prepare a brunch, enjoying family time. Every night, they stayed up late, lying on their backs and studying the stars.

It was their final evening. James and Sara, yawning, unable to keep their eyes open, had wandered off to bed. Dixie and Jake took one more turn, stretched out on the lawn, staring up at the midnight sky. The stars were so bright, she thought she could reach up and pluck one in her hand. "See that one right there?" She whispered. Jake had started to doze off and gave a little start. "That's Mama. The great big one next door, that's Daddy. They'll never be apart again." Her cheeks were wet and her voice had a little catch. She wished she could climb up there and shine with them.

"See that stardust sprinkling down? They're showering you with kisses." Jake brushed her cheek with his finger. His hand found its way to hers and held on. "That warm air pressing down, that's their hugs and if you listen really careful, they're whispering 'I love you,' in the breeze." Dixie turned to him with a smile.

"You're a silver-tongued angel, Jake Lee Jackson, that's what you are." She stood up then with mischief flashing in her eyes. "Get under that beach blanket and no peeking until I say so." A quick shuck of her t-shirt and shorts, a splash, and Dixie called out. "What are you going to do—just sit there all day? The water's real fine. Coming in?"

Jake stood up slowly, surveying the scene, taking in the trail of clothes telling their tale. His eyes opened wide and his pulse started to do a little dance. "And just how am I getting in without you getting a look at me?" His answer—laughter and a wiggle of her finger in invitation. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and stuck a toe in the water.

"Aww, Jake, come on. I'll duck under water. Move fast and I won't see a thing." Dixie popped beneath the surface and counted to ten. When she came back up for air, there was nothing on shore but a pair of shorts. There was no sign of any movement in the water. "Jake? Jake!" Her voice rose sharply, spiking with fear. "Jake Lee Jackson, quit fooling around!"

A head suddenly burst out of the water out in the middle of the lake as Jake took in a great gasping breath. The thought of Dixie with only water to cover her body had his heart hammering and imagining things that was making his body go haywire. A good, long swim helped, if only to wear him out and slow his brain down a bit. "Care to join me, Dixie Cup, or are you chicken?"

That grin was all it took. Dixie ignored the buzzing in her ears and the bird-sized butterflies taking flight in her stomach. A few good strokes and she was nose to nose with Jake. She couldn't see anything in the inky water of the lake but the thought of being next to a boy with nothing covering him down below had her face so hot it was a wonder the water wasn't hissing. "You...you can't see anything on me can you? I mean...I've never been undressed in front of a boy before...or seen a boy without... you know." Suddenly self-conscious, she almost stuck her head back under water.

"Dixie, relax. We're just skinny dippin,' honey. I'm not making any moves on you except for one." Jake came in close enough that they were breathing the same air. Before she think twice, he planted a kiss on her lips, a long one that left them both a little dizzy. The bats skimmed the surface of the water, catching dinner, but nothing disturbed the boy and the girl in the water. They stared at one another for a heartbeat and Dixie took her turn trying out a kiss. This time, when they closed their eyes, they both saw fireworks.

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Owen staggered into the post office in Gerrardstown. He stood at the window and made a futile effort to smooth his hair, attempting to look presentable but failed miserably. Days without showering made his hair an unmanageable mess. He'd worn the same clothes since he left the truck stop in Pennsylvania. Presentable was out of the question. Someone's worst nightmare was more like it.

He walked up to the postmaster, a wizened ,old, man with spectacles on the end of his nose and a back stooped from years of sorting mail. Clearing his throat, Owen thought to throttle his voice down below a growl. "Do you recognize this girl? She's my daughter that's run away and I'm trying to bring her home."

The postmaster squinted at the photo and shook his head. "Don't ring a bell. Sorry, sonny." He moved on to his next customer, eyeing the deviant creature with suspicion. A lot of people had walked through his door in his time. This one barely qualified as human. Wouldn't have turned over a dog to the likes of him.

Owen moved on, asking customers down the line. Everyone looked at him with disdain, some refused to talk to him or moved away, and no one helped him. He walked out, shoulders hunched in frustration, and kicked out at the brick foundation. Three giggling girls climbed out of a BMW and walked toward the entrance. He straightened up and approached them, his last try before he moved on, started going door to door.

The girls were wary. A dark-haired girl reached in her purse, hand on the mace inside. "Carole Sue, just head right inside."

"That's right, Bobbi Jo. He is definitely a stranger." She nodded and took the blonde girl's arm. "We've taken self-defense class and my daddy is a judge so don't get any ideas."

"Just a minute of your time, ladies. I mean you no harm. I'm just trying to find my runaway daughter, get her back home. I've missed her something awful and I've been searching for weeks, come all the way from up North. She's just made a downright mess out of me, what with the worrying. I haven't been able to stop to rest or dress proper. Have you seen her?" He held out the girl's last school picture.

Each girl scanned it for a moment and shook their heads, eager to get away from the horrible man, when Carole Sue snatched the photo out of his hands. The dark hair and the scared look in the eyes had thrown her but if she looked carefully at the face, pictured it with a cocky smile, and a curtain of cheap, fiery curls, there was something familiar tugging at her. "Wait a minute...of course. I know who that is. We had a Yankee girl come here not too long ago. She's going by the name of Dixie Mason. She's in the next town over, in Dale's Hollow. Look for her at Jackson's General or Nichol's Park Lane. Oh, one more thing. She's a redhead now."

Carole Sue looked up into the man's cold eyes and couldn't hold back a shiver. The slightest bit of conscience told her to call the authorities and notify Dixie. Leading that no-good piece of trash to her was like throwing Little Red Riding Hood to the Big Bad Wolf and handing him a toothpick to pick his teeth after he was done licking his lips. Carole Sue stomped on any misgivings she might have while Owen shuffled away. Moving on to the post office door, she did her best to ignore the heavy lump in her stomach that said she'd done the wrong thing. After all, who was she to get in the middle of a family's pile of dirty laundry? The girl deserved what she had coming, skulking on in to their town and putting herself where she didn't belong. Time to get her back with her own kind.

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He was so close, he could feel her in his hands. Thinking about what he would do to her made a smile stretch across his face that did nothing to warm his dead eyes. One town over. Owen's journey was nearly done. As for the girl—Dixie—he'd be sure to give her something to cry about before he was through.

Chapter 11

"Sugar gal, you are going to have everyone falling all over you tonight. I'm going to have to beat them off of you with a stick." Jake could feel his blood starting to heat up already. They were going to a barn dance that was a tradition for the town and for their family. It was Saturday night, their last night of vacation, the perfect way to end an unforgettable time. The time away had given everyone a chance to get to know one another better. Dixie had truly blossomed in the presence of Jake's family and they were in love with her, something Jake had expected from the get-go. Who could resist such a cute, little package with such sweetness on the inside? Jake wanted to get to know her better himself, every single inch of her.

"You really think this is all right? Shouldn't I wear a dress or something?" Dixie fiddled with the buttons on her shirt, long lashes pressed to her cheeks, unsure of herself. Sue Ellen had dropped by to be fashion coordinator and picked two outfits. As the newcomer, Dixie couldn't help wondering if she should have chosen the sundress still lying on her bed.

It was those moments of doubt that were so endearing to Jake. He reached out and took her hand. "Dixie, you meet me in the eye. Do you see the face of someone that would lie about how good you look? Lots of the girls wear something like what you are wearing but none of them wear it as well. The original Daisy Duke could take some lessons from you."

Dixie felt that warm glow again, melting her insides, making her go weak from head to toe. It happened every time those sweet, honey tones dripped over her. Take a dip into those summer-green eyes and she was done. She turned and faced the mirror, surprised at the girl who stared back at her. Somebody irresistibly cute in cut-off jean shorts—short, but not too short—and a red and white checkered shirt that was tied at the waist. Dixie reached up to tuck in a strand of hair that had escaped the red bandana used as a head band to tame her explosion of curls. "I guess I look all right."

Jake held a hand to his heart, a smile in his voice that dropped low taking in his fill of her. "Honey, you've got my heart tripping so fast, I just might have a heart attack. I would say that means you look more than all right." He playfully staggered back and leaned up against the wall. Give him another minute and he'd by lying at her feet.

"Okay, kids, everybody needs to load up." James stood at the doorway of Dixie's room, smiling appreciatively. "You two look ready for a fun evening. Let's get a move on." He headed out to the car where Sara was already waiting, fresh as a flower from her garden, in a pale, rose sundress that was lovely with her coloring. He slid into the driver's seat and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "That girl has got our son like a puppy on a leash. I think she has spoiled him for all other women."

Sara brushed a strand of hair out of her husband's eyes. Turning her attention to the door, she couldn't help inhaling sharply as the young couple walked out. Dixie was all legs and curves in exactly the right places, but it was the way her eyes lit up like fireworks when she looked at their son that made the older woman take pause. As for Jake, he was as handsome as his father in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a green and black checkered shirt draped over it. The sight of them carried Sara back twenty years ago to their first barn dance together at the same place they were headed to now. Tears burned in her eyes. "Just look at them, James. It's us, all those years ago. I can't believe the clock has spun around that fast."

Jake interrupted the nostalgic moment, arriving at the car and opening the door for Dixie. He went around to his side and got in, beaming as he caught sight of his mother. "Why Mama, you're as pretty as a summer's day. Daddy's going to have to keep an awful good eye on you or someone's liable to take you away." He leaned up front and dropped her a kiss.

Sara couldn't help but blush and reached back to pat her son's cheek. "Why thank you, you charmer. If I didn't know what a fine, young man you were, I would worry about that tongue of yours, the way you can pour on such sweetness." She took Dixie's hand next. "And you, honey. You are going to be the belle of the ball, just you wait. The boys are not going to be able to catch their breath from the first moment they lay eyes on you."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled in to a farmer's field that had been converted into a parking lot. Every year, a different farm had the honor of hosting the highly anticipated, annual event. Members of the community pooled their resources to decorate and supply refreshments. Music was pouring out of a towering, red barn, well-lit with tiki torches along the path and paper lanterns stretched across the door way and inside. Crowds of people, young and old, spilled out of the gaping doors, heading to the tables heaped with barbecue, filling up at the beer keg, or cooling off with sweet tea and lemonade. Everyone was flushed with the heat and the dancing, enjoyment of the evening written on every face.

Jake took Dixie's hand and pulled her inside. He didn't even give her time to think, swinging her onto the hardwood floor that had been laid out for the dance. A bluegrass band played loudly, the fiddle pumping and making feet start tapping. Jake couldn't help but laugh at her eyes as big as saucers, drinking everything in. "What do you think, Dixie Cup?"

"I've never been to a dance before or even danced. I don't know what to do." Glancing around her, it terrified her to see that everyone else knew exactly what they were doing. She would look so out of place. She turned, ready to make an escape. The shadows against the wall looked like the perfect place to disappear.

Jake swung her around and held her chin lightly in his hand. "Oh no you don't. This girl doesn't turn tail and run. You just follow my lead, sugar. I happen to have years of practice and you'll get the hang of it in no time." He put his hands on her waist and started the dance step, first slow so Dixie could watch and try it herself, then picking up the pace as she caught on. Round and round they went, Jake feeling like he was the lucky winner tonight. He resisted the urge to pinch himself to make sure it was all real because he had the most beautiful girl and she was with him. He had to hold on tight, make sure Cinderella didn't slip away.

Laughter bubbled up and Dixie tipped her head back, letting it fly. Jake was amazing, a natural who could make her feel like there was nothing to floating over the smooth, wooden boards beneath her feet. They circled the floor, the swell of the music rising up through Dixie's toes and making her feel alive. They danced until they were flushed and panting. Jake held her hand tightly to avoid losing her in the milling throb of dancers, giving her a tug until they broke out into the moonlight to catch their breath.

It was a warm summer night but still refreshing after the press of people, the swirl of the dancers, and the bright lights of the barn. The sweet scent of fresh flowers carried on the breeze and wrapped around the young couple. Dixie pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and leaned up against the fence behind the barn, listening to the horses nickering to one another in the field and waiting for her heart to slow down. Jake's closeness, his arm brushing hers, only made it start up again. "Are you having a good time, sugar gal? You sure looked pretty, dancing in there. All eyes were on you."

She shrugged modestly. "Don't fool yourself. I was just window dressing. They were watching you. You move like that Gene Kelly in the old movies Mama and I used to watch when I was little. I remember staring up at him and wishing he could pull me into the TV with him. You made my wish come true tonight." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and knew what she said was true. She wasn't blind. Every girl, young and old, had Jake in sight. She had seen the appreciative looks as a young group of girls their age went by and the wistful dreaming in the eyes of some of the older women accompanied by older men; perhaps they were remembering their youth in much the same way as Jake's mother.

"Well, you make me look better than I ever could alone. Did you see Carole Sue's face when we went out there? She should try out for a remake of 'The Exorcist' with the puss she was wearing." Jake nodded his head as he glanced into the barn. Hovering inside the doorway was Carole Sue and her posse, Laura Bell and Bobbi Jo. The three wore matching expressions of contempt although it was obvious the others followed Carole Sue's lead. "They could give Cinderella's evil step-sisters and step-mother a run for their money."

Dixie went cold at mention of the girl who had become a dark cloud hovering over her. She spun around and gripped the fence, a hopeless anger welling up inside. "What is her problem? I haven't done anything to her, I haven't taken anything away from her that she didn't already have and she already has so much. Is it that obvious that I am from a completely different universe from hers?"

"Hey, hey now...don't you go getting yourself in a tizzy. You are amazing in so many ways that Carole Sue and her friends could only dream about. They are just spitting with jealousy." Jake ran a hand over her gleaming curls, let it rest on the small of her back, a comforting pressure meant to take away hers. "You are from another universe, a place that is new and different from anything I've ever known here and I just want to be with you to find out what all of your mysteries are. I probably won't even scratch the surface but I'd like to spend a lifetime trying. Let's give Carole Sue and her girls something to talk about." Jake ran his hand up her arm, making her feel loose and liquid while her heart became a trip hammer. He moved in slowly, blocking out the moon and the stars when his lips connected with hers. Her eyes drifted shut and the stars were back, shooting sparks against her eyelids and in her mind. She forgot how to breathe and thought she might fall over if Jake wasn't holding her up.

Inside the barn, Carole Sue turned away, fuming, her shadows trailing behind her. "What does he see in that...that whore?" Her voice rose until it was almost to a glass-splitting pitch. She grabbed a cup of punch off the table and gulped it down. Small wonder no one could see steam coming out of her ears, she was that hot with anger and indignation that one of their own would associate with someone from such a lower class.

Laura Bell shrugged. "You know men...they like something exotic and cheap. He's probably getting it real easy from her. You're too good for him anyway, Carole Sue, you know that." She took a sip of punch and pursed her lips when she swallowed a bit of lemon. It was not a becoming look but fit her sour puss perfectly.

Bobbi Jo scanned the room. "Look out there, Carole Sue. All of those boys look like they have puppy dog eyes for you. Go pick one of them to spend your energy on, someone who will appreciate you. I'm sure Jake will come to his senses soon and that Dixie girl will get what she deserves."

Carole Sue's lips curved in a smile that brought a cruel light to her eyes. "Oh, that's coming all right, as soon as her daddy finds her. I just bet he'll drag her back home and I won't have to lay eyes on that hussy again. Maybe then Jake Lee Jackson will come to his senses and see what has been under his nose all this time." She crushed her empty cup, smashed it under her heel, and stalked off to find a partner.

Dixie and Jake walked back inside to cool off after their near meltdown together outside. They started by sharing a glass of punch. The music picked up again. To take his mind off what he wanted to do, which was something completely inappropriate in public and would get him a smack in the face, Jake swung his girl back onto the floor. Dixie drifted into Jake's eyes, his arms, and the flow of the rhythm. By the time the song ended, they were both out of breath and rosy cheeked again.

It was an opportune time for the farmer who was hosting the dance that year, John Brown, to step up to the microphone used by the musicians. He looked the part of his calling in a straw hat, suspenders, and a plaid shirt. Everyone turned expectantly to him, eager for his announcement. "Welcome everyone. I hope you all are having a right, good time tonight."

Jake looped an arm around Dixie's waist and whispered in her ear. "Listen up, this is a tradition Farmer Brown does every year." They joined their fellow dancers, gathering in close around the make-shift stage. Dixie's weight against his side was a reassurance. He wasn't dreaming.

The gray haired man lifted his arms in the air, his movements free and energetic in contrast to his age. "It's that time, ladies and gents, to announce the Queen of the Hay Day Dance. For over twenty years, we've held this dance and every year the host has searched for a queen, someone sweet and pure, someone who can keep the spirit of the South alive. I've been watching all the lovely, young ladies tonight and I'll tell you, it was a very hard decision but I've made my pick with the wise counsel of many of the other men here this evening." He stepped away from the microphone, scanned the audience, then made a beeline for Jake and Dixie. He stopped next to the young couple and set a wreath of wild flowers on her head. "Sugar, you just looked like every boy's dream girl of the South when you walked in here tonight. That smile just lit up this room and your shy ways reminded me of the fine ladies of my youth. I'm crowning you queen. Now tell me, sweetie, what's your name?"

Dixie wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run but Jake wouldn't let her go. He nodded and whispered, "Mama was queen when she came the first time with Daddy. I had a feeling about you tonight. You go on, tell them."

Dixie looked out at the crowd surrounding her and felt only well wishes, especially from James and Sara. She spoke softly into the microphone. "Dixie Mason, sir." It was fortunate that she did not see Carole Sue, sending invisible daggers her way from a corner in the back. The girl stood in a venomous haze, feeling cheated once again and entertaining visions of vengeance.

"Well doesn't that beat all! What better choice when your name is perfect!" The farmer gave her a friendly pat on the back and motioned to the now cleared dance floor. "In the past, if our queen is unattached, she dances with all the unattached gentlemen at this time. However, the young man beside you has made it quite obvious that you are taken so enjoy a dance together as we honor this year's queen. Congratulations, girlie." John Brown's face creased in a smile, a twinkle in his eyes, as he brought back another time-held tradition by taking Dixie's hand and giving it a gentle kiss before letting go.

The band began to play something simple, soft and sweet but Dixie couldn't hear it. If Dixie paid any attention to the others in the room, she would have seen admiration for the young couple on most every face excepting the poisonous envy of the Carole Sue trio. For a moment, the old became young again. Love shimmered as James took Sara in his arms and began to sway to the music, remembering their first dance so long ago. Many followed their lead and danced on the fringe of the dance floor.

Dixie could only see Jake, his eyes aglow like the sun skimming the clear green of a lake, the lights overhead nearly turning his brown hair to gold. He stood tall with his shoulders set, waiting for her in the middle of the floor. It was in big part because of him that she had become someone new, someone who could be crowned a queen, inside and out. Sure, she had chosen a new name, she had changed her look, she had run away and taken the first steps. However, Jake had confidence and faith in her, giving his unfaltering support when he discovered the truth about her. She was certain some of that had brushed off, helping her to truly become Dixie Mason.

She wanted to give something back to him to repay him. She didn't have much but what she had was freely offered. She walked across the floor and took his hand. One look in his eyes and Dixie made sure that Jake knew—she gave him her heart. As they began to sway to the music, their heads tilted until they rested against one another.

"You make a fine queen. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more than you." Jake whispered, his voice gone hoarse. It had become hard to speak as his throat tightened just looking at her. Swallowing and breathing were near impossible too. Give him time and he'd be embarrassing himself, swooning in her arms.

Dixie's smile trembled but held and her eyes glistened with tears that were near the surface. "Thank you. If they were going to have a king, it would have to be you. You are a king among all the rest." They didn't talk any more. They didn't have to. Their eyes, their touch, and their hammering hearts said it all. The only thing left was to dance.

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Owen walked onto Main Street in Dale's Hollow, if you could call it that. A measly strip of road stretched before him with a few businesses before being swallowed up by the surrounding countryside. His eyes skittered back and forth. It was a Sunday. Things were quiet with few people out and about. Probably all those religious freaks. He'd heard that somewhere about all those holy rollers down here. He couldn't even buy a bottle of booze to settle his nerves—good thing he'd saved some of that cheap whiskey he picked up in the last town.

A quick swallow and the fire burned down to his stomach, giving him the nerve to walk across the road to Jackson's General Store. His moment had come. That girl in the last town said Laura's daughter was working here and she owed him big time. Time to collect. Owen hit the steps, misjudged and stumbled, sprawling across the porch. With a whoosh, the breath was knocked out of him and he stayed put for a moment in stunned silence. Fearing he'd draw attention to himself and tip the girl off, he scrambled to his feet. He glanced at his reflection in the window with a start. A scary sight looked back at him, a dirty man with greasy hair plastered to his head and darting eyes. He'd seen homeless people in better shape. It galled him to realize he was homeless but not for much longer. One step through the door, one tearful reunion with no tears shed on his part, and the girl would be making her home sweet home his.

Owen looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, hoping he'd catch her alone. He'd get in and out and take her before anyone was the wiser. It was the perfect day of the week, the Lord's day while everyone was at rest at home. One push at the door proved it was locked. He pressed again until it rattled and peered inside. Nothing. The place was empty and the lights were off. He looked again and saw the sign, "Closed for vacation. Reopening on Monday." Next to the notice, he saw some ads for items for sale and places to rent but nothing else that was of any help.

Rage bloomed again, making him start to shake. He took another swig from the bottle, swiped a dirt-streaked hand across his mouth, and felt his stomach rumble with hunger. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent meal and that was the girl's—what was she calling herself? Dixie. How stupid, he thought with a sneer—it was Dixie's fault he hadn't eaten anything worthwhile. Not that she'd ever cooked anything good but it was better than nothing. He'd have to find her place. Where was it? Nichol's Park Lane. He had no idea which way to go.

He stepped off the porch and saw a middle-aged couple walk out of the local diner. He stepped up to them, saw the man wrap a protective arm around his wife, and couldn't help but notice the woman look at him with barely hidden disgust, her nose wrinkling at his stench. Owen remembered the image in the window and couldn't blame them but still felt humiliation, humiliation that could all be traced back to that blasted girl! Speaking in what he hoped was a humble tone, Owen bowed his head to the passersby. "Beggin' your pardon, Mr. and Missus, but I'm looking for a place to stay, just saw the ad in the window at the store for a trailer in Nichol's Park. I'd be much obliged if you could tell me the way there."

The man actually made himself a shield between Owen and his wife, not trusting the good-for-nothing for a minute. "Go to the corner of Main and County Highway 20 and take a right. It's a few miles outside of town. You can't miss it." He nodded once, a sharp jerky motion, and hurried his wife on their way.

Owen mumbled his thanks, thanks for nothing, thanks for making him feel like garbage, and wandered in the direction he was given. He took out his bottle and drank some more down, let it keep him company and fuel his determination to get to the girl. He'd take care of her and then he'd sleep in a real bed before the night was through. Didn't see what all the fuss was about anyway. Owen was just carrying on a family tradition. He'd grown up feeling his daddy's belt along his backside, his boot in the seat of his pants, and his father's fist up side of his head. It was a fatherly duty to discipline a child. When Owen got done with the girl tonight, he'd learn her a lesson and put her in her place—stuck under his thumb.

Chapter 12

Jake drove the store truck with one hand on the wheel and one arm around Dixie, a grin stretching from ear to ear because Alabama's "Dixieland Delight" was on the radio. It was pretty entertaining and not coincidental in the least to hear the song that fit his life to a tee at that moment. They had packed up at the cabin that morning, gone out for a nice brunch, then returned to the big house. After a week of lollygagging, he was glad to put his muscles to good use with the unpacking. Now, it was time to get Dixie home. A part of him would rather stay put in the truck and ask the station to put the song on repeat, give him a chance to do a little turtledovin' of his own. He touched her hair, let his hand get tangled in the same way that he was tangled up in this girl beside him. "I'm sorry it's Sunday already, sugar. This past week went so fast. I could have never come home. Say the word and we'll go back, just you and me, and stay there forever."

Dixie snuggled in close, felt the tugging on her heart that she felt more and more strongly each day. She was reminded of the tidal wave she'd seen at the beginning of some old TV show, a powerful rush that could sweep her away if she let it. Had Mama felt this way with Daddy? One thing was certain, there had been no such thing with Owen. There'd been nothing with Owen. A cold shiver climbed up her spine at thought of him. It was like Old Man Wilbur had said the one day, "It felt like someone walking on my grave." She shook it off, focused on the warm, summer day slipping into dusk and the boy sitting next to her. "I'd really like that but then there'd be no one to run the store."

"Ah, the ever practical Miss Dixie Mason. I guess we'll have to take a rain check." The sky was growing dim, the sun setting in a blaze of pinks, reds, and purples of every shade as they turned into the park. They drew near Dixie's place at the ridiculous snail's pace of five miles per hour per Slick Nichols' regulations. After what seemed like an eternity, they were met with a burst of activity. The "park" in the middle had been transformed into a Hawaiian getaway with tiki torches, inflatable palm trees, kiddie pools, and music. Everyone dressed for the occasion in grass skirts with Blue Hawaiians and other colorful drinks in their hands. All the tenants were milling about but cleared a path when Dixie and Jake got out of the truck.

Sue Ellen ran up and flung her arms around Dixie, followed by a huffing and puffing Thelma Louise. "You're here, finally! We couldn't wait for you all to get back. Welcome to the trailerhood block party being held in your honor."

Thelma Louise laughed. "That's right, honey. It's not every day we have a queen here. We heard about your new title at the barn dance but that's not the half of it. Everyone's come to pay their respect to you after all you did the night of the tornado."

Dixie glanced at Jake as Thelma tugged her to a large, wicker chair set by the fountain. He shrugged, wearing the grin of the cat that swallowed the canary. "I may let something slip out about last night. They did the rest. Sue Ellen has been bugging me all week about her plans for tonight. You don't know how many times I had to bite my tongue."

Sue Ellen placed a plastic tiara on Dixie's head and Thelma wrapped a red throw around her shoulders. They stood on each side and Sue Ellen called out loudly, "All hail Queen Dixie and let's not forget our fellow rescuer, King Jake." He tried to wave them off but was given a Burger King crown and matching throw for a cloak. Everyone laughed then came forward to offer their heartfelt thanks. Dixie and Jake were pulled to their feet and swept away into a conga line that deposited them in matching chairs by the fountain. Drinks were pushed into their hands and plates of barbecue set in their laps so fast it made their heads spin.

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Owen watched from a clump of undergrowth and high weeds bordering Dixie's new home. He had spent nearly an hour walking the dirt road in the sweltering heat, kicking up dust with every step and being eaten alive by the blackflies. He thought he would go out of his mind from the drone of the cicadas buzzing all around him.

He finally made it to Nichol's Trailer Park at dusk. Slick Nichols, the pile of scum, had been only too happy to oblige and direct Owen to the right place. How did the manager know he wasn't letting a fox in the hen house? A growl of laughter rumbled deep in Owen's chest. He was the last person on earth to be trusted with the...girl. It hadn't taken long to scout out an acceptable hiding place. He was lying on his belly, nose twitching from the weeds, skin crawling with ants, watching for any signs of life in the trailer.

Sunset arrived in a burst of glory that went unnoticed by Owen Granville, never having paid any mind to such nonsense. There was a commotion in the center of the park as people prepared for a party, decorating, building a bonfire, and firing up the grill. His mouth watered at the smell of cooking food drifting in the air. It was the perfect opportunity when everyone was occupied. Owen slid across the lawn, a silent shadow, and fiddled with the lock. The key slid in and he slipped inside. It had been all too easy to talk the manager into giving him a spare to allow a father to surprise his daughter.

Leaning against the door, he eyed the place in the dim glow of a small lamp in the living room. It was neat as a pin, a girlish place, all warm and fuzzy, friendly-like. It infuriated him to think she'd been living in this nice, little home—far better than the home she'd left—while he'd shuffled along from bad to worse. He deserved better after all of these years. He'd just have to see how she would like a house guest. She wouldn't put up a fuss—he'd make sure of that. He searched the rooms and found one suitable hiding spot—the closet. He stepped inside, slid the door shut, and sat down on the floor to wait. He gulped down the last of his liquor with a smile. It wouldn't be long now.

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Jake walked Dixie to her door. It was late, past midnight. The party rolled on with many of the guests stretched out on blankets. Most had slugged down one alcoholic beverage too many and heads were swimming. A bonfire roared with the brave of heart gathered around singing at the top of their lungs, fortified by beer. Dixie watched them all, her heart swelling with great affection for every, single one. It was the first time she could call her neighbors her own in a true neighborhood where people looked out for one another, lent a hand, could borrow a cup of sugar or find a babysitter at the last minute. If only Dixie had grown up some place like this...but that was neither here nor there. She stretched up on her toes to give Jake a well-deserved kiss. "Thank you for your part in the festivities. They really know how to live here in the trailerhood. It looks like they could go all night long. You sure you don't want to spend the night on my couch?"

Jake tipped his forehead to hers. "Sugar, you do not know how good that sounds but a Southern boy's code of honor will not allow it. I cannot stay the night with a girl until we have been wed and since we're not at that point yet, it's off to the truck I go. I might sleep there all night so if my mama calls, that's probably where I am." He gave her a butterfly kiss and forced himself to step back before he lost his resolve which was crumbling by the second. That couch sounded mighty inviting. "'Night, Dixie Cup. I'll see you at work tomorrow. It's all right if you sleep in some. I'll open up." His eyes were dark with longing, the reflection of the bonfire gleaming as brightly as his feelings.

Dixie felt the butterflies travel from the kiss to her stomach and pressed a hand to her belly to calm them. "'Night, Jake Lee Jackson. I'll see you tomorrow." She watched him walk to his truck, reluctantly went inside, and leaned up against the door. She needed it to hold her up after that kiss, those

eyes and that smile. She knew who she'd dream of that night.

She flicked off the living room light, kicked off her shoes, and padded into her bedroom, so familiar she could find everything with her eyes closed. This was her place, the first place she had made her own. She stepped inside and the hint of another's presence hit her with the stench of alcohol and a mix of strong body odor. A chunk of ice, cold fear lodged in her stomach and she was frozen. The moment she had dreaded, had fought so hard to escape, showed up, her nightmare come to life. He was here. She knew it and he knew that she did. A low rumble of laughter, cruel and without humor, slithered out of the darkened corner. "Welcome home, girlie. Aren't you going to come to Papa?"

Owen stepped out of the closet, illuminated by the moonlight shining through her window. He was worse than a bad dream or her memories.

Covered in filth, unwashed and unkempt, he made anything the cat dragged in look better. In a flash, his hand snapped out, grabbed hold of her hair and twisted.

That was all it took to bring Dixie to her knees, make her that girl huddled in the corner all over again. Tears sprang to her eyes and a small whimper escaped her as everything she had accomplished, all she had become, began to fall apart. What had made her believe she could simply walk away from the time before? How could she possibly think he would let her go?

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Jake sat in his truck, about to turn the key in the ignition, when something made him stop. He didn't know what it was—a feeling in his gut, a prickling of the hair on the nape of his neck, an indescribable shiver as his blood suddenly went from hot to cold—but whatever it was made him hit the ground at a run. He didn't even knock on Dixie's door, just yanked it open, and plowed inside. Her place was dark and quiet, like she slept yet something was wrong, horribly wrong, filling him with a dread that pushed him through her living room and into her bedroom. He found her, cowering on the floor in a pool of moonlight. A monster—no other word did him justice—stood over her, her hair wrapped around his hand like nothing more than a rope for him to yank. "Get away from her, you scum!" Jake shouted and a haze of red clouded his vision. A damned Yankee had come to rob a piece of the South again. No matter who Dixie had been before, she belonged to the Land of Cotton now, had made Jake her own, and she was his. If there was one creed Jake lived and would die by, it was 'Mind Your Own.' Thankful for years of playing football, Jake hurled himself at Dixie's step-father with the power of a linebacker.

If Owen's outward appearance gave the impression of weakness, it was misleading. His height, but more so his mean spirit, gave him strength. He let go of Dixie long enough to intercept her defender's charge and raise his bottle high, bringing the thick glass down on Jake's head like a club. Jake dropped to the floor with a sickening thud like a rock hitting bottom, a bloom of blood forming on his forehead before trailing into the carpet. Dixie's scream rang out in the night.

That instant, seeing Jake cut down, made Dixie reach deep inside to find her courage. She scrambled out of the bedroom, her knowledge of the layout to her advantage in the darkness. This was her home turf. She streaked into the living room and picked up the bat that Jake had given her for their next trip to the ball park. Gripped in hands made slick with sweat, she fought to control their trembling. She would have one chance to take him by surprise. She raced back to the bedroom, glanced at Jake in a crumpled heap on her floor, and felt herself boiling over with rage. Owen turned away from the boy at the same moment that the bat came down with a crack on his head. "Have a taste of your own medicine! I won't let you hurt him again and you're not going to hurt me anymore!" Dixie's voice raised in volume and pitch.

Owen staggered to his feet, somehow still conscious, and wove his way to the door. Dixie came on, right behind him, hefting the bat for round two. He managed to stumble outside and fell down the steps to find himself surrounded by the park tenants. Roused by Dixie's cry, they had gathered to come to her aid but for the time being left it to the embodiment of 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' to handle him.

Dixie stood over the poor excuse for a man, wind whipping her fiery curls around her face. All the years of hurting, the injustice, the anger became a wild hurricane in her eyes. She was no longer a child and there would be no bowing down. Dixie raised the bat, ready to strike. "How does it feel, Owen? How do you like having someone stronger and bigger standing over you, ready to hurt you, someone who has taken everything away from you that matters? It doesn't feel good and you're never going to do anything to me or anyone I care about again. It's your turn to do some hurting." She drew the bat back, the need to make him pay for everything he had done to her and Mama, giving her a strength beyond measure. Sue Ellen stepped out of the crowd and touched Dixie's hand, watched reason come back to her friend as the piece of wood slipped from fingers gone numb.

"Don't you worry yourself none, mam. He's going to pay, that's for sure. Mmmhmm, what goes around comes around." Thelma Louise hovered over Owen, a large rock in her hand, ready if needed. The others gathered around, shouting their agreement, the men forming a ring of indignation. They would not allow him to touch Dixie or any woman. Flashing lights of red and blue announced the arrival of a police car summoned by a concerned neighbor. A police officer took charge of the situation and Owen was cuffed. Dixie waited long enough to watch that threat removed, uncertain she could trust her eyes.

"Jake," a voice whispered in her mind. Dixie rushed back inside and turned on the lights to find his pale and unconscious form in a sprawl on the floor, still bleeding. She knelt down and stroked his cheek, her hands trembling. "Jake, I'm so sorry. Please be all right, Jake. I'll never forgive myself for bringing him here when I ran away. Please...Jake...please." Her voice broke and she buried her face in her hands.

There was a feather touch on her leg. "Hey," he whispered weakly. His head pounded like nothing he'd ever felt before until he thought it would split. He sat up and the whole world began to spin. Dixie caught him in her arms as he started to sway. "You...you all right, Dixie Cup?"

Although in much worse shape, he still put her first. Dixie laid a hand on his cheek. "Sshh, I'm fine. You distracted him before he could hurt me but Jake, I'm so sorry for what he did to you. That never should have happened."

His hand came up to cradle her head and he leaned into her, let her soft, sweetness be a welcome support. "Whatever it took to stop him was worth it, whatever the cost. I've got a hard head. A little bump isn't too much to ask if it will help you. I'd do it all over again. Just right now, will you catch me if I fall?"

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Jake Lee Jackson, but I'm not ever going to let go of you." She wrapped her arms around him and laid his head on her shoulder. They were still on the floor, gently rocking, when Thelma Louise and Sue Ellen came in to make sure everything was all right. One knowing look and they stepped outside. For the first time in her life, there was no more darkness in Dixie's world. No more hiding, no more running, no more pretending to be someone else. Dixie Mason had walked through the fire and come out the other side to be who she was and no one else for the rest of her life.

**********************************************************

That night, Dixie fell into bed, exhausted, at peace for the first time in she didn't know how long. Owen was locked up; she no longer needed to worry about him. She thought she could sleep for days. She opened her eyes and the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and she walked on and on in a meadow of deep green with a sea of grass and no end in sight. Suddenly too tired to go any farther, she dropped down and let sleep take her. When she awoke, she was not alone. Laura and James Ray sat beside her, hands resting on her shoulders, smiling down and waiting expectantly. "Jamie, girl, you are finally free now. No more being afraid, no more hiding, no more running. He won't touch you. We wouldn't allow it and neither will you. We love you, baby girl." It was Mama's voice that rang out, sweet and true.

Then a voice much deeper. "I love you, baby girl. I've watched you all of your life and I'll be watching until the day we're together again. You've been like a little caterpillar, creeping out of the cocoon, scared to death until you found out you had wings. Now, fly baby girl. Fly."

She awoke lying in the bright sunlight in her own bed. Her cheeks were wet but there was a smile on her face and her heart was light. Dixie made herself a promise. It would never be heavy again.
Epilogue

"Hey, Dixie Cup. You ready to head out?" Jake stood in the doorway, his gaze drawn to the sign he had made, "If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it," posted at eye level for every customer that walked through the doors. It was a slogan well-suited to her life. Not only had God helped her through what would have been insurmountable for others, He had brought her out on top. She was stronger, happier than she'd ever been, with an unshakeable confidence. Dixie had found her place and she would plant roots that would become as much a part of Dale's Hollow as the town had become a part of her.

Nearly a year had passed in the life and times of Dixie Mason and what a year it had been. With the help of the Jackson family's influence and connections, Dixie had taken out a loan to start a business of her own. Thanks to Jake, she found the pluck to realize so much potential and add to their community. The result, the Dixie Cup Coffee Shop and Bakery, was an adorable little house just down the block from Jackson's General. A team effort of sorts, the combined forces of her best friends made it fly. Sue Ellen helped with the books and marketing, Thelma Lou contributed the baked good special of the day along with words of wisdom, and Jake was her on-call handy man.

People felt like they were at home when they put their foot inside those four walls. Country music played softly, an assortment of books and magazines spread out on perfect accent tables, while sofas, big, cozy chairs, and a bar provided plenty of opportunities for a sit-down. There was a variety of coffees, cocoas and teas with Dixie's baked goods to go along with it. Her instincts in the general store had paid off. People loved to have some place to kick back and chew the fat while they sipped a hot drink made to order, whether up North or in the heart of the South. A little bit of spoiling, some sweet talk, and a pretty slip of a sugar gal didn't hurt her prospects any.

More than a business, the shop had a cozy apartment tucked in upstairs, giving her a home of her own. She missed Nichol's Park, but her neighbors and friends made a regular appearance. There were no glass slippers, glittery tiara, or fancy dress but there were more developments in her personal life. Dixie turned off the lights, scanned her tidy, hidey-hole, and looked down at the promise ring on her right, ring finger. It held a promise to walk by Jake's side, a promise for her future.

Dixie loved the simple band, engraved with roses wrapped around their names. The moment the circlet slipped on her finger she knew that she would be his someday...with a white dress, a veil, and a tuxedo, topped off by a church jam-packed with friends and family. His parents were making her wait until eighteen to make sure she knew her mind and her heart before setting anything in stone. Nearly there in reality but feeling like one hundred some days, Dixie had no doubts about Jake.

Come December, they'd talk serious. Prolonged exposure to Owen Granville had made her grow up quick, made her want to grab hold of happiness while Jake, already mature, said he'd had at least ten years added to his life during his crash course with Owen, crash being the relative term. In his mind, they were already half way to their rocking chair years. Best not to wait too long...but when it came to Dixie, he'd wait forever, be Rip Van Winkle if he had to.

She raised up on tiptoe to drop a kiss on Jake's cheek. Threading their hands together, they walked out back to her garden, another spot where people could drink their beverage and pass their whiles away. Not a soul was there, no one to see her kneel down by a large, heart-shaped stone that read, "In loving memory of James, Laura, and Jamie Ann Ray. May they rest in peace until they meet again." A golden retriever, named General, gifted from Jake, sat by her feet, standing guard. Jake stood behind her, patiently waiting, always waiting for her. As Dixie looked up at him, at her place, she realized she had what she'd been searching for all of her life. She'd found her home, love, freedom, and herself...all in the heart of Dixie.

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Dedication

"The caterpillar thought the world had come to an end until she became a butterfly." \--Anonymous

Dedicated to all the beautiful people in my life that have made me feel like that butterfly—to my parents, Steve and Betty Pedersen, who in adopting me, helped me to discover who I was meant to be.

\--To my in-laws down South, Kathy, Doug, and Ashley Sprouse. Thank you for the idea, your blend of Southern pride and moxie from Brooklyn, but most of all for always believing in me.

\--To my wonderful husband, Jim, and my son, Patrick, who hold the sun, moon, and my stars. They've been by my side, through thick and thin, ready to help me start over from scratch every time I start all over again.

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