Dora thought things were back to normal, or at least a new normal that included a weekly lunch at Mr. Talbot's house. She didn't feel comfortable inviting him into hers. She wasn't sure she ever would. On the rest of the weekdays, she spent her time at Ray's house with Kinley—she couldn't call him Jackson—her home, and the bar. Dora liked this new routine, the absence of secrets, the lack of pretense. Everything felt cleaner now, easier, and happier. Damn, she had never been this happy in her life. Some days, Dora felt as if she was levitating. She even cut back on her smoking—she didn't feel the need to finish a whole packet of cigarettes in a day.
But like every good thing, it had to end. A call in an early evening hour had changed everything at once. Dora was the one to answer it, as Kinley was busy washing the dishes. When the man on the other side asked to talk to Kinley, Dora was utterly surprised. In the back of her mind, she knew he had a life somewhere else, with people who knew him, friends, work contacts. But here, in the dense atmosphere of Sequoyah, Georgia, it felt like they were in a time capsule, like no one from the outside world could reach them. That idea had no grasp in reality.
"It's about the book," Kinley said when the call ended. "I need to go back to New York and finish it."
Dora's heart began to pound so hard in her chest that she had to sit. She's always been careful not to get attached to men, in fear of becoming trivial. Now she was becoming just that.
"I want you to come with me." He kneeled in front of her and placed both his hands on her knees. It was a comforting gesture, one that always seemed so gentle and soft to Dora.
"Come with you?" she asked. What would she do in New York?
"I want you to see the city. To spend some time with me there."
Dora had never been out of Georgia. In fact, even leaving Sequoyah had been a rare occurrence. But the way Kinley pitched the idea, the thought of spending time with him and learning more about his previous life, made the prospect alluring, and she agreed.
Three days later, on an early morning hour, they departed. Dora wanted to travel by car, but Kinley said the car wouldn't make it to New York and bought plane tickets for them. It was the most money someone had ever spent on her, and she felt uncomfortable and flattered at the same time. The thought that Kinley wanted her company so badly that he would splurge on her was endearing.
As soon as they stepped into the airport in Atlanta, Dora felt as if she was transported to a different world. The number of people was overwhelming. Of course, she'd seen airports on TV and knew what they were like, but in real life, it was scary, and she found herself clinging to Kinley for warmth in the lonely cold of the crowds.
The anxiety hit her even harder once they left the airport. Everything was bigger, brighter, louder, and smellier. She felt small and insecure in this terrifying city. Kinley, on the other hand, looked unfazed. He even seemed excited to be back and talked about giving her a tour of some of the most famous American landmarks. Dora tried to catch his enthusiasm, to feel happier. Many young women in Sequoyah dreamed of the day they'd be old enough to leave the small town in favor of big cities. Dora never had that desire. As odd as her life had been, she liked Sequoyah and saw it as her only home. It was small, but it made her feel safe, encapsulated.
Kinley's apartment building had an old elevator that creaked under the combined weight of them and their luggage. They didn't pack much, nor did they weigh much, but everything about the building seemed unstable to Dora.
They dragged their suitcases down the hall, and Kinley unlocked the door to his apartment. They walked in, and Kinley turned on the light.
Dora had expected the place to be dusty and uninviting, considering the fact that Kinley had been gone for over a month. She was surprised at the cleanliness of the home. It was clear that he had the place cleaned prior to their arrival. Having someone cleaning her house for her was not a luxury Dora ever indulged in. It felt even a bit wasteful—paying someone else to do things she was perfectly capable of doing on her own. But she was glad that he did that. New York City has been uninviting enough without arriving at a dirty apartment. Kinley made sure this would be a vacation for her rather than an obligation.
What surprised her even more was the brightness of the apartment. Considering the bleakness of his building, Dora had mistakenly expected his apartment to match that tone. The walls were painted white, and the living room was well-lit. The off-white couch looked comfortable, and the view from the window wasn't terrible. It was a busy road, but nothing that offended her eyes too much. Judging by Kinley's living room alone, his house felt perfectly domestic, and she liked it.
She could see small touches of a small-town boy here and there: photos of his grandmother and of him as a boy with Ray, a wooden hall table that seemed like something that he must have brought with him from Sequoyah when he moved here, and the knitted valance curtains on the windows. That was enough to make Dora feel welcome.
"Mrs. James left us dinner," Kinley said and led her to the kitchen, another well-lit room with modern décor. The dinner was set on the table, along with two candles that Mrs. James—whoever she was— set up for them, probably at Kinley's request. Dora felt her heart pounding in her chest when Kinley pulled a lighter out of a drawer and lit the candles. No one had ever done anything romantic for her before. No one even bothered making an effort for her. But Kinley went the distance. He wanted to do this for her to make her feel special and welcome in his home.
Suddenly Dora felt underdressed. In her beaten old jeans and thick brown sweater, she must have looked like some peasant woman rather than anyone's lover. Not knowing what to do with herself and feeling like an awkward creature of times past, she shoved her hands into her pockets.
Noticing her discomfort, Kinley came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.
"We can blow out the candles," he offered. "Mrs. James can be a bit sappy sometimes."
Dora wondered what Kinley told Mrs. James about them, about their relationship, to make her assume candles would be needed to begin with, but she was too tired to dwell on that thought.
"I like the candles," she said.
They sat down and ate quietly. Dora was usually good at small-talk, but she was exhausted, overwhelmed, and hungry. After they finished eating, Kinley insisted on doing the dishes while Dora explored the apartment.
She turned the light on in the bedroom and stood at the doorway. Her bedroom back home was rather big, and even with her king-size bed with dark and heavy wooden bed frame, there was still a lot of room left for other furniture. Kinley's bedroom, however, was more functional. He had a queen-size bed, with a simple metal bed frame that didn't seem heavy at all. The walls were painted white, like the rest of the house, and there was only one nightstand on what Dora assumed was Kinley's side of the bed. For the first time since they started sharing their bed, she realized that they preferred the same side.
Walking into the room, she noticed the window overlooking the city. Unlike the living room, this window didn't have a curtain or a valance. She watched the cars passing, the people walking down the road, the sparkling city lights. Some windowsills were already decorated for Christmas, adding glitz to the already bright city.
Dora felt Kinley's arms wrapped around her from behind. He was quiet as a feline, and she didn't even hear him come in.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"It's different," she said.
He hummed softly into her ear and tightened the embrace. Dora closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean against him. No one ever held her this way before. It was a foreign but not an unpleasant feeling, and Dora turned in his arms and pressed her lips to Kinley's.
He responded with fervor, and before any of them knew it, their clothes came off.
With her arms planted firmly against his chest, Dora backed him towards the bed and climbed on top of him, taking charge of their passionate act. Her lips consumed his, and her hands roamed over his body.
Already familiar with the topography of Dora's body, Kinley was skilled in pleasuring her, and even from beneath her, he was able to take some of the control from her, allowing her to slip into a sense of abandon. In this state, she was at her wildest, letting her most carnal needs be fulfilled as she rode him, her body forming a wavelike shape as she moved.
The rhythmic creaking sound of the bed under them only reached her ears after she found her release, and an uncontrollable guffaw overtook her. It took her a moment to realize that Kinley was looking at her strangely.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to rein in her laughter. "It's just that—we might break your bed."
Kinley smiled. "It's the first time I've heard you laugh."
Climbing off of him, Dora settled by his side. "Is it?"
He hummed softly and turned to his side, tangling his feet with hers.
"I guess that I haven't laughed much since…" She stopped herself before she ruined a good moment.
"You can say it." He urged her. "I miss Ray too."
Kinley looked into her eyes with such intensity that Dora thought that her head might explode if she didn't turn her gaze away. She shuddered when he placed his palm on her cheek and drew away from him. He seemed unfazed when she got up from the bed and escaped to the bathroom.
As she sat on the toilet and attempted to regulate her erratic breathing, Dora noticed her cheeks' extreme flushness in the mirror. She covered them with her palms. They were hot, almost feverish. Before returning to the bedroom, she splashed some water on her face, welcoming the cooling sensation.
Kinley didn't ask any questions when she crawled back into bed. He simply wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She felt his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, something he often did when they were in bed together.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. This day had been exhausting, and the sex, which was invigorating during the act, had drained what little was left of her energy.
Her eyes flew open when she heard a loud honk coming from the street below. From behind her, she heard Kinley's soft snore. The sound did not wake him. She closed her eyes again, but the sound of the traffic outside the apartment, as well as the light coming in from the window, chased her sleep away. She got out of bed, instantly regretting it when the night's chill hit her naked body and lined her skin with goosebumps. Dora picked up her sweater that Kinley discarded earlier from the floor and wore it. Its familiar smell calmed her immediately. She tiptoed to the living room. The lights were off, but the room was still illuminated by the light that came through the window. New York City is an odd place, she thought as she padded to the kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea.
With the hot mug nestled between her palms, she walked back to the living room and took a seat on the couch. Back home, she liked to sit on her porch and drink her morning coffee or evening tea. Out there, she could hear the crickets chirping, the wind swooshing through the grass. She could see the dark clouds forming in the distance. Rainy nights were her favorite because she liked to watch the lightning tearing through the inky sky. But here, instead of endless sky and soft nature sounds, there were lights of all kinds and colors and an unrelenting cacophony that put Dora on edge.
After finishing her tea, Dora curled up on the couch and buried her head under the throw pillow in hopes of blocking the light from her eyes and muffle the noise. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was better. Even so, sleep evaded her that night, and when the first sun rays filtered through the window, she gave up on sleep completely.
At 8 a.m., she heard Kinley's footsteps as he walked from the bedroom to the bathroom. She knew that sound well from the many mornings he woke up at her house. The soft dragging of feet sounded slightly different on the floor of his apartment than it did on hers, but the rhythm was the same.
Even though he usually woke up before her and liked watching her sleep, Kinley did not seem surprised to find her up.
"I made some coffee," she said.
That sentence sent Kinley straight to the kitchen.
Dora pushed herself off the couch and followed him. She'd drank a cup of coffee already, but after her sleepless night, she could use another cup.
Kinley pulled the empty carafe from the coffee machine and turned to her with a confused expression on his face.
"I didn't know how to use this machine," Dora said. "Coffee's in there." She pointed towards a mug on the counter.
Kinley thanked her and took the mug. Dora hoped it was still hot, but when he popped it in the microwave, she realized it must have gone cold.
"You slept well?" he asked as he laced his fingers with hers.
Dora shrugged. "It's a noisy city."
"Yeah, it's different," Kinley replied.
"Do you like it?" she asked, hoping that he will explain the charm of the city to her.
"I do. Yes, I think I do. How about you?"
"It's a strange place," Dora admitted. She didn't want to pass judgment about New York so early, especially since she'd not seen much of it. Maybe the city had redeeming qualities. She hoped Kinley would show them to her.
He laughed. "You'll get used to it. You've really never been out of Sequoyah?"
"I've been to the nearest town. It's bigger, but nothing like this place," Dora said.
Kinley pulled her to him and pressed his forehead to hers, his lips grazing hers. "I'll take you on a tour today. We could visit the Empire State Building and Radio City. Maybe we could get tickets to a play. What do you say?"
Dora wanted to say that it sounded like a lot, but Kinley's enthusiasm to share a part of himself with her was too alluring to refuse. He's lived here for so long. He was a city boy, and she wanted to see that side of him. "That sounds great."
When they returned to Kinley's apartment that evening, Dora's feet were sore, and her ears buzzed. New York was huge, and even though she tried to match Kinley's excitement for this city, she was feeling overwhelmed by it. There was so much light everywhere, and all the buildings were huge.
"I hope you enjoyed our evening," Kinley said.
They had gone to see Cabaret on Broadway and passed through Times Square on their way to the theater. The flashing lights had hurt Dora's eyes, but she did enjoy the musical. She remembered enjoying Cabaret in Sequoyah's old drive-in when she was a teenager.
"I did," she replied softly.
"I wasn't sure what kind of plays you liked since you don't have a television at your place," Kinley said.
Dora realized for the first time how provincial she must have seemed to him, especially considering the fact that he loved this wild city so much. She had to admit that seeing him in these surroundings, he did fit in better in New York City than he did back in Sequoyah. Dora thought it was funny because she never really fit in in Sequoyah. She found a comfortable spot in the mostly hostile environment and settled there, making it her home, her safe zone. She worked with what she had and never considered the idea that there were other options for her out there. In a way, even living on the outskirts of town was more comfortable. She had herself and a few people who were willing to associate with her, and she didn't need anything else. Except now Kinley was in the picture, and although Dora was not sure what his plans for the future were, she wanted to be around him.
"I have a meeting with my publisher tomorrow at the World Trade Center. I've thought maybe you could take a boat tour to the Statue of Liberty while I'm in there, and then we will meet for lunch. Would you like that?"
Dora did find the idea of seeing the Statue of Liberty up-close appealing, but she wasn't sure if she could handle the public transportation to and from the pier. "You'll need to teach me how it works with the trains."
Kinley agreed and promised they'd pick up a subway map the next morning on their way to his publisher's office.
They went to bed, and although the noise and lights from outside still bothered Dora, she was preoccupied with thoughts that distracted her from it. She wondered how she and Kinley would be able to merge their lives, if he even wanted this with her, and what it would mean for her business back in Sequoyah. They'd only been seeing each other for a couple of months, and it was probably too early to know where their relationship was going. On the other hand, they weren't children anymore, and they needed clarity as to what their expectations from each other were before their different lifestyles collided. Dora wasn't sure if there was a solution to that. She'd heard of people managing long-distance relationships, but she wasn't sure it was for her. She didn't give her heart easily, but when she did, it was consuming. And she couldn't imagine herself being away from Kinley for lengthy periods. After hours of thinking and analyzing their situation, Dora's exhausted brain finally gave in, and she fell asleep.
Kinley's plan for the following day turned up to be a complete disaster. Yes, he explained to her how to use the subway and how to understand the directions of each train. That didn't mean that it was easy when he left her to face the underground jungle independently. She only had to take the red line, but a moment's distraction made her take a train to Brooklyn, and finding her way back to Manhattan had been a nightmare. The stress of getting lost and not knowing how to find her way back had made her take a train to East Village instead of the World Trade Center, and even then, she found herself unable to locate the correct entrance to the Subway station. Within less than two hours of being on her own in New York City, Dora was in tears. With the kindness of an elderly woman who noticed her distress, Dora made it to the World Trade Center an hour and a half after she and Kinley decided to meet. She was afraid that he would be gone from there, possibly home, or look for her, but he stood there and waited for her.
"What's wrong?" he asked when he saw her.
Dora explained to him what had happened, but the extreme panic her experience made her feel rendered her from sounding coherent.
"Everyone gets lost here in the beginning," Kinley said, trying to sound understanding. He must have understood that she was lost when she didn't show up in time, and that was why he had waited for her where they parted earlier that day.
Dora didn't care if getting lost in New York City was a rite of passage. She felt like this was like a game to him and that sending her out to this urban wilderness while knowing she was likely to fail to navigate in it was unfair.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed her. "Let's go to lunch and talk about this, okay?"
He took her to a nice restaurant, one that she felt underdressed to be in. Dora tried to push for a simpler place but gave up when he promised her a culinary experience. She wasn't sure if this was his standard of living or if he was trying to impress her. If the latter was the case, she was not impressed.
"I ran into a buddy of mine," he said after they placed their orders. "He invited us to a get-together tomorrow evening. I thought it would be a good chance for you to meet some of my friends."
That sounded harmless enough. As a bar owner in a small town, Dora was quite good at finding conversation topics. If Kinley's friends were the same as him, it shouldn't be too hard.
Kinley mentioned that Dora might need a smart dress for the get-together. Therefore they spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for a dress. Dora wanted to buy a dress that would be functional when she returned to Sequoyah, which was a bit of a challenge. In the end, she settled for a dark burgundy knee-length dress that she could wear to the annual Christmas ball that she hosted at her bar if she ever made it back to Sequoyah before the holiday. She trusted her staff to handle the preparations in her absence since they were employed by her for several years and knew what to do. The idea of spending the holiday season away from Sequoyah was appealing and unappealing at the same time. She always felt lonelier around the holidays, even when Ray was around, and at the same time, the idea of spending it in New York was not that alluring either.
Still overwhelmed by the magnitude of this city, Dora decided to spend the next day checking on her staff's progress in arranging the Christmas Ball. Aside from that, she needed to talk to some of her suppliers and make sure all her orders would be supplied to her before the holiday and handle some of her bills. Spending the day working from home seemed like a good idea, and Dora found that it alleviated some of her longing to Sequoyah.
Kinley's home office was a very comfortable work environment, and she was thankful to him for letting her use it. She noticed that he hadn't used it since they came here. She knew he needed to finish his book about Robert Norwood. Kinley had been working on this book for two years and had told Dora that if he doesn't submit his final draft soon, his readers will lose interest. He never mentioned whether he would write a book about her father, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it, to begin with. She was comfortable in her anonymity but wanted the truth to be known far and wide that her father had not been a murderer.
The shrill ring of Kinley's phone drew her out of her reverie. Having no phone at her home, she always found the ringing annoying. If anyone ever had something important to tell her, they were more than welcome to stop by her house and talk to her. She picked the phone up. It was Kinley, who reminded her of the time of the party to make sure she could get ready on time.
Dora wasn't sure how the get-together had become a party, but she didn't mind it. She was excited to meet Kinley's friends and get to know another side of him. He didn't seem like much of a people-person, but Dora found it hard to imagine how anyone could live in New York and not have friends in the city. Now she realized that she was right. Kinley had a life, just not in Sequoyah. Ray had been his only connection to the small town, and now Dora took his place. That connection sounded flimsy, at best.
The party was hosted in a penthouse that belonged to one of Kinley's friends, a published novelist named Garret Taylor. Even though Dora enjoyed reading, she has never heard of him. Most of the guests Kinley introduced her to at the party were people of the arts—a couple of journalists, a photographer, a playwright, and several musicians who kept argued about Handel's early influences.
Even though Dora liked the dress she bought, she felt simple compared to the other women at the party. Kinley appeared to be proud of her when he introduced her, but Dora could see in their gazes that no one understood what he had found in her. When Kinley's conversation with a couple of crime journalists began to bore her, Dora excused herself and went out to the balcony for a smoke.
The view from the balcony was impressive. Dora could see the city's glamorous skyline, and from a skyscraper rooftop, she had to admit that it was a spectacular sight.
She heard a male voice behind her. "Did you see Jackson's cowgirl?"
"Yee-haw!" the other replied.
Dora could tell they were standing close to the window and didn't know she was there, and even though she knew it was best that she not hear that conversation, she couldn't help but listen.
"I'm telling you, Marty, he hasn't been the same since he witnessed Norwood's execution," the first man said.
"Spending so much time with a murderer and watching them fry him to death messes with your mind," the other man replied.
"Yeah, and then he left for his friend's funeral and came back with that peasant woman." The man proceeded to imitate Dora's southern accent.
"He says she runs a bar in that godforsaken town, Screw-yah or whatever it's called," Marty said.
"Maybe we should let her serve the drinks then. She might like tips."
Dora was not easily offended, but hearing what they thought about her hurt. Her business was something she took great pride in, not only because it was financially successful but also because despite what the people of Sequoyah thought of her, they came to her and not to the competition. Her annual Halloween, Christmas, and New Year's parties were well-known, and people bought tickets a month in advance. She made her bar the center of a small town, which was not a small achievement for the murderer's daughter. But here in New York City, she was a cowgirl, a peasant woman, and just as much an outcast as she was back in Sequoyah. For a few more minutes, she listened to the men joke at her expense and poorly imitate her. When she felt the tears rising in her eyes, she crushed her half-finished cigarette on the balcony rail and went back into the living room, not looking at the faces of the two men who gossiped about her as she passed by them. If she saw their faces, they'd stay in her head, continue to laugh at her, long after she'd gone.
Dora located Kinley talking to one of the musicians and approached him.
"Where have you been?" he asked and wrapped his arm around her middle.
Dora flinched at the contact.
"You okay?" Kinley looked at her, worry deepening the wrinkles around his eyes.
"I'm not feelin' so well. I think I'm gonna head back. I need the key," she said.
"We could leave if you want," Kinley offered.
"No, you stay. Have fun with your friends," Dora said.
Kinley fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. "Do you need me to write the address for you so you don't get lost again?"
"No. I'll manage." Dora shrugged.
Kinley leaned towards her and pushed a bill into her palm. "Don't use the train. Take a cab, okay?" He pressed a kiss to her cheek and smiled at her.
Dora felt her insides boiling with anger, but somehow she managed to keep it together as she grabbed her coat from the hanger and slipped out of the front door without saying goodbye to any of the party guests. They didn't like her anyway.
Once outside, Dora hailed a cab that took her to Kinley's apartment. When she left the party, she had hoped that the ride back to Kinley's would help her clear her mind and let go of her anger, but when she opened the door of his apartment, she could feel nothing but consuming rage. She made a beeline for Kinley's kitchen and poured herself a drink, and then another one, but that only fueled her anger more.
By the time Kinley returned home, Dora had filled an entire ashtray as she packed her suitcase.
"What are you doing?" Kinley asked.
"It's too much," Dora replied.
"What's too much?" Kinley's perplexed expression told her that he had no idea what it was like to be a foreigner in New York City.
"Everything—the noise, the lights, those confusing streets. Your friends think I'm a yokel." Dora didn't mean to yell at him, but her emotions erupted out of her, and she was not able to contain them any longer.
"What are you talking about? My friends liked you."
"They thought I'm a cowgirl from Screw-yah. I was the joke of the party, a freak they could laugh at." Dora had tears streaming from her eyes. "I came here because I know this place is important to you. But I don't belong here."
"Why don't we go to sleep and wake up fresh in the morning? You'll feel better, and we can figure out how to make you more comfortable in New York," Kinley suggested.
Dora shook her head. She couldn't bear the thought of staying in this city a moment longer. She zipped her suitcase and moved it off the bed.
Kinley stood in front of her and took her hands in his. "I can't come after you. I have to finish the book."
"I know what you have to do. I'm not asking you to follow me."
"Will you at least call me when you get home?" Kinley asked as Dora made her way to the door.
"I don't have a phone."
Upon her return to Sequoyah, Dora felt better immediately. Even if she wasn't particularly well-liked by the townspeople, she knew her place here and now, more than ever, was more than willing to fulfill the role they assigned her years ago.
As soon as she unpacked her bags, she immersed herself in her work. This year's Christmas party would be one of the biggest she's arranged. She had sold more tickets than ever, quite possibly because of the interest Kinley sparked among the Sequoyah residents when he began investigating her father's conviction. The idea that someone might write a book about their sleepy little town made people gravitate toward Dora, whose connection to Kinley made her somewhat of a local celebrity. That was a harsh way to learn that she should have probably been careful what she wished for.
At first, coming back, she was not aware that her leaving for New York with Kinley has made her the talk of the town. It was only upon her return that a journalist from Sequoyah Today, the local newspaper, came over to her house.
Louise Young was Dora's former classmate and was responsible for some of the cruelest bullying Dora endured. Aside from regularly calling her names, shooting spitballs at her, and purposely bumping into her in the halls, Louise and her friends were also the reason Dora had to repeat her senior year in high school after they pushed her off a staircase. As a result, Dora fractured multiple bones, suffered a head injury, and spent several months in rehabilitation.
Now Louise was standing on her doorstep, asking to come in and ask her a few questions for the newspaper.
"I'd prefer it if we spoke out here," Dora said and stepped out to the front porch.
"Sure." Louise smiled.
Dora wanted to smack the stupid grin off of the other woman's face.
"You know everyone is excited about the Christmas Ball at Dora's. I bought a ticket, too."
"I don't see how my bar would be the hangout place for the likes of you," Dora said.
"Oh, well. I just want to come and see what the fuss is about. Your Christmas Balls are legendary; you must know that." Louise's saccharin tone irritated Dora. "Plus, it's for a good cause, I hear."
"Yes, it is. Just like every year, I am donating the proceeds from the ticket sales to the Franklin Meyer children's hospital in Clarke Hill, where I spent my senior year of high school."
"Oh, yes. What happened to you was terrible," Louise said.
Dora had to shove her hands into her pockets to avoid punching the other woman.
"Anyway, what I'm interested in talking about is your father," Louise said. "I hear that his name is going to be cleared. How do you feel about that?"
"It's too little and too late." Dora was happy that her father would be acquitted, but it would not bring him back.
"Yes, of course," Louise said. "But you will no longer be known in town as the murderer's daughter. This must be a relief."
Dora's eyes widened. How dare this woman even call her that to her face? "You know, Louise, I think we are done here." She began to walk towards the door.
"Dora, wait," Louise called after her. "We didn't finish the interview."
Dora turned towards the other woman, the one who depended on her words to get a good story. "You know what, Louise? Here's something you can put in the paper. My entire childhood, you called me names, humiliated me, and did horrible things to me. Now you need my help with your job. Why don't you take a good look in the mirror and write about what you see?" Feeling rage mixed with pride, Dora walked back into the house and shut the door in Louise's face.
The next morning greeted Dora with fresh snow, the first of the year. It usually snowed in Sequoyah much earlier in the year, but this year the snow was late. Ever since she was a child, Dora loved snow. Its purity and softness covered the ugliness of the world in a white veil. Wearing her thick winter robe over her pajamas, Dora took her morning coffee on the porch, watching the snow slowly falling from the sky, entranced.
The sound of an engine roaring down the road drew her attention from the magic of winter. A car pulled into her driveway and stopped in front of the house. Dora narrowed her eyes, trying to see the person behind the wheel. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw Jackson Kinley coming out of the car. He walked towards her, his dark figure both confident and frail as he climbed.
"I couldn't write," he said. "Not when you weren't there."
It sounded ridiculous. After all, Kinley has written most of his book before knowing Dora, and the Norwood murders had nothing to do with her. And yet, she didn't need any convincing that he was telling the truth.
"You were right about everything. Your place is not in New York." He spoke softly, his voice caressing her ears. "And I'm starting to think that maybe it's not my place either."
"You're a city boy," Dora said with a grin.
"I was born and raised in Sequoyah. If my friends don't like and accept my girlfriend because she's from Sequoyah, then they can't possibly like me that much either."
"They seemed to like you," Dora replied.
"Nah. They like the prestige of being associated with a famous author who gets access to high profile cases. There's nothing real in it." Kinley's fingers rubbed against hers as if he was unsure how she might react if he took her hand. "But here, there's something real."
Dora nodded slowly, and a smile spread across her lips. Before Kinley, she had lovers, but she never felt with any of them the way Kinley made her feel. "Yes, this is real. We are real."
1998 was an odd year, Dora thought when she woke up on the morning of December 25th. It was the year she lost one of the only men she thought she could trust, and through that loss, gained the love of a man who truly saw who she was and respected it. It was the year she pushed to get her father acquitted and earned it, and on the way, gained a second father. It was the year she traveled to New York City to discover that the place where she truly belonged has always been Sequoyah. When Ray passed away in the fall, Dora couldn't have imagined what a significant impact his death would have on her life, and even though some days she missed his presence, she knew that if he hadn't died, she wouldn't have gained so much this year.
She turned in bed, and her eyes raked over the sleeping form of the man who was responsible for all these changes in her life. He was still asleep after they spent most of the night making love. Dora enjoyed looking at him, studying the lines on his face, the rhythm of his breaths, and the texture of his skin. He was here to stay.
Dora knew that Kinley would have to travel to New York every few weeks for meetings, but he would complete his book about Norwood in Sequoyah. He would not write about Lloyd Overton; he said it was too personal. Dora thought it was a wise choice. Now that her peace of mind and confidence in her father's innocence was restored, she didn't want to draw any more attention. She tried to live a quiet and simple life here in Sequoyah with Kinley.
The noise of a car pulling into her driveway ruined the idyllic moment. Dora went out of bed and put on her robe, and went downstairs to talk with whoever it was who dared to interrupt her Christmas morning. To her surprise, the person standing on her front porch was no other than Louise Young. Dora saw her at the party the previous night but didn't interact with her.
"Merry Christmas, Dora," Louise greeted her.
Dora nodded at her. She didn't have anything to say to this woman.
"I know that I am probably the last person you want to see on Christmas morning, so I'll make this quick," Louise said. "I thought about you a lot after our last conversation. You were right. I was nothing but cruel to you since the day we met, and you deserve an apology. Everyone in this town owes you an apology, really, but I will be the first. I wanted to give you this in person." Louise handed Dora a copy of the Christmas edition of Sequoyah Today. "It's the article I wrote about your father and you."
Dora took the paper and looked on the front page. She saw a photo of her father on the front page.
"I hope you can forgive me after you read this," Louise said and handed Dora a red carton box tied in a bow. "I made you some gingerbread cookies."
Louise wished her Merry Christmas again and left, leaving a stunned Dora standing on the front porch with a newspaper and a cookie box in her hands.
After watching Louise's car disappear down the road, Dora went back inside the house and put a pot of coffee on the stove. She liked her morning coffee black and strong, unlike Kinley, who usually preferred a latte. As Dora brewed her coffee, Dora opened the cookie box and grabbed one cookie. She picked up the newspaper from the table and read the article Louise wrote about her father. One excerpt was unusual for Louise's reporting style.
"We are often quick to judge others, even when there isn't any evidence that they have done something wrong. Sequoyah made a terrible mistake many years ago when we put an innocent, hardworking family man to death without proof and left his daughter without a father. The injustice did not end with Lloyd Overton's execution. It carried over to his daughter, Dora. This town has treated Dora like she was responsible for what her father was falsely accused of throughout her life. Now this town owes it to Dora to change its ways and atone for the past.
I cannot tell others what to do without acting upon my advice, so I would like to be the first Sequoyah resident to extend my apology to Dora Overton. Please accept my heartfelt apology for the abuse you suffered under my hands when we grew up together. I am sure that there is nothing I can do to take away the horrible memories I must have caused you, but I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for what I have done to you."
Dora felt Kinley's arms coming around her waist from behind and pulling her to him. She didn't even hear him coming down the stairs.
Kinley pressed a kiss to her hair and looked at the paper over her shoulder. "What's so interesting in the Christmas paper?" His voice was still hoarse from sleep.
Dora handed him the paper and stepped out of his arms to make him a cup of coffee and take hers off the stove.
"How do you feel about this?" he asked her when he finished reading Louise's article.
"I don't know. It's confusing. And I'm not sure that I wanted this attention," Dora admitted. That was why she was also glad that Kinley had decided not to write the book about her father. The truth was out there, and that was enough.
Kinley hummed and grabbed a cookie from the box. "Did you make these?"
Dora snorted. She wasn't much of a baker. "No, Louise Young did. I guess she feels awful about her behavior."
"Do you think you'll forgive her?"
"Maybe. I don't think we'll ever become friends, but I don't hate her," Dora said. She poured her coffee into a mug and finished making Kinley's.
"Merry Christmas, by the way," Kinley said when she brought their mugs to the table. "I'm not much of a holiday person, but it's nice, spending it with a person you love."
Dora looked at him. His eyes shone when he said those words, and she knew he meant it. Neither of them was an emotional person, but what they were feeling for each other was undeniable. For the first time in her life, Dora found the courage to bare her heart to another human being.
"Merry Christmas, Kinley. I love you."
THE END