Considering all the things that Colton had let slide in recent months, Del had her doubts about whether this suddenly promised conversation between them would actually take place. After all, how many times had she reminded him about the smallest everyday things like chopping some more firewood before she just gave up and did it herself? It was just part of the standard Colton behavior these days.
But the previous night, he'd been different.
"I want to win you back, Delly, I want to win it all back," Colton had said firmly. There was an energy about him, a gleam in his eyes, that she hadn't seen in months. He'd promised her that things would change, starting the next night, when the two of them would sit down and talk.
"You're my home, Delly. You always have been, and you always will be."
To her surprise, a little after nine p.m. that evening, Del heard Colton heading toward her in the living room. She put her book down and gazed at him expectantly.
Colton had never had trouble with words, though he seemed to now. Tentatively, he picked up her hand. He kissed her knuckles as she clasped the back of his hand. It was work-worn and familiar, a hand that had provided her with pleasure and comfort since she was fifteen years old.
He reiterated what he'd started saying the previous night, about wanting to win her back. Del cut him off.
"You can't win me back," she said. "Because you never lost me. I love you, Colton, no matter what. Don't you know that by now?"
He suddenly began to sob, gut-wrenching sobs he'd been fighting since the night Jacob disappeared. The two embraced, holding each other for what could have been minutes or hours.
Suddenly Delilah startled awake. She was sitting in an armchair in her living room, over twenty-three years after this conversation had occurred. But - had it? Was it just a dream? Or wishful thinking, about all the messy things that had been left unspoken after Colton's untimely death?
She wished she knew.