Page 45 of Parentmoon

A steady breeze blows, brushing my loose hair around my face. “How did you get into wind energy?”

Dallas gazes into the distance before us but the corner of his eyes crinkle behind his aviators. “I was poor when I was a kid. Dirt poor. Hand me downs and secondhand items. My mama left when my brother and I were young, leaving my dad to do the best he could. But my mama came from money.”

He pauses but I remain quiet as we walk.

“She’d run off from her family to be with my daddy but didn’t return to them when she left us. They’d shunned her. She had an older brother who was set to inherit their family’s land, but he died in a farm accident. My grandparents never bothered to know me or Jett, but eventually realized they didn’t have any descendants, so they willed us the land. My daddy said not to be fools and hold resentment against them. Take the land and do what we wanted with it. Jett learned the cattle industry. I invested us in windmills. My father died when I was in my twenties. He never got to see the success we’ve become.”

“I’m sorry you lost him young.” My father passed when I still needed him as well. “But what an amazing gift from your grandparents.”

Dallas snorts. “I don’t like to give them too much credit. It wasn’t love at first reunion. They were still bitter their daughter had run off and never returned. They considered Jett and I bastards even though my parents had been legally married. They’d disowned us as well as her but when they needed heirs versus a conglomerate buying out their property, they decided any blood was better than no blood.”

“I can’t understand that mentality. How can grandparents not welcome their grandchildren? For that fact, how do parents disown their child?”

Dallas squints despite his sunglasses. “I suppose people have their reasons. My mama seemed like a restless spirit. As for grandparents . . . well, it’s one reason I can’t wait to be one. I only had one child but I’m expecting her to give me a brood of grandbabies.”

I guffaw. I’m in no rush to be a grandmother. The label alone makes me feel old.

“Today would have been Michael and Keli’s wedding.” The reminder slices through the laughter filling my throat only seconds ago. A lump forms in its place.

“I know, darlin’.”

“I wonder how they are doing.” I should have called Michael this morning. Selfishly, I’ve been enjoying his honeymoon destination, acting as if I’m on a post-nuptial getaway, filled with orgasms and romance, when my son could be suffering.

“Darlin’, I’m not saying not to reach out, but I am saying respect the distance they need. I imagine today is a difficult day for both of them.”

“Did you call Keli?” My mother’s-guilt runs deeper as I’d only been thinking of myself this morning.

“I sent her a message that I was thinking of her, and I was here if she needed me.”

“Did she respond?”

“She sent me a heart emoji.”

With a bitter chuckle, I groan. “Ugh. The dreaded emoji response.” Mockingly, I hitch up my thumb.

Dallas chuckles as well and wraps his fingers around my thumb. Tugging it upward, he presses a kiss to the tip. “I want to show you something.”

We walk a little further until we come to what looks like modern-Roman ruins. Four tall columns mark the corners of something set several concrete stairs above the beach. Opposite the structure is a former boat launch, guarded by two weather-worn and partially dismantled cement lions.

“Come on.” Dallas takes my hand to lead me up the stadium-type stairs. A swimming pool is sunken between the four pillars, filled with muck and dark water. “The original designers wanted to build a Romanesque resort here. Why Roman is beyond me as this area is a tropical paradise. They ran out of money before they could finish, which is the case for a lot of the empty buildings you’ll find on the island. Sadly, they just abandoned the project and left the mess behind.”

I stare into the murky water. The heat intensifies the stench and burns my nostrils.

“The intention was to make this a one-stop wedding destination.” Dallas tips his head for me to follow him back down the stairs and past a circular setting with more pillars, broken curved benches, and a stone walkway overgrown with weeds. It appears the developers intended a garden to be here.

Beside the forgotten garden is a pink stucco chapel with a white steepled roofline that doesn’t match the architecture of the other two areas. Dallas leads me inside. A few of the windows are broken. In place of a stained-glass window at one end of the narrow room is a picture window with a view of the ocean, obscured by grime.

Dallas pauses before the window and stares in the direction of the water. “My guess is couples would wed here. A reception hall wasn’t built but maybe they covered the garden area with canopies. A few cottages are deeper within the property, but squatters have taken them over.”

“Squatters?” I glance around as if people covered in sleeping bags will appear. Instead, the floor is a thick layer of sand with trash littering the corners of the structure. “That isn’t legal.”

“Who’s going to run them off? The property owners have abandoned the place.” Dallas points through the window to a sign a few feet down the beach that is sun-bleached and rusted, but states the property is for sale. “It’s been on the market for twenty years.”

“That’s so sad,” I whisper as if I’ll disturb the unseen squatters, the vanished owners, or the hint of what this place could have been. While its ancient Roman theme isn’t for me, someone might have enjoyed the lavish promise of this location. The idea of weddings which never happened fills my heart with a deep ache.

It’s another reminder of what Michael and Keli lost.

“Michael wrote his vows for Keli,” I say for some reason, squinting off at the ocean through the dirty window.