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Without notice, an old memory flashed in my mind. It was bright and vivid and stopped me in my tracks.

Wilmot and I were in the kitchen. He’d opened a small package on the table and pulled out a dress. I was probably six or seven and the dress was clearly made for a little girl. Inside the memory, the print was small blue flowers.

“Who sent that?” I’d asked.

“I’m not sure, but I bet it’s for you.”

“It’s a dress.”

“That’s correct.”

“I don’t wear dresses.”

“You can wear whatever you want, but it’s a pretty dress. Maybe you could wear it to the Easter egg hunt this Sunday.”

“But I have to hunt hard for eggs.”

Wilmot laughed. “You can do that in a dress.”

“No, I can’t! No one can run in a dress.”

“I see.”

Wilmot set the dress on top of the box, and we finished our breakfast. I had no idea who sent it or what happened to it, but I never wore it. Wilmot never pushed me to do much of anything.

My father hadn’t been a great parent. He hadn’t had a lot of time to give to me that didn’t include him working on a project.

We didn’t read books together. We didn’t just hang out and watch television. We didn’t even go to the Easter egg hunt together. If I remembered correctly, he’d given me a paper bag to hold the eggs and then sent me on my way by myself.

But he wasn’t a bad father either. He wasn’t cruel or mean. I knew he did the best he could. He just didn’t know what to do with me. And he had work to do.

Now I wondered what happened to that dress.

I sighed and smiled sadly at the memories. Most days I just went on with my business. I’d been on my own for a long time. I hadn’t spent many moments thinking about what could have been.

Searching for my father’s remains, along with what he’d done for a living, was probably why I’d turned myself into a bone expert. I didn’t need a professional psychologist to diagnose that one.

I smoothed the dress and glanced at the time. Then I took it off and put the jeans back on. The dress just wasn’t me.

I needed to get going. The last box was going to have to wait until after dinner. I didn’t want to be too late.

And I needed a little recovery time.

I made sure I had the gun in my pack, locked the doors (I still needed to get that deadbolt), and then climbed into the dirty Jeep. My jeans and the fringed shirt would be dirty by the time I got to dinner, but it was going to have to be good enough.

The house that Sonny rented sat at the end of a paved road, right at the edge of a dirt road and next to a small farm that kept a few horses in a dusty pasture, though it appeared the owners watered a large patch to keep some grass growing. I parked the Jeep on the road and was greeted immediately by the curious horses, who trotted forward to welcome me.

I didn’t know who lived there, but I had known the old guy who owned the house that Sonny had rented. At ninety, he’d moved to Tucson to be closer to his doctors. Old Lou had been a friendly companion around town, and I hoped he was doing well.

After petting the horses’ noses, I grabbed the bottle of wine I’d found in the back of my fridge from the Jeep’s passenger seat and made my way to the door.

I’d been on dates over the years, but nothing had grown into a long relationship. I wasn’t sure where this was going with Sonny, but it was the first time I’d thought about putting on a dress for a long time, and that seemed like something. Even if I hadn’t kept it on.

“Hey,” Sonny called from the open doorway. “Give me a minute. I’ve got carrots and apples.”

“Sounds good.” I waved.

A few moments later, Sonny hurried toward me carrying produce-filled bags.