Kitabı oxu: «The One She Left Behind»
“So are you game?”
Matt looked at Savannah. “It’s way past time to have a proper reunion of the original six-pack.”
For some stupid reason, she glanced at Sam as if she needed his permission. Worse still, he sat there in silence, looking completely noncommittal.
“Talk her into it, McBriar.”
Sam’s smirk turned into a frown. “She can make up her own mind. If she doesn’t want to do something, then I sure as hell can’t make her do it.”
In Savannah’s opinion, he’d all but confirmed he would rather she not show up. That alone served as a good enough reason to attend the little soiree. She could tolerate Sam for a few hours. Besides, she truly wanted to connect with her old friends, even if she didn’t count Sam among them.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Savannah?”
She turned to find Sam leaning against the railing, arms folded across his chest. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It means spending an entire night with me.”
Dear Reader,
First love…
Two simple words that have the potential to evoke complicated emotions. If you’ve ever been in love, you’re bound to have one because—let’s face it—we all have to start somewhere.
Interestingly enough, I stumbled across a survey that claimed only twenty-five percent of women actually marry their first love. Maybe so, but I can almost guarantee the other seventy-five percent have never forgotten theirs. In my experience, when the subject has come up during a group discussion, I’ve noticed that some people have fond recollections, others express their foolishness and a few have even spoken of regrets. I venture a guess that every now and then many have asked themselves “What if?” What if things had been different? What if we had stayed together? What if I unexpectedly ran into him on the street? What would I say?
Those questions served as inspiration for The One She Left Behind, a story involving what once was and what possibly could be again if old recriminations can be put aside. A roller coaster ride into the past that changes two people’s perspectives on life, love and forgiveness. One of my personal favorite plots—a reunion in every sense.
I truly hope you enjoy the first book in the Delta Secrets miniseries, where you’ll meet a group of high school friends once known as the six-pack. In the meantime, I wish you fond memories, good friends and happy reading!
Kristi Gold
The One She Left Behind
Kristi Gold
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristi Gold has always believed that love has remarkable healing powers and she feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of love and commitment. As a bestselling author, a National Readers’ Choice winner and a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, Kristi has learned that although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from personal stories shared by readers and networking with other authors, both published and aspiring. You may contact Kristi through her website, www.kristigold.com, on Facebook or through snail mail at P.O. Box 24197, Waco, Texas 76702 (please include an SASE for response).
In loving memory of my husband, Steve—
Husband, father, healer.
My hero
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
AS THE CLASSIC COUNTRY ballad began to play, Savannah Greer’s past came tumbling back on a white-water rush of memories. The song of love and leaving brought to mind another place and another time, a bridge long since crossed, but unfortunately not quite burned.
From her perch on a barstool at the diner’s counter, she glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting to see the proverbial man from her past lounging in the back booth, weathered guitar in hand, his expression as bitter as the words he’d delivered more than a decade ago. But she only caught sight of a rotund farmer standing by the ancient jukebox, the culprit who’d unwittingly sent her imagination into overdrive with one careless selection.
Savannah turned back to the counter, took another sip of the frosted root beer and frowned. She’d never been particularly fond of the drink, or nostalgia, which left her questioning why she’d bothered to stop in at Stan’s on the way to the farm. Truth was, she’d wanted to delay dealing with the grief over losing her beloved father, and being home would simply make it all too real. She also didn’t look forward to seeing her mother again, yet prolonging the reunion would only fuel Ruth Greer’s well-established disapproval of her daughter.
With that in mind, Savannah reached inside her wallet, withdrew two dollar bills and handed them to the waitress—a fresh-faced young woman who had to be close to the same age she’d been when she’d shed this godforsaken Mississippi Delta town. The girl smiled, slid two quarters across the counter and said, “Y’all come back now.”
“Have a nice evening,” Savannah muttered, yet she wanted desperately to tell the teenager to get out of Placid while she still could, before the place sucked the life out of her.
She left the change on the counter and hurried toward the exit, craving freedom, only to face her past head-on when the door opened before she could escape.
He moved into the room like a shadow at sundown, all hard-shell insolence and towering height, his dark hair just long enough to be deemed disreputable in such a conservative community. He stared at her for a moment and when recognition dawned, a mocking smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Laughter rumbled low in his throat and crinkled the corners of his dark blue eyes, dredging up images of riotous storms and uncontrolled passion. He thumbed the brim of his baseball cap up from his brow and studied her from head to toe with all the cockiness of a seventeen-year-old jock. “Looks like Savvy’s come back to town.”
Savannah’s feet refused to move from the worn tiled floor. She couldn’t manage a step, not one step, for that meant she would again be moving toward him, not away.
You’re not a child, Savannah. Leave.
Clutching her purse to her chest, she simply said, “Goodbye, Sam,” then brushed past him and rushed out into the humid June evening.
As she strode across the gravel parking lot toward her car, she heard the all-too-familiar voice call out, “Walking away again, Savannah?”
Ignoring the condemnation in his tone, Savannah quickened her pace. But against her better judgment, she paused to take another backward glance and discovered Sam leaning against the bed of a shiny black truck parked near the entrance, arms folded across his chest, looking as if he expected her to run back to him.
When her gaze again connected with his, Savannah’s pulse beat a staccato rhythm in her ears as her nerves unraveled like an old woven rug.
What was wrong with her? She was behaving like some kid who’d gone to see the latest slasher movie, afraid to witness the terror on the screen, yet unable to resist some primitive calling to do that very thing. To face the fear. In this case, the man and the memories.
As she climbed into the safety of her sedan, Savannah attributed the unwelcome reaction to the remnants of an idealistic teenage perception of love. After all, she’d worked so hard to ignore those times when a warm breeze would blow across her face and remind her of him. She only needed to recall his parting words all those years ago to ground herself in reality.
Go on and leave, Savannah. I hope to God you never come back.
But she had come back—only to discover that if a person didn’t kill all those feelings for an old love, they would remain dormant until one summer day years later, they broke through like spring grass, changing your perspective. Interrupting your comfortable life. Again breaking your heart.
Surrounded by tattered recollections of the town where she’d spent her formative years, among the place of shattered dreams, that realization pummeled Savannah like an iron fist. And so did awareness that her greatest fear had come to pass. Even after a dozen years, Samuel Jamison McBriar, her first love—her first lover—could still affect her.
AS IF TIME HAD DONE AN about-face, Sam watched her drive away again, leaving him standing in front of the diner to deal with a truckload of recollections and more than a few regrets.
He had no one but himself to blame for the sudden shock of seeing Savannah Greer. He could’ve driven past the parking lot when he’d caught sight of the Illinois plates. He could’ve put off the encounter until he paid his respects at her father’s funeral tomorrow. He could’ve waited one more day to satisfy his curiosity over how much she’d changed. The answer to that—not much. She was probably a few pounds heavier, not a bad thing considering she’d been rail-thin as a teenager. Definitely as pretty as he remembered. Her dark brown eyes looked the same and her hair was still golden blond, but not as long as before. He’d bet his last ten acres she still had a stubborn streak, one of the qualities that had attracted him when he’d been a sucker for girls who could hold their own in a battle of wills.
So, lost in his thoughts, Sam didn’t notice a car had pulled up in the adjacent space until he heard “Daddy!” followed by the sound of six-year-old feet pounding across the gravel. He barely had time to brace himself before his daughter threw her arms around his waist with enough force that he took a step backward to maintain his balance.
“Whoa there, Joe,” he said as he lifted her into his arms and tugged at her dark brown ponytail.
She popped a kiss on his chin and grinned, displaying the blank space where her top two teeth had been the last time he’d seen her a month ago. “I’m not Joe, Daddy. I’m Jamie.”
“I know that,” he said as he set her back on her feet. “I’m the one who named you, kiddo. And it looks like you left a couple of your choppers at home.”
She touched her bare gums. “The tooth fairy brought me five bucks, Daddy.”
“Which she spent on candy even though I strictly forbade it.”
Sam turned toward the sound of the voice belonging to the other blonde in his life. Correction. The second blonde who’d left him. But when it came to his ex-wife’s parting, he’d played a major role. “Hey, Darlene. I thought you weren’t going to be here for another hour.”
She set a miniature purple suitcase down onto the ground at his boots. “From the minute she climbed out of bed this morning, Miss Jamie kept bugging me, so we started out early. Luckily I spotted your truck before we drove all the way out to the farm.”
Jamie tugged on his hand to get his attention. “Can I get a chocolate shake, Daddy? I had my dinner.”
Normally he’d give his permission without a thought, but he’d learned to defer to her mother to keep the peace. “It’s okay with me, as long as your mom says it’s okay.”
Darlene waved in the direction of the diner. “Fine. Your sweet tooth is going to be your dad’s problem for the next few days.”
Sam caught Jamie’s arm before she took off. “Sit by the window so I can see you, and don’t talk to strangers.” As if that were going to happen. Strangers were a rare occurrence in Placid, but he preferred to err on the side of caution. “I’ll be in as soon as I say goodbye to your mom.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she called out, then headed at a dead run into Stan’s, slamming the door behind her.
Once he made sure Jamie had followed orders and climbed into the designated booth, Sam turned back to Darlene. “I could’ve driven to Memphis and picked her up.”
“I told you I planned to stop by Mom’s and Dad’s, remember?”
Right now Sam had trouble remembering anything except seeing Savannah again and the lingering bitterness mixed with the same stupid spark of lust.
“Are you okay, Sam?” Darlene asked when he failed to respond.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because when we pulled up, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
Not so far from the truth. A ghost from his past. She’d come and gone so quickly, he wasn’t sure she hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. “I just ran into Savannah Greer. She’s in town for her father’s funeral.”
Darlene’s expression went cold. “Well, that explains a lot.”
He didn’t have to ask what she’d meant by that. During their years together, she’d often accused him of carrying a torch for his former high school sweetheart. Not true. Savannah’s disregard still burned like a brand, and ultimately the end of his and Darlene’s marriage had come when they’d both discovered they made better friends than spouses.
Recognizing a subject change would prevent more speculation, Sam pointed at Darlene’s swollen belly. “Are you sure that baby’s not due until October?”
She laid her palm on her abdomen and scowled. “That’s exactly what my husband said to me last night. Today he’s not walking straight.”
Sam laughed. “Tell Brent he has my sympathy, and warn him that your mood doesn’t get any better until about thirty minutes after you deliver. But you do have some fine moments when your hormones kick in.”
She reluctantly smiled. “I think he’s already figured that out. And speaking of Brent, I need to go. I’ll see you Friday.”
“You bet.” He hesitated a moment, feeling as if he needed to reaffirm that she’d made the right choice by leaving him behind. “I’m glad you and Brent are happy, Darlene. You deserve to be.”
Finally, she smiled. “I am happy, Sam, and I hope you find someone who makes you happy, too. But that’s not going to happen in this town. All the women are either underage, have a foot in the hereafter or they’re married.”
Didn’t he know it. But he wasn’t inclined to go too long without company and he did have a couple of local gals who readily accommodated him when he called. “I’ve got the farm to keep me busy. I’m doing okay.”
She sent him a skeptical look. “Right, Sam. I don’t know a man who doesn’t want a woman’s company every now and then, especially you. But then again, since Savannah’s back in town, maybe you can remedy that.”
She was determined to take hold of that old jealousy and shake it like a hound with a hambone. “That’s ancient history, Darlene. I haven’t seen her or talked to her in twelve years.” Twelve long years. “I don’t have a clue what she’s up to now.”
“My guess is she’s probably married.”
“She’s not.”
Darlene cracked a cynic’s smile. “No clue what she’s been doing, huh?”
The longer this conversation went on, the greater the risk for revealing that he’d kept up with Savannah through her parents. “I better get inside before Jamie orders two chocolate shakes and downs them both.”
“True.” Darlene climbed into her sedan and powered down the window. “Make sure she wears shoes most of the time.”
“I’ll try,” he said as she backed out of the space and drove away. But he wouldn’t force the issue. Nothing better than curling your bare toes in some good old black Delta dirt, exactly what he’d told Savannah during their first introduction. As if it had happened yesterday, he recalled exactly what she’d been wearing—a pair of leg-revealing white shorts, a fitted navy blue tank top and no shoes. He’d been a goner from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Strange that he remembered those details. Maybe not so strange at all. He remembered a lot of particulars about their time together, especially that day in this very diner when he’d intentionally stomped on her heart the moment she told him she was leaving.
Long ago he’d learned that everyone eventually leaves. Still, even after all this time, he couldn’t stop the resentment that boiled just beneath the surface. And if he had any sense at all, he’d steer clear of her. Unfortunately, he’d never had much sense when it came to Savannah Greer. But he wasn’t that kid anymore, and the man had no use for her.
AS SAVANNAH STOOD BEFORE the white clapboard house that had been in her mother’s family for three generations, she was immediately drawn in by the familiar song of the katydid, the pungent scent of freshly plowed earth and fragrant magnolia blossoms. But appreciation of the old home place hadn’t come quickly or easily. They’d moved here from Knoxville the summer she’d turned fourteen, and she’d hated leaving the city and her friends. She’d basically thought her life was over. Had it not been for her father’s encouragement, she might have seriously considered running away.
You’ll learn to love it here, Savannah. I promise…
Like the remember-when song that had played in the diner, her father’s gentle voice filtered into her mind. The image of his kind green eyes had been forever etched in her memory like the butterflies he’d taught her to capture in her palms. She had always let them go after inspecting their wings. If only she could release the painful loss with such ease. If only she could get past the equally painful memories of her mother’s constant scorn.
She reminded herself why she’d come back here—to say goodbye to her daddy. But now that she thought about it, in many ways her daddy had left her some time ago. The little girl still loved him, yet her adult heart couldn’t forget how he’d never stood up to his wife, never sided with his child even when she had been wronged. He simply remained neutral in the ongoing battle between mother and daughter.
None of that mattered now. Her father was gone, and she wasn’t little Savannah from Placid. She was grownup Savannah from Chicago. And she could face whatever she must in order to put the past to rest.
Savannah drew in a fortifying breath and slowly opened the door. As she stepped into the foyer, the steady drone of conversation filtered into the entry hall. She set her bags at the bottom of the staircase and when she walked into the living room, all talk ceased. Thankfully, the first face she saw was a welcome one.
“Savannah, my goodness.” Her mother’s sister crossed the room and touched Savannah’s cheek as if she were an ethereal presence. “Law, girl, you’re still as pretty as ever.”
Savannah drew her into a hearty hug. “It’s so good to see you, Aunt May.”
May dabbed at her misty eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “Look, Ruth, your baby girl’s come home.”
Savannah turned her attention to the woman standing near the fireplace, her frame as rigid as the floor lamp in the corner. When she locked into her mother’s stern gaze, she found no warmth in the dark brown eyes so much like her own.
“You’re late, Savannah.” Both her tone and expression indicated her displeasure.
“Yes, Mother, I’m late. But I did come home.”
“Yes, you did. This time.”
No other words passed between them. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t already been said.
A nervous cough broke through the awkward silence, switching Savannah’s focus to the place that housed her father’s favorite lounger, where her uncle Bill now stood. “You sure do look good, Savannah,” he said. “Real productive.”
Savannah smoothed the sleeves of the tailored blue suit. “Thank you, Uncle Bill. You’re looking as sharp as ever.”
He hooked his thumbs in the suspenders he’d worn for as long as she could remember. “Still have that story-book imagination, do you, gal? That’s okay.” He patted his belly. “I appreciate your kind words.”
Just as well as she knew the well-worn loomed rug beneath the coffee table, Savannah recognized that few kind words would be thrown around this evening, at least when it came to her mother.
“There’s lots of food in the kitchen, darlin’,” Aunt May said, nervously kneading the handkerchief. “The neighbors have been real nice, bringing in casseroles and desserts and I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you grab a plate and come sit so we can all catch up.”
Savannah slowly surveyed the area to see if any other visitors had crouched in the corner, hiding away from the tension that filled the room like Uncle Bill’s pipe smoke. She released the breath she’d been holding when she discovered no one else was around. “I thought maybe I’d go by the funeral home.”
“The visitation was over an hour ago,” her mother said, more disdain in her voice. “I called you and told you the time.”
Just one of her many shortcomings as far as her mother was concerned. Ruth hated tardiness as much as she hated missing her Monday night bridge game. Since it was Monday, that could account for her irritable mood. But had she ever really needed a reason?
In the interest of peace, Savannah answered, “I’m sorry. I had to take care of a few last-minute briefs and postpone two court dates before I could get on the road.” Suddenly she’d become the apologetic daughter again. Always ready to please, but never quite able to do enough. “I think I’ll grab that coffee,” she said as she dropped her purse onto the piano bench. “Can I get anyone anything?”
Her mother turned away as May raised a trembling hand to her plump neck. “No, honey, we’ve eaten enough to kill a moose. Just help yourself.”
Savannah couldn’t get away quickly enough. She’d surely suffocate if she had to stay two days, much less the planned two weeks. But she’d promised to remain for the reading of the will. Settle whatever needed to be settled, at least from a legal standpoint. She supposed her status as an attorney had as much to do with that as her role as a family member.
Traveling down the corridor past the gallery of photos hanging on the knotty pine walls, Savannah stopped at the small table in the center of the hall and ran a hand over the age-yellowed lace covering. Everything was the same, including the vine-covered vase centered below her parents’ wedding photograph. In a fit of anger, she’d broken that vase, right after her mother had insisted Savannah stop hanging out with Sam because he only wanted “one thing.” She could see the veins where it had been glued back together, still carried the scar on her knee from a cut she’d gotten while trying to pick up the pieces, remembered her mother’s disapproval. Yes, some things never changed, and apparently her mother had been right—Sam had only wanted “one thing.”
Making her way into the deserted kitchen, Savannah took the silver pot from the counter and poured a cup of coffee. She sat in one chair positioned around the small dinette, thankful for some time alone. The reality of her father’s death coupled with seeing Sam again was almost too much to handle, but she wouldn’t cry. At least not yet. Not until she was safely in bed, alone with her grief.
A few moments later, May breezed into the room carrying two empty glasses that she set in the sink before regarding Savannah. “It’s been over five years since you’ve been here, honey. You should try to get along with your mama for both hers and your daddy’s sake.”
She’d given up on that prospect in her teens, and it had been seven years, not five, since her last trip home, something she didn’t care to point out. “I know, May, but she doesn’t seem to be willing to call a truce. I just wish I knew what I did to cause her to hate me.” Aside from the typical teenage rebellion.
May’s gaze snapped to hers. “She doesn’t hate you, honey. She loves you more than you realize. She’s just a hard woman to understand, but she’s a good woman.”
Savannah couldn’t remember when she’d witnessed that goodness. On second thought, she did recall a time when Ruth Greer had been more affectionate, more like a real mother. Yet that had all come to an end not long after Savannah passed into puberty. “I’ve tried to understand her, Aunt May. Even now, I’m having trouble with that. She doesn’t seem to be at all upset that Dad’s gone.”
May rinsed the glasses, set them on the drainboard and then wiped her hands on a dish towel. “People deal with their grief in different ways, Savannah. Ruth has seen a lot of loss and hardship in her lifetime. First, our daddy died when she was only ten and I was just a baby. Then Mama had only been married to Papa Don a couple of years before she went to be with the angels.”
Oddly, Savannah had never met her stepgrandfather and her mother had rarely mentioned him at all. She didn’t even learn about his passing until her parents announced they were moving back to the farm in Placid. “I agree, losing two parents at such a young age is more loss than any child should have to endure.” But as far as she was concerned, that didn’t excuse a mother’s unexplained hostility directed at her own child.
May claimed the chair across from Savannah and folded her hands on the cloth-covered surface. “Ruth practically raised me all by herself until she turned seventeen and married Floyd. When they decided to move to Knoxville, she took me with them. Lord knows she didn’t have to do that when she could’ve foisted me off on Granny Kendrick, God rest her soul, and that’s if she made it into heaven.”
Savannah couldn’t help but smile when she thought about all the legendary stories involving her eccentric great-grandmother. “Why didn’t you stay here with Don?”
May shook her head. “It was a sad state of affairs. To hear Ruth tell it, he took to the bottle after Mama died. He spent most of his days drunk and he wasn’t fit to take care of me, not that I remember much about him or that time since I was so young. I’m not sure he would’ve kept me around even if he had been sobered up. He never paid me much mind, both before and after we moved away. In fact, I spoke to him maybe twice in the years before he died. If I asked about him, your mama refused to say anything one way or the other.”
Savannah suspected there could be a lot more to the stepfather story. “I realize how much you appreciate Mother, May, and I do understand why you would. But that doesn’t explain her attitude toward me.”
May straightened and sent Savannah a disapproving look. “Like I said, she’s been through a lot. She had to get me raised before she even thought about having a baby of her own. That didn’t happen until years after I was grown and gone.” Her expression softened. “She was so happy when you were born, and so was your daddy. They’d waited so long for you.”
How well Savannah knew that. She’d been the only girl in Placid High who had parents in their mid-fifties. But that didn’t really matter, especially where her father had been concerned. He’d always seemed so young for his age, and that made his passing even more difficult to accept.
Feeling a sudden onset of fatigue as well as utter sorrow, Savannah feigned a yawn. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go up to my room and read awhile before I turn in.” And attempt to check her cell phone, although coverage in the area was sketchy at best. That was okay. She hadn’t had a real vacation from work in years. They could do without her for a couple of weeks.
May reached across the table and patted Savannah’s hand. “Tomorrow will be another long day, too, because I’m sure you’ll see your old friends. Rachel and Jessica are still around and, of course, there’s Sam—”
“I’ve already seen him,” Savannah said abruptly, before adding, “I stopped by the diner for something to drink and he was coming in when I was going out.”
“I hear he’s making a good living with the farm,”
May continued. “In fact, he just bought a brand-new truck with all the bells and whistles.”
As if she should care what Sam was driving these days. Besides, she’d already seen that new truck, and she hadn’t been impressed. “How nice.”
“Did you know he married the Clements girl?” May asked, as if determined to cram Sam’s life down Savannah’s throat.
She’d come by that knowledge after she’d left Placid, and it had hurt more than she’d cared to admit. Darlene Clements had been the girl from one county over whom Sam had taken to the prom instead of her. The same girl who’d relentlessly pursued him throughout their high school years. Obviously she’d caught him. “I’d heard that.”
May sighed. “And their little girl is as precious as a puppy.”
That she hadn’t heard. “I didn’t realize he had a daughter.”
“She’s about six now,” May added. “And it’s such a shame that she comes from a broken home. Divorce is a terrible thing for a child to go through.”
Divorce?
Savannah didn’t know which shocked her more—that Sam and Darlene’s marriage had ended, or that he’d fathered a child. “When did they split up?”
“A couple of years ago, maybe longer. Didn’t your mama tell you?”
“She never tells me anything, May.” And neither had her old girlfriends, but she’d only sporadically spoken to them over the past few years.
Savannah scooted back from the table and stood before she had to endure any more unexpected news. “Tell Mother I’ll see her in the morning.”
May looked completely dismayed. “You should tell her.”
Yes, she should, and she supposed she could make it brief. “You’re right.”
After giving her aunt another hug, Savannah left the kitchen and returned to the living room, where she found her uncle watching a sitcom rerun. “Where’s Mother?” she asked when she discovered Ruth had disappeared.
Bill put down the television remote and smiled. “She’s in her room, sugar. She said she has one of her sick headaches.”
Savannah had no doubt she’d contributed to that headache. “Before I retire for the night, do you and Aunt May need anything? Extra towels or linens?”
“Your mama saw to that when we came in yesterday. Now you scoot along and get some rest. And just so you know, the weatherman’s calling for storms tonight.”
An appropriate ending to a perfectly dreadful evening, Savannah decided.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
