The One She Left Behind (Harlequin Super Romance) (2 page)

“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.

As soon as she doled out a hug for her uncle, she grabbed up her bags, scaled the stairs and entered her old bedroom at the end of the hall. She closed the door behind her before turning to survey the place where she’d spent many a night during her teen years, talking on the phone for hours with her girlfriends, and Sam. Everything still looked much the same as it had when she’d left for college. The pink-and-blue patchwork quilt still covered the double bed. The shelves flanking the
floral-cushioned window seat still held all the mementos of her youth—withered corsages, movie ticket stubs, debate trophies.

After setting her bags on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, she walked to the bureau and removed a favorite snapshot from the mirror. The photo—taken on the beach in Gulfport—featured the inseparable group of friends known to their fellow students as “the six-pack.” Best buddies Chase Reed and Jessica Keller sat side by side on the sand in the middle of the group. Childhood sweethearts Rachel Wainwright and Matt Boyd had claimed the spot on the right, Rachel’s head resting on Matt’s shoulder. And of course, she and Sam sat to the left, holding each other tightly, Sam’s beat-up guitar at their feet. They’d easily assumed the role as Placid High’s designated “hottest couple.” But it hadn’t been a farce. It had been real.

How young they all looked. How hopeful and ready to take on the world. Forever friends, they’d vowed. Then everything had changed after graduation. Still, the picture signified that she’d seen more than her share of good times in Placid. But those fond reminiscences were all a part of the distant past, and that’s where they would stay. Yet at the sound of rain pelting the window, another memory came back to Savannah, as bright as the flash of lightning on the horizon.

A surprise midnight visit one misty fall evening. A few well tossed pebbles to garner her attention. A trellis perfect for climbing. One love-struck girl who still believed in happily-ever-after. One teenage boy driven
by raging hormones. An easily removed screen and a kiss so hot it could have set the roof on fire.

Sam had begged her to come inside, but she hadn’t allowed it. At least not that particular night.?…

All in the past, Savannah kept reminding herself as she hauled her suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack. No good ever came of rehashing old history, her mother had told her time and again. She couldn’t agree more, but that didn’t keep her from remembering. That didn’t prevent the sudden sense of sadness when she turned her attention to another framed photograph resting on the nightstand, the one of her and her father at the Tennessee State Fair when she was eight years old.

Remorse hit her like a blow to the heart. She should have come home more often. She should have insisted that he come to visit her in Chicago even if her mother had refused to make the trip. She should have known something was wrong during their last conversation when he’d told her several times how proud he was of her, how much he loved her and then asked her to forgive her mother. She should have been there to hold his hand when he’d died.