HOPE’S RIVER
Copyright © 2021 Margaret McHeyzer
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-6489356-1-2 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-0-6489356-2-9 (paperback)
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
email: [email protected]
Working with my hands has always been my passion, so now I flip houses for a living. I love what I do.
I was happy where my life was heading.
Although I knew he wasn’t the one, I was even content with my long-term relationship… until suddenly I wasn’t.
I needed a change. So I got in my truck and asked the universe to help a sister out. It was then that I stumbled upon a cute small town called Hope River. Ironic really…
Not only did the name of the town hold significance from my past, but it led me to find something I thought was once lost.
Little did I know how significant this town would be for my future…
*A stand alone, second chance, small town romance.
Prologue
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 Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Our Chance
Preview: Echoes of You
Also by Margaret McHeyzer
I’m so glad I’m skipping school today. It’s the last place I want to be. I hate going; it’s totally lame and useless.
Standing in line at the local café, I look around. It’s busy, most of the tables are filled with adults.
Turning, my gaze catches a guy standing with an older woman, two people behind me. He gives me a small smile when our eyes meet. He’s cute, with short dark hair, and a dimpled chin. His mom swings her arm around his shoulder, leans in, and gives him a kiss.
“Mom!” he barks at her when he sees me smiling. His voice is all nasally, as if he’s sick.
“What, is sixteen too old for a kiss from your mother?” she playfully scolds. He seems to be my age, I wonder why I haven’t seen him around at school.
“Just, don’t.” He lowers his eyes, breaking contact with me.
Giggling, I turn to the front and shuffle forward as the line progresses.
“We need to get to the doctor for your appointment, I hope they hurry up here,” I hear his mom say. Ah, he is sick.
The girl at the counter is busy taking orders, and a guy is at the coffee machine making orders. No wonder the line is moving so slowly. There are only two of them.
Yes! There are only three more people ahead of me before it’s my turn. Hmmm, what should I have? Maybe a smoothie. Or a latte. What do I feel like? Do I want something to eat with it too? Nah, I had breakfast before I had ‘left for school.’ Shit, I hope my Mom doesn’t come into town this morning. She didn’t say she had any errands to run.
God, I hate school. I wish my parents would let me leave. All I want to do is work with my hands. I freaking love helping Dad with his car, or doing stuff around the house. Why can’t they let me leave school and study a trade? They let Charlie become a plumber. And all I want to do is build stuff, or tear stuff down.
“Hey!” I hear the girl at the counter yell.
Just like a flash, I look up to see what she’s yelling for. The guy two in front of me, reaches into the cash register, grabs a fistful of money, and turns to run.
Nope, not on my watch, buddy. As he turns, and using all my weight, I shoulder into him, causing him to face plant and slide a few feet on the tile floor. It’s enough time for a couple of the people sitting in the café to jump up from their seats, run over to him, and haul him up by the back of his t-shirt.
“You fucking bitch,” he yells at me.
I look at him and shrug my shoulders. One side of his face is quickly becoming a lovely, radiant shade of red from where he face planted. “Hey, shouldn’t have put your sticky fingers into something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“Fuck you.” He literally spits at me, but I step back to dodge it.
Stealing and spitting? Are you kidding me? Two of what I consider the most loathsome acts. Without a moment’s hesitation, I walk over and slap the guy in the face. My hand instantly stings, and the guy now has a matching angry red mark on the other side of his face from where he slid across the floor.
“Nice one,” the cute guy says from behind me.
“Thanks.” I stand with my shoulders back and my chest out.
The commotion in the store is pretty hectic; there are people everywhere. And before I know it, the police have arrived.
“Oh my God, you’re so brave. Thank you so much,” an older woman says to me.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m Abigail, and I own the store. I’m so grateful.”
“I don’t like thieves. And spitters are right up there too,” I say.
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you the one who stopped him?” one of the police officers asks. There’s a lot of talking, and people discussing what happened between themselves.
Oh shit! I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get home. Skipping school, and getting into a fight. Let’s be honest here — it’s not like it’s the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.
Looking around, I search for the cute guy, but he and his mother are already gone.
Double great. I can’t even get cute guy’s name and number. And, I have to face my parents.
“I’d like to give whatever you want free of charge for a month for what you did today. I can’t thank you enough,” Abigail says.
Aww, how sweet. Not that I’ll be able to use it once my parents find out what I’ve done. Hell, I probably won’t be allowed out of the house until I turn fifty!
“You lying bitch. You’re cheating on me,” Grady yells.
I startle from sleep and blink a few times, trying to wake myself. Huh? What’s happening? What time is it?
Reaching for my phone, I tap on the screen and notice the ungodly hour.
“Wake up!” Grady screams as he comes into our room, and flicks the light on.
“What? What’s going on?” I sit up in bed, and rub at my eyes.
“You’re cheating on me.” He tries to steady himself with the door frame. But judging from his slurred words and unsteady movements, he’s blind drunk.
“Grady, I’m not cheating on you. Get into bed.” I pull the covers back, knowing his words are only driven by alcohol. Normally, he barely drinks. His behavior tells me he can’t handle his liquor.
“I’m not getting in bed with you, you slut,” he slurs.
My eyebrows fly up and I tilt my head to the side. “E
xcuse me?” Pushing the cover back, I stand to my feet, ready for whatever this drunk ass is going to say. I walk toward him to help him cross the room.
“You heard me. You’re a slut.” He pokes his finger into my chest and tries to step forward, but he quickly grabs the door frame again.
“Get your ass in the shower and sober up, you idiot. Then you can sleep on the sofa.” I turn to go back to bed, but he grabs my hair and hauls me back. I swerve around to confront him. He lifts his right hand, and slaps me across the face. “You whore!”
What the actual fuck? In the three years we’ve been together, Grady’s never once hurt me. What has gotten into him? He lifts his hand again, but this time I catch it by his wrist, and push him back. Quickly, I grab his balls in my hand, and slightly twist. Grady’s eyes widen, as his mouth opens while he winces in pain. “You got one shot in. Do it again, and I’ll be mailing these to your mother. We’re done. Over.” I let go of his balls, and Grady falls to the floor, doubled over and nursing the hurt I laid on him.
I’m not sticking around for this shit. What happened to him tonight when he went out with his friends for drinks? I have no idea what he heard, or what he thinks I’ve done. But he can be damned sure of one thing — I’m out of here.
I head into the garage, grab a suitcase, and start packing a few days’ worth of clothes. I have no idea where I’m going, or what’s going to happen next, but I need to get away. Not for my safety, but because if I stay and Grady comes at me again, I’ll definitely be mailing his balls back to his mother. And not even priority mail.
Grady’s managed to stand and is now sitting on the edge of the bed. His head is in his hands, and he’s sobbing. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says, his words still slurring.
“You should be.”
“Please, don’t go,” he begs. He lowers his hands, and pleads for me to stay.
I turn to look at him, and shake my head. “I’ll be back, and when I do come back, you had better be gone.” I grab the handle of my suitcase, and roll it out of the bedroom and down the hall, toward the garage. Heaving my suitcase into the back of my truck, I back out of the garage, and turn down the street.
Stopping on the side of the road, I look up to the dark, starless sky. “Okay, universe, I need to get away from here for a few days. I need to clear my head, so send me somewhere cool.” Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes for a split second to just clear my mind.
As I start driving, what Grady did hits me. I burst into tears, as my cheek throbs in a blistering burn.
What the hell just happened? In our three years together Grady has never, not once, lifted his hand against me in anger. What would drive him to do this now? What did he hear?
I reach for tissues to wipe my eyes, but of course the box is empty. “Are you shitting me?” I throw the box to the floor of the passenger side, then lift my t-shirt to wipe at my eyes and nose. “Great. Now I’m covered in snot.”
I have no idea where I’m headed, except that I want to get as far away from here as possible. I put in an offer on a house over on Woolriff Street, but I’m not going to buy it now. If the real estate calls me in the morning to tell me my offer’s been accepted, I’ll let it go.
I can’t flip another house with Grady on my team. Not now. Never again.
Finally, my tears stop, and I reach up to my cheek. It hurts, and I flinch. Why would Grady hurt me? My mind is reeling with every fathomable possibility. But not one single logical explanation comes to mind. Why? I smash my hand against the steering wheel. “Why, God damn it, why?”
I reach over and turn on the radio, hoping the music can put me in a better headspace, maybe shift my thoughts away from Grady and his erratic, downright weird behavior.
Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” comes on the radio, and I crank it up. It was one of Dad’s favorite songs. I smile at a memory of Dad singing it to my Mom whenever he blasted this song from his garage. Mom would roll her eyes, and tell him she’d spike his food with a ghost pepper and watch as he choked to death.
A medley of old songs plays on the radio. With each and every one of them, I’m reminded of my parents. I should go back home and see them, but not like this. If Dad saw me like this, he’d hunt Grady down and kill him. And that’s the last thing I want. I’m not a fan of confrontation, but if it comes looking for me, I won’t turn away from it.
And this would be unnecessary stress on my parents.
There’s a sign up ahead indicating I’m only twenty miles from a beach. Looking at the time, I realize I’ve been stuck in my head, and driving for nearly three hours. “Huh, so I’m going to the beach, am I?” Hopefully I can find a cute little bed and breakfast overlooking the water. Somewhere I can clear my head, and put together a game plan for what I’m going to do moving forward.
Turning off the exit for the beach, I travel for a good ten miles until I see a sign with an arrow that reads Hope River with a number ten next to it.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I say as I look at the sign.
Well, if that ain’t a clear sign of where to go, then I have no idea what is. I turn down the road the sign indicates. “Hope River, huh?” I let out a small laugh. The universe has a weird sense of humor. But hey, I’m here now, so why not see where this leads?
I really hope this isn’t some small hick town where the locals only have one full set of teeth between them. Shit, what if they shove me into a hole in the ground to be slowly eaten by a bunch of toothless cannibals? Wait, how could they eat me without teeth? Would they gum me to death? Can you even die from being gummed?
I come up to a rickety bridge, and slow right down. On this side of the bridge, there’s another sign that reads: Welcome to Hope River. Population 1486, 1487, 1489, 1488.
Jesus, do they announce every single person who comes in and out of the town? Slowly, I drive my truck over the narrow, old bridge and I’m surprised the weight of my truck doesn’t fall through. How do distribution trucks get through?
Okay, okay, I may be over exaggerating. It’s not that unstable, but it is one car width narrow. Looking out the window, I notice that there’s a lot of open land, which is probably pretty by the daylight. Rolling the window down, the salty aroma of the ocean hits me hard.
The open expanse of beautiful land dwindles down to ordinary blocks as I approach the town center.
I can’t help but notice how quiet it is here. It’s nearly five a.m., and there’s absolutely no commotion on the streets. “Wow,” I say as I slow to a roll when I hit the outskirts of the town.
“Holy shit,” I say as I pull up outside an old, abandoned house. It’s a huge two-story Victorian house. The wood siding has been severely weathered, with some of it falling off. The yard is overrun by weeds and grass tall enough to pass my knees. There’s a “For Sale” sign out in front that’s hanging by one hinge, eerily swinging back and forth.
Getting out of my truck, I stand looking at the house.
I have no idea what the price of this house is, or even about the comps in the area. Hell, I don’t even know if this is a suburb where real estate turnover is high. All I know is I love this house. I could buy it and flip it.
I get back into my truck, and immediately get onto every real estate page I can find, looking at the prices for what sells here in Hope River.
I can’t find this house listed. Is this no longer for sale? Judging by the abandoned appearance, I doubt anyone would be living here. Well, I can’t call the relator now, it’s too early in the morning. And I’m tired, so I may as well put my seat back, and go to sleep for a few hours.
There’s a tapping on my window, and I open my eyes to find someone in a police uniform standing at my window. I uncurl myself and sit up in the truck. I wind down the window, and yawn. “Morning, officer,” I say as I tap my phone to check the time. The sun is breaking over the horizon, and my phone tells me it’s just after six-thirty. An hour and a half isn’t ideal, but at least it’s something.
“License and reg
istration,” he says, all business as he looks inside my truck.
“Okay.” I reach over to the glove compartment, and take both out. I hand them to him. He checks them, and walks back to his car. A man of many words. He comes back, and returns them to me.
“Why are you sleeping in your truck like a homeless person on the side of the road?”
Huh, what a way to greet someone. “I was driving through, and I saw that house.” I pointedly look over to the old, decrepit home. When I see it in the light of the morning, it looks worse than I expected. Awesome. The more derelict, the better.
“Where are you going?”
“Truthfully, I have no idea. But I like the house.”
“Old Roger’s house?” He looks at me, then over the top of the truck to the house. “That old thing?”
“Yeah. Hey, I’m wondering if there’s a bed and breakfast in town, or somewhere I can stay?”
He stares at me with his cold eyes for a long moment before replying. “No. The town over has a place you can stay. It’s a good twenty minutes from here.” What a warm guy this sheriff is. “There’s also Mulberry Point, which is the next largest city from here. That’s a good half hour west.”
“Ah, thank you.” I smile, trying my hardest to impress him.
He ducks down, and studies my face. Shit, do I have a black eye? I quickly look in the mirror, and notice a darkening shade of a promised bruise erupting around my cheek bone. “What’s happened here?” His eyes are drawn to Grady’s anger.
My eyes well up with tears, and I feel myself retreating. “Nothing.” I’m not overly keen to recap a story I’d rather stay in the past.
“Are you in trouble?” His voice is edged with worry.
“No, I don’t think I am.”
He nods while keeping his eyes on me. He takes his phone out of his pocket, scrolls through it, and brings it to his ear. “Hi.” He pauses. “Yes, I know.” His lips draw up into a small smile. “Can you make up the room in the stable?” He nods. “Thank you, Gran.” Lowering his phone, he takes a notepad out of his back pocket along with a pen. “This is May’s house, she has a room you can stay in her stables. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s safe, warm, clean and has its own bathroom and kitchen. ” He thrusts the paper into my hands. “A fancy truck like this one has GPS, right?”
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