Love in a Small Town Box Set 1

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Are you going to be in town a little while? Maybe you could talk to her. Like you said, it’s been a long time.”

  I shook my head. “I’m leaving as soon as I can get out. I have a commitment on the west coast.”

  Alex raised one eyebrow, mocking. “Well, excuse us, Mr. Big Shot. We wouldn’t want you to hang around here longer than you had to. It’s not like you’ve been gone for fucking ever . . . or wait a minute, yes, you have.”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, Iona tapped my arm. “It’s just about time to begin the service. Mr. Hughes is going to ask everyone to sit down.”

  Alex punched my arm, near the shoulder. “I’ll see you later, bud.” His eyes met mine again. “I’ll be right here. Hang in there.”

  “Flynn. Oh, look at you. You look so dashing.”

  I glanced up from the plate of macaroni and cheese, potato salad and coleslaw as a pair of thin arms wrapped around my shoulders. The gray-haired woman leaning over me was nearly as familiar as my own mother.

  “Mrs. Nelson.” I moved my plate to a nearby tray and reached up to hug Alex’s mother. “I hoped I’d get to see you.”

  She sat down next to me on the same flowered sofa where I’d dozed earlier. Our house was full to bursting with guests, and seats were at a premium. “I’m so sorry about your father. And I’m even more sorry that it took something like this to bring you back to town.”

  I winced. Mrs. Nelson never did mince words. And there was nothing like the plain, hard truth from someone I knew and respected to bring me to my knees.

  “It’s not like I didn’t see my dad in all this time.” I hunched my shoulders. “He and my mom came to visit me a lot. So did Iona and Maureen. We met whenever I was in the area.” I heard the defensive tone and hated it. The decisions I’d made all these years . . . yeah, some of them were impulsive, some of them weren’t my best ideas. But I hadn’t abandoned my family. Only the town that I’d seen as holding me back.

  And the girl who wouldn’t go with me.

  I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as Mrs. Nelson sighed. “I understand what it’s like to want to see the world. I was young once. You know Alex went away to college, and he’s lived in Atlanta since. But he comes home to see his father and me.” Her eyes gleamed for a moment. “Now recently, he’s been back pretty often, and I’m not stupid. I know there’s another reason. Not even worrying about Ali could bring him to Burton that often.”

  I tried not to react to her name, but the woman sitting next to me never missed a trick. I remembered that Alex used to call her old Eagle Eyes. She shook her head.

  “Have you been to see her? I didn’t notice her at the church.”

  “No. I haven’t been anywhere but with my mom and the girls. And I don’t think she came today. But there were a lot of people.” There was no way I would’ve missed her if she had. I made a stab at sounding nonchalant. “Been a lot of years since I’ve seen Ali. I’m sure she had better things to do than come to a funeral.”

  “Alex said she didn’t come because she didn’t think you’d want her here. And you think she didn’t come because she didn’t want to. Y’all both need to grow up and remember what good friends you were before.”

  I rubbed my forehead where a sudden headache had blossomed. I heard myself asking the question I hadn’t dared to mention to my mother or sisters. “How is she?”

  Mrs. Nelson didn’t exhibit any surprise. “She’s good. I see her quite a bit, either at the stand or just around the farm.” She smiled. “Bridget is crazy for horses, so she talks either her mother or Sam into bringing her over to our place to visit ours. And Meghan, of course, she takes her on tromps around the woods and fields to sketch.”

  I frowned. “Bridget?”

  “Yes, that’s Ali’s little girl.” She cut me a sideways glance. “You knew about her, didn’t you?”

  “I . . .” In theory, yeah. Maureen had mentioned the baby to me in the casual way my mother and sisters had of keeping me up-to-date on anything Ali-related without making a big deal of it. I’d been numb to the news at that point; the bigger hurt had come months before, when the girl I thought I’d love forever had married another guy and then announced her pregnancy. By the time their baby actually came, I’d shut away that part of my past. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her name. Odd . . . Bridget was my grandmother’s name. It wasn’t used very often anymore. I wondered what had inspired Ali to give her daughter that name.

  “She’s a doll, that one is. Smart as a whip and pretty, too.” Mrs. Nelson went on as though I’d answered. “Ali’s a wonderful mama. And to think she’d done it all by herself.”

  I thought I might’ve detected a hint of censure in her voice, which was also weird. Before I could say anything else, she kept talking.

  “She and Sam work themselves ragged on that farm. But we’re all so proud of them. You remember they’d leased parcels out to a bunch of us after their parents died, but they’ve been taking them back, little by little. I expect this year, Sam’ll farm the land we’ve been keeping for them. Their mama and daddy would be proud. Those two sacrificed so much to make it all happen.”

  As one of the sacrifices, I wasn’t sure I could jump up and join the applause. I might’ve said something to that effect, but Alex appeared at that point and sat down on my other side.

  “Mom, are you torturing Flynn?” He winked at me. “Cut him some slack.”

  His mother spread her hands wide, lifting her shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alex.” She patted my knee. “We’re just catching up.”

  “Watch it, woman. I’m hip to your jive. I heard you.” He mock glared at her and then turned to me. “Flynn, the service was beautiful. Your eulogy . . .” He thumped one hand to his heart. “Your dad would be proud.”

  “Thanks.” I picked up my plate again and scooped some potato salad onto my fork, keeping my eyes down so I didn’t have to look at my friend. Holding it together while speaking had taken everything I had. Talking about it after might just break me. “So how long do you think people will stay?”

  “Depends. A bunch will eat and run, and then you’ll have those who just hang around, wanting to keep talking.” Mrs. Nelson paused. “Speaking of hanging around, how long are you in town?”

  “Subtle, Mom.” Alex rolled his eyes.

  “I’m hitting the road the day after tomorrow. At least that’s the plan.” I stabbed one more piece of macaroni and set down my plate again. “I’m supposed to shoot a piece in Los Angeles for an interview with the senator from New Mexico who’s rumored to be a presidential candidate in the next election.” I was just trying to explain, not brag, but Mrs. Nelson tilted her head at me, and I knew I was screwed.

  “Excuse us. You haven’t darkened the doorway of your own hometown in over eight years, and now you want to bury your father and then run off again? Have you thought about what that’ll do to your poor mother, not to mention Iona and Maureen? You’ll break their hearts all over again.”

  “Mom, seriously, maybe you should—” Alex looked from me to his mother, his face getting red.

  “No, sir.” She held up one pink-nailed finger into her son’s face. “You just hush up, Alexander. I’m talking to Flynn. Now, your mother will never ask you to stay, because mothers don’t do that, but she needs you here. You can tell that senator to take one of those—what do you call them, the self-pictures.”

  “God, Mom. They’re called selfies. And you need to leave Flynn alone. He’s a grown-up, remember? He knows what he’s doing.”

  Mrs. Nelson stood up, leaning on my shoulder as she did. “I’ve said my piece. Now I’m going to see about helping with clean up. Alex, are you riding home with me, or with Sam and Meghan?”

  Alex shrugged. “I think they left a few minutes ago. Meghan said something about needing to get back to Savannah for class tomorrow. I’ll just wait for you.” He was silent while his mother gathered our plates and hustled off to the kitchen, a
nd then he turned to me. “Sorry about that. She means well.”

  I leaned back, resting my head on the sofa cushion and closing my eyes. “I know she does. It’s just that . . . being back here reminds me why I left. I feel like I’m smothered, you know?”

  Alex laughed softly. “Do I ever. Why do you think I maintain a nice distance by living in Atlanta?”

  I slit my eyes open. “Your mom said you’ve been visiting a lot more recently. Seems to think there’s a reason why.”

  “Does she?” He lifted his hands in a faux-innocent gesture. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I just enjoy seeing my parents and hanging with Ali.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry.”

  “For mentioning her name? Don’t be. I know she’s your friend.” I hesitated. The wound was still tender, so I plunged ahead, getting all the pain out of the way at once by repeating the question I’d asked his mother. “How is she?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  I shook my head and then nodded. “No. But yeah. I mean . . . do I want to hear that she’s never gotten over me and spits on the ground when she hears my name? Maybe. Or maybe it’s better to hear that she never mentions my name and doesn’t think about me at all. That I was just some guy she dated back in high school, and I never cross her mind.”

  Alex blew out a sigh. “The truth, if you want it, is a little of both. She doesn’t mention your name. Neither do I, at least not in front of her. If someone else does . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It still hurts her. She hasn’t forgotten you, Flynn. But I hadn’t heard her say your name for a long time, not until she was talking to Meghan last year about old times. We were at The Road Block—”

  “The Road Block?” I cocked my head.

  “Yeah, remember Mason Wallace? He graduated with Iona and Sam, left town to work in the music business?”

  When I nodded, Alex went on. “He did well, made a lot of money repping acts in Nashville. I guess he worked for an agency and then started his own up. Got married, had a kid and then the wife died. So he moved back here, to have family nearby to help out, and wouldn’t you know, turns out his mom has cancer. Anyway, he bought some land off Highway 44 and opened a bar. It’s got a big dance floor, and he uses his old connections to bring in some pretty good bands. Up and comers, he says.”

  “And you were there with . . . ?” I wasn’t ready to say her name yet.

  “With Ali and Meghan last summer. Ali’d had a few beers, and she started talking about the old days after Trent hit on Meghan.”

  “Trent Wagner? He’s still around?”

  Alex grinned. “You know it. Still the same old dog. Hits on anything with boobs, and still has the rep for lovin’ and leavin.’ Anyway, Ali started talking about how we’d all hang out back in high school, and she mentioned you. First time in years.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Doesn’t surprise me. She didn’t waste any time starting up with Craig after I left.” I glanced at my friend. “I always knew he had the hots for her. He was just too scared of me to act on it.”

  Alex quirked an eyebrow. “Or maybe he didn’t want to hit on his friend’s girlfriend. Ever think of that? Plus, come on. Everyone knew Ali only ever saw you. When the two of you were together, it was like no one else existed.” He gave me a small shove in the ribs. “Believe me, I had a front row seat to the Flynn and Ali show. If I hadn’t been gay, I probably wouldn’t have been able to take it.”

  I scowled at him. “Yeah, well . . . it turned out to be more show than reality.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Alex wrinkled his forehead. “You think Ali wasn’t really in love with you?”

  “When it came down to going with me or staying with her brother, we saw who was more important. And the fact that she got married and popped out a kid before we’d been broken up for a year tells us all something about how she felt, doesn’t it?”

  Alex stared at me, unblinking. “Flynn, man, I love you like the brother I never had, but you’re goddamn fool.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant, he pushed off the sofa and stood up. “I’m sorry about your dad. And it was good to see you, even under these circumstances.” He looked at me, and I saw hurt in his eyes. “You know, when you left Burton, you didn’t just leave the town. You pretty much shook off all of us. Maybe you need to think about that before you start making judgment calls on how people reacted.”

  He pivoted and stalked into the kitchen. I closed my eyes again and wished my father were alive. And that I was any place in the world other than Burton, Georgia.

  WE ONLY HAD THREE customers at the stand the entire day of Brice Evans’ funeral. I sat there until about two in the afternoon, when I couldn’t stand it anymore. Bridget’s bus wouldn’t drop her off until four, but I needed to be back home for my own sanity.

  I trudged back to the house through the fields, not seeing anything that I passed. Instead, my mind kept up a running film of the Evans family, what they were going through today, all the while remembering the awful day we’d officially said good-bye to my own parents. I’d been just about to turn fifteen, at the end of my freshman year. Flynn and I’d been dating, official girlfriend/boyfriend, for about six months.

  Our relationship had begun slowly, evolving from two people who’d discovered they liked to hang out together into a real friendship. By Thanksgiving of our freshman year, we were talking for hours on the phone every night, and no one had been surprised when Flynn asked me to be his date to the school’s annual Christmas dance. But he was careful with me; we didn’t touch beyond what was required for dancing, although I often caught him staring at my lips. When he left me at my front door that night with a chaste kiss on the cheek, I’d stomped into the house and called Alex.

  “I think he’s gay.” I shimmied out of the strapless black dress I’d been sure would entice Flynn into kissing me. Really kissing me. Maybe even . . . more.

  Alex sighed on the other end of the phone. “Ali, he’s not gay. Believe me, I’d know. He’s just . . . waiting. I think he wants to make sure you’re okay with it. He told me how much he likes you. He doesn’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for.”

  I fell onto the bed with a frustrated groan. “Oh, I’m ready. Believe me, I’m real ready. If I’m any more ready, I might just implode.”

  “Whoa there, little miss hot-to-trot. Stop and think. Trust me when I say holding back isn’t easy for our boy, either. And I doubt he’s going to be able to do it much longer. But you should be flattered, because he really likes you. That’s why he’s waiting.”

  So I’d swallowed my tenuously-banked passion and smiled at Flynn at school, sat on my hands when we were studying together in my living room, and gritted my teeth when we went to the movies and sat side-by-side without touching.

  The day before Christmas break began, Flynn asked me to walk home with him after school, so he could give me my Christmas present. He promised his mom would drive me out to the farm afterward, and once I’d cleared it with Sam, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and met Flynn at his locker.

  “Ready?” He picked up his own bag and then reached over to mine. “Here, let me take that.”

  I felt a delicious thrill as his hand lifted the strap from my back. And then I nearly passed out with happiness when he extended his hand to me. “Let’s go.”

  I slid my hand into his, and he laced our fingers together, squeezing for just a minute as he gazed down at me.

  We walked to his house through the unusually cold December air. This part of Georgia didn’t usually get a real cold snap until late January. But I didn’t feel anything except the warmth of Flynn’s hand against mine the whole way. We talked a little, mostly about what we wanted to do over break. There were a couple of movies Flynn wanted to see, and I’d talked Sam into driving Alex, Flynn and me into Savannah one day to see the lights and do some real shopping.

  Once we got to his house, Flynn gave me a pretty gold necklace, a delicate chain from which dangled a small
A. I wore it every day for four years, and I still had it, up in my jewelry box. But my real gift that day was his hand in mine as we walked.

  The day after Christmas, Flynn asked me to go with him to Cary Maynard’s New Year’s Eve party. He’d held my hand the entire night, and when the clock struck midnight, Flynn Evans finally, finally kissed me.

  It was worth waiting for. Totally worth it.

  Over the next six months, Flynn and I were together almost constantly, or at least as constantly as our parents and school would allow. We didn’t move beyond kissing and hand-holding, since private time was hard to come by. But our kissing had gotten more involved and creative, and every now and then, his hand strayed somewhere in the vicinity of my boob. But never for long, and never close enough.

  That May, my parents celebrated their twentieth wedding anniversary. They decided to drive over to Gatlinburg for a week, just the two of them, so my grandparents came up from Florida to stay with Sam and me. My brother’d groused that he didn’t need a babysitter, but my mom pacified him, saying Gram and Grampy were coming so that he didn’t have to keep his eye on me the entire time. She winked at me behind his back, though, so I knew the truth.

  I actually didn’t mind having my grandparents stay with us. They liked Flynn, and as long as we didn’t interrupt their afternoon talk shows, we could sit out on the porch as long as we liked, which is why we were the first ones to see the police car pull up that day.

  I knew all the local cops. There weren’t many, and in a town the size of Burton, there wasn’t much turnover. This was not someone I knew, and as I sat up, in the porch swing, pushing against Flynn’s chest, I realized it was a state police car.

  My first thought was Sam, who’d stayed in town that afternoon to work on a group project. But as soon as the first trooper spoke, I knew. I just knew.

  “Is this the home of Joseph and Elizabeth Reynolds?”

  I couldn’t speak. My mouth moved, but no sound came out. Flynn took my hand, tight, and spoke for me. Through a loud ringing in my ear, I heard him say that yes, this was their home. My grandfather opened the door and stepped out, and after that, I didn’t remember anything. For the next week, everything was hazy and painful and too loud, and the only constant was Flynn holding my hand. He never left my side. At night, he slept next to me on my bed, waking to hold me when the nightmares made me scream.