Love Comes Home: A Collection of Second Chance Short Stories

by Kristi Rose

  Shea’s fingers stilled, her picks suspended above the strings. “Seriously? How did she manage that?” Money had always been tight and a policy would have to have been created before the accident.

  Evie shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe she had some sixth sense or something. She must have had it taken out of her paycheck. We have an appointment with the lawyer on Tuesday to review the will. That’s the first step. I can show you all the papers.”

  Shea shook her head. “I trust you. I don’t even need to go to the appointment if you don’t want.” She picked up the mug of tea, sipped. “This is nice.”

  “Of course I want you to come to all the appointments. But I think you have to be present for the reading of her will.” Evie paused to sip tea then continued, “Any idea of when you’re headed home?”

  Home? Did such a place exist? “Ready for me to leave?”

  “Are you kidding? I want you to stay forever but I figured you’re really busy. It’s nice having you here. I don’t know how I’d be coping without you.”

  “You have Grady.”

  “Yes, but you’re my sister. It’s your loss too.”

  Shea put down her mug and took her sister’s hand. Just like Evie had done all those nights when they were children, lying in bed listening to their father stumble through the house and their mother trying to coax him into bed.

  “I miss you. I know you love it in Nashville and I can’t express how proud of you I am that you’re sticking to your plan and how determined you are. It can’t be easy. That’s what makes it easy for me with you so far away, knowing you’re chasing your dream. But if you could stay a bit....”

  Shea searched her sister’s face and could tell by the way she bit her lip that it had been hard for her to ask. “I have no timeline,” she said.

  “Good. You hungry? Come on, I’ll treat you to a fabulous breakfast.”

  “Are you cooking?” Shea looked up as Evie stood.

  “No, I said fabulous. I’m a pretty decent cook, if I do say so myself, but Lorelei...wow. Roscoe, come on. Inside. Check your bowl,” Evie called to the dog and patted her legs. He ran to her and stuck his head into her hand.

  Shea left her banjo leaning against her sister’s living room wall and her dog stretched out on her kitchen floor. Evie’s home was everything Shea imagined a home to be, right down to the tacky musket lamp with the fringed lampshade in Grady’s office.

  They sat in Evie’s SUV in silence for the first mile before Shea reached out, “How’s married life?”

  Having eloped only six months earlier, Evie and Grady were still in the newlywed stage.

  “I don’t want to gush before you have something solid in your stomach but it’s better than I’d ever hoped it could be. I think a lot of that has to do with Grady. He’s pretty spectacular.”

  “Well, you’re no slouch yourself.” There was no denying that Evie was nothing less than amazing. Shea wouldn’t have had half the chances she’d had if not for Evie. “I mean, how many sisters take on the job of being a parent at eighteen, and while they’re in their first years of college? I didn’t make it easy for you. That’s for sure. You’re pretty magnificent and he’s lucky to have you.”

  Evie smiled, her cheeks slightly pink. “It was hard for all of us. I hope you know that all those things you did when you were a teen are long behind you. What kid wouldn’t do what you did?”

  Lots of kids might roll houses with toilet paper, steal shopping carts and crash them into the lake, but she’d taken it further with shoplifting, graffiti on cars and buildings, underage drinking, smoking...hell, the only thing she’d managed to hold on to was her virginity and she’d wasted that on some stupid drummer and a promise of stardom.

  “You didn’t.” Shea pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I had a different daddy for the first few years. It was around your third birthday that he started to really drink.”

  “I remember him playing the guitar when I was younger. Momma would sing along.”

  “Then it all stopped,” Evie said. “I never understood why and unless you know, I guess it’s buried with them.”

  “I have no idea. Maybe life was just too hard for him. Maybe he tried to do what he thought he was supposed to do and it didn’t fit and he didn’t know how to fix it.” Shea had no idea where those words came from. She’d always been so angry with their lot in life. But, now at her own impasse, struggling with who she wanted to be and finding who she really was, the fear and uncertainty were overwhelming.

  “Maybe.” Evie shrugged and pulled into a spot outside a diner with a red and white gingham awning. Two Chicks and Bacon was stenciled on the door. A cute, artsy sign hung in the door telling the world they were open for service.

  Shea followed her sister into the diner and the aroma of freshly baked bread, caramelized sugar, and chocolate made her mouth salivate. Even the aroma of coffee didn’t bother her, the place was that welcoming. They sat at the counter and Shea pulled out a menu.

  “Morning, hon,” said Andee, a woman Shea recognized as one of Evie’s high school classmates. Andee poured her sister a cup of coffee and gestured to Shea.

  “No, thanks. But I’d love a hot tea if you have any.”

  “Oh, we have plenty of tea.” She put the coffee pot back on the burner, pulled out a large wooden box, flipped open the lid, and presented Shea with an assorted display of teas.

  “If I might suggest one, the Lady Earl Grey is nice and Kylie makes a mean London Fog.” A guy slid into the seat next to her and plucked out a packet of Lady Earl Grey.

  Shea turned to find Leo.

  “Kylie?”

  “The college kid who works here as a barista. She’s only here for another hour so if you want something steamed or frothed, you have to order it now.”

  “You getting a London Fog, Leo?” Andee asked and took his tea packet.

  “Make that two.” Shea picked up a tea bag and handed it to Andee.

  “You won’t regret it,” Leo promised and folded his hands together, resting them on the counter. The tips were still covered in ink and he was dressed much like she’d seen him yesterday, an oxford shirt, this time tucked into jeans.

  “I hope not or you’ll really be batting zero,” Shea deadpanned.

  “Sports metaphor. I like it.” He winked. “Morning, officer,” he called over her shoulder.

  Shea turned to see Officer Carlson walking toward them. She’d had many run-ins with the police, specifically Carlson. He’d hand delivered her to her momma more times than she could count with the spray paint still evident on her hands, or with another report of vandalism. One time he’d busted her drinking and she’d thrown up in his patrol vehicle. It was his quiet story, a cautionary tale delivered with the same avuncular attitude he’d always shown her that made her realize she could be an alcoholic like her father. She hadn’t taken a drink since.

  “Morning, Leo. Evie, Andee.” He looked square at Shea. “Welcome home, Shea. I’m really sorry to hear about your momma.”

  “Thanks, Officer Carlson. I see you’re still keeping the city safe.” Shea tried to smile. Part of her wanted to thank him but the other diners in the restaurant gave her pause; she was unwilling to air her dirty past for everyone.

  “It keeps me busy,” he said.

  “Probably not as busy as she used to keep you, huh, Carlson? That girl is a troublemaker. She actually graffitied the side of my building. Remember when I owned that pizza shop? People like her don’t change.” Mr. Hubbs, one of the retirees, who was as acrimonious now as he’d been back then, chimed in.

  Was a troublemaker. She had been but no longer was and she hadn’t graffitied the entire wall. Just one small spot. She’d only wanted to leave her mark on one tiny spot.

  “That was a long time ago, Mr. Hubbs,” Officer Carlson said.

  “I got my eye on you, missy. I’ll be locking my doors,” Mr. Hubbs said, pointing to Shea.

  She scratched a
t a small pink spot blooming on her wrist.

  “Again, my condolences to both you girls. Your momma was an exceptional woman.” Officer Carlson gave a quick nod before walking out of the diner.

  Shea faced ahead, afraid to look at her sister or Andee or even Mr. Hubbs with his stabby finger and sharp words. Would she never shed the shame of her past? If it weren’t for the reading of the will or the way Evie had looked so forlorn, she’d leave today.

  “I have it on good authority, Mr. Hubbs, that your son, Mike, was also known to draw pictures on buildings around town. I believe he spray painted a devil face on the side of my daddy’s church,” Lorelei said as she delivered plates of hot food to a table.

  The diner was quiet with the exception of a few snickers. Mr. Hubbs grumbled something under his breath, pushed back from his chair, and stomped out of the restaurant.

  Andee cleared her throat. “Now, I know what you two want.” She pointed to Leo and Evie. “But how about you, Shea? You had a chance to look at the menu?”

  She smiled sheepishly, happy to have something else to focus on, and pulled the menu from the holder. “Not yet, sorry.”

  “No worries. I’ll get your London Fogs and be right back.”

  “I like the Gouda and bacon omelet,” Evie said.

  “I get the spinach omelet,” Leo said.

  Andee placed two frothy mugs in front of them and Shea reached for hers, took a small sip.

  “Wow, very good.”

  “Home run?” Leo asked.

  “Yeah, home run,” she said without looking at him. Purposefully focusing on the mug, she took another sip.

  “All right. Ready to order?” Andee placed a pecan roll in front of Evie. “It’s the last one and I was saving it in case you came in.”

  “Thanks.” Evie stood then reached across the counter and hugged Andee. “I need this.”

  “I figured as much,” Andee said.

  Shea watched the exchange, her breath stuck in her tightening chest.

  “I’ll take the southwestern frittata.” She wasn’t really paying attention to food but the community that had become her sister’s family. Leo played on the same charity football team. Andee knew what her sister wanted for breakfast and held back the last pecan roll ‘in case she came in.’ A fair amount of people at the wake yesterday had come to support Evie as much as they had come to say goodbye to their momma.

  For the first time in her life, she wanted what her sister had. She’d been aware of how empty hers was but never felt the vast echo of nothingness until now. No one had called to check on her aside from her agent and that was her job. No one was wondering where she was, if she could come perform. The only calls she got were because someone wanted to capitalize on her talent and hoped she’d sell them a chart-breaking song. The only person who even gave a fig about her was sitting next to her. One person, her sister, and wasn’t there some sort of law that required Evie to care?

  “Ohh, have you heard this song? I love it. It’s crazy popular.” Andee reached below the counter and the country music quietly playing in the background got louder.

  “It is a good song. Pretty sad though. I think it’s called ‘Whiskey and Water’.” Leo said.

  Shea looked at her sister. “Have you heard it? Do you like it?”

  Evie shrugged. “It’s not a bad song. It just doesn’t do it for me. But that does.” She reached across the counter and picked up a magazine Andee had been looking at when they walked in. She and Andee started oohing and aahing over organizational containers.

  Shea had to force the air from her lung and focus on bringing more in. The diner around her blurred as she watched her sister talk about the variety of ways to organize a laundry room.

  She didn’t like the song.

  Yes, Evie had said it wasn’t bad but that was her version of saying she hated it. For Evie, hate was too strong a word to use. Not one to hurt anyone’s feelings, even someone she thought she didn’t know; Evie would never say she hated it. But she did. She hated the song.

  “I’d like to introduce myself,” Leo said from behind her.

  She turned to face him, confused, the diner coming back into focus. “What?”

  “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Leo. Leo Marshall. I’m a friend of your sister. I tend to put my foot in my mouth so I’m giving you advance notice.”

  “I’m confused,” she said, pushing all thoughts of Evie and the song aside. Disappointment was too much to add to her grief.

  “I’m going for a do-over here. I can’t get yesterday out of my head and I feel like an ass.”

  “Listen, I’m not interested. I just thought I should tell you that up front.”

  Leo shrugged. “You’re not interested in making a new friend?”

  Friend. “You think we could be friends?”

  Leo pressed his lips together in what she thought was his way of processing her words. “Jane Austen said something about Mr. Darcy and how at first appearance his address was not striking and his person was hardly handsome but he turned out all right in the end. I hope you give me a second chance.”

  “Because you’re like Mr. Darcy?” Shea said, ignoring the vibrating of the phone in her pocket.

  “I’m misunderstood like he was.” Leo put on a false air of disdain.

  Shea laughed. “As a person looking for a second chance from a lot of people, I can hardly not grant you one. But that’s it. All I’m saying is that I won’t hold your first few attempts at conversation against you.”

  “You’ll be open to the friendship?”

  She shrugged. “Sounds like it’s inevitable.”

  He searched her face. Typically, she’d be uncomfortable with his non-verbal query but with Leo she was more at ease, as if he understood her or maybe was just really empathic. Either way, his quick smile and the way he leaned toward her when he quoted books, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear, made her feel like maybe Leo could be the first person in her new community.

  If she were to stay.

  “You know, if you’re looking for a place to get away, something quiet where you can clear your head, Hollis Garden is nice, but there are some really good benches at Lake Morton. There, I find...inspiration,” Leo said in a quiet voice.

  “Inspiration. How?”

  “I find it a good place to gather words. Since you write songs. I thought, maybe, it might help you, too.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” she said. She wanted to reach out and take his hand. To bond with him through ways other than words, funerals, and food. She wondered if he felt as adrift as she did, for the need to tether her line to his was overwhelming.

  “Here you go,” Lorelei said and placed a tray on the counter. She unloaded plates in front of each of them and Shea looked between their dishes.

  “Ok all. I just want you both to know that I will be sampling what each of you ordered.” She poked her fork at Leo. “Starting with you. Each of these dishes looks amazing, Lorelei.”

  Leo pushed his plate toward her and she took off a corner of his omelet. The bite was divine. The flavor burst incredible.

  “Good, right?” He pulled the plate toward him and started eating.

  “Here,” Evie said. “Before I cover it in pepper.” She pushed her plate toward Shea and pulled Shea’s toward her. They each took a few bites.

  “I’m gonna eat here every day,” Shea said. “Every day. What was your daddy thinking when he made us eat rattlesnake when we could’ve been having this stuff? So good.”

  Lorelei laughed, a blush on her cheeks.

  “I’d forgotten all about that,” Evie said. “Remember that time he wanted us to try gator tail?”

  From there the conversation wove its way through memory lane and their shared experiences. It was not lost on Shea that in addition to the lows she’d shared with her family, she actually had some fond moments to recall. Not everything was about alcohol, a police car bringing her home, or t
he desperation she often felt as she tried to navigate even the simplest hurdles of life. She actually had memories where she’d considered, for a moment, turning down food. Gator tail, who ate that stuff?

  But Daddy starts each day the same. Always full of regret and shame. He tries to cleanse himself with water but the whisky's call is always to blame~ "WHISKY AND WATER."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Leo hoped she’d come out to the park. He knew sitting quietly among trees wasn’t for everyone but he thought it might be a place that worked for her. One look at her during the wake a few days ago, shoulders slunk low but her head held high, he’d recognized a kindred spirit. Everyone changed as they grew up. Either they matured, became angry, found happiness, or whatever. But he’d never met someone who was just as they were in the past.

  Shea was no different.

  Caught between who’d she become and proud of it but unsettled with her past, she’d stood on the outskirts watching her momma’s life being retold through different eyes.

  It caused her pain. She’d nearly chewed her lip off while simultaneously trying to shred the hankie. He’d wanted to rescue her then and there. Unable to stop himself if he’d wanted to, and he hadn’t, he’d gone over and inadvertently made an ass of himself. At least she’d smiled and for a small moment, relaxed.

  Leo didn’t know much about loss; he was lucky like that. But he knew a helluva lot about reinventing oneself. He was the master at such a feat. Or so he hoped. Either that or he was the master of disguise. Sharing with her his place of peace, where muses traipsed between the trees, was the least he could do.

  He heard the banjo before he realized she was singing along with it and he paused to listen, his hand resting on the messenger bag slung across his chest. Her voice, though sad and wistful at times, was soft and calming and he not only enjoyed the tune but found a new understanding in its melody and lyrics.

  The right thing to do would be to clear his throat or walk out from behind the trees, but he stood rooted. His eyes closed, listening as she hummed to fill in the space void of words before starting all over again.