The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance)

by Sarra Cannon

  He shakes his head. “You know I’ve never thought that about you,” he says. He takes my hand. “I just think that’s really great what you’ve done.”

  “I know a lot of people in town think my family is greedy,” I say. “They don’t see the whole picture, though. Even though I might not agree with all their choices, my parents donate more than a million dollars a year to various charities and organizations. But because he drives an expensive car and lives in a big house, people call him greedy.”

  “My dad is the greedy one,” he says.

  Mason doesn’t talk about his father much, so I’m surprised when he says this. I’ve tried several times over the past week to get him to open up about what’s really going on at home, but he always closes up and refuses to talk about it. I glance over at him and see there’s some kind of battle going on inside his eyes. There’s a mix of anger and hate and something like fear.

  I’m scared to ask him more. This is when Mason always shuts down. He opens the door, then when I take a step inside, he slams it right in my face.

  So I wait. When and if he’s ready to say more, he will.

  “You know how you said you were so tired of people judging you the second they found out whose daughter you were?” he asks.

  “Yes, it’s like I’m Penny, the normal girl until someone says my last name and suddenly it’s like, Oh, you’re Tripp Wright’s daughter? The bazillionaire? That’s when they start asking about my trust fund and assuming that I’m just another spoiled rich girl with a credit card. They automatically act like I’m shallow and superficial.”

  “It’s been easier here, though, right?”

  “It’s been amazing,” I say. “To be judged solely on who I am and not what I have.”

  “That’s what I want more than anything,” he says. Sadness seeps into his voice and it scares me. “I don’t want to be judged for who my family is. Or what my family has done.”

  “What are you so afraid of?” I ask him softly. “What’s really going on at home?”

  Mason lowers his head into his hands. When he comes up, his eyes are vacant. The moment has passed, just like that.

  My heart sinks. I don’t want to let this go. I need to know what’s bothering him so bad. Why he really wanted to get out of town.

  “Mason,” I say. I put my hand on his and he looks up at me. “I know there’s something going on that you are scared to talk about for whatever reason. But you know you can trust me, too, right? I’m not going to judge you or be upset with you. I just want to know so I can help. So I can be here for you. You don’t have to deal with everything alone.”

  He shakes his head. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, and I know the discussion is over. He’s closed up again and there’s no point pushing him. “Let’s just map out a route. I’m thinking it’s too late to really get on the road tonight, but we could head out at first light.”

  “There’s something I want to do at the bank first,” I say.

  He eyes me. “I know you want to help them, Pen, but if you call your parents or try to wire money here, your parents are going to come here to find you. You know that, right?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not going to call them. I’m not even going to use my family name. I just want to see if I can talk to the loan officer and get another thirty day extension on their loan. I have some ideas for how they can help their business, but I’m going to need some time tonight and tomorrow to get it set up before we can leave.”

  He sets the map down flat on the table and nods. “Do what you gotta do,” he says. “I can get things packed up while you head to the bank in the morning.”

  “Have you two decided which direction you’re headed?” Delores asks, dropping off our check.

  “West,” I say. “Always west.”

  She looks down at the map and points to a town in Texas called Beaumont. “If you guys end up around this area, you’ll want to stop into a little country bar called Knockin’ Boots,” she says. “My brother Lester and his wife Caroline manage it. They have live music and they’ll set you up with some free drinks if you tell them you know me. Might even let you get up on stage and sing if you want.”

  I laugh. “No,” I say. “Trust me, no one wants to hear me sing.”

  “I can sing a little,” Mason says.

  I laugh at first, then realize he’s not joking. “You’re serious?” I smack his arm. “You never told me that. How come you’ve never sung for me?”

  He shrugs. “You never asked me to.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I say.

  He smiles. “Someday, I’ll prove it to you,” he says.

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Yes it is,” he says. “Just you wait.”

  I smile and look down at the map. Beaumont, Texas it is, then.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I spend the rest of the afternoon going through my ideas with Delores and Buddy.

  They have an old computer in the back room, so we get on and map out all the different big events and festivals coming up in this area over the next couple of months.

  “See, there’s a lot of end-of-summer events coming up on the bigger beaches,” I say. “With your license, you should be able to contact them and see if you can get on as a vendor. If nothing else, you could take your food cart up there and set up somewhere in town unofficially.”

  “You don’t think it’s going to be a big risk to spend all that money getting the menu together and gas for the trip and everything?”

  “The key is to be smart about what you serve. Only stick to your simplest, best items,” I say. “A few things you can make ahead of time and then just heat up on demand. Things that don’t take too many expensive ingredients. The kinds of foods that will appeal to people outside enjoying a day on the beach.”

  “Crab cake burgers,” Buddy says. “It’s one of Delores’ most popular summer dishes. We could freeze the patties ahead of time and just heat them up on the grill when we get there.”

  I nod. “Exactly. If you can come up with three or four good items like that where you won’t be wasting any food if you don’t sell out, you won’t be in danger of losing any money,” I say. “And at these festivals, you can charge a premium. One of the problems I see from the menu you used at that spring break event is that you were really undercharging for everything. No one charges less than a dollar for a can of soda at these things. You could probably sell cold bottles of water for a dollar each and if you get bottles of Coke instead of cans, you could probably sell those for two dollars each.”

  “Two dollars?” Delores asks. She presses her lips together and settles her hands on her hips. “We can get those wholesale for less than forty cents a bottle.”

  “Right, so every one you sell at two dollars is major profit,” I say. “Which you desperately need right now.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be screwing people just to get ahead,” she says.

  I want to laugh at how innocent and perfect she is, but this is a serious matter. “Delores, you aren’t screwing people. Two dollars is a fair price at an outdoor event like this. Besides, you’re not trying to just get ahead. You’re trying to save your diner.”

  Her face becomes serious and she nods. “Okay, what else?”

  I go through the rest of the menu with them while Mason creates a calendar of all the upcoming events along the Alabama coast for the next two months.

  “The more of these you can get to, the better,” I say. “And when you get a little bit of money, I want you to spend some of it on flyers you can hand out, telling people where to find this diner. Trust me, when they taste your food, they’re going to want to stop by and visit this place. And if you get ahead, maybe you can invest a little bit of money into having the floors cleaned up or putting in new tables and such.”

  She nods, but I see fear in her eyes.

  “Try to keep an eye out for any catering jobs. Parties, birthdays, that sort of thing.” I put my hand on hers a
nd squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, Delores. I won’t let you lose this place.”

  “Heaven must have brought you through those doors to me,” she says, squeezing my hand. “And here I thought you were just some snooty little tourist when I first met you, thinking you were turning your nose up at my tap water.”

  I laugh. I don’t tell her that’s exactly what I was doing.

  But who knew how much ten days could really change a person?

  I’m kind of starting to like the person I’m becoming.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  By the time I get back from the bank the next morning, Mason has the whole camp packed up and ready to go.

  There’s no sign of Harley at the campgrounds today, and she’s lucky she didn’t show her face.

  “How did it go?” he asks.

  “Good,” I say. “I laid out my ideas and asked him to extend the loan an extra month and see how it all pans out.”

  “And he agreed? Just like that?”

  I lift my hands up. “Just like that,” I say. “He thought the plan had real potential. Of course, they’re still going to have to pay what they owe, but the bank wants to see them succeed so they can get their money back. He said he’s willing to give them the time to turn things around.”

  Mason smiles. “I always knew you were beautiful and smart, but who knew you had such a great mind for business?”

  I roll my eyes. “Not my parents, that’s for sure,” I say. “I’ve tried bringing up some of my ideas to my dad, but he always waves me away. He’s always asking Preston for ideas and Preston could care less. But you know how it is. The son has to be the one to carry on the family name and tend the family business. It’s a Southern tradition.”

  “It’s bullshit,” he says. “If your dad can’t see how good you’d be for his company, he’s blind.”

  I climb into the truck and Mason gets behind the wheel. “It’s okay,” I say. “I’ve been thinking of taking some time off from school anyway.”

  “Why?” he asks. “Because of this trip?”

  “That and some other things,” I say. “No big deal.”

  But it is a big deal. It’s a very big freaking deal. I’ve been avoiding thinking too far into the future, but eventually I’m going to need a plan.

  I fold the map so that the route from Alabama to Texas is open on my lap as he pulls onto the road leading out of town. “I feel like we’ve gone back in time,” I say. “This is probably the longest either one of us has ever gone without checking email or using a GPS to get where we’re going.”

  “I know, but that’s part of what makes it so fun.”

  I nod and stare out the window. Thinking about the future also has me thinking about what’s going on back home. Are they out looking for us? Is everyone worried about us?

  Will my parents ever forgive me for leaving without talking to them about it first?

  For now, Mason and I are living in this little cocoon. It’s just us and the rest of the world fades away, but in a few weeks, I’m going to need to go home and face reality again. When I get home, there are going to be a lot of decisions to make. For now, though, I’m going to concentrate on making the most of our time together. If it works out the way I’m hoping, Mason will be by my side and we’ll be making those decisions together.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Mason and I take our time on the road. We decide to play it by ear, stopping at a few different campsites along the coast on our way toward Texas.

  “I’ve never been to New Orleans,” I say, studying the map at breakfast a few days later. “It’s only a couple of hours from here and I’ve always wanted to see it. I doubt there are many places to pitch a tent in the middle of the city, though.”

  He laughs. “No, I imagine they generally frown on that sort of thing,” he says. “Not that people probably haven’t tried during Mardis Gras.”

  “I bet,” I say. “Can we go? Even just for the day?”

  “Anything you want, baby,” he says.

  He’s never called me baby before and for some reason, it makes me giddy. Other than being the only person in the world who calls me Pen, Mason has never had a real pet name for me. I could get used to swapping terms of endearment with this guy.

  “Next stop, The Big Easy,” I say. And just for fun, I throw in, “Sweet cheeks.”

  He cocks his head to the side and his eyes narrow to threatening slits. “Don’t press your luck, missy.”

  I stand and toss my dirty napkin at him. “What would you prefer, then? Sugar-lips? Pumpkin? Love muffin?”

  He groans and pulls a few bills out of his wallet. “Can’t you at least try to think of something a little more masculine?”

  “Hot stuff? Lover boy?”

  He’s trying to act annoyed, but his lips curl up on the corners. “I like Mason,” he says. “Let’s stick to that.”

  I put my hand in his and we walk out to the truck together. “For now,” I say. “But you can still call me baby.”

  He leans down and kisses me before opening the door on the passenger side. “You like that, huh?”

  “I love it,” I say, wrapping my arms around him and going in for another kiss. What I really want to say is I love you, but I hold back. Things are going so well since we left Little Lake that I don’t want to push my luck.

  It only takes us an hour and a half to get into the city. We park in a public parking lot downtown that only costs ten dollars for the full day, then walk around, exploring the city hand-in-hand. We walk around the French Quarter, have lunch and beignets at Café du Monde, and spend the rest of the day walking around the St. Louis Cemetery.

  “I know it’s strange to say a cemetery is pretty, but it is,” I say.

  The stone crypts are all above ground. Some are plain, but others are ornate, decorated with beautiful artwork and sculptures.

  “They’re like little houses for dead people,” Mason says.

  I step around one of the tombs and my foot catches on a stone. I push my hands out in front of me to catch my fall, but my hip slams hard against a stone vase. I cry out and clutch my side, fear rushing through me as I fall hard against the ground.

  Mason rushes to my side. “Are you hurt?” he says.

  “I don’t know,” I say, tears filling my eyes. My hands are trembling and I can’t catch my breath.

  I sit there for a long time, not saying a word. Terrified I may have hurt the baby, but not able to tell him what’s wrong.

  “Penny, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head and lean against him. “I’m okay, I think,” I say. “Just a little shaken up.”

  He helps me stand and I slide the edge of my shorts down. There’s a long scrape across my hip and stomach that’s bleeding a little. It stings, but it’s nothing serious. At least not from the outside.

  I try my best to shake it off and go on with our day, but it stays in the back of my mind. I can’t stop worrying about the baby.

  After that, the carefree atmosphere of the day is gone and Mason suggests we get back on the road to find a place to stop for the night.

  When we stop for gas a few miles outside the city, I get out of the truck and tell Mason I’m going to use the bathroom.

  I go inside the small restroom and shut the door, then lean back against it, trying to calm myself down. If this baby could survive a major car accident, surely he can survive a little fall. I’m sure it’s no big deal, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

  I splash cold water on my face and take several deep breaths. I’m probably just overreacting.

  But when I go to use the bathroom, there’s a little blood on the tissue.

  My heart nearly stops. I’m not going to be able to go on pretending I’m okay, and there’s no way I’ll be able to hide my worry from him.

  But if I tell him now, I’m afraid it will ruin everything. I’m not ready yet. I know he cares about me a lot, but until he tells me he loves me and wants to be wi
th me even after we decide to go home, I don’t want him to know about the baby.

  I step outside of the bathroom and glance through the window at Mason. He’s still standing by the truck filling the tank. I walk to the clerk at the counter.

  “Do you have a payphone here?”

  He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

  I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair. “I really need to use the phone,” I say, pleading with my eyes. “It’s an emergency. Can I use yours?”

  He sighs. “Is it long distance?”

  “Yes, but it’s really important,” I say. I search my pockets for cash, but I must have left it in my bag. The only other thing I can think to do is use my calling card. I have the number memorized. “I can use a calling card. It won’t cost you anything.”

  He thinks it over, then finally hands me the cordless phone from under the counter. “Be quick, though, just in case someone calls the store,” he says. “The owner will be pissed if he calls in and it’s busy.”

  I thank him and glance out at Mason again. I know I don’t have much time. Using the card goes against our rules, but we’re just passing through here anyway. By the time anyone tracked us down, we’d be gone.

  My fingers are shaky and I misdial a couple of times before I finally get it right and the line starts ringing.

  When the operator answers, I ask her to connect me with Dr. Mallory’s office. It’s after five in the afternoon, but miraculously, he picks up on the second ring.

  “Dr. Mallory? This is Penny Wright,” I say.

  “Penny? Oh my goodness, are you okay? Your mother told me you’d left town and that no one’s heard from you,” he says. “I’ve been very worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but I need to talk to you.” The words are rushing out of my mouth so fast, I’m stumbling over them. I tell him about the fall at the cemetery and the spotting.

  “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he says. “Spotting can be totally normal at this stage in your pregnancy, but it would be best if you could come in and get things checked out just to be safe.”