Crain’s Landing
Copyright © 2015 Cayce Poponea
Published by Cayce's Creations All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means; including information storage and retrieval systems-except in the case of brief excerpts or quotations embodied in review or critical writings without the expressed permission of the author.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editing by Elizabeth Simonton and D.J.White
Cover Design by Jada D’Lee Designs
Formatting by Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Other Books
Dedication
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
Author Info
Other work by Cayce Poponea
Shamrocks Series
Shamrocks and Secrets
Claddagh and Chaos
Even in fiction, there lives a little truth. I’ve been blessed to have several special people grace my world. When the plot for this particular fiction began to form, one of the most influential of those people came to mind. To my daughter Jessica. My reason for rising before the sun, working until I couldn’t see straight and striving to be the best role model I could be for you. You were the first thing I’ve ever done right. Thank you for the constant inspiration you provide me, I love you.
As a young girl, I was shy and reserved. Always worried I was bothering others if I asked a question. I met my best friend when I was in the second grade. She, unlike me, was beautiful and popular with the children in our class. Her family moved away and I thought I would never see her again. However the first day of middle school, there she was, still as pretty as ever. Time was unable to erase the bond we shared as our friendship continued until college tore us apart once again. Lori, you have saved me so many times, several from the defeat I gave myself. Thank you and I love you as well.
“KEVIN ALLEN SCOTT.”
The feedback from the microphone caused several parents to pull back, the loud wailing sounds causing more ear irritation than the Dean’s voice. Kevin seemed destined to excel at everything he did; from football to cross country running, he played every sport he could. Originally from a small farm in Nebraska, he had turned down a number of NFL teams; choosing, instead, to return to his hometown, settle down and raise a family with his long-term girlfriend. I understood Kevin when he defended his choice not to go pro. He wanted what I wanted deep inside—a warm and safe place to lay my head down every night, a world I could call home.
“Winifred Millicent Sherman.”
Oh my, Millie’s first name was Winifred. I’d go by my middle name as well, I thought to myself. Millie was one of those people who tried very hard to be everyone’s friend. She lived for joining committees and participated in every organization she could find. Pleasing people was a need for her, like the air she breathed. She was destined to be a leader or at least married to one. Her beauty and determination were all wrapped up in this little perfect package. Being the Senator's daughter didn't hurt her case any either.
Dean Peterson had opened his speech with a plea for everyone to hold their applause until the end. However, with the excitement of seeing their loved one and, let’s be perfectly honest, the notion that the checks to this University were over and done with, allowed everyone to completely ignore him. Heck, he should be used to being ignored. Unless you needed something from him, he was completely useless.
“Carson Marcus Shultz.”
Poor Carson, he was the only guy in my women’s studies class. I suspected he played for the other team; I had no real proof of that other than the company he kept. He was always neat and clean, dressed completely metrosexual, yet I never saw him with someone.
“Henry Alabaster Simons.”
Thank God I wouldn’t have to listen to him clear his throat a hundred times a day anymore. Henry came from money and it was a blessing for him. He was most definitely challenged in the looks department. His character wasn't much better because he argued nearly every point he was ever given. I had a study group with him one time, that was all it took for me to know he was not someone I wanted to be friends with. I overheard a couple students once say that his parents were grooming him to take over the family business, a seed packaging plant. He would most likely marry a supermodel, complete with an ironclad prenup and a credit card with no limit to keep her happy.
“Natalie Elizabeth Reid.”
This would be the third time I had listened for my name to be called at a graduation ceremony. First was from my high school in Hikers Cove, Oregon. I remembered how I could only think about the world I was about to enter, parent and supervision free. I once heard someone say, “I wish I knew then what I know now.” Youth keeps us blind, guarded from the harshness of real life. Events had shown me that life was what happened when you were not paying attention.
The second time was from college, when I received my undergrad. A time when I felt my life couldn't get any more perfect. I thought I had it all, every dream I ever had, had come true.
But you know what they say about dreams?
Nightmares are dreams too.
Now, I was obtaining my Masters in Literature from Cornell University in New York. It had been my goal from the start to attend school here. In fact, my parents couldn't believe I declined a full ride fresh out of high school, but this was my dream and not Holden’s. This particular graduation had been a long time coming. There had been many days I didn’t think it would happen. Many times I almost threw in the towel after getting a dose of the way life really was for me. My eyes were no longer blinded by my youth. I rose from my seat, the reality of the moment settling in my chest. I had worked hard for this moment, willingly sacrificed so many things. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy, but to live in this moment, I would do it all again.
I walked across the stage, careful not to trip over the many cords that crossed the walk. The last thing I wanted was to end up with the most hits on a YouTube video. Dean Peterson smiled and extended his hand out to me. I was leery to take it; no telling where or rather in which graduating girl, it had been. He was the textbook example of a playboy. He owned the fastest sports car and had the quintessential ‘turn a blind eye’ wife, who had her own side action. He was at least discreet about his prowling; he never came on to a girl, he just never turned one down for any reason. Hell, I thought even Henry would have scored some ass with him if the price was high enough. I plastered on a smile and held back the bile that threatened as I shook his hand. The camera flash blinded me as I smiled, took my diploma in hand, and then walked with purpose to the opposite end of the stage. Far away from the Dean and closer to
the rest of my life.
As I descended the staircase, I heard my reason for all the hard work these past few years. The full class schedules, summer school, and online courses when necessary. But it was all worth it; she was worth it. Her big, blue eyes were shining in the bright light of the June sun, her blonde ringlets bouncing as my dad balanced her on his shoulders. Her smile was contagious, as was that laugh of hers, and I’d fallen victim to both many times. She was my lifeline, my inspiration, my reason for everything—my two-year-old daughter, Peyton.
I stepped off the stage and waved to my little miracle. I watched as she excitedly waved back, stopping to blow me kisses. Her giggles and kisses had kept me going more times than I cared to remember. Having my dad here was icing on my cake. He was the only guy in our world right now. As far as I was concerned, it would stay that way, indefinitely. Men were lying, cheating, pieces of slime. My dad, of course, was excluded. The killer part was, they were all the same. They said nice things to you, took you to expensive places, yet only doing these things to get into your pants. Then, when they had what they wanted, they dumped you and moved on to the next short skirt. Some took their time to make you feel special; told you how beautiful you were, how nice you smelled. But in the end, the outcome was always the same—they were all the same.
I didn’t always feel that way. I was in love once, with Peyton’s father, Holden. I thought he’d hung the moon. He could do no wrong and I just knew I would spend the rest of my life with him. We started dating our junior year of high school. Our fathers worked for the city where we grew up. Holden’s dad was on the city planning committee and my father worked for the mayor. Our families were always around each other. He even proposed after our graduation from college. We moved in together and life was good, until I told him I was pregnant.
At first, he seemed excited and would talk to my stomach. Then shortly after we returned from a holiday trip home, when I was about five months along, he came in one night and said he didn’t love me anymore. He moved out and went back to Hikers Cove. I was left to have our baby alone and raise her by myself. Holden made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the “bastard” child I carried. His parents stopped talking to mine and that was when things got bad.
It was during the first few months after Peyton was born that I ran low on money. My scholarship paid for my tuition and housing, but with having a baby, I had to move out of the dorms. Having an apartment of my own was great—no loud stereos or running in the halls, no parties that went on all hours of the day and night. But as great as it was, it had its pitfalls; I was responsible for everything. My electric bill was due and I needed to buy groceries. With only fifteen dollars in loose change, neither one was going to be taken care of. I took the engagement ring Holden had given me to a pawnshop, only to find out it wasn’t real.
The pawnshop owner was a woman who took pity on me and gave me one hundred dollars for a cheap piece of tin and cut glass. She told me she had been in my shoes once— tossed out by her live-in boyfriend with only the clothes on her back. Their relationship had caused her to distance herself from her parents and she found herself all alone. She stumbled upon a selfless stranger who bought her some food and paid for a hotel room, with no ulterior motives, but returned the next morning with breakfast in hand. Her face changed from the firm business owner to an unmistakably content one as she explained they had just celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary.
I had called my mom back in Oregon to complain about Holden, confiding in her the humiliation I felt. She became so angry, yelling at me I had trapped Holden and she refused to have anything to do with me, or Peyton, ever again. My father called me later to tell me that Holden and my mother had apparently been having an affair. They had been together for a while. Now I understood why he didn’t love me anymore: he had my mother to take care of him. At least she couldn’t get pregnant and have him leave her too.
A month later, my father filed for divorce and moved from Oregon to a small town in South Carolina. He wanted a quiet place to live and tinker around as he saw fit. He also wanted to be as far away from my mother and Holden as possible. He found a little house on the edge of a small southern town; it had all of the features he was looking for—two bedrooms, a large porch with a shed in the back. When he went to the bank to inquire about the house, he was bombarded with questions by the townsfolk. The ladies that worked in the bank thought he would be perfect for this person or that person, but my dad was like me, he had no interest in being in a relationship with anyone. He purchased the house and fell in love with the people; he told me it was hard not to. He was encouraged to run for Mayor and said since he knew how to do the job, he figured, why not? No one ran against him and he had held the position ever since.
So in two days, I’d pack up what little belongings we had, stowing away the memories of bringing her home from the hospital, her first cold and her first word. I would close the door to the life I once had in New York and begin a new chapter in my and Peyton’s world. I was excited to be closer to my father, yet far enough away I could still enjoy my privacy. I was about to take that giant leap from student to adult and embark on a very long journey with my father and daughter, from New York to the tiny town of Crain's Landing, South Carolina.
CLEANING OUT MY APARTMENT DIDN’T take long since we didn’t own much. That would certainly change once we settled in our new home. The new tenant who was taking over was a broke college student and had bought all my old furniture for cheap. The house I had rented in South Carolina came fully furnished, so it was a win-win situation all around.
Once we had all our suitcases and Peyton’s toys packed into my SUV, we headed south for our new adventure. As the city turned to farmland and rolling country hills, I said a final goodbye to the life I had known for the past few years. I had grown so much since the first day I laid eyes on New York. Gone was the naive girl who knew nothing about the world and the people around me. I hoped I had become smarter about things, about how people work. College had taught me many life lessons. Now, it was time I took all the skills I had acquired and put them to good use.
Cities faded one into the other, sign after sign each more colorful than the last—all trying so hard to snatch your attention, to steer you in the direction of whatever they were selling. One billboard in particular caught my eye. A car dealership promised free oil changes for the life of your car and hand car washes if you purchased one of their used models. A beefy man with a white Stetson inked and swore he was more honest than Abe Lincoln. I guffawed at the wording chosen for him. A recent documentary I’d watched determined most great men in our history had some pretty fierce skeletons in their closets. So how honest was ol’ Abe?
As we passed the actual dealership, it certainly didn't disappoint. The large American flags waved proudly in the harsh, high winds. The banners that lined the side street full of color, promised the best deal in town. Even the car insignia that circled above the building entrance looked as if it were coated in glitter. Yet another way to capture the eye and take your thoughts away from the real issues. An old carnie trick—make you look in the direction one hand was doing some amazing trick, while they reached into your pocket with the one you had forgotten about. I highly doubted there was an honest man in the building.
Not that I would need a new car any time soon. My Nana Reid had died when I was ten and in her will she’d left ten thousand dollars to each of her grandchildren. My father was a smart man and had invested mine for me. Last month, I was finally granted access to that money. My first purchase was the brand new car we were currently riding in. The second, the rent on the house where we would be living. The rest, I put away for Peyton’s college education. The interest would mount up nicely and she’d be able to concentrate on studying, instead of worrying about money.
Peyton was secured in the center of the back seat, her toys surrounding her and the DVD playing her favorite movies. My dad thought we could take our time, make a vacation out of the t
rip. Maybe even make some new memories along the way. He knew it would be cool for us to see the little towns in between New York and South Carolina. I took the time, while he was driving, to come up with ways to increase the number of activities the people of Crain's Landing could utilize the library. All while optimizing its operating costs, boosting patronage and, let’s be honest, securing a financial future for Peyton and myself.
When my father first contacted me about the position being open, I doubted I would get it. With no real experience and only a few references, I felt my chances were slim to none. I sent in my resume, and when I received a phone call a few days later. I was floored when I was offered the position with no real interview. My excitement was dashed a little when Mrs. Nelson informed me there would be conditions to my employment. The city had been monitoring the number of people that visited the library annually and, sadly, the number had decreased each year. With the technology of today, it was no real surprise. Why go to the library when you could log on to your computer at home while still in your pajamas? People could go onto one of the major bookstores’ web pages and download a copy of a new book for little cost, again, never leaving their homes. I had a huge task ahead of me. First though, I needed to take a look at what they had to offer as far as books and periodicals.
Dad told me the library was located on the main street in town and that it was a fairly new building; beyond that, he wasn’t certain. While he was an educated and well-read man, he would rather be playing a round of golf than reading the latest new adult series or anything other than the occasional newspaper or spy novel.
So, my first task would be to take a tour. I had planned to do that without introducing myself—a cold call, as it was known. I wanted to see how they ran the place without expecting me to be there, kind of like visiting someone before they could do the quick cleanup people did when they knew someone was coming. I wanted to see if the current employees there were knowledgeable and helpful. I wondered whether the layout was accessible to all ages, including the handicapped. How the staff interacted with the patrons, how effective was their current system, and what programs were offered.
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