Someplace Familiar (Laurel Cove Romance Book 1)

by Teresa Tysinger

  ***

  Distant thunder matched the dull pounding in Jack’s head. Owen had called earlier that morning on his way to the home of a church member whose husband had died, asking if he could come over later in the afternoon instead. Since he hadn’t slept at all the night before, Jack had agreed and went back to bed. More than the exhaustion, his emotions needed rest from the turmoil of indecision. What was he going to do about Claire?

  He pressed his temples between his middle finger and thumb to ease the throbbing pressure and rolled over. Black digital numbers read 3:39 p.m. Livy. He’d let the whole day go by without calling her. What must she think, under the impression that he’d already talked to Owen?

  Turning on his phone, there were no missed calls, but two new text messages appeared. One was from Owen, sent only fifteen minutes ago. Be there around four. There was just enough time for a shower. Throwing back the covers, Jack swung his legs to the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands a moment before standing. Wait—the second text. Hope surged through him as he navigated to the message. The short but sweet message from Livy gifted him with just what he needed. She seemed ok. He texted back a quick Hi. I’m ok. Text you more soon. Love you.

  Yet, the thought that had kept running through his mind overnight still plagued him. This isn’t just about you, Jack. It’s about Claire. The woman you once loved. And now, it’s about Livy. The woman you do love. Jack gritted his teeth. He didn’t even want to engage with Claire anymore. That part of his life was over. Yet his faith had taught him that forgiveness was important despite his reasonable fear that talking to Claire would only bring more suffering.

  He turned on the hottest water he could bear in an effort to clear his head. Minutes after he dressed and put some fresh food and water down for Rex, the doorbell chimed.

  “Hey, man. Sorry you had to wait on me all day.” Owen extended a hand, which Jack took and pulled in for a hug. How many times had his friend come over following the divorce? And here they were again, still talking about Claire.

  Jack led them into the living room. “It’s no problem. I slept most of the day. Want anything? I could put some coffee on.”

  “No, thanks. So, how are you?” Owen took a seat on the couch, crossing his legs and placing his hands behind his head. Straight to the point.

  There wasn’t any use wasting time on pleasantries with Owen. Jack stepped over Rex who lay between the coffee table and loveseat and sat across from his friend. His hair was still a bit damp as he ran his hands through it. “I’ll be honest, man. I’m struggling.”

  “With what exactly?”

  Could he articulate what had been plaguing him—the flood of emotions he’d worked hard to bury, but never really worked out. “Mostly, figuring out why all of this bothers me so much. It’s been over a year. And now there’s Livy, who is wonderful and great for me. Sure, it’s annoying that Claire won’t leave us alone, but it shouldn’t have caused such an explosion in me.” Jack looked to his friend. What he’d give for some magic nugget of wisdom that would help make sense of it all.

  For a long moment, Owen just stared at him. Just as Jack was about to interject some more rambling, Owen cleared his throat. “Can I tell you something?”

  Jack managed a half-smile. Owen’s classic tell. “Of course. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I think I know why your reaction is so severe. You haven’t really forgiven Claire for all the cheating.”

  A heavy silence fell between the men. Jack sat back, a hand to his chin. Hadn’t he though? Hadn’t he forgiven Claire after all this time?

  Owen broke the silence first. “Often during outbursts of emotion, people say what they have really been feeling but trying to hide. From others as well as themselves. Do you remember the things you said last night on the phone?”

  “I know I’d had it, that she’d gone too far trying to get to me through you.” But was there more? Jack closed his eyes, thinking back to the scene in his truck.

  “You said she doesn’t deserve a chance to explain her actions. You called any explanation she has a ‘sob story.’ Do you remember that?”

  Jack approached the fireplace, resting a hand on the brick mantle, and stared at the cold, gray ash of burnt logs. Shame pricked at him—or was it residual anger? Probably both. Why had he been so harsh? That wasn’t like him, but this wasn’t just any simple annoyance. “That was pretty rough, I know. But she had her chance at counseling before the divorce and refused. How will hearing her side of things now change what happened?”

  Jack turned back to face Owen, his heart starting to pound with a dizzying effect.

  Frustration took the lead, and Jack couldn’t hold back. “I’ll tell you. It won’t erase any of the turmoil I went through. Being rejected, lied to, talked about around town. And for something I could do nothing about. What good would it do to rehash that nightmare? No. I’ve moved on. She’s only reacting to seeing me with Livy. She’s jealous. Well, that’s just tough.” A heat rose up Jack’s neck and flushed his cheeks.

  Owen’s caring eyes offered compassion. “I get what you’re saying. And I agree that getting counseling with her is probably not a good idea. For some reason, she’s just now beginning to deal with her own guilt. Maybe seeing you with Livy did spark that. And that’s her burden to carry. Her guilt to work through. You aren’t responsible anymore for her happiness.”

  Jack nodded and sat down again. Of course, his friend was right. The words gave Jack permission to breathe deep for what might have been the first time all day.

  “As your pastor and your friend, I’m more concerned with your heart,” Owen continued. “Unresolved anger and resentment can eat away at your spirit without you even knowing it. Then it becomes a big problem.”

  A lump formed in Jack’s throat, an unyielding mix of emotional and physical exhaustion. “Sure, but offering her forgiveness now feels like more of a gift to her. She’s already taken enough, Owen. I don’t know if I can give her any more.” Jack looked down at the floor and took a few long, deep breaths. “I’ve waited so long for a woman like Livy to fill the place in my heart I figured Claire had left dead. Why does Claire have to do this now? It just doesn’t seem fair.”

  Owen let out a loud belly laugh and stood, taking the seat next to Jack. “At the risk of sounding like your mama, what’s right isn’t always fair, Jack.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, but he wasn’t ready to return more than a half grin and a simple nod. Jack had no business talking about fairness. Owen was right about that. Fairness assumed something deserved. He didn’t really deserve Livy. He wasn’t perfect—never would be. But if what was right included continuing to accept Claire as a presence in his life, he didn’t know how to handle that.

  As another chuckle faded, Owen sighed. “Man, I tell you, if fairness led the way, God would never forgive any of us for anything. And grace is really what we’re talking about here. Claire might not deserve your forgiveness, but for each of you to heal, you need to forgive her and she needs to forgive herself. Plus, until you resolve this in your heart, you won’t be really ready to give Livy everything.”

  Jack’s shoulders slumped like a child who knew his ill-schemed plans had been thwarted. “Yes, I know you’re right.” Forgiving Claire once and for all meant exposing parts of himself he’d rather leave in the dark.

  Rex slowly wandered toward the men, as if sensing the tension. Owen reached in front of him and stroked Rex’s shiny ebony head. Satisfied, the dog walked a step closer to Jack and pushed his wet nose into his hands. Rex’s copper-colored eyes searched him with an unconditional adoration.

  “Maybe I need more healing than I care to admit. I suppose a healed person wouldn’t snap when provoked in such a nasty way like I did last night.” It was exhausting carrying around this weight. If opening himself up to deep, true healing would allow him to set aside this burden, he’d at least try.

  “Give yourself some time, Jack. Complete healing from something like t
his is tricky. Even though it’s been over a year, starting your first relationship since Claire is bound to bring a lot of things to the surface. It’s understandable.” Owen stood and walked to the kitchen, helping himself to a glass of water. “What do you think your next move is?”

  Jack stood to join him, sending Rex’s tail into a frenzy. “I don’t want to see Claire. And she’s got to stop going through other folks to get to me. I’ll text her in a bit and tell her that—and that she’s just going to have to be patient with the rest of it.” Jack approached the kitchen and leaned on the back of one of the stools lining the island. “But I’ve got some hard praying to do about finding true forgiveness before I can engage in any sort of conversation with her again.”

  “I think that’s smart.” Owen placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I wish I could stay longer, buddy. But Jen’s got lasagna in the oven, and they’re waiting on me to eat. Hang in there and call whenever you need to. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

  Dinner. Maybe he’d luck out and Livy would be free, and he’d get to talk to her about what had happened last night and apologize for pulling her into the middle of his rollercoaster.

  Jack saw Owen out the door. With a wave as Owen pulled down the drive, Jack found his phone and dialed Livy. No answer. He checked for new messages but found none. Maybe she needed a little space. Or she could have run into the other women while out shopping. There wasn’t really a scenario to alleviate the disappointment of not connecting with her.

  The sound of Rex’s leash dropping at his feet brought Jack back to the moment.

  “Sure, boy, let’s go for a walk. It’s just you and me tonight.”

  ***

  “This is it?” Sam hands rested on his hips, and he stared at the unassuming building. Cook’s Diner was hand-painted in black on a long sign affixed to the ledge of the sloped roof.

  “This is it.” Livy didn’t even pause as she passed him on her way to the front door.

  A rooster roaming the side yard ruffled his feathers before pecking the ground. The aroma of fried cooking mingled with the earthy sweetness of a fireplace burning nearby. If he followed her to the country, a true country experience was what he was going to get.

  Inside, Livy followed the directions scrawled on a small dry erase board and sat herself on one side of a corner booth. Sam sat opposite her and reached for the small plastic menu she handed him.

  “It’s, uh, sure different from the city.” Sam’s eyes roamed the place as if he expected aliens to come out from behind the swinging doors to the kitchen.

  Livy pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes. “For goodness’ sake, Sam. We’re not on Mars.”

  He reached and pulled down an old worn blind, craning to look outside. “Where are we exactly? Is this still Laurel Cove?”

  Livy admired the scene framed by the window. The clouds were beginning to clear, revealing a cotton candy pink early evening sky. “No, we’re north of Laurel Cove, not too far—maybe ten miles—from Finnegan’s Hollow.”

  “Finnegan’s Hollow? Geez, I thought names like that are just made up in movies.” His scoff was a bit arrogant, but Livy couldn’t really argue with him. Names of towns, roads, and even people were quite unique in these parts, even compared to Raleigh.

  “Many towns are named after generations-old families or natural landmarks. Jack told me the Finnegan family founded the biggest limestone quarry up there that brought a lot of people to the area. It’s still in operation, I think. Apparently, it’s so high up that there are only a few roads that’ll take you there.” Livy looked up from her menu to find Sam staring at her, his lips pressed thin. “What?”

  “Who’s Jack?”

  Livy’s mouth went dry at the weight and suspicion in his words. How should she answer him? How would Sam react to hearing she’d met someone? Where was their waitress? She’d give anything for some water.

  As if she’d spoken the need aloud, a silver-haired angel wearing an apron approached the table. Norma, according to her nametag. “What can I get you fine folks to drink this evenin’?” She held her pen at the ready over a ticket pad. When Livy didn’t answer right away, the woman turned to Sam. “What about you, honey? Coffee? Some sweet tea?”

  “Sweet tea, I guess. When in Rome, right?” He laughed, but Norma looked confused.

  “What about you, sweetie?” she asked Livy.

  “Water’s fine. Thanks.”

  “Be right back with those. The special’s country-fried steak, taters, and fried okra.” She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “We still got some of Cook’s banana puddin’ for dessert.”

  Livy dared to look at Sam again. He grinned as he unwrapped his silverware and placed the napkin in his lap.

  “The guys won’t believe this place.” The grin faded, but what replaced it wasn’t exactly threatening. What was it? She didn’t like not being able to read him. After a moment, he asked again, “So, who is he?”

  “Funny story—”

  Saved by Norma again. Livy reached for the water the waitress approached with and thanked her. They each ordered the special, Sam with corn instead of okra, and Norma was gone.

  “Jack and I played together when we were kids at my grandma’s house when I visited for the summers. Now he owns the supply store in town with his brother.”

  “Well, that’s convenient.” Sam took a sip of his tea, squinting a bit, probably not expecting the cloying sweetness. New York didn’t serve the common southern beverage.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” There it was. The first underhanded comment of the evening. Livy straightened in her seat, arms crossed.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. Aren’t you repairing that house? Knowing a supply store owner will be beneficial.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

  Livy studied him. Should she believe him? She’d been burned too many times giving him the benefit of the doubt. It would be careless to let down her guard after one grand gesture of showing up here or a few genuine moments. And what investment did he have in the repairs going well?

  “Sam, this is nuts.” Livy rubbed her collarbone, fixated on an old leak stain on the ceiling, and drew in a deep breath. “What exactly do you want? Why are you here—really?”

  He matched her long exhale, leaning his elbows on the table. “I don’t exactly know.”

  After a long silence, Norma appeared with two large dinner plates full of steaming food and a plastic basket of rolls. “Let me know if you need extra gravy, ya’ hear? Butter for yer bread is in that cup next to the salt and pepper. Y’all enjoy, now.”

  Surreal. The perfect word for being here in the mountains with Sam. Eating at this diner with him instead of Jack. She suddenly appreciated, better understood Jack’s outburst the night before. Ultimately, Sam had intruded on her life. He’d come uninvited, with no warning.

  The steely scratch of Sam’s knife across his plate startled Livy’s focus back to the table.

  “Listen, Liv. When you said you wanted to split, I was angry. I didn’t get it. I mean, I know we weren’t some Leave It to Beaver couple, but I thought we were doing okay. No one likes to feel rejected. My pride got the best of me and I mouthed off like I always do. Told everyone it was fine.” He paused to take a bite of the steak. His eyes grew wide. “Wow, this is actually really good.”

  His eyes were the color of rich chocolate cake. She’d told him that on one of their first dates. Eyes the color of cake and black hair that waved on top like the tail of a manicured show stallion, only much softer. They had laughed so hard that night. Back when things were good. But it hadn’t stayed that way, and she couldn’t remember the last time they’d laughed like that.

  “One day I ran into that friend of yours at the coffee shop off Eighth Avenue where you worked, and she told me about your move. Later that night, I asked my brother if he could believe you left the way you did. He said he didn’t blame you. Then I started asking our friends. Apparently nobody blames you.
Seems I’m the only one who didn’t realize what a jerk I’d been.”

  What was she supposed to do with this revelation of his? She didn’t owe him anything. She shook her head. “But, Sam, what about the night you called me several weeks ago? You insulted me and hung up. If you’ve had some kind of epiphany, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

  “You’re right. I’ve got a lot of things to figure out. When I called that night, your voice sounded stronger, more sure of yourself. I didn’t like thinking that you’d moved on. I guess a part of me figured you’d be back and hoped that we weren’t really over. My impulse was to be angry, and …”

  “Because you weren’t getting your way.” Livy flung a hand up to stop him. “That’s what you always do, Sam. Any time I say, think, or do something you disagree with—even in the slightest—you lash out in anger, spitefulness, hatefulness. No one’s perfect, but I don’t deserve it.” She placed her arms protectively across her body.

  “You’re right.”

  She waited for the but—the excuse to explain away his behavior. Her stare softened as the silence between them grew. He offered no excuse. His face fell and his shoulders slumped as he searched her eyes. Sam looked like a different person sitting across from her at Cook’s Diner. People changed every day after encountering a turning point, their rock bottom. Was Livy’s leaving Sam’s rock bottom? Had he really changed?

  Norma came to clear their plates. “I’m assuming you two are together, but is one check all right?”

  “We’re not...” Livy shook her head at the waitress.

  Sam cut in. “One check will be fine.”

  After Sam paid, they made their way to the gravel parking lot. The last of the rainclouds had moved through without leaving one drop. Livy reminded Sam which turn to take on the highway.