Someplace Familiar (Laurel Cove Romance Book 1)

by Teresa Tysinger

  “This man loves you, Olivia. I see it all over his face. And you love him, don’t you?” Katherine held her daughter’s hands and spoke in a whisper.

  A tightness formed in her throat. “Yes, I do.”

  Her mother fixed her gaze out of the window above the sink. “He reminds me of your father in some ways. Strong and capable. Tender and open.” What was it like being a parent, wishing the very best for your child but understanding how vulnerable life was, with no guarantees and no real power to stop sadness? Glancing at Jack again, it was impossible not to wonder exactly what their future held.

  Livy patted her mama’s arm then joined Jack, linking a hand through his elbow. “Want to see the farm?”

  “I’d love to. Nice hair.” He nodded toward a framed photo of Livy’s eighth grade picture, her frizzy, teased hair just as awkward as the silver braces that peeked through an unfortunately timed smile.

  She covered her eyes, head falling to her chest. An embarrassed moan escaped. “Yeah, time to go outside.” She pulled him toward the door, which he tried to resist, craning to look at the wall of family photos.

  “No, wait. I want to take that one home with me.”

  “Oh, there’ll be time for more pictures,” Katherine chimed in, patting Jack on the back. “Y’all enjoy looking around. Livy, watch for Buster. He’s not getting around too good these days and sometimes plops down in the middle of the road if he’s tired. The old hound wasn’t good for much even when he was in his prime, but he’s still good company and barks at any approaching vehicles. So I guess I’ll keep him a while longer.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. “We had one a lot like him before I went to college. The old ones are worth keeping, for sure.” He walked through the screen door to meet Livy on the porch.

  Livy led Jack around the homestead, pointing out the pink birdhouse she and her father had painted for a Girl Scout project, the antique rosebush growing near the back steps of the house from clippings of Gram’s bush back in Laurel Cove, and her favorite tree behind the garage. Jack’s fingers ran over the bumpy edges of her name carved in the tall pine.

  He rested against its slender trunk and arched his eyebrows. “Who carved this? A boyfriend?”

  “No, Daddy did.” She stepped closer to inspect the worn lettering and the jagged heart scratched around it. “He said he did it the day they brought me home from the hospital because he loved me so much, right from the get-go.”

  Jack reached under her chin and tilted her face to his. “That’s really sweet.”

  Livy took in his eyes, ran her hands over the bristles of his two-day-old scruff, and pushed up on her toes to meet his lips. Having him here, at her tree, was like a dream. The pine didn’t provide much shade, though, and in the afternoon sun, it was pretty warm. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  Livy drove Jack’s truck through town and showed him the highlights—her high school, the restaurant where she had her first job, the town hall where one of her paintings still hung after she won a county award. That evening, Jack insisted on treating Livy and Katherine to dinner at a local steakhouse.

  Jack and Livy sat on the porch late that evening after her mother went to bed. The swing rowed in lazy rhythm, back and forth under Jack’s outstretched foot. Shrill chirps of distant crickets and the swaying of the tall corn serenaded them from the darkness beyond the porch steps. A clear night displayed a blanket of silver stars.

  “My mom sure likes you. She called you a cutie pie twice today.” Livy spoke without lifting her head from Jack’s shoulder.

  “What can I say? The moms love me. I wasn’t worried.” He rubbed her arm.

  “Oh, is that right?” Though he couldn’t see her eyes roll, she was sure her sarcasm came through.

  “Yep. Every mom of every girl I’ve ever dated has loved me. It’s a gift, really.”

  Livy sat up so he could see her rolling her eyes this time.

  He laughed. “But I have to admit, your mom is the sweetest of them all.”

  At that, Livy let out a loud laugh. “Exactly how many moms of girlfriends have there been?”

  “You know what I mean! I just really like your mom. You look a lot like her, you know?” His eyes softened in the dim yellow porch light next to the front door.

  “I’ve been told that my whole life. You should have seen us back before her hair turned gray. People used to think we were sisters.”

  Jack pulled Livy in close. “I can’t wait to grow old and gray with you.”

  She breathed a dreamy sigh and rewarded Jack with a lingering kiss, her arm draped around his middle. Their eyes settled back on the expanse of land. Heat lightning danced across the sky in the distance. A delightfully surprising possibility struck her. What if he proposed here at the farm?

  “I used to sit on this swing with my father.” Livy tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “We’d talk about everything, what was planted and how the weather had been, some boy at school who had broken my heart, the dreams my dad had for my life. One time he told me to not settle for a guy who didn’t make me feel special. I wasted a lot of time ignoring his advice. And now, sitting here with you, I realize how wise his words were. You make me feel special, Jack, like no one else ever has. Thank you for that.”

  Jack pushed against the porch floor, keeping the swing in motion. “You are special. And I feel honored to have the chance to try and live up to the hopes your father had for you. To be treasured. I hate that I didn’t get to meet him.”

  It had crept into her mind several times the last few months. “Me too. He would have loved you—maybe as much as my mom does.”

  Livy rested her head against Jack’s shoulder again. The warm spot had become her place of comfort, respite, home. He feels like home. The thought covered her like a cool bed sheet on a hot summer night—satisfying and comfortable. She closed her eyes and secured the moment with him in her memory.

  A warm hand rubbed up and down her arm. “Honey, time for bed.” Jack’s voice was as smooth as velvet against the sounds of the night. How much time had passed? From the crick in her neck, she must have dozed off for a while. She sat up straight on the swing, and rubbed at it.

  “What time is it?” She stretched through a yawn.

  Jack followed her yawn with his own and rubbed his shoulder she’d been leaning against. “After midnight.”

  Memories of her dad poking his head out about curfew earned a chuckle. “Wow. Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” She pressed her palms to her eyes to clear them. “I’m so sorry you sat there so long. Your arm must be killing you.”

  “And miss the chance to watch you sleep? You know, your nose twitches sometimes. It’s adorable.” He winked at her, though his heavy eyes revealed how tired he was, too.

  Livy rewarded his compliment with a hug as they stood, both stretching one last time before heading inside, saying goodnight, and retreating to their rooms. This time, in pajamas and snuggled under an actual cool bed sheet, Livy returned with ease to sleep and her thoughts of Jack…and home.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Five

  W ith less than thirty minutes left of their trip back from Raleigh, Jack steered the truck and trailer through hairpin turns up the mountain that led into town. Moss-covered rock faces towered to their right, a dramatic drop-off and magnificent views of the valley to their left. Trees soon closed in on both sides, swallowing them into the lush late-spring shadows of Laurel Cove.

  “It’s good to be home.” Livy waved at someone on Main Street a few minutes later.

  “Yes, it is. I’m glad to hear you call it home.” His words didn’t adequately describe how wonderful that sounded. Livy considering Laurel Cove, there with him, home was just about the best feeling in the world.

  She turned to him and raised the back of his hand to her lips. “You’ve made it feel that way, honey.”

  “I’m so glad.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “So, I know you’ve got some art classes in Weaverville and
want to get some things done at the house, but think you can spare some time on Saturday?”

  Livy nodded while she dug her feet around the floorboard to slide on the sandals she’d kicked off. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Well, we could use all the help we can get finishing up inventory that morning at the store. Then I thought I’d finally take you up on the Parkway to some of my favorite spots.” She’d mentioned wanting to explore the Blue Ridge Parkway a few times recently. And the forecast was perfect for this weekend.

  Livy clapped her hands and squealed. “I’d love to, Jack. Jen said the flowers are perfect this time of year. Oh, and I’ll help with inventory, too, I guess.” She leaned over the armrest between them and pressed an exaggerated kiss on Jack’s cheek as he turned past the tall flowering hedges and trees that bordered her driveway. He couldn’t wait to give her a proper kiss.

  “What in the world?” Jack’s stomach dropped, the truck rolling to a stop at the top of the drive.

  Livy turned and gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth. “No.”

  White flowers Livy had planted in front of the porch were torn up. A kitchen window was shattered, and a woman sat on the porch steps, long blond hair hiding her face, which she held in her hands.

  “Claire.” Jack reached for his seatbelt, hands shaking. Something inside him warned to proceed with caution. “I think you should let me go talk to her. Stay here, okay?” He squeezed Livy’s hand, insides twisting at the concern he saw in the lines on her face, and slowly exited the truck.

  “Claire?” The gravel crunched loudly under Jack’s boots. She didn’t look up, but he could hear her whimpers. Hadn’t she noticed them drive up? “Claire, look at me!”

  She startled, shoulders shaking and eyes flying up to his. Streaks of mascara and tears covered Claire’s cheeks. Trembling hands patted at her wet face, as she attempted a smile.

  Jack stopped several feet from the porch, hands on his hips. “What in the world are you doing, Claire?”

  “Hi, darling.” She wiped her hands on the front of her jeans and stood, uneasy on her feet, clinging to the rail for support.

  He gestured to the flowers, the window. “Claire. What the—?” His jaw flexed, teeth clenched.

  “I went up to your house on Friday, but you weren’t home. Then I drove over to the store and Jasper told me you were out of town and wouldn’t be back until Sunday.” Claire’s voice sounded strange, as if she were desperate to sound normal. But something was unstable about her, her voice and body strained.

  “You can’t be here. You need to leave,” he insisted firmly, working to control himself.

  She didn’t even look at him as she stepped off the porch, eyes glued to the grass. “So I came back to your house this morning, hoping to surprise you when you got home.” Instinct told him to back up, keep the distance between them wide. “I sat on the back porch admiring the view. You really did a bang-up job on the house, Jack.”

  They were in the middle of the front yard now. “That is enough, Claire.”

  “I couldn’t resist peeking in those huge windows.” Her voice sharpened, an eerie shift from the almost childlike whimpers. “Imagine my surprise when I noticed a pair of women’s shoes by the door and a picture of you with her on the end table.” Her eyes met his, the forced smile pressing into a thin line. “How could you be seeing another woman behind my back? Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the two of you?”

  “What?” Jack’s jaw relaxed, but his breath caught as if someone sucked the air out of his lungs. He was having trouble putting all the pieces together. She’d been irrational before, but this worried him. He chose his next words carefully. “Why don’t you head home, calm down, and we can meet up later to talk more about this. Okay?” Jack just wanted to get rid of her. He’d deal with the damage she’d caused to the house later.

  Just as quickly as the anger had surfaced, it was gone. “Come with me, please, darling.” As if on cue, tears flowed again in glistening streams, dripping from Claire’s nose and chin. She stepped forward with arms opened, close enough that he could hear her muffled whispers. “We belong together, no matter what. Even though you screwed up, I still love you and forgive you for what you’ve done. I just want us to be together.” She reached for his hands, but he pulled away.

  “Jack, stop it! You have to forgive me!” Her sudden shout made him jump. With eyes squeezed shut, she began pounding hard at his chest with her fists. He backed away and grabbed for her wrists. She swung her arms wildly, sobbing. Behind him, the truck door slammed. Livy. He turned to look for her as Claire’s fist landed hard on the side of his face. His ear rang, his jaw instantly stinging down to the bone.

  ***

  “Jack!” Adrenaline coursed through Livy’s veins as she ran in long strides toward Jack and Claire now stumbling in a tangle around the yard.

  Claire’s crying stalled at the sound of Livy’s voice. “Of course she’s here!” she yelled at Jack, pointing in Livy’s direction.

  Livy stopped several feet short from where they stood, threatened by the intense hatred in Claire’s voice.

  “She isn’t any of your concern.” Jack rubbed at his jaw.

  Livy collected her nerves with a deep breath. “Claire, it’s okay. We can talk this through. I know it’s hard.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Claire insisted through clenched teeth, though Livy saw fear and exhaustion in her dark eyes.

  “I know you’re sad and can’t understand how your life turned out so different than you imagined.” Livy gave Jack a slight, reassuring wave when he took a few steps closer to her, trying to keep distance between the two women.

  Claire blinked hard, sending several tears down her worn face. It must have been so hard for Claire to see her ex-husband love another woman.

  Silence fell over the yard. Claire’s frame softened, her slumped shoulders swallowing her. Then Claire spoke, so low that both Jack and Livy took a step closer and leaned in to hear. “Last week, I overheard Lane and Hank talking at the market. Lane wondered how your trip to meet Livy’s mom was going.” Claire’s gaze lifted in Jack’s direction. “Hank said he thought she was perfect for you. At that moment, something inside me snapped.”

  “Claire, now hang on, I…” Jack’s protest died in the breeze that teased the trees above them.

  Livy looked to Jack and back at Claire. This had nothing—and everything—to do with Livy.

  “I know we’ve been apart a long time, but it just seems wrong.” Claire’s arms extended with palms out, one in Livy’s direction, one in Jack’s—as if instructing them to keep their distance. “I screwed up. Now you’ve screwed up. I just want us to be even.”

  “Even?” Jack yelled, stepping dangerously close to Claire. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Claire. We aren’t married. You can’t be cheated on by someone who isn’t with you!”

  Oh, Jack, stay calm. His anger wasn’t going to help matters at all.

  Livy dared a step closer. “Claire. Claire, can you look at me?” The woman was consumed by guilt. Claire met her eyes. “I think you need to forgive yourself for the past. It’s okay to move on.”

  For a fleeting moment, Claire’s face relaxed, anger melting to exhaustion again. Livy drew in a hopeful breath.

  A strong wind blew through the yard, rustling the tall trees behind the house. What was that smell? Jack and Livy’s eyes connected in shared awareness—panic replacing all hope.

  Gasoline.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Six

  L ivy’s stomach retched. She’d give anything to wake up from this nightmare.

  “Claire.” Jack’s voice was firm, resolute. “Is there gas here?” Claire suddenly crumpled to the ground, sobbing. Livy and Jack sprinted up the porch steps, the pungent smell almost knocking her over. Two spouted, plastic containers sat off to the side of the front door. One was turned on its side.

  “Jack, what do we do?” Livy blinked against the sting of tears. Was all the w
ork and love she’d put into Gram’s house, and all the memories, about to be taken away forever?

  “Do you see matches or a lighter? Something she’d use to start a fire?” Jack turned wildly in circles. Nothing.

  Livy stepped into the yard to keep looking and froze, as if she’d hit a wall. Claire stood just feet from the porch pointing a small gun at her. Livy’s eyes moved from Claire to Jack, pleading for him to do something.

  “We can figure this out, Claire. Please put the gun down.” With his hands out in front of him, Jack inched toward the two women.

  What was happening? She’d heard people say that during life-threatening situations, their whole life flashed before their eyes. For Livy, it wasn’t the life she’d already lived that ran through her mind, but rather the life with Jack she may never have the chance to live. She’d been so sure God had brought her back to Laurel Cove and to Jack for a reason. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Please God, protect us and enter Claire’s heart.

  “I’ll always care for you, Claire.” Jack was just a yard or two from them. Livy’s chin quivered, tears threatening to fall.

  Claire turned to Jack but kept the gun aimed at Livy. “Do you mean that?”

  “You were my wife. That means a part of me will always care for you.” He reached for the gun.

  Claire took a step backward, though her arm went limp, gun pointing at the ground. “I can’t believe what I did to you, Jack. You were so good to me.” Hysteria filled her voice.

  Livy felt the hot trail of a tear along her cheek. She locked eyes with Jack. His calmness willed her to keep her composure. She wiped the tear away with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.

  “It’s not too late to do the right thing.” Jack addressed Claire again. “I can help you find someone to talk to and work all of this out.”

  Claire’s arm straightened lazily toward Livy. “But what about her?”