Small Town Famous (The Small Town Trilogy Book 1)

by Alison Ryan

  She shook her head, “Don’t you know anything about guys at all? They don’t deal with rejection well. Especially someone like Kyle who can have any girl he wants. So now that he thinks I’m a prude bitch, he’ll move on to another girl that won’t be so uptight.”

  I was completely baffled, “And so what? So you should do something you don’t want to do just to make him happy? What about your happiness?”

  McKenna rolled her eyes, “What does that matter?”

  I sighed. For such a beautiful girl, McKenna was one of the most insecure people I had ever met.

  “Your happiness matters to me. And Kyle Joel couldn’t get any girl he wanted. I’m starting to think Rhiannon was right about him. He’s a dick hole. You could have anyone you want, McKenna. Don’t you know that?”

  McKenna looked at me through eyes filled with tears, “But all I want is him.”

  That night we slept on cots on the Holts’ wraparound porch, falling asleep to the sound of cicadas and crickets. It had been hard for me to sleep, the adrenaline from my beautiful day still fresh inside my veins, I couldn’t stop thinking of Ryan Kidson and our afternoon on a dock by the side of a lake.

  I had never kissed anyone in my life like I had kissed him. Besides my kiss in Las Vegas during a game of Truth or Dare, my cupboard of sexual experience was pretty empty. Not that I even thought of what happened with me and Ryan as sexual. If anything it had just been warm and right. Sexualizing it seemed to lower the level of it. It had been a big deal for me and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and wishing I could relive it all over again.

  When first light hit, McKenna and I groggily stumbled to the kitchen and poured ourselves bowls of Captain Crunch.

  “How you feeling?” I asked as I poured myself a glass of orange juice.

  “Eh.” She shrugged.

  We chewed silently. I could hear Mrs. Holt turning on her electric typewriter in the other room.

  “Guess Momma’s muse hit her.” McKenna sighed, “I just want to sleep all day.”

  Sleep was the last thing I wanted to do. Ryan had said he was going to come see me today. I hoped it was sooner rather than later. I felt guilty being this happy next to someone so despondent. And really, with what was going on at home with Grandma, maybe I shouldn’t have been as hopeful about this day. But I figured when you’re dealing with a long arch of tragedy, it’s important to enjoy the shorter moments of bliss.

  After breakfast I said goodbye to McKenna and wandered back over to Grandma’s. I was actually humming as I approached the porch.

  My eyes widened. Laying in front of the door was a bunch of daisies with a card resting against them. I could see my name on the outside of the envelope. I hurriedly opened it.

  Addie-

  Been thinking about you this morning. I’m helping my mom hang up some curtains and then I’m heading over to pick you up for the day. Pack a lunch and bring some of your lemonade. A thermos full if you have it. –Ryan

  I did that stereotypical thing that girls do in movies, clutching the letter to my chest and smelling the flowers. And daisies, of all the flowers he could have chosen. I couldn’t wait to show Grandma.

  When I walked in I could hear bacon sizzling on the griddle. Grandma sat at the kitchen table concentrating on a crossword puzzle. My mom stood at the counter. The radio was on (and it was the rock station instead of country, for once) and my mom was moving her hips to the thump of the music.

  “Good morning, family!” I said, my arms open wide, “It’s such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  They both looked up at me at the same time. For the first time in my life, I noticed my mother and my Grandma shared the same face, just three decades apart.

  “Well, hello there.” Grandma laughed, “Someone is either really well rested or in love. Or maybe both? Though usually one doesn’t compute with the other.”

  I handed her the flowers and the card. She read it and handed it to my mother, who was still staring at me. Her expression was hard to read at the moment.

  “He’s a sweetheart, that Ryan.” Grandma chuckled to herself, “He’s just the kind of boy that’s perfect for summer love.”

  “You’ve barely known him a week,” my mother commented, placing the card down and turning back to the griddle, “Just be careful.”

  Leave it to my mother to try to be the buzzkill. If it was any other time and circumstance I would say as much to her, but today I refused to ruin the moment.

  “No one said anything about love,” I said, sitting down, “I’ve never gotten flowers before. It’s sweet.”

  Mom kept cooking but she wasn’t dancing anymore. Grandma leaned over to me, “And daisies? That’s a good sign.”

  “I thought the same thing,” I whispered back, squeezing her hand.

  My mother placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Grandma. She barely looked at me when she said, “I didn’t know when you would be back so I didn’t make enough for you.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, cheerily, “I ate already. I’m going to go take a shower. And pack a lunch. Are you all going to be alright today?”

  Grandma nodded, “Naomi is taking me to the cemetery.”

  My stomach dropped, “Have you been before?”

  “Oh yes, a few times. With Shayla. But never with your momma.” She looked up at Mom, her eyes kind, “So today we’re visiting together.”

  “Well, maybe I should go with. I can tell Ryan I have plans.” I didn’t want them to go without me. I felt like it was time I finally visited Granddaddy’s grave. I had never been. When we had been here for his funeral years ago we only went to the wake. My mom and Grandma got in an argument and we ended up leaving town early.

  “No.” My mother was vehement, “It’s just going to be us this time.” Her voice softened, I guess she realized how intense she had come off. “It’s just too much as it is. I don’t want you to be sad today. Enjoy your day with friends.”

  I looked at them both, “If you say so. I feel guilty.”

  Grandma laughed, “No need to feel guilty, sweetheart. I’ll take you another time, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, still unsure, “Will you tell him I miss him? I know!” I handed her the bouquet from Ryan, “Give him these. Tell him they’re from me.”

  Grandma smiled, “Are you sure, angel? These are special flowers. You don’t have to give them away.”

  “I don’t think of it like that,” I said. “This way, I never see them wilt. In my memory they will always be the vibrant, pretty flowers that a cute boy left on my porch. And I want Granddaddy to see them, if it’s possible that he can.”

  Ryan showed up around ten. My mom and Grandma had already left so I was just hanging out in the living room, looking out the window every thirty seconds hoping to see his truck show up.

  I had packed two lunches. Tomato sandwiches, two small bags of Utz potato chips, and two fudge rounds. And a huge thermos of lemonade with lots of ice. I decided to wear khaki shorts and a form-fitting shirt with a heart on it that I’m pretty sure I had seen Rachel Green wear on Friends. I felt cute. And ready.

  Ryan hopped out of his truck. He was wearing a white t-shirt and basketball shorts. His tennis shoes were filthy and grass stained.

  “Well, don’t dress up for me or anything,” I teased as he swooped me up off the ground, kissing me long and hard before putting me down.

  “What, this isn’t dressed up?” he said, pretending to be shocked, “I wore my best t-shirt for you. This one has a hole in only one armpit.” He raised his left arm showing me a gaping rip.

  I laughed, “Where are we going?”

  “Work,” he said pointing to the back of his truck where his lawnmower sat, “I’ve got a big yard to mow today and I could use some company. I promise, it’ll be worth it. And you get to look at me sweating in the sun while pushing that beast around acres of yard. What girl could resist?” He smiled at me.

  “Gee, when you put it that way.” We walked around to the p
assenger side. Before he opened the door he pressed me against it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him for what must have been five minutes. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto my cheeks.

  “Ha! Sorry, Addie,” he wiped it off my cheek, “Let’s get you in this truck where my air conditioning can cool us down.”

  I rolled my eyes, “This truck has AC?”

  As we hopped in he said, “Yeah. It’s called rolling the windows down and praying for a breeze.” I laughed.

  The house we went to was a woman named Mrs. Kent. Ryan explained she was a widow, like my Grandma, but she was hard of hearing and so if he sounded like he was yelling at her that was why.

  He wasn’t kidding. We had to ring her doorbell about nine times and finally pound on her door until she opened it. We couldn’t get in her backyard without her opening the gate from her side.

  Mrs. Kent was tiny, probably barely five feet tall, if that. She had a short perm and her hair must have been freshly dyed because I could see some of it had stained her hair line. She had a voice that matched her stature.

  “Oh, Ryan! I’m sorry, I hope you haven’t been standing here long,” she opened the door. “Come in, come in. I was watching The Price is Right and I must have had the TV up too loud.”

  That was an understatement. She must have had it on the max volume. Bob Barker’s voice boomed throughout the house.

  “And who is this pretty girl?” she asked, grabbing my hand. Her hands were cool to the touch, and so small.

  “This is my friend Addie,” Ryan said winking at me, “You know her grandma. Mrs. McCurtis.”

  Mrs. Kent’s eyes widened, “Why, yes. Of course. You’re Addison. I haven’t seen you since you were very little. Your grandma is in my mission circle. How’s she doing?”

  “She’s okay,” I said.

  “Well, I bet she’s better now that her pretty granddaughter is visiting her. Is Naomi with you?” The way Mrs. Kent said my mother’s name was funny. My mother must have had a reputation.

  “She is.” Mrs. Kent still held onto my hand.

  “Oh, good. She needs her. I miss my kids. I have three of them, all boys. One lives in Richmond, another in Harrisonburg, and my oldest lives in Atlanta. That’s very far, isn’t it?” she asked me, sounding so sad.

  “It is,” I agreed. I had no idea what to say. Mrs. Kent was clearly so lonely.

  “Mrs. Kent, I’m going to open your gate so I can get started, okay? And I need Addie if you don’t mind. She’s my helper today.”

  Mrs. Kent let go of my hand, “Yes, of course. It was good to meet you, Addison. Tell your grandma that Helen said hello. She knows me.”

  “I will. It was nice to meet you, too.”

  As I stepped outside the heat smacked me in my face. The humidity was thick today. I gasped at how tall the grass was in Mrs. Kent’s back yard.

  “Good grief,” I said, stepping down. It reached almost to my knees.

  “Yeah,” Ryan replied. “I know. Poor Mrs. Kent always lets it get way out of hand. I usually try to check on her but I hadn’t been over this way in a while.”

  “Does she pay you? I mean, this is a serious job.” I shuddered looking at it.

  “Nah. I don’t take money from her. It doesn’t take as long as you think.”

  “You know,” I said walking over to him, “Usually the way jobs work is you get paid for them. Otherwise, you’re just a volunteer.”

  He laughed, “Yeah, I’m probably a sucker. But I make enough from my paid jobs. I think it’s good to help people out who can’t help themselves. Besides, I’m worried someone would take advantage of her. She’s so sweet and unassuming. I would hate to think of someone ripping her off.”

  I could have swooned. Ryan Kidson was something else.

  He backed the truck up to the gate, pulled the tailgate down and lifted his mower out.

  “Can I help?” I asked, watching him lift it out of the back.

  “No way. I just want you to sit on that tailgate and look pretty while I work. And maybe pour me some lemonade. I hope that wasn’t too sexist.” He grinned.

  “If it is, I don’t care.”

  He kissed me quick on my mouth and was on his way. He started in the back corner of the yard. I watched him jerk on the lawnmower cord to get it to start. While it was running he peeled off his t-shirt and laid it over the top of her wooden fence that lined the entire yard.

  So here I was. Drinking lemonade, sitting on a tailgate, while I watched a boy I liked mow the lawn of a sweet old lady. For free. While shirtless. God. Bless. America.

  20

  When we were done, we ate our sandwiches and chips in the bed of his truck. He remained shirtless and I remained transfixed by him. Though I tried to pretend otherwise.

  “These are damn good,” he said. “There’s not a better tomato in the world than the one that’s grown in the Rut.”

  I nodded, “That might be the truest thing one could ever say.”

  We chewed in silence for a while. It was nice to be comfortable enough to be quiet with someone. There was no nervous need to fill in the gaps with Ryan. I didn’t know too many people I could say that about.

  My mind wandered for a moment. I guessed my mom and Grandma were back from the cemetery by now. I wondered why Mom had been so adamant that I not go. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I didn’t want Granddaddy to ever think I would forget him.

  “What are you thinking about?” Ryan asked me. I guess I had been in a trance.

  “My Granddaddy, actually.”

  Ryan smiled, “I like how you call him ‘Granddaddy’. Not too many people use that term.”

  “No? I guess I wouldn’t know. That’s what he’s always been to me.”

  Ryan nodded, “I liked him a lot. He was a really great man. When he died is when I started going to your Grandma’s to cut the grass. She had never done it before. Your granddaddy would never have allowed it.”

  “This is true,” I laughed. “He liked being her man. The one to take care of her.” My heart broke at the thought of him. A fifty-secondth of a marathon!

  “Ryan.”

  “Yeah?” he was crumbling up the brown paper bag I had put our sandwiches in.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  I could tell the question surprised him.

  “Well that wasn’t what I was expecting,” he said, shifting himself over to me, “I mean, sure I do. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “No, I don’t think everyone does.” I looked out at the grass in Mrs. Kent’s yard that was so trim and clean. There were diagonal lines through it that Ryan made with the mower.

  “You don’t?” he asked. It wasn’t judgmental. Just incredulous.

  “I mean, I don’t know. It’s not something I think about much,” I took his hand, ran my fingers over his palm, “Don’t freak out, I’m not a zealot or anything. I’m not here to save your soul.”

  He laughed, “I didn’t take you for one. Around here there are plenty. Everyone here goes to church. We even pray before games. So I guess not believing is the part I never considered.”

  “Well, I think about it a lot lately,” I confessed, “Because when someone is dying, it suddenly becomes important. You want to know you’ll see them again somehow.”

  Ryan nodded, “Yeah. I can understand that. Well, if there is a God I know He’s sending your grandma straight to heaven. She’s going to be okay, Addie.” He wrapped his arm around me, “In the end that’s what happens. We’re all okay.”

  I leaned against him. I envied how sure he was of everything.

  “You saying that makes me almost believe it,” I muttered. “You know, Grandma didn’t even really start going to church until after Granddaddy died.”

  “I don’t think that matters. Besides, being a good person and going to church aren’t always the same thing. I wish some of the people in this town understood that. Look at my dad. He’s a damn deacon! Goes every Sunday. And by most Monday mornings my mom has a black eye. Or he
’s passed out on the couch after screaming at her all night. No, morality and religion are not the same thing. Not in my limited experience.” He squeezed me close to him and kissed my hair, “But you’re an angel, Addie McCurtis. Your grandma told me so.”

  I leaned over to him, kissing his neck, “I’m not all that angelic. Not when I’m around you.”

  It was bold and flirty and it did the trick. We must have kissed for twenty minutes before the heat got to be too much. And I don’t mean the sun.

  As we drove down the street away from Mrs. Kent’s house, Ryan got excited.

  “Hey! You feel like something? Lunch was fantastic but I’m in the mood for a Rut staple,” he said, turning down the radio.

  “Sure. What are you thinking of?” I had been laying against the seat of his truck, staring at him.

  “Well, Juniper Jill’s is this diner out on 305. They have the best milkshakes in the world,” he said. “Since you made us lunch I can at least get us some dessert. Not that I don’t appreciate a good fudge round. But nothing sounds better than a really cold milkshake right now. We can put two straws in it.” He winked at me.

  I wasn’t normally a huge fan of milkshakes. I didn’t hate them but they were never something I craved. But if sitting at a diner drinking one would extend this day with Ryan Kidson, I would have had one in every flavor.

  “Let’s do it.” I smiled, reaching for his hand across the torn up bench seat.

  He took my hand and squeezed it. Then he turned up the radio. It wasn’t country this time.

  “I didn’t know you liked rap music,” I observed.

  “Yeah, it’s become kind of my thing. Jackson has me onto it. This guy on right now is 2Pac. You’ve never heard of him?”

  I laughed, “Of course I have. I’m just surprised you have.”

  Ryan Kidson surprised me every day it seemed.

  As we pulled up to Juniper Jill’s I could see it was crowded. He parked towards the back of the lot and ran around my side to open the door for me.