Love Comes Home: A Collection of Second Chance Short Stories

by Kristi Rose

  She looked between the people who were her family and now her community and nodded. Life was about the day to day, and how those days added up. Until now, her numbers had been equating to a negative balance. If she went back to Nashville or even LA there would be no family and little laughter. Maybe she’d begin to feel like she belonged somewhere when she was at work but that was work. That could end on a dime. What she had in front of her was far more than that.

  “I’m staying,” she told them and a cheer erupted from the small crowd.

  Once dinner was over, Shea walked Leo to his car. They leaned against it, their shoulders pressed together as they angled into one another, their hands brushing.

  “Now your secret's out but I'm still holding on to mine." Leo played his fingers with the tips of hers as they both looked at the crescent moon.

  “I’m not sure I understand why it’s a secret to begin with.”

  He looked down and toed the ground, so she wrapped his hand in hers and squeezed.

  “School was hard. I was lucky because my parents got me tutors and lots of support but I had a teacher tell me I’d never be what I wanted to be because reading and writing was so difficult. Sure, I had lots of other teachers tell me the opposite but it’s easier to hear the negative than the positive. So sports became my outlet. It felt good after a horrible study session to go hit several balls with a bat and stats were something I could memorize and have conversations about. But my mom would read to me. She always did, since I can remember. I’d get lost in those stories and want to be those characters and, in class, when I didn’t understand what was going on, I’d daydream. Make stories up. Then I’d come home and tell my mom and she’d help me write my ideas down.”

  “Your mom sounds amazing.”

  “She is. Both my parents are. They told me I could do whatever I wanted and helped me achieve it.”

  “And look at you now.”

  “I don’t tell anyone because I like who I’ve become and...”

  “But who you’ve become is a part of who you were. I’m not saying you should take out an ad or anything. I’m just saying you are the perfect person to tell another young boy or girl that they can beat the odds. I’d have liked to hear that when I was a kid.”

  The silence that lingered was a comfortable one. A simple night among friends and family had become the moment to start fresh. To start building her home.

  “I like you,” he said.

  “I like you, too.”

  “I’d like to kiss you again.”

  “Just once? You’d like to kiss me again just once?” she teased.

  “I’d like to try one right now and see where it goes.” He turned toward her and slid his free arm around her waist, his other tucked snuggly with hers, and gently pulled her up against him.

  “I might not be able to stop at one,” he whispered.

  “I might not want you to.” She stretched up on her toes and brought her lips to his. They came together with a soft caress, each savoring the moment until Leo growled and pulled her tighter, deepening the kiss. When they came apart both were out of breath and grinning uncontrollably.

  “I’d like to take you out. On a date.”

  “Ok.”

  “Good, I’ll call you.” He gave her a light kiss before stepping back, his fingers trailing down her arm. “If I don’t go now I’m not sure I’ll be able to go. I could stand out here and talk to you forever.”

  "Forever is a long time."

  Leo stood with his driver side door open. "Emily Dickinson said, "Forever is composed of nows'. Night, Shea."

  "Night, Leo."

  She stood on the porch and watched him drive away. In the small beam of the front light, she looked at her hive-free arms. With Leo and Evie, and her friends for that matter, she’d not had any issues with hives. Only when faced with her actions as a teenager, or rather her fear of people remembering her antics, did she experience hives. Aside from Mr. Hubbs, one old man with a grudge and maybe some guilt about how he raised his own kid, those antics appeared to have been long ago archived.

  At the funeral, Lorelei said momma had wanted to her to fly. Shea reckoned now was as good a time as any, as she stood on the precipice of change, to make the leap into the familiar unknown.

  When I slip, he lifts me up. When I falter, he pulls me along. There's no walking in circles, just a strong hand guiding me home.~ "FINDING HOME."

  Epilogue-6 MONTHS LATER

  Shea looked through the index cards and back at Leo, puzzled. “I don’t think I understand.”

  “It’s a treasure hunt. Each place the people go will give them a clue and lead them to another place. It culminates at my parents’ ice cream shop.”

  “I understand what a treasure hunt is. What I don’t understand is why we’re going to great lengths to make this ‘treasure hunt’ work when it’s only referred to in a small section of your fiction book. No one will be going on the hunt.”

  “What? Are you kidding? What if the kids of this town read my book, which I think one or two might, and want to reenact what they read? I have to make sure it’s safe before I send these edits back and the book comes out.”

  Shea rolled her eyes. “Funny, I understand that as well. The great lengths to which I’m referring is this is our third dry run on this hunt and—”

  “All right, I get it. I’m being anal-retentive. Humor me.” He crossed his arms over his chest in defense.

  Shea leaned into him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Ten months together wasn’t a long time but they’d taken each day slowly, learning about each other and how to be each other’s friend as well as lover. Being with Leo filled her so completely that she never imagined people could be this happy. She’d been the one to think bliss was hyperbole. But Leo, he was bliss. Walking away from the interview had been the best thing she’d done. She’d never looked back and had since sold a handful more songs, two more breaking into the top ten.

  “I love you. Anal retention and all,” she whispered and slid her hands down his arms.

  “I’m counting on that. I love you.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, bent her back, and kissed her hard before setting her back upright, swatting her on the rear and then walking away. “Come on, let’s go find a treasure,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  “At least there’ll be ice cream at the end,” she mumbled.

  The first three stops were fun, but by the fourth stop Shea found her “fervor” waning, and the cool air conditioning of the car far more appealing than the triple digit summer temps.

  Leo pulled in front of the city library and idled. “I suppose you’re right. I’m stalling.”

  “It’s time to have faith and set the book free. Babe, kids are going to love it.”

  “I hope so. I guess there’s no real point following the path the characters in the book followed. We’ve done it before—”

  “Three times.”

  He turned to her and smiled. “Yeah, three times. I guess we can just call it a day and head home.”

  Home. She loved it when he said that to her. As of two weeks ago, they’d made a home together. Albeit sometimes a messy one when he was heavy into the story or she was working on a song, but it was theirs and it was everything she thought home should be: comfortable, safe, fun, and shared with people she loved.

  “Wait, while we’re here maybe we should get a fish sandwich. We’re in short supply of groceries at home. I was planning on swinging by the store after I met up with Evie and the baby.” She grinned, knowing he would tease her for being addicted to the fish sandwiches she’d made a staple in her weekly diet.

  “Fish sandwiches sound awesome.” Leo’s stomach growled to echo his point. He parked the car in a shaded spot and together, her hand in his; they ran across the street to the little fish stand and placed their order.

  “Want to sit in the park and eat them?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Sure, fi
nd a shaded bench.” He led her back across the street and followed her to the same bench where she’d played the banjo and teased him about ninja unicorns.

  She came from around a large tree and stopped short before sitting on the bench. She gasped, her hands coming to her mouth. She turned to him with tears in her eyes. Painted on the bench were the words “Marry me, Shea Barker. Be mine forever.”

  Leo was on one knee, an emerald engagement ring extended out toward her.

  “I don’t know when I fell for you, exactly. Maybe because I feel like I’ve loved you my entire life. With you, I’ve found the last part of my missing pieces. Because of you, I am whole, complete. Please say that you’ll let me spend the rest of my life loving you.”

  She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

  He was up off his knee in a flash and had her in his arms, kissing the tears from her face.

  If life was full of small moments like this, moments where Leo held her, laughed and loved her, then she’d take those little snapshots of time because when put together that reel was a big picture she’d be proud of. Finding him was finding herself. It was finding home.

  ~THE END~

  He's the One

  A Coming Home Short Story

  Kristi Rose

  Vintage Housewife Books

  FARMINGTON, MO

  Copyright © 2015 by Kristi Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Vintage Housewife Books

  PO BOX 841

  Farmington, MO 63640

  www.kristirose.net

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design © 2015 Paper and Sage Designs

  Edited by CMD Editing

  He's the One/ Kristi Rose. -- 1st ed.

  This book, in particular, required consulting with experts in several areas.

  I like to recognize them and say THANKS for their patience as I asked awkward and/or sensitive questions.

  Dr. B. - Who, as she tried to address my own healthcare issues, patiently answered my book questions and never once thought I was a nut job. Or, at least, didn't make me feel like she thought I was a nut job:-)

  Rachel- Who tolerated lots of questions on a very sensitive subject matter that takes women on an emotional trip. XO.

  Dee- Who's journey was an inspiration.

  Rachael and Justin- who answered lots of fire questions on the fly.

  My friends who tolerated Facebook pleas for help and answered insurance questions: Marin, James, Scott, Shawn, and Jamie. Awesome, you all are.

  THANK YOU <3

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE 209

  CHAPTER TWO 221

  CHAPTER THREE 235

  CHAPTER FOUR 247

  CHAPTER FIVE 257

  EPILOGUE 265

  HE'S THE ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  A forever optimist, Melinda Bane practiced the belief that if life didn't work out like she’d expected, and frequently it hadn't, she'd find a silver lining somehow. When life handed you poop, use it for compost.

  Now, she had this.

  Her poor house! The beautiful back sunroom, the space she loved the most, was gone, and with it her refuge, burnt to a state of smoking remains and scorched walls. She wasn't sure how to spin the loss into something positive. If that was even possible.

  After moving back home ten years ago to buy into her family's diner, Melinda had driven by the 1930s Craftsman, fallen instantly in love, and bought it. The first act of her much needed life do-over. Something about the quaint neighborhood with the picket fences had said “home,” and the purchase had rejuvenated her. Melinda had found her footing and left her two ex-husbands and her impulsively-made, poor-decision life firmly behind her.

  "The fire's out, but you're gonna need to tarp the area, at a minimum." Shawn, the fireman, was tall, but then most guys were tall to her since she barely reached five-foot-three inches in her stocking feet. She had to focus on his mouth in order to process what he was saying.

  She nodded, looked away toward the horizon, noticed light was creeping into the dark sky, and made herself count to fifty. Maybe the fire was a sign. Maybe she was going about things all wrong once again.

  She would not cry. She would not cry.

  Her lawn was soaked from the fire hose, and the chill of the water seeped into her slippers. The pungent aroma of charred wood permeated her senses, and Melinda wasn't sure if it was the smell, the ruined room, or the loss of her dream that made her want to empty her stomach into the hosta plants she had placed along her property line.

  Every dime she'd saved for the last five months was likely going to go into repairing her house. She rubbed her empty womb and felt the impact of the fire at her very core. Two failed attempts at inter-uterine insemination had been demoralizing, each with a depression that had lasted for weeks. But the loss of this third attempt was going to set her for months emotionally, and the fire would do the same financially.

  Melinda swallowed the lump in her throat then sucked in a ragged breath.

  All those additional hours at the diner, cutting out cable TV, sacrificing little extras like going to the movies, dinner out, or buying new clothes, and forgoing her monthly facials had been easy when she'd first started down this path. For nearly two years, she hadn't had a vacation that went beyond reading a book in her backyard hammock, a day at Clearwater Beach, or swimming in her parent's pool. But lack of success was wearing on her, and even though time away would do her wonders, that wasn't about to happen. More sacrifice was in her future.

  "You're lucky we got here before it caught the rest of the house on fire," fireman Shawn said, shifting uncomfortably. "As it is, the back wall will likely need to be replaced." He offered her a blanket.

  "Yes, lucky. That's me." If by luck he meant bad, she'd believe that. Good luck would have been her putting the fire out with the large pan of water she'd splashed on it as soon as her brain processed what was happening.

  She shook her head, refusing the blanket, crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to chase the chills of loss away by rubbing her upper arms.

  "You're insured, right? It should cover this." He indicated to the empty space where her sunroom used to be and a large gaping hole. In the house’s original state, the opening had been the back door, but was now an invitation for the out of doors to come on in.

  She nodded. Yes, it would be covered, but insurance was slow, and initially she'd be on the hook for retainers and other costs, forcing her to spend her make-her-dreams-come-true money earmarked for the clinic next Friday. Her small emergency stash wouldn't even cover a fraction of what she would need to fix this disaster. Either way, her plans had just come to a screeching halt.

  Normally one to seize life by the belt and drag it behind her, Melinda felt as if she'd taken a hit to the chest. One day she was going to stop being so optimistic. Stop believing that she might have a say in how her life played out, that something might go her way because, today, life kicked her in the balls.

  Fireman Shawn tapped his helmet against his leg. "Are you gonna be all right here, Melinda? Can I call your mom and dad for you? I hate seeing you like this."

  How long had she'd known him? Since kindergarten for sure, maybe even before that. If memory served, she'd spent seven minutes in heaven with him at one of his famous parties in high school. "How are your kids?"

  "Fine. A handful. Crazy how opposite they are. Thanks, by the way, for scoring those Comic-con tickets
. You made my little Star Wars fan a happy guy that weekend."

  Melinda shrugged. It had been a no brainer to pass along the tickets someone had given her. She had no interest in the event but knew Shawn's youngest son did because that was all he talked about when she'd see him at the diner.

  "But I was asking about you. You don't look so good."

  "I'm ok. I'll call my—"

  "Holy hell, Melly. I don't know if I brought enough tarps."

  Melinda turned and, through the glow cast from the neighbor's porch light and beams from the fire truck, watched Jared Calhoun cross her yard.

  "What? How?" She squint her eyes at him. "What are you, construction's version of an ambulance chaser?"

  Jared laughed. "I'm a volunteer firefighter. You know that. I heard it on the scanner and recognized the address. Shawn." He held out his hand to the tall fireman.

  "Jared. You got this under control?"

  Jared pulled a hammer from his back pocket, flipped it over before catching it with one hand. "I can get it tarped before the sun is fully up." He turned to Melinda. "But I'd worked faster if I had some coffee."

  She stared at the smoldering building. The parallel to how her dreams had just gone up in smoke nearly caused her to burst out in laughter. Her emotions were on a spin cycle and, in seconds, she went from being simultaneously angry and sad to being bitter and desperate.

  She couldn't get sucked into the negative what-if's. She needed to pull strength from her reserves and focus. This was only a setback. Her baby goal was certainly worth all the sacrifices and would continue to be.

  "Melinda?" Jared said.

  "What?" She looked at him and blinked away her pensiveness, "Yes, coffee. OK." She turned to the fireman. "Thanks, Shawn. Tell the family hi."