Small Town Love (The Small Town Trilogy Book 2)

by Alison Ryan

As we poured syrup all over our plates, McKenna started giggling and leaned across the Holts’ pinewood kitchen table.

  “Did you guys watch that movie on menstruation in Family Life class,” she laughed, “where the mom wants to teach her daughter and friends about their periods and makes pancakes in the shape of a uterus and fallopian tubes? And then the dad eats them!”

  “You’ve talked about this before,” Rhiannon said as she passed me the butter. “I have no recollection of this.”

  “I swear to God! We watched it in 5th grade. With Mrs. Hasselberg,” McKenna said, taking a bite from her fork. “How am I the only one who remembers this?”

  I laughed as I poured myself a glass of orange juice.

  “Addie,” Mrs. Holt said. “How’s Grandma doing? I keep meaning to come over and check on her.”

  I set the carton of juice down, “She’s doing okay. Well, I mean… she’s dying. But she seems to be doing better than I would be doing, considering.” I looked down at my plate, willing myself not to choke up. “Hospice is coming next week to set up her room and stuff. We’ll have a nurse.”

  Mrs. Holt walked over to me and suddenly I was in her fragrant embrace. She gave the best hugs, the kind the moms give in movies. I could have stayed there all day. Her hair smelled amazing and the blouse she wore felt pleasant against my cheek.

  “Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” she said, pulling away and putting my face in her manicured hands. “But I’m so glad you’re here. You’re her Make-A-Wish and best Christmas present all wrapped up into one. It’s going to be so hard, but don’t ever forget that you’ve got the Holts if you need anything. And I mean it.”

  I nodded and smiled, “Thank you.”

  As Mrs. Holt walked away and back towards the dining room where her typewriter and bodice-ripping plots awaited, McKenna and Rhiannon both looked at me with sad faces.

  “What?” I asked, cutting into a pancake.

  “I didn’t know about the hospice,” said Rhiannon. “There’s nothing left they can do?”

  I shook my head, “Nope. She’s run out of options. At least, the kind that would help. So she’d rather go out on her own terms. She seems… ready.”

  “Are you?” asked McKenna. “How do you feel about it?”

  I had yet to be asked that by anyone close to the situation. Suddenly, I no longer felt like eating.

  “I haven’t sorted that out yet,” I said. “I guess I kind of don’t want to think about it if it’s okay.”

  Both of them nodded and we went back to talking about the elusive Family Life video and some other things I can’t remember. My heart wasn’t in any of it anyway.

  4

  I was dreading going back home, but I knew that I couldn’t put it off too much longer. After slowly getting dressed after breakfast and having a brief conversation with McKenna over whether Jenny McCarthy was actually funny or just funny for a hot girl, I couldn’t stall any longer. It was time to go back home.

  When I walked in the door I could see Grandma was napping in the Barcalounger, The Price is Right humming away on the television. One of Bob Barker’s models was showing off a brand new car while wearing a one piece bathing suit.

  I hadn’t seen Aunt Shayla’s van slumped in the driveway, and I was hoping my mother was still asleep from her Valium dose or was at least not available. But, no such luck. When I walked into my room, she was actually in there, folding my laundry. She never did that.

  “Hey,” I said quietly. Her knees were folded under her. She was wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of cut off shorts. She looked small and young. When I thought about it, my mom was young. She’d been through a lot for someone her age, a lot for anyone that was any age. I really wanted to try to remember that before we had this inevitable discussion.

  But it was hard. Because, yes, she was young. Yet it still didn’t mean she got to be so dismissive of people and places. As soon as anything got even a little difficult, she ran. And I would have thought by now she would have figured out that there was no running from things. They were always right behind you, waiting for you to finally stop and accept what you couldn’t change.

  Like the past.

  She was shaking a tiny bit as she kept refolding a pair of my jean shorts over and over again. Her anxiety made me nervous. It was hard to know you were the more mature person in a discussion when the other person was your parent.

  “Hey, sweetie.” She looked up at me, her eyes already watery. “Did you have a good night?”

  “Yeah, I did.” I sat down next to her, the mattress creaking under me. “You doing okay?”

  She looked at me and the tears were already coming down.

  “I’m not that okay,” she admitted. “I’m scared you don’t see me as the same person. That you’ll see me how everyone else in this town sees me. You were the one really important person that didn’t know. I still had this blank slate with you. You weren’t colored by my most terrible mistake.”

  I took her hand in mine, “Mom, I don’t see you as the same person. But that’s not in a bad way. Knowing what I know now, who you are makes so much more sense to me.”

  She looked at me and I took my thumbs and wiped mascara off both her cheeks.

  “I also have this heartbreak for the loss of someone I never knew,” I confessed. “But it was a terrible accident. You made a mistake, yes. A huge one.”

  She started to cry and I held her head against my chest, rubbing her back.

  “He was the most amazing boy,” she said against my t-shirt. “He would have done amazing things. Bennett was the best of us. I was the one who made all the wrong decisions and he was the one who everyone knew was special and kind. And I killed him!”

  The way she said it, that she killed him, was hard to hear. Was it wrong? No. Her actions had resulted in someone’s death. I couldn’t lecture her on forgiving herself when I didn’t know how anyone would come back from that. Especially when that person was someone you loved so much. Her pain filled the room. There was a pressure for me not to say the wrong thing. She was like a Faberge egg in my arms- delicate and breakable if I made a careless move.

  When we came back downstairs, Grandma was waking up. As soon as she saw me, she smiled.

  “Hey, angel.” She scooted over in the Barcalounger and I squeezed in next to her. “How was your night?”

  “It was okay,” I said. “Boy drama.”

  “You and Ryan?” she raised her eyebrows.

  I shook my head, “No. Kyle Joel broke McKenna’s heart.”

  Grandma sighed, “That’s no big surprise. McKenna wears her heart on her sleeve. And most boys your age are missing hearts of their own.”

  “Not all,” I said, thinking of Ryan and the water tower.

  Grandma smiled, “Not all. But most. It’s not their fault. They’re thinking with the wrong appendage.”

  I looked at her, shocked. She winked at me.

  “Grandma, you are so bad.” I laughed, “Seriously. Just when I think I know you.”

  “Well, come on now. I was born a long time ago, not yesterday. And the styles might change, the music might be different, but people don’t change. Especially men.”

  I laughed, “You missed your calling. You should have your own talk show. Ricki Lake has nothing on you.”

  “Who’s Ricki Lake?” she asked. I just laughed again and shook my head.

  “There’s the Grandma I know. Never up to date on her celebrity references.”

  She brushed the hair back from my forehead and smiled.

  “How’s your momma?” she asked in a low voice. Mom was in the kitchen making a sandwich, listening to Jo Dee Messina on the country station.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Well, let’s be sweet to her, okay? Not that you aren’t always a sweetie pie, but we should both cut her a little slack for a while.”

  I laid my head on her bony shoulder. I wanted to ask her something without seeing the reaction on her face.

/>   “Do you resent her?” I asked. “For what happened?”

  Grandma sucked in her breath for a moment. I knew it was a hard question, maybe one she hadn’t had to contemplate in a while. Or maybe it was one she struggled with every day. Either truth would be appropriate. But somehow, I knew what she would say before she even said it.

  “I do not,” she said. “I resent myself. For not being a better mother. For not realizing what Naomi was going through. I resent Bennett’s baseball coach for insisting on one last practice before their last game of the season. I resent and hate the tree they hit, I resent the rain that morning, I resent the fact that we have to die at all. That we aren’t made of titanium and steel. I resent that we don’t get second chances and I resent that our lives hang precariously by our decisions, the ones that can change everything in a second. But I can’t resent my girl. I just can’t. Because, honey, she resents herself enough. My holding on to any anger towards her does nothing. And above all else, that momma of yours is my little girl. And she loved your uncle. She loved Bennett more than anything in the entire world. The worst punishment she could have gotten in her entire life was losing that sweet boy.”

  We lay there for a while, Grandma and I, listening to my mother slap together a turkey and tomato sandwich. Normally, my mother danced while she listened to the radio. But that day there was no dancing, and there was no singing. There was just the sound of life continuing on.

  After lunch, Grandma was tired again. She was getting too weak to go upstairs, so Mom and I set her up on the sofa with lots of pillows and the remote control resting next to her head.

  “Just rest, Momma.” My mother kissed Grandma’s forehead. “Shayla will be here in a bit and once she’s here, we’re going to the store. You want anything?”

  “I’d love a donut,” she said. “For some reason I am cravin’ one of those powdered ones.”

  We all chuckled at such a random but simple request.

  “I’ll buy you a whole box of ‘em, Momma.”

  Grandma was asleep before we had barely stood up from sitting next to her. We didn’t even bother turning on the television.

  “I wish there was an easier way to tape her stories without having to put a VHS tape in the VCR,” I said as we walked into the kitchen together, Mom and I.

  “That would be something. Maybe in the future they’ll think of a better way.”

  “Maybe so. Then none of us will get anything done.”

  Aunt Shayla showed up a few minutes later, waddling into the kitchen with a bag from Rite Aid.

  “I picked up her scripts,” she said. “Not that she’ll take ‘em. She seems pretty determined to stop all that.”

  Mom didn’t say anything, and I could sense a tension between them.

  “Aunt Shayla, we’re heading to the store. Need anything?” I asked.

  Aunt Shayla shook her head. “No thanks, Addie. I’m good.”

  Mom turned away from the sink where she’d been washing the same glass over and over again, grabbed the keys from a basket on the counter and we were out the front door.

  When we reached Grandma’s truck, I looked at my mother over the hood.

  “What’s going on with you and Aunt Shayla?” I asked. Mom hit the button that automatically unlocked our doors and I climbed in, waiting for her answer.

  She paused for a moment before putting the keys in the ignition.

  “Your aunt has her ideas of how things should be done. I think she thinks Momma would be better off fighting this till the end. She also hates that I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, she loves you. But she has never loved me and she can’t let go of an idea she has about me that really isn’t all that true anymore. I think I scare her a bit. And I’m on board with hospice and Shayla really isn’t. She doesn’t understand why her sister is giving up so easily. Even though Momma isn’t giving up. She’s giving in to what is inevitable. But sometimes it’s hard for Shayla to let go of her own plans.”

  I looked out the window as we pulled out and onto the long driveway to the main road.

  “What isn’t true anymore?” I asked.

  “About me? Well, I guess plenty of things. I would hope I’m not the same person I was as a teenager.” She looked at me and laughed, “Okay, I admit it. I’m not the most mature thirty-something. I guess I feel stunted in a way. And that’s no one’s fault but my own, I guess.” She sighed, “This is probably way too mature a conversation to have with my daughter.”

  “Maybe so. But it’s the realest one we’ve had in a really long time.”

  5

  That afternoon I sat on the front porch reading a John Grisham paperback while eating a powdered donut. It was unseasonably cool and breezy for Virginia in late June, and for a moment, I was very content. Mom was inside with Grandma who had woken up wanting to watch her old VHS copy of South Pacific for some reason. She had always been like that though. Grandma could be in the middle of reading, or eating, or gardening, and all of a sudden she would have an idea about what she wanted to do and that was that. Sometimes it was an old movie, sometimes it was a record she’d want to play and discuss, and sometimes it was a knitting project. It was kind of adorable.

  Just when I was getting to an especially intense part in The Firm, I heard the rumbling of a truck coming up the drive. My heart skipped a beat. I looked up and immediately recognized that light blue colored exterior and the handsome blonde behind the wheel. Ryan.

  I quickly stood up, the paperback falling on the porch floor, opened, its spine cracked. Crumbs from my donut were all over my (of course) navy blue tank top, leaving white trails across my chest. I hastily wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I caught a glimpse of my hair in the window reflection. A frizzy ponytail greeted me along with a sweaty face and more donut crumbs. Sigh.

  When he pulled up, I could tell he was excited about something.

  “Addie!” he called out slamming the driver’s side door behind him and running up to me. Before I knew it, I was up in the air, enveloped in his embrace, swinging around the porch. I was dizzy.

  “Did you just hit the lottery or something?” I asked, breathless. I wanted him to do it again.

  “Almost as good. Maybe better,” he grinned. He took my face in his hands and kissed me, hard.

  “Oh my,” I let out, and he laughed.

  “Sorry. I just missed you,” he said, kissing me on both my cheeks. “Was that too much?”

  “Not at all.” I kissed him back and it took at least five minutes of affection to even get to the point of what had him so joyful.

  “I’ve been invited to join the Squires,” he said, finally pulling away from me for a moment.

  I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. It was clearly fantastic news, but I had no clue what he was talking about.

  “Sorry,” he laughed. “You don’t even know what that is. Of course. Who would? But it’s an AAU team out of Richmond. Really big deal. Well, their best shooter is injured. And they have a huge tournament in a couple weeks, the biggest of the year. Anyway, their coach is friends with Coach Marin and long story short, they want me to be their shooter. The Squires! They’ve had guys go on to almost every major program in the country. Duke, UVA, UNC, Indiana, Kentucky, the list is endless. And I get to play with them. This is so huge.”

  I hugged him tight, still not fully understanding what it all meant, but his excitement was so contagious, I couldn’t help but be overjoyed. He never looked as handsome as when he was so fully happy.

  “This is incredible!” I exclaimed. “What is AAU? Is it for basketball? I’m so sorry if that’s a stupid question, I just want to know everything.”

  Ryan shook his head, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, “Not a stupid question at all. It stands for Amateur Athletic Union. It’s basically local teams that are put together that are the best of the best in their region, in almost any sport, not just basketball. But AAU basketball is a pretty big deal. I’m on a team already but being that the pool of players is from
a small area, it doesn’t have a ton of chances to be noticed like the Squires do. They get to go to all the big tournaments and this one coming up in Las Vegas is the biggest of all.”

  I paused. He kissed my forehead, “Addie, you look so pretty today.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Did you say Las Vegas? As in the one in Nevada?”

  “Well, yeah.” He looked at me funny, “You would know, right? You lived there.”

  I smiled, “Of course. I’m just thinking about the irony of me leaving Las Vegas only to have one of my favorite people in the Rut going back when I’m not even there anymore.”

  “One of your favorite?” he winked at me. “I at least have to be second to Grandma.”

  He kissed me then, a long kiss that was so intense we had to lean against the porch railing.

  “You’re definitely as close to first as it gets,” I whispered to him, his forehead pressing against mine. “God, I’ll miss you, Ryan.”

  I couldn’t help but say it out loud. He kissed me again, shorter this time.

  “I’ll only be gone a week,” he said. “Well, longer. I have to go to Richmond in a few days to have some practice time. I wish you could come with me.”

  “Me too.” I leaned against his chest, my head resting on a defined pectoral muscle under his white t-shirt.

  “You know,” he said into my hair, “I feel like I’ve known you so much longer than I actually have. Is that weird? Should I even be admitting that?”

  I looked up at him, “You can admit anything to me.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, tilting my chin up. “How about I admit that as soon as I found out about it, even as awesome as it is, I was bummed that I would have to be away from you for a week. Kind of silly, huh?”

  I answered him with my own kiss. It was the opposite of silly. It was pretty much the sweetest thing a human being who wasn’t obligated to be sweet to me had told me in my entire life.

  We sat on the porch steps for a bit, just talking, when Grandma suddenly came to the screen door.