Not Over You (Healing Springs, Book 1)

by Amanda Torrey

  “He loved it. He didn’t bring it back to me, but he did fetch it.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes and moved toward her dog as Joey begged for Quentin’s attention.

  Seconds later, Quentin was joining her.

  “Get back there—your son is still in the water!”

  “He’s ankle deep. Besides, he’s very careful and an excellent swimmer.”

  “So was Brandon,” Savannah shot back. “Brandon was careful and a great swimmer, and he still drowned.”

  Shaking, Savannah wrapped her arms around her waist.

  Quentin bent and picked up another stick. He threw it to the water before she could stop him. Rocco chased it, diving in to retrieve the wood.

  “What are you doing?”

  “He likes the water. It’s good for him.”

  “He could drown. We run, we don’t swim.”

  “He’s not going to drown, Peaches. Dogs are built for swimming. Come on, dig with Joey and me.”

  Savannah couldn’t move if she wanted to. Rocco had decided he didn’t want to play it safe on the shore any longer. He ran into the water all the way up to his shoulders. He didn’t look back. Her throat tightened—she couldn’t call him. Couldn’t even whistle. Her hands froze in place. She couldn’t clap to get his attention.

  She could only watch as his head bobbed in the water. Was he flailing? Did he need rescuing?

  Or would he simply stop moving eventually? Would they have to drag him out of the water and pronounce him dead?

  “Peaches, what’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t respond. Was this what a catatonic state was like?

  “Savvy. Savannah!” Quentin grabbed her by the shoulders and shook. “Peaches, everyone is safe.”

  She snapped back to the present moment in time to watch Rocco swim back to shore. Joey left the water, too, chasing after Rocco along the beach. Her body relaxed as they distanced themselves from the water.

  “See? Everyone is fine. They love the water, Savannah.”

  Was he really so dense? Didn’t he see the danger? How could he allow his son to play in a place that could turn deadly in an instant?

  “You’ve got to hear me, Peaches. What happened to Brandon was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident.”

  Savannah lifted her hands to her ears, backing away. Quentin grabbed her elbows, stilling her. She glared at him.

  “It was a terrible accident. It won’t happen again. Joey is safe. Rocco is safe. You are safe.”

  “Wasn’t once enough?” She hoped her eyes cut him as deeply as his words cut her. She was powerless, helpless. She only had anger to fight this battle for her.

  Anger and her legs. Legs that could carry her away.

  She turned away from Quentin, tapping her thigh to call Rocco to her.

  “Where are you going?” Quentin demanded.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Don’t be crazy. We’re three towns away.”

  “I have perfectly good feet to carry me.”

  “Savannah, don’t.” Quentin intercepted her, blocking her way. “Let’s work through this. Together.”

  “There’s nothing to work through, Quentin. My brother is dead. He died. He died while I was busy making out with you. I wasn’t paying attention to him and now he’s gone. I’m not going to ever make that mistake again.”

  She stalked toward the parking lot, halting only when she heard Joey crying.

  Dammit. She hadn’t even thought of how her abrupt departure might affect him.

  She turned around in time to see his little legs pumping hard to catch up.

  “Where are you going?” Joey asked, his eyes filled with trepidation.

  “I have to go, sweetie. I didn’t mention this before, but I don’t really like the beach.” His eyes widened and became as watery as the puddles that formed in the holes close to the shoreline. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ll like it better if you come in the water. I’ll help you.” Joey grabbed her hand and tried to drag her forward.

  Quentin stepped in.

  “Actually, buddy, it’s time to go. I thought maybe we could have ice cream for dinner on the way home.”

  Savannah considered that she may have come down with an instant case of Stockholm syndrome, because she suddenly felt gratitude toward her captor.

  That short-lived gratitude at his intervention didn’t stop her from shooting daggers at him as she lifted herself into the truck. Luckily, the forbidden promise of ice cream for dinner prevented a fit at their abrupt departure from the lake.

  The entire ride, Savannah beat herself up internally.

  She wasn’t normal. She wasn’t okay.

  She’d never be okay.

  “Daddy, I did good. I didn’t cry.”

  “That’s right, buddy. You listened very nicely when it was time to go.”

  “Savannah almost cried, though. She didn’t like the water. Girls don’t like sand and water and dirt and stuff, right, Daddy?”

  Quentin laughed at his son’s logic. Savannah stiffened. She most certainly did not almost cry!

  “Girls are mysterious creatures, son.” Quentin reached over and gently squeezed Savannah’s thigh.

  “Don’t be silly, Joey. I don’t cry.”

  “You don’t?” Joey’s little cupid mouth dropped to his chest. “Girls always cry. Boys cry too, right, Daddy? ‘Cept we’re not ‘sposed to cry when we have to leave places or daddies won’t bring us back. Right, Daddy?”

  “That’s right. It’s good to cry sometimes.” Quentin looked to Savannah. She had the eerie suspicion that he could see right through her.

  “Daddy cries sometimes, too. Like when we watch movies.”

  “Hey now. No giving away my secrets.”

  Joey laughed. Savannah smiled. She remembered his propensity for sniffling during sad parts and pretending his eyes were irritated.

  “When do you cry?” Joey seemed to be asking Savannah, but she tried to ignore the question.

  He was relentless.

  “I told you. I don’t cry.”

  “Everybody cries!” Joey argued. “Does Rocco cry?”

  “Rocco cries all the time. Especially when it takes me too long to get his food ready.”

  Joey fell into a fit of laughter, which brought a smile to Savannah’s face. Seemingly mid-laugh, he slumped over in his car seat and fell asleep.

  “Is he okay?” Savannah turned to check for breathing.

  Quentin laughed. “Oh, yeah. He can’t usually make it through a car ride without a nap. He’s always so go, go, go, but when he finally gets tired, he zonks right out.”

  Savannah breathed in relief, then turned back to watch the road.

  “When’s the last time you cried, Peaches?”

  Quentin’s voice took on a serious note now that his son was unconscious. She knew he was probing, but she couldn’t resist the comfort he offered.

  “Ten years ago.”

  “Ten years? You haven’t cried in ten years?”

  She shook her head, but stared out the side window at the blur of trees and shrubs.

  “Have you been to his stone?”

  Six words. Sharper than twenty-six knives wielded at her heart. Why must everyone ask her? Didn’t they know how the thought of seeing her brother in that cold, hard place made her want to crawl out of her skin?

  “Have you been there yet, Savannah?”

  She tried to answer, but her throat closed once again.

  “Can I take you there?”

  “No.” Squeaky, but firm.

  “I think it could help you.”

  “You know what could help me? Getting me home.”

  She sat up straight in her seat, pulling at the seatbelt as it cut into her neck. The sooner she returned to the studio, the sooner she could put this terrible day behind her.

  The rest of the ride was silent, aside from the kid music that still hummed quietly under the roar of the engine.

  Joey lifted his head when Savann
ah opened the truck door and the breeze hit his face. He reached out to touch Rocco one last time and mumbled something to Savannah. Savannah threw the boy a kiss and thanked him for a wonderful date, even though the day was anything but wonderful. Still, it wasn’t the child’s fault she was screwed up. Heck, it wasn’t even Quentin’s fault.

  This dysfunction was all on her.

  And the realization served as further proof of what she already knew.

  She could never have a future with Quentin.

  Chapter Ten

  Savannah blamed Rocco for her temporary insanity. He was the one who looked at her with the cocked-head concern. He was the one who pushed her out of bed with his giant snout. He was the one who paced around miserably and then refused to eat his food.

  Her sadness was affecting not only her own life, but her dog’s happiness, too.

  So the fact that she was now strolling down Main Street on a Sunday morning, faking a smile, was all his fault.

  Since arriving to town, she had been ruled by her emotions. Her pain had been allowed to fester, to gush, to throb.

  She’d never get over the death of her brother. She’d never stop punishing herself for what happened. But she didn’t have to keep her poor dog locked away from civilization in order to wallow in her own self pity. Back home, Rocco was practically the town mascot. He didn’t appreciate being isolated here.

  Rocco wagged his tail stump as he sniffed every tree, every corner, every lamp post. Eager for sensory input, he practically smiled when another dog allowed him to sniff its butt.

  So far, Savannah hadn’t recognized anyone. She hoped to keep it that way, but since she had chosen to project a sunnier disposition for the day, she was prepared to act more like a decent human being and not the raging anti-social she wished she could be.

  “Stop right there, young lady. Don’t you dare walk by Miss Molly without a hello!”

  Savannah stopped short, taking a deep breath before turning toward the old woman. Miss Molly, one of the town’s matriarchs, sat in a wrought iron chair outside of her gift shop. The eccentric old woman had skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom, leading visitors to believe she bathed in the springs and was healed. Her shoulders slouched, and she had a giant hump on her back, giving away her age. She had lost an eye in a freak accident many years ago, but she used that as an opportunity to accessorize. Her eye patches were legendary—a different style every day. Today she donned a blue fleece fabric with white daisies.

  “Get over here, young lady.” Miss Molly held her arms open. Savannah smiled as she leaned over to embrace the elderly woman. She smelled of rosewater and lavender, just like always.

  Savannah made small talk and introduced the smiley woman to Rocco. Rocco ate up the attention Miss Molly bestowed upon him.

  “Pull up that seat over there and tell me what kind of life you’ve made for yourself. Speak up so I can hear you.”

  Savannah shared as much as she comfortably could about her life in the seaside town in Maine. She glossed over the ugly details.

  When Savannah ran out of surface things to share, Miss Molly’s stare intensified.

  “You were our golden girl, Savvy darling. Everyone had high expectations for the things you would accomplish in this world.” Miss Molly reached across the rickety table and placed her hands over Savannah’s. “Folks here in Healing Springs may have had their own ideas of what you’d become, but I think you’ve done a damn good job of making a life for yourself.”

  Savannah studied Miss Molly’s hands—after generations of giving love and guidance to residents of all ages, they were now filled with road maps and trails long ago traveled.

  “I’m just glad I lived long enough to see you come home.”

  “Miss Molly, town legend has it that you bathe in the fountain of youth and will live forever.” Savannah’s smile felt genuine for a change. Being around someone as sweet and positive as Miss Molly had that effect on people.

  Miss Molly laughed. “You’re as much a charmer as that boy of yours.”

  “I don’t have a boy, other than Rocco.”

  Rocco’s ears went back at the sound of his name. He looked at Savannah, then made a low grumble and sat on Miss Molly’s feet. When Savannah tried to call him off, Miss Molly waved her hand in the air and said he was perfectly welcome to warm her toes.

  “You may be able to fool yourself, young lady, but Miss Molly sees everything.”

  Savannah felt the hairs rise on her arms.

  “I’ve heard rumblings that you’re only here for a short while, but I think you and I both know that you can’t deny the pull you have to this town. To these people. To one boy in particular.”

  Savannah’s foot began to tap under the table. A run would be so good right now. Her muscles ached for the burn.

  She tried to pull away, but Miss Molly tightened her hold.

  “I know you have the urge to get away. To hide from your feelings. You have the same look in those lovely eyes as you did the last day I saw you way back in the dark time. For the past ten years, I have regretted not helping you on the last day I saw you. Savvy, let me help you.”

  “It wasn’t your job to help me. I didn’t deserve it then, and I don’t deserve it now.” Savannah straightened her spine and crossed one leg over the other, bumping her foot into the center leg of the table. She clenched her teeth, tightening her jaw. She respected Miss Molly a great deal, more than she did most people, so she bit back the words she normally used to keep people at a distance.

  “Savvy darling, you’ve got to learn to forgive yourself. I can see your soul, young lady. I may only have this one good eye, but I could see your sadness even if I were blind. You must stop blaming yourself for things you couldn’t control.”

  Savannah opened her mouth to object, but Miss Molly held her hand up to quiet her.

  “You were a child. What happened to your brother could have happened under anyone’s care. Look me in my eye.”

  Savannah did as told. She had looked up to Miss Molly throughout her entire childhood and teen years. When Savannah was a knobby-kneed eight-year-old, Miss Molly had given her free candy every time she wandered into the store. When she was twelve, Miss Molly gave her her first job dusting the shelves in the gift shop. When she was sixteen, Miss Molly taught her how to fill out college applications and regaled her with stories of powerful women in history.

  Miss Molly had provided a listening ear when Savannah’s best friend had hurt her feelings when she was ten. She helped her hang posters around town when the stray cat she adopted went missing when Savannah was thirteen. She intervened when a pack of mean boys chased her through town with a snake in their hands when Savannah was seven.

  She couldn’t be rude to Miss Molly.

  “You’ve got to forgive yourself.” Miss Molly leaned forward, moaning a little at the effort. “And you’ve got to forgive your mother.”

  “Wh—”

  “Hush, girl. Don’t deny what I can plainly see. I’ve heard the rumors, and I’m sure some of them have a grain of truth. I know you’re here to save your mother. But what she needs more than your blood is your love. She lost her only two children that day. It’s hard for a mom to get past that.”

  A lead ball settled into Savannah’s gut, preventing her from storming off the way she would have if anyone else had uttered these words to her. Rocco sat happily beside the elderly woman, his head resting on her lap. Miss Molly had a healing effect on everyone she came in contact with.

  “Now before you go, place all your worries into the worry jar. Go on, you know the drill.”

  “Miss Molly, you know I respect you more than anyone in the world, but I don’t think the worry jar is going to help me.”

  “Nonsense. Write your worries on the paper, crumple it up good, and drop it in the jar. I’ll be releasing them to the universe in a couple of days. Go on, now.” Miss Molly sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her belly. She winked at Savannah as Savannah hesitated to do as
told. “It’s confidential.”

  “Miss Molly…”

  “No more out of you. Get on in there and ask Riley if you need some help. Remember Riley? My little great-granddaughter? She’s all grown up now and working the shop on weekends, just like you used to do.”

  Savannah smiled. She did remember Riley. Riley was in Brandon’s grade. They had the kind of love/hate relationship that only eight-year-olds could perfect.

  “I’ll sit here and watch your dog for you. I assure you that my releasing of the worry jar contents is completely environmentally friendly, and no one ever reads the sacred words written on the paper. Top secret.”

  Savannah bent over to hug Miss Molly before complying with Miss Molly’s wishes. Really, what could it hurt? She’d scribble a few words onto the paper if it helped Miss Molly feel better.

  Riley didn’t seem to remember Savannah, and Savannah didn’t bother to refresh her memory, but she did enjoy a brief conversation about the new shop décor. Savannah was surprised to find that her mood had lightened considerably since she left the studio this morning.

  By the time she said her goodbyes to her old friend and mentor, Savannah’s shoulders were more relaxed and her step was less tense.

  Rocco must have noticed the change in her, because he became more playful than he had been since pulling into town. She stopped on the common for some rough-and-tumble play, stopping to reassure the stroller-pushing group of moms that though he looked big and vicious, the only danger he posed to children was the possibility of knocking them off unsteady feet while licking their faces.

  While Rocco explored the base of a tree trunk, Savannah’s phone started buzzing with an incoming call. She hit “ignore” when she saw it was Quentin. Why would he be calling? She sort of figured she’d never hear from him again after yesterday’s disaster.

  The mention of Quentin’s name by a group of women had Savannah tuning in to their conversation, all while ignoring the fact that her phone was buzzing again. They gestured wildly toward the giant canvas-covered monstrosity on the other side of the common, near the pond. Their voices got hush-hush, and then they turned toward her. Ashamed at being caught eavesdropping, Savannah called Rocco and continued down the main path and out to the other side of the common, where her car was parked.