Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1)

by Lowe, T. I.

  ~ ~ ~

  My phone pings with a new text, bringing me back to the now. I’m hoping it’s from Julia but am not surprised that it’s not. It’s from Lucas. Just come back home. I want to send back that I don’t know where that is exactly. I decide to ignore it instead. There is no need in worrying him with my demons, and those suckers are dancing full force today.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love Rhode Island and its charming living. Nothing is cookie-cutter there. Homes and businesses are unique and sturdy in their ample age. The place feels rich with history. There are always festivals and activities on the horizon. This northern home has provided many an adventure since I had arrived. There has been an abundance of savory lobster rolls and rich clam chowder consumed, just let me tell you. My stomach arouses awareness with a snippy growl as I have these thoughts. Growl all you want. I can barely swallow my acrid emotions today, much less food. Ignoring my hunger, I picture the house Lucas and I have worked hard at making a home. Our home.

  I’m crazy about our home. It is firmly planted on the shore as though its roots have been maturing over centuries, so it can weather any storm wanting to stir up ruckus. Adirondack chairs sit patiently in the small yard, and cedar shake siding lends a beach cottage impression to our condo. It’s a homey place that seems to always be welcoming guests to come grow a sit, and the waters paint an ever-evolving coastal portrait for them to admire. I love it, but I feel as though I am only a visitor, and I’m just wandering around this life until I can figure out where I belong.

  I expand my lungs to full capacity with the savory air one last time before releasing it with a heavy sigh. I stand and dust the sand off as best as I can but know some of it is sneaking away with me on my trip. I don’t mind its company. Standing straighter in hopes of bringing forth some bravery, I head back to my car to continue this journey. It’s a trip I can make in one long day if I set my mind to it. But today my mind just isn’t up to being set.

  Easing back onto the highway, I open the sunroof and turn on the radio. Of course, the first station selection is an all eighties and nineties station. Figures. The music of my youth—stolen youth. My anxiety starts to get the better of me, so I crank up the music, which is none other than Madonna belting out “Holiday.” She persuades me to sing along, and the next thing I know, I’m screaming to the top of my lungs.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a truck full of teenage boys driving alongside me, witnessing my little episode. Feeling embarrassed, I turn the blaring radio off and stare forward, hoping they will just go ahead and finish passing me in the fast lane. Instead, they hang right beside me. They are probably thinking they have stumbled upon a mad woman—maybe I am.

  The guy in the passenger side sort of hangs out the open window and hollers at me. “You alright?”

  I holler back sarcastically. “Why no!” Without waiting for a response, I roll up my window, return my gaze forward and continue my screaming fit as I drive on.

  Chapter Four

  “Come sit with me and watch a little TV before your mother returns from all of her chores,” Evan said sarcastically, rolling his eyes for effect. Julia and I just giggled happily at being a part of his inside joke. He knew how we felt about Jean and her spoiled ways.

  He beckoned us to join him on the cramped couch. It was one of those stupid antique couches that seemed to be made for petite people. It’s funny that a family full of above-average height members would have such a piece of furniture. It never made sense to me.

  Evan sat sprawled out in loose jogging shorts and a snug tank top. He patted his lap as I stood there, trying to figure out where I wanted to sit. “Just sit in my lap, little miss.” He grinned mischievously at me.

  I hesitated long enough for Julia to jump at the opportunity. We both had schoolgirl crushes on Evan. With me being only ten, I had a hard time trying to understand those feelings. Julia was fourteen and more comfortable with them, I guess.

  We sat there watching music videos for a while. I kept glancing out the corner of my eye to Evan and Julia with uneasiness. He had started out rubbing her shoulders, but had moved to her lower back. I guess there was no harm in that, but what I found a bit weird was his hands were under the back of her shirt. This continued until Evan couldn’t sit still any longer and decided it was time to dance.

  Grabbing me by the waist, he murmured, “You’re dancing with me first, little miss.” We walked like an Egyptian before a slow song took over. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear with his humid breath uncomfortably hot. “I saw you watching earlier. Don’t be jealous.” With that, he placed a soft kiss on my neck, causing my gut to twist in discomfort. Evan plastered my unwilling body tight against him. His invasion was wrong. In that moment, my innocent crush on him crashed to the floor and shattered to millions of sinful shards. At only ten years old, I didn’t like his groping hands trespassing where no grown man should on a child, or his probing lips. It felt gross, as though each touch tainted me. I wanted no part in it.

  I tried to wiggle free that horrible day, but Evan seemed to only get more worked up—heavy breaths and continuously pressing body. I hated the feel of him, and my skin crawled with disgust. My chest felt like it was being pinched in a vice grip, and I could hardly breathe. It all felt dirty. I was scared and confused. As I stood in my family’s den, life began to descend a dark, slippery slope, and I began to lose myself.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tap, tap, tap…

  Tap, tap, tap…

  The tapping on my driver’s side window startles me out of the nightmare and brings me back to the now. I try to focus on what’s causing the tapping, but it takes me a while to regain my composure. The tap picks back up, and I finally notice a police officer peeking through the window at me. Looking around, I notice I’ve parked on the side of the interstate without really realizing it. Thank goodness, I got off the road…

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” He taps again when I don’t respond. “Ma’am?”

  I finally find enough sense to power the window down, but say nothing. The humid air rushes in and caresses my cheeks.

  “Do you need some assistance?” the concerned officer asks.

  I clear my throat. “No sir.” My throat feels constricted, and I try to clear it again. He stands cautiously with his head slightly bent towards the open window, waiting for more. “I’m heading to South Carolina for a family emergency. I think it just all got the best of me. I… I just need a minute to pull myself together,” I stutter. I try to reassure him with a smile, but can’t. My lips fail me and continue to grimace. I see my dazed weariness reflecting off his aviator shades.

  “Please be careful.” He tips his hat in a courteous manner. After a lengthy moment of hesitation, he finally leaves me alone.

  I press my head to the steering wheel and force deep breaths in and out. I don’t have the gumption to get back on the road just yet, so I sit a while longer and work on conjuring up a good memory—something that will encourage me to keep moving forward. If I don’t, I know I will be heading back to Rhode Island and the comfort of Lucas. And deep down, I know that’s not an option. It doesn’t take long before a beautiful, older black lady comes to mind, Miss May Wilson—my saving grace. My lips finally decide to tilt slightly up as her comforting image settles my mind. Miss May is just under five foot in height and ‘bout as round as she is tall. A hug from this woman is the only one I have ever welcomed without apprehension—it’s a protective shielding hug. Some of my best memories were made at my dad’s restaurant, and those were mostly due to this special lady. I coveted the opportunity to be her shadow at any chance I got. She is pure goodness.

  Jean may be a culinary genius, but she lacks one important ingredient that Miss May possesses—heart. The woman cooks love right into every blame thing she serves.

  Now I’m not bragging here, but simply stating the facts when I tell you The Thorton Seafood House is the best meal on the Grand Strand. There are more awards than wall space. These awards ar
e kept in my father’s office because there are too many to be put on display. My dad also thought they took away from the beach house ambiance of the restaurant. Really though, no award was needed to entice customers through the door. The only advertisement my dad ever needed was by word of mouth. I have never seen a time when the porch wasn’t lined with people patiently waiting their turn to eat.

  My dad believed in serving only the freshest seafood. If he couldn’t get it fresh within the day, then he simply wouldn’t serve nor sell it. The local docks supplied him abundantly. Now, many southern seafood restaurants serve a country buffet along with seafood, such as fried chicken and BBQ. My dad didn’t believe in that. He said seafood houses should serve seafood and seafood only.

  That’s all fine and dandy as long as you have a gifted cook to back it up. My dad definitely had that with Miss May. We kids would like to always be right up underneath her. It was hard not to gravitate towards this lady. Miss May is like a warm, welcoming place who just draws you into her comforts and somehow soothes all the wrongs. We all adored her.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Miss May, how come your name is the same as one of the months of the year? Ain’t that weird?” A young John Paul asked her this one afternoon in her kitchen at the restaurant. Yep. That’s right—her kitchen. We each had pulled a stool up to her work counter and were supervising. Every now and then, she would need something out of the pantry or fridge, and we would just about fight over who would get it for her. She was such a pleasing woman, and we all wanted to please her right back.

  Miss May chuckled at John Paul’s question as she continued to pick through a container of crabmeat. “’Cause my folks had so many young’uns, that’s the only way to keep they’s birthdays straight. My older brothers are June and August. My younger sisters are December, January, April, and September.”

  “You’re lucky you were born in a month that’s not too weird,” John Paul commented with a wrinkled nose and a reassuring nod of his head, causing Miss May to laugh wholeheartedly. That woman’s laugh was contagious and we all joined in. She laughed with her whole body and her face would light up like none other. She could barely laugh without crying. Man, that woman could really laugh…

  She began assembling some of her award-winning hush puppy batter. Hush puppies are a legend around these southern coastal parts. It is said that fishermen would come in from the sea and set up to frying their fresh catches right on the docks. The problem was they would be hounded to no end by the local dock dogs for their dinner. To get the dogs to leave them alone, the fishermen would fry up balls of the fish batter and feed it to the pesky animals to shut them up, hence the name hush puppies. Miss May called hers hush babies. Her award-winning crab cakes are legendary, too. Just as the fishermen had to pacify the dogs to keep them out of their fish, so did Miss May to keep us out of her crab cakes. No matter how busy she would be, she would always take the time to whip us up a fresh batch of her mouthwatering treats. Those sweet balls of cornmeal batter would melt in your mouth.

  That afternoon, with the name history lesson complete, that little lady set out to hush us up. We all stood around watching and patiently waiting as she drained the fried dough on a paper towel, transferring it all into a carryout tray along with a cup of honey butter. “Here now. Take ‘em and let this here ole woman with a funny name get back to work,” she said with a wink to John Paul.

  She handed him the container then proceeded to give each of us kids a kiss on the top of our heads as we filed by her to the back door of the kitchen. The restaurant and seafood market are backed up by the inlet, and we enjoyed spending the afternoons exploring at low tide. To visitors, the smell is a bit unpleasant. Some people would describe it as a putrid smell, but we locals are born with an immunity to the low tide stench.

  Once Jean roped Evan into helping her out, our days at the restaurant became limited. As I grew closer to my eleventh birthday that dark year, the more lost I seemed to get. Miss May became my only ally in those days.

  My first disappearing act, albeit unsuccessful, was one afternoon that early spring. Evan was becoming progressively weirder to be around, always wanting me and Julia to sit in his lap or wanting us to lie on the couch with him. Always with wandering hands and stolen kisses.

  I tried to deter him by not washing and wearing some of the boys’ outgrown clothes. This won me no friends at school, but that was the least of my problems in those days. In my almost eleven-year-old mind, I thought I could gross him out enough that he would only want to pay Julia attention. She seemed to not be bothered by his wandering hands that much, so I thought it was okay. And once Evan grew strange, a peculiar filth seemed to embed in me anyway. I felt I could never wash it off.

  After school that day the disappearing act began, I did a mad dash inside to grab my fishing pole. The boys had reluctantly agreed to let me join them. I was in the washing room where I kept my pole, and that’s when Evan cornered me.

  He slid his hands around my waist and eased me against the corner, out of sight. “Just where are you running off to now, little miss?” His pale eyes held mine captive and bile rose in my throat. My body always reacted with sickening dread when he touched me.

  “I umm…fishing…” Before I could continue, he ducked his head and brushed his lips against mine.

  “You don’t have to be jealous over Julia Rose. You know I’m crazy about you too.” He then tried to nudge my lips apart with his own, but mine became like stone. I tried to squirm out of his grasp, with him looking offended by that.

  “Please let me go.” I squirmed some more, but he still wouldn’t release me.

  “Did that make you uncomfortable, little miss? I’m sorry.” He pulled back slightly with a look of repentance painted carefully across his handsome features. “That’s how my family expresses love. That’s all I was doing. Julia Rose likes it. Says she wishes your family was more loving.”

  I knew our family was different. Love? I didn’t even know what that word meant, but I surely didn’t think it was supposed to make you feel sick to your stomach and scared.

  The front door banged open abruptly and Evan quickly freed me, so I took advantage of the moment and burst out the back door. I started off in a run and didn’t stop until I made it to the kitchen of the restaurant. I scooted in the door and stopped to catch my breath with my entire body trembling. Miss May stood by her worktable preparing something I can’t remember. I was bent over with my hands on my knees, feeling as though I was about to pass out. She began, “What…” but paused, taking in my demeanor. I looked up and shook my head, not being able to speak.

  Miss May wiped her hands on her apron as she started over towards me, but stopped when she noticed I took a cautious step back. “What in the world got ahold of you, young’un?”

  I darted to the back corner and hunkered down without saying a word. I didn’t think I could if I wanted to. I was totally freaked out, and that fear had somehow stolen my voice. I thought if I was just near her, I would be okay. She checked on me once as I hid behind a large stack of bread pallets but didn’t say anything else. An hour or so passed before my dad stormed through, looking for me.

  “Miss May, have you seen Savannah? I just got a phone call that she’s missing.” I could hear the panic in my dad’s voice from where I hid.

  “Yessir. She been ‘round here for a bit. I’ll send her to yo’ office in a minute.”

  My dad must have agreed because I heard him step back out of the kitchen.

  A mad rage came over me and I stormed over to Miss May to square off with her. Before I uttered a word, she grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me dead in the eyes.

  “I done told yo’ daddy that I caught sight of you. I had to tell ‘em. He my boss and I ain’t gonna be lyin’.” She nodded her head sternly to emphasize her point.

  I stood there nearly choking on the hurt and tried to look away from her intense stare, but she gave me a slight shake to get back my attention.

  “You
more than welcome ‘round here as long as these here two eyes don’t catch sight of you.”

  I stared into her chocolate eyes, confused.

  “Do you understand me, child? I ain’t gonna lie, but if I don’t actually see you then I won’t be lyin’, right?” She eased so close until our noses almost touched. She widened her eyes to convey her message.

  That’s when I finally caught on to her drift. And that was the beginning of my disappearing acts.

  The afternoons that Evan was at the house, I would escape to the back porch of the restaurant or to the storage room in the kitchen. Snacks of hush puppies or french fries and sweet tea would always find me. Miss May knew I was there, but when my dad came storming in, proclaiming I had disappeared again, she would always reply the same. “These two eyes ain’t laid sight on her today, sir.” I knew my dad didn’t believe her because he would always look around and let out a loud huff before stomping out of the kitchen.

  I overheard her mumbling under her breath after he departed one afternoon, “That fool need to quit worryin’ where that girl sneaks off to and start worryin’ why.”

  I did show my appreciation to my saving grace by helping her out in any way I could find. Sometimes I would snatch a basket of fresh corn and shuck it all for her so she could put it into a Frogmore stew. Or I would pick through endless amounts of crabmeat until my fingers were pruned from the damp meat and slide it back to her when she turned her back to me. I didn’t care how tedious the task was, as long as I got to stay away from Evan. I would have been willing to scrub the men’s bathroom.

  She saved me from months of unknown mistreatment, and how did I reward her? I ran away from her, without a second glance, the moment I got my chance. The realization that I wronged so many in my quest to escape the ones that wronged me was becoming a sharp regret that seemed to be piercing me deep within…