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

by Lowe, T. I.

  This continued to the point where I was desperate to admit to him why I wasn’t worth his efforts, so he could move on. He had made it his mission to cure me of my physical contact phobia but there was no way he could grasp the magnitude behind the cause. Call me drama all you want, but after the innocence of touch has been torn from you, then we can talk. Touch made me feel dirty and sick. I didn’t understand a touch that could be anything but that. It was all I knew. Lucas was so foreign, and I just couldn’t accept it.

  One afternoon after finals were complete and I knew I would be heading home in a few days, I reached a point where I had had enough. I hid out in my room that afternoon until I worked up enough nerve to face him. I found him lounging on the couch, one long leg stretched over the back of the couch in a boyish manner, scanning a Sports Illustrated magazine. His USC T-shirt had ridden up, showing off a span of his perfect abdomen, and I nearly ran away right then and there. He was and is a beautiful man, but beauty didn’t come with an assurance of good for me. Another problem. Yes, I have many. We’ve already discussed that though.

  Lucas caught sight of me before I could slide back into my room, halting my retreat. He tossed the magazine on the coffee table. As he sat up, he patted the couch beside him. “I think you should just stay here with me this summer,” he said as I eased beside him. “You can help me with my homework,” he said with a wink. He was taking extra summer courses, but I was not.

  I sat there staring at his welcoming hand between us, but ignoring its meaning so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. “I’m not worth this effort, Lucas.” Of course, he began to disagree until I shut him up with a confession I knew he was not prepared to receive. He needed to know my phobias weren’t some naïve schoolgirl issues.

  I began rambling about being raped in rapid fire so I wouldn’t back out of the confession. I explained that it was impossible for me to ever come clean from it. I watched disgust furrow his features as I told him of the sick nightmare of Evan. It was the first and last time I have ever uttered the nauseating details of that dark time. It all flowed out vehemently. I was determined to let him have it all so he would finally get the silly notion out of his determined head that he could fix me. He needed to move on and find someone who wasn’t so tainted and broken. It was as though a dam of hurt burst, and I found myself pouring out the details of Bradley’s accident, Julia’s battle with anorexia, and Jean’s abusive words and her relentless palm that seemed to always be ready to slap me back in my place. I told him about how poor John Paul was drowning in a bottle of liquor. We are definitely a messed-up bunch if there ever was one.

  I will never forget him quietly pacing the floor as I admitted it all, his mouth set sternly and his eyes dark with rage.

  We shared a room filled thick with silent tension for a long spell until he turned a harsh gaze towards me that I had never seen him wear. “We live together, Savannah. I thought you were my closest friend. How could you just keep all of this from me?” His quiet voice was filled with disappointment.

  I tried swallowing the panic long enough to get out the door. I was desperate for a disappearing act and had resolved to make my leave and head back to Miss May. As I turned the knob, Lucas came up behind me, grabbed my arm and spun me around. Instinct took control, I flinched and braced for him to strike me. I waited with my eyes clamped shut, but they shot back open when I felt his arms wrap around me. His embrace begged me to allow him to give me comfort. I allowed it for just a short time, until my breathing started to become erratic. I pulled away and eyed him in confusion. I couldn’t understand why he would want to touch me after what I had just shared with him. Did he not get that I was soiled beyond ever coming clean?

  Lucas placed his palm lightly on my cheek as he spoke, and I hated myself for not being able to restrain the flinch. He didn’t let it deter him though and kept his hand gently in place. “I will never let something so horrible ever happen to you again, Savannah.” Desperate determination resonated in his tone as his sympathetic eyes assessed me. “And I will never push you into anything until you are ready. You just have to be straight with me about things. Okay?”

  Lucas never mentioned that night and the sick things I shared with him ever again. He wasn’t someone who dwelled on matters for too long. He dealt with them and moved on. I wish it were that easy for me. I know if I ever needed to talk about it, Lucas would welcome the conversation—just as he knows I never will.

  I know I’ve not told you all the details of those sick episodes with Evan Grey, and I feel that some things are best to not be shared. They were dark and revolting, and I’d rather not speak of it. I doubt seriously that you would want to know, anyway.

  Only a few short days later, I had my bags packed for Bay Creek to begin another summer. I remember the apartment coming to life with the low murmurings of music while I packed a few last items stacked on my bed. The slow, melodious song eventually beckoned me to the living room where Lucas stood waiting, his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels slowly as his eyes took in every inch of me, making me shiver. Curious, I stood a few feet away. I knew he was up to something, but I was not sure exactly what. He had kept a cautious distance from me ever since I had made my confession, and I was beginning to think it was finally sinking in that it was best to leave me alone.

  Lucas pulled his right hand out of his pocket and invited me over. “Come dance with me,” he said softly, without moving forward. We stood before each other as the song played around us.

  I stayed in my spot with apprehension cautioning me. “What?”

  “I said dance with me,” he repeated, but made no effort to initiate the dance. I knew he was waiting me out. Lucas’s eyes conveyed an entire message as he confidently waited—it’s time…let me show you.

  I’m not a romantic and had no clue really as to what romance meant up until that very day, but for some reason I recognized the romanticism in that moment between two college students standing in the middle of their apartment, adorned in ratty T-shirts and jeans. It wasn’t the scene but the feelings radiating around the space as it mingled with the sultry ballad.

  “Okay,” I said finally, feeling I owed him at least this moment. I walked over and stood before Lucas as I eased my hand gingerly into his awaiting one. He held it ever so softly as he slowly wrapped his other hand around my hip. He led us in a leisure dance. Was I confused? Yes, but I waited. Lucas never did anything without purpose.

  After silently dancing for a while, he gently threaded his hand through my hair. Panic ebbed at me, and I immediately tried to disengage myself, but he held me firmly yet tenderly in place.

  “Try, Savannah. Please. Just trust it,” he said breathlessly as his mysterious eyes whirled in gold hues, conveying to me a promise of safety. He released my hand, glided his fingertips along my cheek, and curved them feather-soft over the line of my jaw. His touch was but an intimate whisper across my skin, causing me to ache in such a way I had never experienced. The gentleness ignited peculiar sensations, causing me to want to weep. I held my breath, hoping that those feelings would never end. They felt strange yet alluring at the same time.

  Lucas slowly leaned forward, holding my gaze while caressing my cheek with his warm breath. It was such a ghost of a kiss that I wasn’t even sure his lips connected to my skin. We danced another long stretch until he guided my shaky hand to his mouth, placing graceful kisses of assurance on each fingertip before pressing my hand over his pounding heart. The strong quick rhythm revealed his desire, yet he took things no further than dancing and innocently touching me. That heart was begging me to trust him, and oh, how I wanted to be able to do just that.

  With his hand holding mine in place over his heart, he whispered, “This is me expressing my love for you, Savannah.” My attention was drawn to the slight tremble skirting along Lucas’s mouth, giving away hidden emotions he had masked with his cool demeanor. He licked his full bottom lip as he traced my own with the tip of his index finger so lightly that it nearly tickl
ed. “Can you feel that?”

  “Feel what?” I asked breathlessly against his fingertip. I couldn’t look away from him. It was like we were in some trance, and I never wanted to escape it. It was a whole new world in that moment.

  “This is me loving you,” he answered as he continued to rock us to the rhythm of the song. I vaguely recollect the same song playing on repeat and we had already danced it through at least a half dozen times at that point. Lucas was in no rush to make his point. He took things slow and was conveying so much with each action. I paid close attention too because I wanted to miss none of it.

  He combed his hand through my hair once again and asked, “Does this feel wrong?”

  I answered with a shake of my head. I surprised myself when I felt my body lean into his touch.

  Dropping his hand, Lucas circled around me. Feeling his protective presence behind me, I demanded my body not to stiffen when I felt his hand brush my hair over my shoulder. His warm caress landed softly on the exposed skin of my neck before beginning a slow, soothing journey across my shoulders and down my arms. He nuzzled into my hair as he worshiped me simply with his delicate touches. Never urgent. Never aggressive. He was relaying his message to me in an achingly sweet gesture.

  Eventually Lucas circled back around and pulled me tenderly into his embrace—holding me but barely. He delicately rubbed away the tension in my back with his capable hands as he whispered into my ear, “Does this make you feel good?”

  I inhaled the clean masculine scent of him and shocked myself again when I cuddled into the crook of his neck. “Yes,” I whispered. And it did. I had never experienced something that felt so nice and so right. It didn’t make my stomach hurt nor did it cause panic to build. It felt good and pure. I just knew if I could somehow completely bathe in this pure love, surely I could be cleansed. I wanted the past wiped clean. My body trembled from that very want.

  “This is what love is supposed to feel like. This is how God intended it.” He paused to press a kiss to my temple. “Please stop letting the past rob you of this gift God created for us to share. Allow us have this gift. I want you, Savannah. I want you to let me love you. And I want to be loved by you.”

  Love was something I had very little understanding about, but the overwhelming desire in that moment demanded I love him completely. I just didn’t know if I knew how.

  The dancing and caressing continued until finally Lucas pulled my face delicately up to his and tenderly warmed my lips with his own. His whispered words were breathed over my lips. “I love you, Savannah.” His emotions were thickly laced in his words so much so he had to pause to clear it away. “This is what love feels like.” He offered another delicate kiss only to the corner of my mouth. “It’s giving… and it’s accepting.” Conveying no more words, Lucas released me. A few seconds of silence danced between our still bodies before he left me and the apartment.

  His declarations of love and promises of protection glued me in my spot. I stood in the abandoned room and quietly released a few demons that day.

  Chapter Eleven

  A ruckus draws me out of my thoughts, as a scraggly group of children come scurrying up. Ignoring them, I turn my attention back to the inlet and watch the water slowly begin its way back home. It’s peaceful all of two seconds before it’s interrupted by all kinds of twangy chatter. I glance over at this little motley crew, barefooted and dripping wet. This bunch reminds me of days long ago spent exploring the mysteries of the inlet with John Paul and Bradley.

  A blonde-haired girl, who I’m guessing is around the age of eight, speaks first. “Where’s that lady with them hush puppies?”

  “Where’s Miss May?” an older boy in his teens asks. He seems like the leader of the group. He’s a lanky kid who needs several good meals for sure.

  I continue to rock in my chair. “Sorry. She’s not here today.”

  The group erupts in groans of protest.

  A young girl with chocolate skin and eyes pouts. “Her promised us hush puppies for today.”

  “Yeah! She promised,” another little blonde-haired girl pipes in. I’m pretty sure they are twins.

  My head darts between all of them as I try to take in all of their whining. “Sorry,” I say again. “No hush puppies today.”

  One of them nosy young’uns pulls the framed acceptance letter off my lap, and I grab it back quickly. This little guy, with his hair falling in his eyes, is in serious need of a haircut. He asks, “What’s that you holding?”

  “My college acceptance…”

  Before I can continue, one of them scoffs, “You too old for college.” Them boogers laugh at that.

  I’m only twenty-eight for Pete’s sake! “Am not!” I snap back. “Besides, I’ve already gone and graduated.”

  They all once again ramble at the same time. Questions are circling all around me and I don’t know, nor do I think I care, enough to answer any of them.

  “What are you then?”

  “Um…” My brows pinch together in aggravation.

  “What’s your name?”

  “What you doing out here anyway?”

  “I was really wanting me some of them hush puppies,” Hair-too-Long whines.

  “She promised, and my Pappy said you ain’t ‘pose to break a promise,” the youngest one pipes in.

  “Yeah! Mine says that too,” agree the twins in unison.

  They continue to worry me to no end until I decide I am going to have to hush them up. I stand and head to the kitchen door. “Y’all stay here and try not to fall into the inlet and I’ll go see what I can do,” I say, and they cheer.

  I check the fryer first and set the temperature before heading to the pantry to gather the ingredients. I grab up the container of self-rising flour and the one containing cornmeal. Balancing the sugar container on top, I carry the load to the worktable. I ease over to the refrigerator and pull out milk, eggs, and butter. Once everything is spread before me, I pause to set a pot of tea to brew. With that underway, I dump nearly equal parts of flour and cornmeal into a mixing bowl. I combine them and add a good heap of sugar and a dash of salt. I have watched Miss May perform this same recipe so many times I need no measuring. Even with the five-year absence, this task feels like second nature.

  After all of my dry ingredients are combined, a dollop of honey, two eggs, and just enough milk to bind it all together in a thick batter joins in. I move my mixing bowl along with two tablespoons over to the fryer. I scoop up the batter with one spoon and use the other to swipe it into the hot oil. It sizzles and bubbles and the frying aromas engulf my senses into a content state. Instinct says the oil is right, so I continue to plop batter into the boiling liquid.

  While the dough browns, I pour the brewed tea into a gallon pitcher and dump in a hardy helping of sugar. After filling the remaining pitcher with ice, I set it by a tray with a stack of glasses. I rotate the fried dough to a basket covered with brown paper towels so the excess grease can drain off. I then set another batch to frying while I whip up some honey butter. By the time I have transferred the succulent treats to a fresh basket, my stomach lets out a growl in excitement. I gather the tray and pitcher of tea and set out to have an impromptu picnic with a bunch of local young’uns.

  They all gather around me and sit on the bank patiently. I place the goodies down before them and sit crossed leg as they are doing. “Okay. Let’s eat,” I declare as I pop one in my mouth. This is when I notice they have all bowed their heads, and the oldest one eyes me disapprovingly. I reluctantly spit the hush puppy in my hand and bow my own head. The boy blesses the food, and then they tear into those hush puppies like a ravenous bunch of animals. Before I can down three hush puppies, the basket is empty and their tea glasses drained.

  “Good grief. Did you even taste the dang things?” I ask as I sip my tea grudgingly. I really wanted more than just three hush puppies. I fried at least three dozen!

  They ignore me, so I declare our visit over and begin gathering their glasses.
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  “Wait,” says one of the blondies. “Tell Miss May we ready for our lesson.”

  “What?” I ask confused. “I already told you she’s not here.”

  One of the twins skeptically props her lime-green polished hands on her little hips. “Then who done an’ cooked this up?”

  “I did, I have you know,” I sass back.

  She continues to study me as though she doesn’t believe me. “Then I guess you get to give us a lesson too.”

  “Look, I already gave you little punks enough.” I head to the kitchen, but they all moan and groan like I have just ruined their lives.

  “You gotta teach us something,” the younger blonde whines.

  “I got nothing,” I say, giving a quick nod of my head, and more grumbling breaks out.

  “You old enough, you gotta know something,” pipes in Hair-too-Long.

  Okay, so there they go with that old crap again. They want old fart advice then I’m gonna divvy some out. “Listen up, you brats.” I call them this because they call me old and that makes it right, so don’t judge me. They laugh at this, thinking I’m being funny. I’m not. Brats.

  I flick my hand, summoning them closer as I lean towards them like I’m about to share the mysteries of the world with them. I look around as though I’m making sure no one else can hear and this automatically causes them to lean closer.

  “Never take a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night,” I stage-whisper in all seriousness. They stare at me dumbfounded for a few moments before the understanding eases across their nasty little faces. Now they are literally rolling around on the ground in laughter except for the oldest one. He just stands there with a smirk on his face as though he gets me. I think I may like that kid.