by Lowe, T. I.
You know…If I allow it…I do believe I’m going to be just fine. The freedom of letting go of my demons has given me a better perspective. I know I have wasted too much time. It’s amazing how a dreaded trip home again can assist in finally making peace with the nightmares spawned here.
Epilogue
A year has passed…And I’m still home!
Things were bumpy at first, but I’m happy to say that I have finally gotten into the swing of things. Both of the businesses practically run themselves. So well in fact, I get to spend lots of time with Miss May in the kitchen. She has made me play nice with the creek kids—that’s what I call them most of the time. They call me Old Lady Monroe, so sometimes I still call them brats. Once a week, I am on hush baby and sweet tea duty. They all voted unanimously that I not share any more lessons with them. Fine by me.
I work alongside Vanessa, and we have formed quite a bond. It hit me just a while back that she is my very first girlfriend. We even do the girlfriend things like shopping. I guess I have come a long way. Don’t tell Miss May, but I think Vanessa can cook just as good as the old lady!
I’m also happy to tell you that my brother is famous now. Yep, and he blames it all on me. Don’t worry. He’s over being mad at me about this. In fact, that was short lived.
I went behind his back as only a little sister can get away with. John Paul opened The Thorton Photo Gallery a month after our dad’s funeral. His most mesmerizing piece is a stunning mural collage that takes up the entire back wall of the studio. It is an array of his images intricately pieced together and is none other than Bradley’s field. It spellbinds visitors who have no clue of the history behind it. It is a mirage of the field. The first time I saw it, I was left speechless.
To describe it to you is such an injustice to its magnificence, but I shall try. A section of the mural is of various sunsets filtering together to create one, and all along the top depicts vast rainstorms with varying tempests. Foggy images lend a mystic quality as they undulate around the center of the piece, but the most haunting part of all is the very center. These images capture perfectly and eerily a mourning woman. Now I wasn’t crazy with the idea of me being figuratively and physically the center focus of my brother’s art piece, but you become so enveloped into the story being told and can easily see past me.
It is absolutely brilliant, so I had no other choice but to go behind his back and enter the mural in a prestigious national photography contest.
I had talked him into accompanying me on a quick trip to California. John Paul didn’t find out the purpose of the trip until we walked through the door of the art museum. Blown-up versions of his mural hung on display throughout the exhibit.
I was the most hated and yet the most loved sister in the same moment. Hated because I totally caught him off guard. Plus, I think there is some unsaid rule about not messing around with an artist’s work without their permission. It would be like him posting this letter I’ve written to you on the internet for the entire world to read. That would totally suck because this is a pretty private conversation we’ve been having here.
I was also the most loved in that instant as well, because he won every blame award given that night. It put his talented behind on the map as well. It opened bountiful doors for his career.
John Paul lives only a few beach houses down from mine, and he helps me close a few nights a week. That is, unless some high profile photo shoot whisks him away as it has done this week. He is in Fiji at the moment shooting surf images for a surf magazine. Yes. I’m green with envy, also so proud of him.
Honestly, the loss of my dad still stings. But memories, those precious jewels, keep coming to the surface and oh, how I cherish them. One comes to mind now. I’ve decided that my family should be known as the Cookie Bandits—my dad included.
This past Christmas, Miss May roped me into helping her make cookies for our creek kids. That day while I was standing by the counter rolling out the sugar cookie dough, a special memory of my dad tapped me on the shoulder and brought a smile to my face.
It was of a past Christmas, and Jean had prided herself on these fancy cookies she had made for Santa. They were beautifully decorated and smelled heavenly. She dared us not to touch them, saying they were for Santa and Santa only. She had indulged a little too much on her holiday wine and had to retire early that night. Temptation was just too great, so when I snuck downstairs to swipe a cookie, I was horrified at what I saw. You can imagine how startled I was to find my dad scarfing down the cookies! He must have just gotten home, because I remember the savory aroma of cooked seafood clinging to his clothes.
“Daddy!” I scolded him.
“Shh…” He tried to hush me but ended up spraying cookie crumbs everywhere.
My eight-year-old self was near tears when I noticed he had eaten every single cookie and Santa wouldn’t be getting any.
“Don’t cry. Shh…” he tried again unsuccessfully. His mouth was overfilled and his cheeks bulged out, causing him to look like a chipmunk. He raised his hands up in surrender as he tried to chew the treats quickly so he could swallow.
“What about Santa?” I sniffled.
He started pulling me towards the front door. “Come on. Slide some shoes on and I’ll make this right. Just please don’t cry.”
And making it right, he did. He drove us straight to the restaurant where we mixed up a batch of sugar cookies. He said he had the recipe memorized from watching Miss May make them over the years. Once we baked them, he gathered the cookies and me and headed back home to set them out for Santa. He let me eat a few, and I went to bed happily afterwards.
Now just let me share what I find so funny about this memory with seeing it through my adult eyes. Santa did eat those fancy cookies and the poor man had to eat another plate full after his busy daughter went to bed. My dad had an unexplainable bellyache Christmas Day and declined any dessert.
I snicker now just thinking about it. It’s a good memory and reminds me how much he cared about me. Boy, do I appreciate it so much more now.
As for Jean…Well, I have to admit, that women blessed me with the grandest gift she has ever given me earlier this year. She moved to Florida!
She signed the house and its belongings over to John Paul as expected, packed her bags, and departed without so much as a glance back. I know it’s for the best. Some things just aren’t salvageable. We are simply at an impasse…
Now, I have to tell you, that house met its demise rather abruptly not even a month after our mother’s departure. Luckily and coincidentally, all of John Paul’s photos had been conveniently relocated to his gallery the week before the fire. (I clear my throat here and don’t judge.) I only asked my brother once about this.
He simply replied, “Some demons need to be properly sent back to hell.” And that is all he would say about that. I couldn’t agree with him more. It’s a relief and comfort for the sin-stained structure to be gone. It had held a tremendous weight with the secrets always crying out and now it is at peace too.
I wish I could share something wonderful and positive about my sister, but I’ve only spoken to her one time since Dad’s funeral. I hope in her time Julia can figure things out for herself. I worry and I pray and hope she is fine, but I have my doubts.
My Lucas is doing great. We spend most of our mornings at the home of Ocean and Waves. He has become quite the surfer. And let me just say, a tanned slightly rumpled Lucas in board shorts… yummy! He manages the two businesses and just lets me enjoy the social aspects of it really. He turned a majority of his responsibilities in Rhode Island over to his older brother, but he still does a good share of work for his family business as well via the Internet and occasional trips back home.
That hot man in question has just sauntered through the office door and—I kid you not—he is carrying a surfboard and only wearing slightly damp board shorts riding nicely on his lean hips. His curly hair is going in every direction, giving him the air of boyish mischief. My eye
s take in the nice view of his bronze shoulders, speckled with the sexiest freckles. Channing Tatum has nothing on my man. I continue watching Lucas as he props the board on the wall and heads over to the closet where he keeps a change of clothes for work. The man is eye candy and I can’t help but watch. He is about to free himself from those wet shorts and I’m about to not be able to form another cohesive thought, so I clear my throat to get his attention. He looks over at me as he pulls the shorts a bit farther down, exposing a delicious tan line on that well-formed backside of his.
I hold my finger up for him to pause and mutter, “Nuh-uh.” If that man takes those shorts off I might as well forget all else. Don’t focus your eyes at me disapprovingly. He’s my husband, and I’m allowed.
Those luscious eyes hold a wicked glint as he heads back to the door to secure the lock. Focus, Savannah. Focus. Okay…Where was I? I have to wrap this story up quickly.
I’m amazed that God can take a mess of a life and make something wonderful out of it. I no longer feel like a mistake, and I’m confident that I have found my way in this world. The demons don’t dance so much anymore. As much as I hate to admit it, my mother was correct when she said that I am the only one that can decide who I am. My life is my own and I get to choose the direction of it. Past experiences and daily struggles do make an impact, but it is up to me whether I allow it to be a negative or positive impact.
That day face down in the mud in Miss May’s yard was a day of reckoning between God and me. I gave Him all my hurts and disappointments, and asked Him to free me from it all. And He did! I had made such a simple freeing gesture into something so complicated. Why do we do that?
So this is my journey to come home again. Even though it’s been a long, challenging course, I have persevered. Did I think it was possible? Absolutely not. I didn’t make the journey unscathed, but I know now, that with God, all things are possible.
I found myself. I really did. I found myself. Right where I hid.
Coming Home Again Playlist
“Carry On” by Fun
“Demons” by Imagine Dragons
“Landslide” by Stevie Nicks
“Sail” by Awolnation
“Ghost” by Ella Henderson
“The Struggle” by Tenth Avenue North
“Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper
“Glitter in The Air” by P!nk
“Pepper” by Butthole Surfers
“I’m Not Who I Was” by Brandon Heath
“Oceans” by Hillsong United
Julia’s Journey
Are you ready for an adventure? Well, to be honest, Julia Thorton wasn’t ready either! When she finds herself kidnapped, Julia holds on for dear life as an unexpected journey turns her life upside down on a long, winding road of craziness. Julia and her partner in crime, Greyson Stone, set out into the unknown and discover more than either was prepared for…
Haunted woods where scarecrows don’t care who they chase, mugshots from an unexpected arrest, a rocking Bleu Streak concert, great food and abundant wisdom being dished out at a little café with a familiar name—Lulu’s Café, flounder gigging with a toothless old man, and a night on the town with a zombie are just a few stops along the way of this wacky journey.
Can Julia and Greyson make it to the end of the road trip in one piece? Here’s hoping you’ll find out soon.
Julia’s Journey will be released August 2, 2015. Don’t miss her trip of a lifetime. Link below.
http://www.amazon.com/Julias-Journey-Coming-Again-Novel-ebook/dp/B00YT7AH7Q/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1433423461&sr=8-3&keywords=Julia%27s+Journey
Acknowledgements
Always a big thank you is needed for my readers. Without your encouragement, this book would still be hiding out on my laptop.
My cover designer, Lynnette Bonner, thank you for capturing the mood of Savannah and her journey home. Can’t wait to see what you create for the next two books.
My Lowe family. Always the apple of my eyes. Thank you for putting up with my craziness and daydreaming. Thanks Nate for helping me come up with the cookie scenes. They added a much-needed sweetness to the story.
Jamey Stevens, thank you so much for schooling me with surf lingo and surfboard brands. Jamey is a skilled surfer with 27 years on a board, winning 1st and 4th place in surfing divisions. I enjoyed the better understanding of the sport of surfing with your assistance.
A special thank you to my beta readers—Sally Anderson, Terri Capps, Trina Cooke, Lynn Edge, Beth Rankin, Laura Spivey, Brenda Stevens, and Jennifer Strickland. Your opinions and advice were important in developing Savannah’s story as strongly as possible.
To My Heavenly Father and Bethlehem Baptist Church—my cup overflows with an abundance of blessings and love. Thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.I. Lowe is the bestselling author of Lulu’s Café and Goodbyes and Second Chances. She lives on a farm in South Carolina with her nosy neighbors aka goats, chickens, and ponies. The loves of her life go by the names of Bernie, Nathan, and Lydia.
She is currently working on her next several novels.
Julia’s Journey – set to release in August 2, 2015
The Reversal – set to release July 13, 2015
A Discovery of Hope – set to release early 2016
She would love to hear from you!
[email protected] or find her on Facebook
