by Silla Webb
Turning in Luke’s arms my hands hover his chest, unsure of where to place them. Gently laying them on his forearms, I cast my head down, too scared to look into the brewing storm of his piercing blue eyes. My lips part as I search for the words, and Luke’s finger tips up my chin forcing me to look at him. “Please. Don’t hide from me anymore, sweetheart.” He pleads, his voice laced with love and concern.
My breath hitches in my chest as I stare at him, his icy blue eyes consuming me, trapping me as I stand encased in his arms. “It’s over, Luke. The divorce is final.” I whisper. Luke’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he grips his arms around me tighter. He presses my head to his chest, breathing me in as he exhales a sigh of utter relief. We stand embraced in each-others’ arms what seems like for hours and as time passes the anxiety melts away.
My legs begin to grow stiff and tired so I pull away from Luke, turning on my heel I traipse off upstairs. I splash my face off quickly, enjoying the crisp cool feel of the water blanketing my warm, flush skin. My emotions are roiling wild, so many thoughts thrashing around my mind from the day. Replaying my conversation with Michele through my mind, I let the realization of my freedom wash over me once more. It’s like new life has been breathed into my tattered soul. I feel renewed, born again.
But why? Why did Josh give up so easily? He never backs down, never gives up what he wants. Then I remember Michele’s statement – “But he also asked that I give you a letter from Josh. That’s at my office if you want it, if not, we can pretend I never received it.”
Determination sets in. I need to see that letter. I need to see the divorce petition signed, sealed and delivered for my freedom. I get dressed quickly then rush back downstairs to a silent Luke. Approaching him slowly, I ascend my eyes towards him and reach out for his hand. “Michele said everything would be final today. Josh sent me a letter also. I need to see if for myself – to know that it’s real.”
Luke rakes his hand up my neck, pulling me forward as he presses another earth tilting kiss to my temple. Releasing a breathy sigh, he releases me and heads towards the garage.
Chapter Eighteen
Anticipation suffocates me, my knee jerking up and down nervously as I wait for Michele to return to her office. Luke remains quiet by my side. His presence is all the support I need in this moment.
"Mrs. Moore," Jodie greets as she waits for me at the hall entry. She tips her head as I approach, then turns on her heel leading me and Luke to Michele's office.
"Well I'm not surprised in the least to see you so soon!" Michele squalls as she shoots up from her desk chair. Instead of the formal handshake you'd half expect from an attorney, she greets me beside her desk, embracing me in a warm friendly hug. Holding me out at arms-length she looks me over with a wide spread grin growing on her face. Shaking her head she says, "Certainly not the woman I met four months ago." She tsks, "Not the same woman at all. It’s like new breath has been blown into your lungs, Savannah. It's a beautiful sight. Have a seat and we'll discuss today's events." She pats my shoulder, motioning for me to sit. Stepping to Luke they exchange introductions before taking their seats. He scoots his chair a little closer towards me, but keeps his hands folded in his lap like a gentleman.
"Granted by our honorable Judge Jonathan Thornhall and the Commonwealth of Kentucky, you are now officially divorced. Congrats, Miss Savannah Simon." Michele states, handing me a file folder. Flipping it open anxiously I scan over each paper, awestruck that my personal Hell is finally over. It feels like my heart zaps back to life, pumping vigorously. "Savannah?" Michele calls to me and I glance up at her questioning face.
"Just a little lost here." I smile bashfully, shrugging my shoulders.
"I mentioned a letter I was asked to pass on to you. What would you like for me to do with it?" Michele questions.
"It was intended for me with reason."
Michele nods. Standing, she makes her way around the desk, handing me the sealed envelope with a scroll of Savannah scratched across the front. "Good luck, Miss Simon. I hope this brings you closure."
Closure.
That word has stayed with me since leaving Michele's office earlier today. My smile never faltered after reading the signed Divorce petition. Seeing Josh's signature scrawled on the line in black and white was the tiny grain of hope that breathed new life into me. Still shattered, broken and bent, this moment is my reckoning – the moment I wash the past away with my salty tears and smile at my future. The darkness is slowly fading, a new dawn brightening my way and although my steps may be heavy laden, the burdens will only grow lighter. I have faith in that.
I can't draw my kids close enough to me. I’ve hovered over them all evening, not able to look away from their chubby little faces for more than a brief moment. Their light lit my path as Luke's hand guided me through Hell.
He's been quiet but observant all evening long, his piercing blue eyes trailing my every move. The look in his eyes muddle my every thought. I know he's consumed with happiness that he saved me and saw me through the wreckage, but now he knows he's one step closer to the prize. I owe Luke for rescuing me more times than I can count, but my heart splinters knowing I just can't give him what he wants.
I deserve to be happy and know with every fiber of my being that Luke would make me happy, but I'm not ready. I wish I could place the shattered shards of my frail heart in his hands, allowing him to mend me back together, but I wouldn't know where to start. The shards span a trail for years, many pieces crushed to dust left in Josh's wake. How do you mend the seams when the jagged pieces can't even fit together?
As silence falls across the house, I tip toe down stairs removing Josh's letter from my purse. I've been so hesitant about reading this all day. I don't understand why Josh decided to sign the divorce petition, and I'm sure this letter holds the answers, but it also has the power to destroy me further just by acknowledging his words.
Quietly unlocking the front door, I pull it open, slipping out into the cool fall air. Lightenin' bugs dance around the night sky, their tails lighting up in sync as they flutter about the old oak tree. Not much longer and they'll be gone, burrowing deep into the Earth so they can survive the fierce Kentucky winter.
Sitting down gently on the old wooden porch swing I set a slow swaying rhythm that blankets me in a peaceful calm. This porch holds so many memories for me. It was always where we could find Daddy on an early Sunday morning, sipping his coffee and smokin’ his cigarettes. It’s where I had my first kiss my freshmen year in high school. It’s where Luke always watched over me, my protector standing guard over my family as we slept.
Finding my courage, I slip my finger inside the corner of the envelope, ripping at the seam.
My heart seizes in my chest as a war of emotions unleash, tears streaming rapidly down my face. I stare down at the scrawled out handwriting, a smear of ink trails through a light stain, rough indents from the pressure of the pen pressing into the paper. Josh is a man of pride and confidence, and I can only imagine how this very simple act brought him to his knees with conviction.
The screen door creaks closed and I look up to see Luke making his way to the swing. I slide over to the center of the swing allowing him room to sit, and he tucks me into his side instantly. “Ya alright?” He asks, as he sets the swing at a slow swaying pace.
“Yeah,” I whisper quietly, swiping the tears from my face.
“Are ya gonna write him back?” Luke asks, his chest vibrating with the deep timbre of his voice.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt nervously, uneasy with Luke’s penetrating glare as I consider his question. “No, I don’t think I will. This is the exoneration of our marriage. He has enough conviction to live with so I think it’s best to conclude everything now, without creating more strife for both of us.”
Luke tips his head in a curt nod. “You’re amazing, Savannah.”
“Yeah, why’s that?” I ask bashfully.
“Because you didn’t allow Josh to shatter you com
pletely. Although he broke you down, you were able to fight back and find your courage. I can see the pain in your eyes after you read that letter. I know you won’t go see him because you don’t want him to suffer any more than what’s due to him. You know him seeing you will provoke demons that he’s battling to subdue. After everything, you’re concerned about how he feels. You’re selfless, sweetheart.”
Chapter Nineteen
Slowly, through the vehement waves a new Savannah emerges. There is still a glint of uncertainty in her soft green eyes at times, but her strength shines tenfold brighter than the woman I first met. I can’t take the recognition, however, because all I did was anchor her steadily, encouraging her strength to surface so she wouldn’t drown in the raging seas of her despair. It was Savannah who embraced the wreckage, relentlessly battling her demons to persevere.
Sav’s been beaming a megawatt smile since receiving her divorce petition, and I can’t help but notice I’m smilin’ a little more myself these days. We haven’t discussed us any further only because I didn’t want to come off desperate or pushy. Fact of the matter is, I am very desperate to have Savannah safely shielded in my arms. I want to encompass her with the love she deserves, yet has never received.
Colton and Carly are onto my tactics and covertly staged a plan for me to swoop Savannah away today. After having breakfast at the diner with the kids, we drop them off at Carly’s, then set off.
“So why are you keeping our plans for the day such a secret from me?” Savannah ask, turning the music down in my truck. It was a battle for me to drive, she’s really taken hold of her control, scared to let loose for a fraction of a second. That’s why I kept our plans a secret, because I knew there is no way in hell she’d agree if I didn’t spring it on her suddenly. Savannah is a baby steps kinda gal, she doesn’t veer from her comfort zone ever.
I pass her a sideways glance, trying to keep my eyes on the narrow curves ahead. “Because seein’ the expression on your face once we get there will make it all the more worthwhile for me.” I shoot her a quick wink and a pink blush creeps up her apple cheeks.
We pull into the back lot of the diner and I slam my truck in park quickly jumping out and making my way around the hood of the truck to open Savannah’s door. When we first started spending time together, this small act of kindness would put her off and I quickly realized she wasn’t used to being treated like a lady.
That pisses me off so damn much. I have to fight back the rage that boils to the surface with the memory of finding Savannah in a heap on the floor battered and lifeless. It’s vividly clear in my mind, so I know it’s wrecks her with nightmares often. I sometimes hear her crying out in her sleep, thrashing wildly about the bed in self-defense. I peeked in on her the other night and had to swallow my pride, backing out of the room to let her fight her nightmares alone. I wanted to slide in the bed beside her, take her in my arms and shush her tormented cries, but thought better of it. I want Savannah to fall into my arms at her own will.
“We just left here, Luke, and I’m certain the back parking lot is for employees.” She replies on a giggle, glancing around the gravel lot.
“Follow me, sweetheart.” I reply, clutchin’ her slender fingers through mine as we walk through the back door of the diner. We pass through the kitchen and I tip my head up at Jenny and Tony who are frantically shufflin’ around the grill preparing breakfast orders. Pushing the door open to my office, we step inside. Savannah looks around the small room suspiciously as I dig around in the desk drawer for my extra set of keys. She picks up the small framed photo on the corner of the deak, studying it meticulously. Her eyes mist over with sorrow, but I pull her back to the present when I gently link our fingers together leading her outside.
Passin’ by my truck, we make our way over to the storage building that sits behind the diner. I unlock the buildin’, then swing the doors open wide. Savannah’s mouth hangs open wide as she takes in my bike. Wooooo, that Tillie is a looker. She’s a 2012 Harley Davidson Fat Boy 1800, glossy black powder coating with black powder coated twisted spoke wheels and a chrome Screaming Eagle exhaust nightstick muffler.
“Luuukke,” she singsongs apprehensively with a frightening grin as her teeth grit together.
I take the helmet from the shelf, sliding it on her, fastening it securely. “Yeah, Sav?” I question, fully prepared for battle.
“What’cha think we’re gonna do with that hunk of metal there?” Her brow tilts up as she searches my eyes.
“We’re gonna ride, sweetheart.” I tell her as I kick the stand up and shove the bike out of the building. I used to keep my bike parked at my old man’s house, but Colton smashed Lucy into the pavement, sendin’ her to a rusty grave. It was hard to part with Lucy, she was my first after all, but Tillie sure as hell is one fine beauty. I decided it was best to keep her stored away under lock and key for safe keeping.
Straddling the cool metal, I flip my ratted old UK hat on backwards, then slide my aviators in place. Glancing back at Savannah, she passes me a knowing look. Her eyes are wide and anxious, her cheeks flush as her mouth draws open in an “O”. “I-I, do I just sit on it? Where do I hold on? Is there a seatbelt? I don’t wanna fall off!” She rambles out in a rushed breath that leaves her pantin’.
I kick the stand back in place and swing my leg over the bike. I reach out, grippin’ her hips and pull her between my thighs, her shaky hands gently resting upon my shoulders. She drops her chin to her chest, her dark brown hair curtaining her face as she tries to steady her short breaths. “Sav, look at me sweetheart.” I tip her chin up slightly and am met with glossy green eyes. “Have I ever put you in harms’ way before?” I whisper, trailing my thumb across her cheek. She shakes her head from side to side as she pinches her eyes closed. When they drift open a bashful smile plays on her lips and she squares her shoulders, drawing in a deep breath. “You’re safe with me, sweetheart. Always.” She nods, digging the tips of her fingers deep into my shoulders. My God, her touch steals my breath away. I love having my hands on her, innocently placing them to show her a little affection. But when she touches me, my heart races, electricity zappin’ my pulse to a frantic craze ‘bout my chest. It makes me dizzy at times.
I swing my leg back over the bike and Savannah tensely grips my shoulders, straddling the bike. Without question, she wraps her arms around my waist, lacing her fingers together in a death grip. As I roar the engine to life she exhales roughly, resting her forehead in the center of my shoulders. I’m sure her eyes are pressed together tightly as she fights her way through the anxiety that’s crawling through her chest. But hell, she climbed on – hesitantly – but she trusted me enough to try.
The rubber sears against the pavement as I leave a thick cloud of smoke in my wake. Ain’t no point in easin’ her into this ride. Hell, ya gotta take life by the horns, look fear in the face and tell it to kiss ya ass…ya don’t cower from it. Savannah’s grip strengthens around me and I chuckle to myself. She might beat my ass when we stop. I hug the narrow, winding curves with ease, enjoying the feel of my girl cradled against my back, the warm fall breeze blanketing around us and the open road ahead. It doesn’t take long for Savannah to relax into my back, her grip loosening around my waist.
Turning off the highway, the throttlin’ engine hums softly as I downshift through the gears and come to a slow stop on the gravel road. I shut down the engine, tilt Tillie to the side then drop the kick stand in place. Takin’ Savannah by the hand, I help her off the bike before removin’ her helmet. She stretches out her tingling legs with a shy grin.
“Where are we?” She asks looking around the land. I pull the aviators from my face, placing them on the bill of my hat, then grip her fingers in mine, noddin’ my head towards the house.
“Home.” We walk hand in hand up the gravel road to the one and half story white farm house. “Been remodelin’ it for the last year, finished the partial wrap around porch last month.” She lets loose of my hand and pads over to the swing, floppi
n’ backwards against the plush cushion. Somehow I knew she’d melt into the swing once her eyes set on it. Her porch swing seems to be her thinkin’ place. I often find her there in the middle of the day readin’ on her Kindle or late at night when she’s restless and filled with worry. Only problem with a porch swing, they’re never quite comfortable. So I built this damn thing myself. The old wooden pallets give it an old, rustic look, but the thick memory foam cushioning feels like you’re floatin’ on a fluffy cloud.
“This is amazing.” Savannah mutters quietly. I bring the swing to a stop, grippin’ her hand in mine to bring her up to her feet. She puffs out her lip, pouting.
“We won’t be but a few minutes. Wanna show ya ‘round my place.” I pull open the rickety screen door, then twist the knob and step inside, Savannah stepping close to my side. Her soft green eyes roam around the disastrous mess I’ve made myself. “Still have a little work to do. Started puttin’ up the wainscoting a few weeks ago, but got busy and ain’t messed with much.” She drops her head sadly, rememberin’ my impromptu trip outta town. “I’ll get it all together shortly, though.” I tell her. She creeps through the hallway, examinin’ the kitchen and eat in dinin’ room. “This was all pretty simple, with the country charm and all. Just slapped some paint on the walls and bought a new dinette. I’m shit for decoratin’ though.” I laugh to myself as I look at the barren cranberry walls.
“Yeah you could definitely use a woman’s touch around here.” Savannah replies. She continues on through the house, making her way up the stairs to the bedrooms. They’re a mess still, carpet ripped up, walls scratched and dingy. Nothin’ some elbow grease and paint can’t fix, but all in due time. “And you’re doing all the work yourself?” She asks as we hit the bottom step.
