Someplace Familiar (Laurel Cove Romance Book 1)

by Teresa Tysinger

  Jack nudged Livy’s shoulder playfully. “She’ll keep yelling if I don’t come right down. I’d better go.”

  With a smile, Jack let Livy start down the stairs ahead of him. She’d missed the impeccable manners of southern men.

  They were met at the foot of the stairs by a grinning Aunt Bea.

  “How nice. You’ve met my nephew. I may let everyone call me Aunt Bea, but he actually has to.” The woman’s loud belly laugh triggered a giggle from Livy too.

  Jack pulled his aunt close. “I don’t just have to. I want to, silly old lady.”

  She swatted his arm before turning to Livy. “Something missing from the room, honey?”

  “No, the room is fine. Thank you. I thought I’d walk down to Main Street for some dinner. I passed a café coming through town that looked to still be open.”

  “That’s Brewed, the town’s coffee shop. They stay open until eight on weekdays and serve soup and sandwiches.” Jack slid on a pair of work gloves.

  Coffee. The bittersweet aroma that permeated the cafe near her apartment was the one thing she missed about New York. She’d satisfy more than just her hunger with a trip down to Main Street.

  “If you can hold off just a few minutes, I bet Jack wouldn’t mind showing you the way.” Aunt Bea looked with anticipation from Jack to Livy, then back to Jack. “Isn’t that right, Jack?”

  “Sure. I’d be happy to.” His tone remained casual, but Livy couldn’t shake the sense that he was studying her as he had upstairs.

  Their eyes locked. Again, heat rose to Livy’s cheeks. He needed to stop looking at her that way. She never should have noticed the captivating hue of his sky-blue eyes. When was the last time a man had flustered her like this? Not Sam. And she was finally done with him. Her fingers found the tassel hanging from her purse and worked it over.

  “Thank you, but no. I’m sure you’re ready to get home, and I need to start reminding myself how to get around here.” A to-do list ran through Livy’s head like a ticker tape, an effective distraction from Jack’s eyes. Open a local bank account, get a library card, and locate the grocery store, gas station, realtor …

  Jack turned toward a door behind the check-in desk. “No trouble at all. Just let me see about that fence, wash my hands, and I’ll be right …”

  “I said no. Really. Please, Mr. Bowdon. I’d very much prefer to be left alone.” The curtness of her own voice caught Livy off guard. She pressed her eyes closed and willed the threatening tears to stay in place. Where did they come from? When she opened her eyes, she found Jack and Aunt Bea watching her with concern.

  She raised her chin slightly to protect her weakened pride. “I’m sorry. It’s very kind of you to offer, but I’m not up for company this evening. Maybe some other time.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Of course.” The words were soft and somehow soothing.

  “Thank you.” Turning to Aunt Bea, Livy continued. “Does the front door lock at a certain hour, ma’am?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. After 8:30 p.m. you can use the larger key there next to your room key to open the front door.” The innkeeper’s voice was soft, too. “I really was just trying to …”

  “Yes. And I do appreciate it.” The pain in Aunt Bea’s eyes tore at Livy’s conscience. But there was too much to explain. Too much she just wanted to put behind her. “Have a good evening.”

  Livy crossed the lobby, the creaking floorboards the only sound until the unmistakable crack of a screen door behind her. A glance over her shoulder revealed an empty lobby, the flat door behind the desk swaying back and forth.

  There was no excuse for snapping like she did. A heavy sigh passed a lump in her throat as she made her way to the front porch, now illuminated by the yellow glow of an antique lamp hanging over the entrance. The early evening ombre sky boasted brilliant purples and pinks. Livy sunk into a rocking chair and watched streetlamps flicker on around the edges of the town square. She hadn’t imagined her fresh start in Laurel Cove beginning this way. Maybe fresh starts weren’t really possible—even in Laurel Cove. Maybe Sam was right and she’d never fit in anywhere.

  ***

  “I’m afraid I meddled too much just now.” Aunt Bea fiddled with the latch on the back door of the dimly lit kitchen. “She seems like a sweet one, though.”

  “I imagine she’s tired and just needs time to adjust. It’s mighty different here than up in New York City, I reckon.” Jack stood behind her. He had most certainly noticed—remembered—Livy. Her sweetness as well as the quick shift in her demeanor when he’d offered to walk her to the coffee shop. But did she remember him?

  “Did her name ring a bell, Aunt Bea?” Jack waited for his aunt to make the same connection he had. He followed her through the screen door, down the stone steps, and into the inn’s backyard.

  She turned, nose scrunched in confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Johnson. Olivia Johnson?” He let the name linger in the cool, evening air.

  “Well, I’ll declare.” The woman let out a long, lazy whistle. “You don’t mean Audria’s granddaughter? That freckle-nosed, lanky, pig-tailed girl?”

  “Yes, one and the same.” Jack laughed at her description of the girl he’d played with all those summers ago. Pretty spot on, actually. But Jack would also describe her as soft and sweet and enchanting.

  After their first summer running through her grandmother’s gardens, chasing frogs along the creek, and swinging on the tree swing near the barn, he couldn’t wait for her to return the next year. Livy Johnson was his first crush.

  “What a small world.” Aunt Bea made her way over to a section of fence and gave one of the posts a tap. “What do you figure she’s doing back up here after all these years? I bet I’ve not seen her since Audria’s funeral.”

  Jack knelt beside the post, the soft ground cool beneath a steadying hand. “I guess we’ll find out. I don’t think she remembers me, though.” He shook the post and inspected the nails. One had rusted through. He reached for a nail and hammer from his bag.

  “What woman in her right mind could forget your handsome face?” Aunt Bea’s giggle tugged at the corners of Jack’s mouth.

  “You know as well as I do that I had many awkward years growing up, Aunt Bea. I’m not sure I’d recognize myself.” In his youth, he’d been rather gangly, gap-toothed, and stuttered when he got excited. Nothing like he was today.

  “Well, I’ll have to be sure to catch up with her, if she’ll let me. Maybe by morning she’ll feel rested and more like chatting.” Aunt Bea gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got to head out now and get the roast out of the slow cooker. Mr. Smith is on tonight.” With mention of the night manager, she turned and started for the kitchen door. “Love you, dear.”

  “Goodnight. Love you, too.” Jack called back as he hammered into the rickety post. Alone in the dark yard, all he could think about was Livy. He hadn’t given a woman a second thought in well over a year. Not since Claire. He’d had no interest after their marriage fell apart quicker than it began. Yet, he couldn’t deny the powerful shift in his heart the moment he held Livy in his arms upstairs, nor his concern after she passionately refused his company. What brought her here? Could he possibly care about her after all these years? Despite the swirling questions, Livy Johnson being back in Laurel Cove might just change everything.

  CHAPTER

  Two

  M inutes turned into the better part of a half hour. Livy’s hunger melted away in the lazy motion of the rocker on the inn’s front porch. The place reminded her of a refined lady, full of subtle beauty and without any entitlement or pride of position.

  From where the inn sat on one edge of the town square, Livy had a great view. Rows of old storefronts brought back memories of leisurely Saturday strolls with Gram. Large terracotta pots full of multi-colored blooms, maybe pansies or geraniums—Gram would know for sure—adorned each corner. What a stark difference from the concrete jungle of the city. She’d returned to Raleigh for visits on s
everal occasions, but it had been maybe ten years since she’d had the pleasure of witnessing springtime in the mountains.

  She closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side. The tension stretched and gave way to looser muscles. Somewhere unseen, crickets chirped. Sweetness of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass tickled her nose. The corners of her mouth pulled up as the faint mountain mist kissed her face.

  These mountains enlivened her every sense. This was the magical place of the summers of her youth. This was what she’d come for.

  The jarring ring of her phone made her jump and stole her breath. She looked at the illuminated screen. Sam? What did he want? The heaviness of dread pushed down on her shoulders. They hadn’t spoken since the night he came by her apartment to get his few things. Nothing good would come from talking to him now. But what if it was important? What if something tragic had happened? She pushed the green circle to accept the call, but let a long moment pass before speaking.

  “Hello?”

  “I hear you’re moving south.” No greeting. Straight to the point. That was Sam.

  “Um, hi, Sam.” Her stomach knotted at the sound of his voice. “Yeah. I’ve, uh, bought a house in the mountains and I’m going to fix it up. It was time for a change.” The confidence in her voice surprised her. Would Sam buy it?

  “So … you finally gave up trying to be a city girl, huh? I’m not at all surprised.”

  She stiffened and stopped the rocker’s gentle motion, feet planted on the planked porch floor. She should have trusted her gut.

  “What do you want, Sam?”

  “I wanted to see if it was true.” His voice became softer, quieter. If she didn’t know better—and she did—she’d allow herself to believe it was regret.

  “It’s true.” One leg bounced furiously. Hold it together. The other end of the call fell silent for a long moment. The porch light flickered as a moth flitted around the bulb. “Sam?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Listen, I’m not sure why you are calling. You said yourself New York wasn’t for me. I’ve moved on. Unless you need something, I’ve got to go.” With eyes pinched shut, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I wish you all the best, Sam.”

  A familiar huff sounded through the receiver.

  “You wish me all the best? Well, I wish you the best in finding another man to help you figure it all out like I did. But I doubt you will. You won’t amount to anything there, either. Do you hear me?” The call disconnected. Sam’s words were a punch to Livy’s gut. Her hand holding the phone fell to her lap.

  The creak of a porch plank startled Livy. Jack closed the front door behind him. Had he overheard her phone call?

  His frown told her he had. “Everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Livy stood and wiped the tears away before facing him. “I sat for a minute before heading out and guess I lost track of time.” Her legs wobbled a bit underneath her.

  “That’s easy to do out here.” The kindness in Jack’s eyes reflected an understanding Livy could not explain, which only called forth bigger, stronger tears. She bit at the inside of her lip to try to stop them from falling. “I just finished up with that stubborn fence post and figured I’d head down to the café for a quick bite before calling it a night. Laurel Cove is as safe as it gets, but my daddy would come back from the grave if I didn’t at least offer to walk a lady in the dark. Are you sure you won’t let me?”

  Sam’s biting words echoed in Livy’s mind. Years of such treatment had left her feeling small and insignificant. But that was now her past. And she didn’t come all this way to look back. She had to start living again. But how? She found Jack’s eyes and whispered, “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Jack echoed, a wide smile lighting up his face. “It’s a bit chilly. Would you like to head up and grab a jacket?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Livy stepped inside as Jack held the door for her. She patted at the tears trailing down her cheeks as she climbed the stairs, pain and faint hope wrestling inside her. At the door of Room 12, she fumbled with her key and pushed through the door just in time for the dam to break. The darkness of the space embraced her like the blanket she used to hide under during a threatening storm. Silent sobs shook her tired body and exhausted soul. What was this power Sam’s words had over her? He baited her with hints of regret then struck her exposed underbelly. You’ll never amount to anything. The words echoed in her ears and flooded her heart. Breath became hard to find. She frantically searched the room for—for what? What was she doing here? Why had she agreed to go with Jack?

  Illuminated by the soft yellow glow of an outside street lamp, Livy found a framed cross stitch hanging beside the dresser. She hadn’t noticed it before. Wiping her face with the backs of her hands, Livy crossed the small room. The linen fabric pulled taut between what looked to be a hand-cut wooden frame dotted with multi-colored threads. The joy of the Lord is my strength. – Nehemiah 8:10.

  A full, life-giving breath filled Livy’s lungs. As she exhaled, peace ever so gently replaced her panic. Through a lingering sniffle, she felt the corner of her mouth pull up.

  “Okay, God. I hear you.” She would need this reminder daily, no doubt about that. And there it hung, in plain view. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Her gaze fell on the bed. Livy had spent too many days and nights hiding in bed letting the layers of Sam’s painful words weigh her down. But Jack waited downstairs. Her new beginning wasn’t going to happen sitting alone in a dark room. She smoothed her hair, splashed a little cold water on her face, and grabbed her jacket, concentrating on taking deep breaths down the stairs. Please continue to show me the way.

  “Sorry about that.” The chilly night air brought goosebumps to Livy’s arms as she joined Jack on the porch. She pulled on her jacket as he stood from the rocker.

  “Are you up for walking? Or we could drive if you’d rather. My truck is right there.” He pointed to an old, red Ford parked on the side of the inn.

  “The fresh air will do me good. Let’s walk.”

  They started down the walkway, steps falling into rhythm. Thank goodness the dark sky hid her puffy eyes.

  “I need to remember to touch up the paint on this sign.” Jack tapped the inn’s wooden sign as he held the gate door open, sending it swaying on its post.

  “So, you work for your aunt? A handyman?” Livy buttoned her jacket as they strolled toward Main Street.

  “When she needs me. I come about one Saturday a month or when she has a special need. I also own the supply store in town with my brother.”

  “Well, then you and I would have met sooner or later. Bowdon’s Supplies, right? I saw it as I drove in to town. I just purchased my grandmother’s house and plan to fix it up. I’m sure I’ll be in your store pretty often.”

  “Well, that’s great.” There it was again. The same warm smile Jack had offered when they’d first run into one another.

  Livy didn’t know what to make of that smile. Her father once told her to trust her gut about people, and her gut told her Jack was a nice guy. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted to say something more to her. What a strange inkling with someone she’d just met. They rounded the corner onto Main Street in less than five minutes of comfortable silence and approached the coffee shop.

  “Would you mind some company?” Jack shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “It doesn’t seem right to let a new guest in town eat all alone. Plus I’m hungry.”

  What could it hurt? Even still, Livy swallowed past a lump. “Sure. Be my guest.”

  Jack opened the door for her, but not with grand gesture. Such manners seemed a way of life for him—never missing an opportunity to be a gentleman. He probably did the same for everyone.

  Jack chose a table by the window, which was fine with Livy. Across the street, a couple held hands while strolling a few steps behind a boy who was pulling a red wagon. Livy smiled.

  “What do you suggest?” She surveyed the quaint restaurant. A sh
ort dinner menu written in colorful chalk hung next to a window looking into the kitchen. The clanking of utensils sounded from somewhere past the menu. Two old men in faded overalls and deep wrinkles sipped coffee from thick white mugs at the counter near the register. Besides the men, Livy and Jack were the only customers.

  “Everything is good here, but the chili is my favorite.” Jack crossed his arms along the edge of the table.

  “Sounds great. I never did find a great chili up in New York.”

  “Chili it is.” Jack made his way to the counter and placed their order with a middle-aged woman who looked a little like Ms. Gulch from The Wizard of Oz. Her features were harsh but not altogether unfriendly with an angled jawline that led to a pointy chin. She glanced at Livy with curiosity before smiling at Jack and submitting a paper ticket on the turnstile in the window to the kitchen. Livy was like the new exhibit at the local zoo.

  “Shouldn’t be long.” Jack settled in his chair. “Dorothy said they’ve been slow all night.” Livy chuckled to herself at the irony of the waitress’s name. Jack leaned back and their eyes connected. It was no small feat to look away. She noted more of her surroundings to avoid his gaze. Mason jars full of what looked like wildflowers adorned each table.

  “So what brings you to our little town?” Jack pulled Livy’s attention back to the table.

  She pressed her lips together. Escaping an unfulfilling life and a broken heart. She wasn’t ready to explain. It was too heavy for casual conversation with someone she’d just met. “New York was nice for a while, but it was time for a change.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Several years—probably a few too many. The city has a way of holding you hostage.” She laughed. If she made a joke of it, perhaps Jack wouldn’t pick up on the truth. He reciprocated a chuckle as Dorothy approached with two steaming bowls of chili and a plate of cornbread.

  The tall, rail-thin waitress jutted her pointy chin and eyed Livy before addressing Jack. “Butter’s next to the salt and pepper. Let me know if you need anything else, darlin’.” She walked away.