Georgia On My Mind (A Magnolias and Moonshine novella Book 7)

by Amanda McIntyre

  He glanced at Leslie, not exactly excited to pick again at the old wound between him and Jake. “Okay, I’ve spoken to Faith about coming down. I haven’t been able to pencil myself in to my brother’s schedule as of yet.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just need to let it go. Forget all the crap that happened in the past. Stop letting it color our relationship.”

  She tilted her head. “Crap? Sweetheart, you and I have had many a conversation about what happened at your dad’s funeral. You’ve carried this hurt around for a long time—too long. And it’s festering.”

  That was an understatement. He’d thought he’d be able to accept walking away from Georgia and simply chalk it up to one of life’s difficult lessons. But he couldn’t do the same with his brother. “I’ve been waiting for him to make the first move--you know, apologize maybe for going behind my back the way he did.

  She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. “Justin, from what you’ve told me about your brother, he isn’t likely to make the first move. You’re going to have to be the better man and get the ball rolling.”

  Deep down, he knew she was right. After he and Georgia had split, he’d tried to convince himself that what he’d found out, purely by accident—that his Dad, Jake, and Georgia had all been involved in a game of manipulation--no longer mattered. But he’d been lying to himself. He needed closure.

  Leslie patted his hand, getting his attention. “You know, this is less about them and more about you, Justin. Clearing this up, confronting Jake, will do a lot toward you being able to move on and find someone new.”

  Justin considered his friend’s wisdom. They’d met in college and had dated a few times, only to discover that they made better friends than lovers. She’d listened to him lament over the Georgia girl who’d gotten away, the one who’d broken his heart. The girl for whom he had been prepared to forego college and marry when there’d been a pregnancy concern; for whom he’d been prepared to settle down, stay in Atlanta, and get a job in his Dad’s advertising firm.

  He sighed and swiped his hand wearily over his face. “You know, you’re right. I need to sit down and have this out with him.” He shrugged. “This has less to do with Georgia and more about getting back on an even keel with my brother. Like you said, it’s long overdue.”

  Leslie studied him. “And really, what do you care? I mean, you’re clearly over Georgia Langley, right?

  Justin met his friend’s gaze. “Absolutely.”

  ***

  Georgia looked at the array of bills scattered across her father’s old desk. The wood was marred, and still reeked of smoke from days gone by when Langley’s had allowed smoking inside. She was grateful he wasn’t here to see how the urban cowboy bars were putting his beloved bar out of business. Lord knows, she’d tried her best to juggle the mounting bills, but with recent increases to property and business taxes, the upkeep of the tiny business—her father’s legacy to his only child—had been suffering in the wake of her son’s mounting medical bills.

  A knock sounded on the open door. She looked up to see Tank, the ex-marine her father had hired just before he died. He was her bouncer, bartender, manager, and loyal friend. He stood just inside the office door, his muscled arms folded over his faded Metallica T-shirt.

  “Hey, kiddo. That was Kevin. He can’t make it in tonight.” He scratched the now-grey stubble on his chin, which had been darker when her father had found him homeless on the streets in Atlanta and offered him a job.

  “Again?” Georgia met the formidable man’s steady gaze. “Isn’t that the second time this week?”

  “Third, lady bug.” He offered an I-told-you-so look. “Do you remember me mentioning I didn’t think the guy seemed too reliable?”

  Georgia sighed. She needed reliable. This filling in at the last minute wasn’t fair to Kolby or to her aunt who helped her take care of her son. “Let me see what I can do,” she answered, leaning forward to pick up the old rotary dial phone. She’d kept it after taking over the bar, respecting her father’s belief that not all customers carried a “a damn cell phone.” He never had.

  “Sure thing,” Tank replied. He hesitated a moment. “You want me to set up an ad in the job-find website?”

  Georgia snorted. Thus far, she hadn’t had much luck with the applicants from the site. Most were looking for full benefits on part-time work at over minimum wage and were unwilling to work nights, weekends, or holidays. Though these days they closed on major holidays, mainly so she could spend time with her son. “I suppose, if you think it will do any good. Maybe just keep your ears open, maybe tell some of the regulars that we’re looking for help.”

  “Got it,” he said as his gaze softened. “Hey, how’s that awesome son of yours?”

  She smiled at the big man’s gentle kindness. When it came to Kolby, Tank was the world’s largest teddy bear. “In remission after his last bout of treatments.” Georgia crossed her fingers. “Hoping it sticks this time.”

  The six-foot-three wall of muscle and brawn grinned through his silvery handle-bar moustache. “He’s a tough little guy. Learned it from his mama.” He glanced at his feet and sniffed once. “Okay, then, I’ll get started on that ad.”

  “Thanks, Tank.” The brief conversation had managed to divert her attention briefly from her worry about the mounting bills, but her thoughts swung instead to the cherub-like face of Kolby--her brave little boy. She cradled her head in her hand, forcing herself not to get mentally dragged down by the “what ifs.” Together they’d faced the challenge head on since they’d discovered the cancer at the age of three. She opened her eyes and met the twinkling mischief in the photo the two had taken at a recent trip to the zoo. He was far more brave in all of this, never shedding a tear, fewer complaints than she’d ever had, and giving her a smile when she looked sad. He was her little ray of pure, unwavering sunshine.

  The shrill ring of the phone jerked her from her thoughts. She touched her fingers to her lips and tapped the photograph, took a cleansing breath, and picked up the receiver. “Langley’s bar, how can I help you today?” She cleared the lump that had formed in her throat from her previous thoughts.

  “Just double-checking on the date of our meeting. We’re getting tons of responses, which is great,” Jolie Harris asserted with her usual, to-the-point brightness. A high school classmate, once head cheerleader, and Georgia’s chief nemesis, Jolie now served on the reunion committee.

  “I have it on the calendar.” Georgia scanned her calendar and noted the red circled around the date.

  “Good. I’m anticipating a wonderful turn out given that we missed the five-year mark. There’s even the possibility that Jake’s brother…what was his name?”

  Georgia rolled her eyes. “Justin.”

  “Oh, right, that’s it. I’ve gotten an email from him that he may show up.” There was a pause. “Didn’t you two date for a time back in school?” The woman had claws and the bitch attitude down to a science.

  “I’ll have the lists ready for the meeting,” Georgia said, side-stepping Jolie’s remark. “I’ve got to run.” She slipped the receiver into the cradle before Jolie could respond.

  If all went according to plan, the class reunion could be the break her new catering business needed to supplement the bar’s income. Having become aware that many local venues didn’t provide bartending services, she decided to answer the need with a portable bar, including staff. The venue being used for the reunion dinner dance was the newly renovated Trolley Barn over in the Inman Park district. Given that she’d much rather attend as a business than socially, she’d agreed to Jolie’s query to cater the event. At least this would give her extra capital to stave off the bill hounds for another month.

  The downside was the remote possibility that she’d run into Justin Reed. Of course, it’d been ages since their difficult break-up, and she’d gone on to fall in love again with someone else. Still, her heart did a little flip when she thought of her first love.

  After their initial brea
k-up at the end of high school, she’d refused his letters, wouldn’t return his phone calls. She’d had good reason, given that an arrangement had been made between her father and his. After her pregnancy scare, a surprise visit by his father the summer of their senior year clarified that she would be the one holding Justin back from a promising future. A few years later, after his father’s funeral, she’d told him the truth over drinks of what had happened. He hadn’t taken the news well and, though she tried to make him see her reasoning, he’d stormed out, believing the worst. Shortly thereafter, she’d heard rumors that his mother had moved to Montana, leaving the family home to Jake and his fiancée.

  There were no more phone calls. No more letters. She’d convinced herself that the clean break was for the best and then dove into her responsibilities at the bar to overcompensate for her loss. It wasn’t but a few weeks after that she’d heard he’d taken a teaching position in Montana. Though her heart ached that their relationship had ended as it had, she wanted him to be happy and hoped he’d one day find someone his family would accept.

  Georgia picked up the calendar and counted the days until the reunion weekend. For all she knew, he had a wife and a tribe of kids by now. Her heart twisted at the thought. She’d felt certain her sacrifice had been the right thing to do, but with the possibility of seeing him again, Georgia’s heart ached anew.

  She let out a heavy sigh. Had it not been for the fact that Langley’s needed the money, coupled with Jolie’s dig that as a local she should participate somehow, she’d have ignored the event altogether.

  Georgia sat back and stretched her arms over her head, working out the stress in her shoulders. She needed a breath of fresh air. Walking through to the connecting room, she felt the pang of guilt of her father’s sacrifice. When he’d gotten too ill to drive, he’d had the small apartment built at the back of the bar. He’d insisted on working every day at the bar—cleaning, visiting with patrons, taking care of the bills—all the things she now had taken on.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said as she picked up the last photo they’d taken together. They were both smiling, unaware of how the world would come crashing down around them in a few short days. He died two weeks after the photo, leaving her the bar. She’d found solace in the arms of a country western singer who’d played the bar while touring with his band. And less than two weeks later, she’d lost him, too, in a horrific accident.

  The pang of loss threatened to overwhelm her as it did when she dwelled on it. She pushed open the door leading out to a small porch that looked out on the tall Georgia pine at the back of the property. Her father used to come out here when he had a problem, something he needed to work out alone. He built the porch purposely facing the west, so he could see the sunset each night. It was his favorite time of day. He’d insisted that he should be buried at dusk.

  Georgia eased into the old rocker that was her father’s and looked out across the darkening sky. She’d spent a lot of sunsets since out here on this very porch searching the twilight sky, asking God for answers to her questions about Kolby’s illness and his father’s untimely death, as well as the disease that taken her father away too soon. She had no answers yet to any of her questions--perhaps she never would.

  The scent of pork roasting in the smoker outside the back door tickled her nose. She leaned back and took in a deep breath of the night air mixed with the earthy scent of Georgia pine coming from the grove of trees that her father had battled to keep when builders suggested they be taken down.

  Her Dad had chosen this location and built the bar in homage to “southern hospitality” he felt was lacking in the city. It sat on the outskirts of the posh Atlanta suburbs, and had over time become the favorite of both blue-collar workers and the business elite of Atlanta. They came from miles around to savor a place to relax, enjoy a little southern comfort, and tap their feet to the music of up-and-coming country-western singers crisscrossing the honky-tonks in search of fame and fortune.

  Georgia had started washing dishes at the age of fourteen and worked her way up to waitressing, and eventually to the business side of the bar. It’s where she’d first seen Justin Reed at the age of eighteen, trying to sneak in with his twin brother and a couple of friends to see one of the bands playing one early fall weekend. Tank had thwarted their plan immediately, calling them on their ruse by threatening to call one of the fathers to confirm their ages. It would be a couple of weeks later that she’d see him again. Georgia smiled as her thoughts drifted back to that fall evening long ago…

  ***

  Georgia had never hung with the popular crowd. In truth, she’d found them boring and the majority of them spoiled. She preferred the artistic variety—music and theater students who hung out after school in the art room. Which only lent itself to confusion as to why she seemed to have a weird obsession for Justin Reed, a senior. He was the quieter of the twin brothers—both on the football team. Jake was the star quarterback. Justin--quicker on his feet--was one of the team’s top receivers. She’d gone with a friend to the homecoming game—a first in the history of her school career—but it was curiosity that drew her to observe the guy who’d inadvertently tossed her a friendly if not entirely humiliated smile as Tank escorted him from her father’s bar. Her friend, who happened to know one of the players with whom she had a “study arrangement”, had invited her to the bonfire after the game. She’d begged Georgia to go at the last possible moment, planting the seed of possibility that Justin Reed just might show.

  That was all the incentive she’d needed. Still, she wasn’t about to reveal her hand entirely, even to her friend. “Okay, fine. I’ll hate it. All those snotty kids thinking they’re so much better than everyone, getting by with their kegs and coolers.” She glanced at her friend and chuckled. “Guess someone has to keep their eye on you.”

  Her friend had smiled.

  Later that night, Georgia had begun to regret her decision. She sat alone on an old log near the bonfire. The hoodie under her jean jacket barely covered enough to keep her warm from the chilly autumn night. Everyone around her was drinking, it seemed, laughing and nudging one another with dares to go visit the old house in the woods reported to have once been used as a hospital during the Civil War and was now haunted by those who’d died there. But Georgia knew it was primarily a dark, private place for kids to go make out. That’s where her friend and her study buddy had run off to, deserting her at the bonfire.

  Georgia huddled as close to the fire as she could, watching the marshmallow on the end of her stick blacken to ash.

  “Hey, it’s about damn time the rest of you got here,” came a yell from the shadows.

  Jake Reed, as handsome as he was vocal, hopped from the old pickup truck and punched his fist into the air, emitting a tribal yell of victory. Those who’d been riding in the bed of the truck leapt over the side, following suit. The letter-jacketed cluster of athletes left one of their own in their wake.

  Justin Reed.

  Georgia watched as he stepped out of the driver’s side and pocketed his keys. She’d been there for nearly forty minutes without so much as a nod from anyone and had all but convinced herself that she was invisible to those she had no social connection to, so why would he even notice her staring at him? She staked her life that he was the designated driver tonight for his rowdy brother and his friends. They all beelined after Jake, who was heading for the keg.

  She observed Justin stuff his hand in his pocket and scan the crowd of fifty or so homecoming revelers before pulling out his cell phone glancing at the time. She caught his heavy sigh followed by an eyeroll as he watched his brother, red Solo cup in hand, drop his arm around Jolie, the head cheerleader.

  She was about to go back to her dying marshmallow when his gaze crossed path with hers. Okay, she might have claimed creative license when it seemed his eyes locked with hers with the heat of the fire crackling between them. Georgia’s heart faltered--what the hell? --which was an absurdity given that this guy was not i
n her league. Not even close. Oh, sure, she was worth it. She was a badass. Daughter of the owner of one of Atlanta’s hottest honky-tonks. She chuckled softly, doubting Justin Reed had ever met anyone outside his upper crust, country-club status.

  Georgia held his gaze as he walked over and sat down on the log next to her. She looked away, then focused on tossing her burnt blob of marshmallow into the fire—stick and all.

  “Some game, huh?” he said. He looked around as though mildly curious if anyone noticed him slumming it with the ghost in their midst.

  Georgia didn’t respond, but poked at the fire, waiting for him to decide to leave.

  After a moment, he chuckled as though she’d said something funny. “I can’t believe that last play, can you? Damn, I was lucky that Jake found me after I screwed up the play.” He shrugged. “I guess the important thing is we won, right?” He glanced at her. “You remember the play I’m talking about, right?”

  He was adorable. Sweet. Probably lived in one of those ritzy districts where they had scheduled neighborhood potlucks every Friday night during the summer. “I don’t like football as a rule,” she said, forcing herself to look into those amazing blue eyes.

  She wanted to kick herself for the flicker of hurt she saw pass through his gaze. He frowned and eyed her.

  “Really, you don’t ever go to any of the games? Who doesn’t go to football games—especially homecoming?”

  He gave her a lop-sided grin to show he was teasing her. This time, however, she was close enough to see the cute dimple that accompanied the smile.

  “You do go to this school though, right?

  Yeah, okay, maybe she deserved that. Still, it pissed her off. She pushed to her feet, ready to walk back to town if need be. He grabbed her arm.

  “Hey, come on. It’s just that you seem familiar.” He slid his hand in hers, tugging on it until she sat back down. “I promise, we don’t have to talk about football.”

  Georgia glanced at his handsome face. Those crystal blue eyes all but twinkled in the firelight. She wasn’t sure he’d keep his promise, but it was for certain that, right then and there, she’d fallen for Justin Reed--hard.