180 Days
T.E. Ridener
©Copyright T.E. Ridener, 2015
Author’s Note
These stories are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
Cover by Double J Book Graphics
Editing by Lindsay Errington, LTE Editing
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
A note to the readers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Thank you for reading 180 Days! | Fact: Giftapalooza is a very real event that started in 2011 to help families in need within the indie community. Authors, bloggers, and readers come together to help make Christmas happen for children all across the country. | If you’d like to help out this year, please visit us at www.giftapalooza.webs.com. | Please visit my website to learn more about me and my books! | www.teridener.webs.com
Acknowledgements
I’ll keep this short and sweet.
My Double J’s- you have always inspired me and will always do so. I love you to the moon and back!
To my street team and fans- thank you for supporting my stories and for loving them as much as you do. I am so grateful to have you in my life.
To the beta readers for this story, thank you so, so much. I can never repay you for the awesomeness that is you!
This book is dedicated to Lydia Styles
A note to the readers
As you dive into Lydia’s world, I hope you will keep an open mind and an open heart. Remember that on the inside we are all exactly the same.
No matter your reason for reading this story, I hope you know how wonderful and special you are as an individual. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.
Trans Lifeline: (877) 565-8860 (USA)
(877) 330-6366 (Canada)
Chapter One
“Deep breaths. You can do this.” She said softly, squeezing her fingers around the handle of her butterfly print suitcase. “Relax, Lydia. No one even remembers you.”
At least she hoped that would be the case. She hadn’t seen Prairie Town, North Carolina in a long time and the chances of anyone recognizing her, let alone remembering her, were slim to none. It was that factor alone that gave her the courage to return, and now, here she stood, peering at the extravagant two-story house that had been passed down from generation to generation in her family.
She knew her parents were in there. They had no idea she was back. Lydia knew they would be happy to see her because they were her parents and they loved her, but it had been so long. So, so long...
When she was only fourteen years old, Lydia McIntosh moved away from her tiny southern town to get a new lease on life. It had been her grandmother’s idea, really.
“Come with me, baby.” She’d said. “There’s nothing for you in this town. A beautiful bird must never be caged. It’s time for you to fly.”
And fly she did. It was rough at first, but Lydia eventually learned to use her metaphorical wings and her grandmother was there every step of the way to help her.
But who would help now? Her grandmother was gone.
I do not want to do this. She suddenly decided as tears pricked at her eyes.
The only reason she was back was because of her grandmother’s death. They’d traveled by plane together, with Lydia as a passenger and her grandmother as cargo, all the way back to Prairie Town for a proper funeral.
“Give me strength, Gran.” She murmured.
Stepping up onto the porch, Lydia lifted her trembling fist and knocked on the pretty stain-glass window.
“Stay calm,” she whispered over and over again. “They still love you. Everything will be okay.”
She could hear footsteps approaching from the other side and her stomach twisted into knots. What if the emails didn’t mean what she thought they meant? What if her parents were only trying to be nice?
Oh, God...
It was too late now. The front door swung open suddenly and light green eyes, nearly identical to hers, stared at her from beneath thick, bushy eyebrows.
It was her father.
“Can I help you?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Lydia blinked in surprise.
“W-what?”
“What is it? What are you sellin’?” He asked. His accent was thicker than she remembered.
God, I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb here.
Straightening her posture, Lydia thrusts her free hand towards him, smiling nervously.
“Daddy, it’s me.”
“Me, who?”
“Are you serious?” Her face fell. Embarrassment threatened to wash over her as she slowly lowered her hand and began to fidget. “I...uh...oh crap.”
“Language, young lady. We raised you better than that.”
She yelped in surprise when his strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her off the porch. The scruff of his beard tickled her cheek as he hugged her close, laughing.
“I got you, didn’t I?” He asked, spinning her around until she felt dizzy. “You think your old man would really forget who you are?”
“That was mean!” She laughed, feeling her feet touch the floor once more. “I was beginning to panic. Do I really look all that different?”
Mr. McIntosh’s eyes moved down and up, down and up, and then he snorted.
“Considering you left here my son and return as my daughter? Yep, I’d say you’ve changed a bit, honey.”
She swallowed hard. Was this the part where he told her what a huge disappointment she was?
“But you sure do look pretty.” He patted her cheek gently and then bent to pick up her suitcase she’d dropped in the surprise hug attack. “Come on in and say hi to everybody. We’ve been waiting for you to get here.”
“You have?” She asked weakly. Her heart swelled at the thought of things actually turning out okay. Being accepted by her family was only one small step; there was still so much she had to overcome. Eventually.
But not right now.
“Of course we have. Your mama has supper on. It should be done soon. Laney’s putting the finishing touches on your bedroom and Jeb went out to town to get us some ice, but he should be getting back anytime now. He’s real eager to see you.”
“Jeb?” Her heart felt like it was going to burst.
Her little brother Jebson, who wasn’t so little anymore, had always been her favorite. He was funny, sweet, kind, and supportive. She couldn’t wait to see him again.
“Yeah, bu
t don’t you let that boy fool you. He’s a troublemaker.” Her father muttered, leading her into the large living room where framed pictures, chronicling their lives, hung upon every inch of wall available. She spotted a picture of her, her brother, and her sister first thing and quickly looked away.
That’s not me anymore. It never was.
“Do you need to go freshen up or whatever it is you girls do?” He asked, setting her suitcase down and rubbing at the back of his neck.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Her eyes roamed around the room and a small smile slid across her lips. It hadn’t changed a bit.
“Did I hear a knock on the door?”
Lydia glanced up at the top of the stairs and spotted Laney’s smiling face.
“Laney!” She squealed excitedly, hurrying up the stairs. “Oh my god! Look at you!”
“I know, right?” Laney laughed, meeting her halfway. They tangled their arms around each other in a tight hug, two sisters reunited. “I’ve grown a bit since you left,”—she pulled back to look at her—“but you have, too, huh? Gosh, your hair is gorgeous.”
“Oh, thanks,” Lydia blushed. “I have to straighten it every morning or it’s just madness. I have a lion’s mane.”
“You, too?” Laney giggled. “Well, I feel your pain, sister. It’s awful, ain’t it?”
“Hey, you girls be proud of those curls. You get them from me.” Their father stated matter-of-factly, disappearing into the kitchen.
They erupted in laughter, covering their mouths in an effort to be quiet.
“He does realize he’s bald, doesn’t he?” Lydia asked, rolling her eyes.
“Shoot, you know he don’t pay attention to anything if it doesn’t involve sports or beer. You’ve been gone for far too long.”
“I know I have. I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged her sister again and sighed. “So on a scale of one to ten, how upset is Mama going to be when she sees me?”
“Maybe a four,” Laney shrugged. “She’s coming around, you know? She’s trying.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered, blinking back tears. Dear God, she wasn’t going to cry. She’d done so much of it on the plane. Her tears would have to wait. Right now was supposed to be bittersweet, but joyful. She wanted to enjoy being with her family again. “You didn’t like...plan a party for me or anything, did you?”
“Who, me?” Laney took a step back and placed her hands behind herself as if hiding something.
Dead giveaway.
“Yes, you.” Lydia eyed her suspiciously. “I thought you were grounded from throwing parties after Mom and Dad caught you making out with...what was his name again?”
“Devin Rose.” Laney’s face turned red and she wrinkled her nose. “I told them not to tell you about that. That night will forever haunt me.”
“As it should! Devin Rose, Laney? Really?”
Lydia remembered Devin. She wasn’t exactly fond of him. He was one of the boys who tormented her back then—back when she was someone else. It was because of people like him that she’d left Prairie Town behind in the first place.
“He’s really changed, Lydia. I swear. He’s so nice and sweet and...”—she sighed dreamily and it was gross—“I really like him a lot.”
“You’re lucky Dad didn’t shoot him.” Lydia replied bluntly. “You have to be careful with those Roses. They’re not nice people.”
“But you don’t know Devin like I do.” Laney’s playfulness vanished within the blink of an eye. “He’s changed. You’ll see.”
Oh, I never want to see him again. Lydia tried to ignore the memories of mean taunts and painful punches—most delivered by Devin and his two older brothers. They were bullies, just like their father. She didn’t have any respect for the Rose family and she hated that her sister was involved with one of them.
“Knock, knock! Where is she?”
Upon hearing her brother’s loud mouth, Lydia forced her attention away from Laney and peered over the bannister, smiling from ear to ear when she spotted Jeb walking through the front door.
“JEB!” She shrieked, hurrying down the stairs. Nearly tripping over her own feet, she reached out to grasp the bannister just in time.
Jeb laughed and dropped a bag of ice on the floor, wrapping his arms around her.
“It’s about dang time!” He exclaimed, twirling her about just as her father had done only moments before. “You’re really back?”
“Of course I’m really back, you Neanderthal. Put me down.” She was laughing gleefully, clinging to his neck for dear life as he squeezed her.
She had missed him the most, out of everyone, and seeing his smiling face somehow made the trip back home worth anything Devin Rose may toss at her.
“I’ve missed you, Lyds.” He held her close, sighing. “I’ve really missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, buddy.” She sniffed and pulled away, rolling her watery eyes. “Stop this before I start crying. Do you know how long it takes me to put on eyeliner?”
“As if I’d know anything about that.” He grinned, releasing her. “Have you seen Mama yet?”
“No. I’m putting off the inevitable.”
“It won’t be that bad, Lyds. She’s happy you’re home.”
“Hey, Jeb—where do you want these?”
Lydia peered over her brother’s shoulder and caught sight of a new face, a handsome face, entering the house. Her heart immediately lodged in her throat and her knees turned to jelly.
Who. Is. That?
Jeb turned around to greet his friend, causing her to sway back and forth. Turning to the recliner for support, Lydia immediately began running her fingers through her hair.
“In the kitchen. I got it.” Jeb said, picking up the bags of ice from the floor and reaching to take his friend’s. “Thanks, Callum.”
“No problem.” Callum, the hunkiest thing on two legs Lydia had ever seen, replied. He threw a smile in her direction, green eyes penetrating her very soul. “Who’s this?”
Lydia opened her mouth to say something, anything, yet words escaped her.
Work, brain!
“His cousin.” Mrs. McIntosh interrupted as she appeared in the doorway leading into the kitchen. She wiped her hands off on her apron, staring at Lydia as if she were a stranger. “She’s Harold’s niece, visiting us all the way from Germany.”
Ow.
And just like that, her heart sank and her stomach twisted into nervous knots. Of all the people in her family she wanted to accept her, it was her mother. Why was it so hard for her to do?
“You will be addressed as a cousin visiting from Germany.” The last email had said. “Don’t take it to heart, sweetie. Your mother still needs time to adjust.”
She supposed it made sense to pretend she was just a niece rather than their son-turned-daughter. Prairie Town just didn’t have the ability, no—the tolerance—to accept Lydia McIntosh.
With a deep sigh and a silent promise that it would get better eventually, she stepped forward and offered her hand to Mr. Hunky.
“I’m Lydia,” she said, sweetly. “How do you do?”
Callum grasped her hand gently. His fingertips brushed over her pulse point and damn if her body didn’t go haywire because of that simple contact.
“It’s mighty nice to meet you, Miss Lydia.” He nodded. “I’m Callum and I do just fine. How about you?”
I want to smack my mother for being stubborn.
“It was a long flight,” she replied. “I’m hungry. I hope you brought an appetite, Callum. My ma—aunt is one of the best cooks in North Carolina.”
“Well, I’m a guy so I sort of have a never ending appetite.” He laughed.
God, that laugh. It made Lydia tingle in places she never realized could tingle. Her pulse quickened and her mouth went dry as she smiled at him, stupidly so, and batted her eyelashes.
This is dangerous. She thought, feeling her mother’s glare of dismay on her back. I cannot be attracted to this guy. I�
�m not sticking around.
“Lydia.” Her mother said in a less-than-thrilled tone. “Will you join me in the kitchen? I could use your help.”
Heaving a quiet sigh and rolling her eyes, Lydia gave him an apologetic smile and turned to face her mother, or aunt—whatever she was supposed to be at the moment.
“Of course.”
Following Mrs. McIntosh into the kitchen, Lydia tried to convince herself this wasn’t going to be as bad as she was making it out to be in her mind, but that simply wasn’t true; her mother had always voiced a very strong opinion about the sex-change. She wasn’t happy about it. She didn’t want it. In fact, she always promised Lydia would be dead to her if she went through with it.
Please don’t let this turn into a crappy evening.
Mrs. McIntosh moved to the stove and grabbed one of the most ancient wooden spoons in existence—Lydia knew this because it belonged to her grandmother’s mother back in the 20’s—and slowly began to stir what was, without a doubt, the best smelling chicken and dumplings ever.
“It’s good to see you, Mama.” Lydia said quietly.
The spoon fell from her mother’s hand and hit the floor with a terrible clatter. Dumplings went everywhere and she flinched, immediately regretting her decision to say anything at all. As her mother turned to stare at her with judgmental eyes and a frown fueled by revulsion, she prepared herself for the worst.
“Don’t call me that!” Her mother hissed. She bent down quickly to retrieve the spoon and hurried to the sink, shaking her head. “I have three children,” she insisted. “Two boys and one girl. I am their mama, not yours.”
Ow. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, Lydia bowed her head and closed her eyes. I should have known nothing would change.
“Two boys,” Mrs. McIntosh repeated. “I have two boys.”
“No, you don’t,” Lydia whispered, sniffling. “You have one boy and two girls now. I’m still me. I just look a little different.”
Her mother’s snort of disgust tore open old wounds. It was so different when she lived far away from the disappointment, the shame. The emails her father sent were filled with love and encouragement, and even though Lydia knew her mother didn’t approve of her choices, at least her little sounds and looks weren’t visible through them.
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