I’ve never understood why he named this place The Whistlestop, as there are absolutely no trains that pass through Hale. Maybe it’s because the place is so small, it reminds people of the cafes they have right next to the train station. Maybe it’s just nostalgic, another thing to remind us we live in the smallest of towns.
Whatever it was, Rudy has owned the coffee shop for close to forty years. Well, he and his wife did, until she passed last spring. So, I agreed to come help him in the winter months, when his arthritis flairs up and he can’t pull all the levers and fill all the pots. I also bought him one of those fancy espresso machines, because I was tired of the traitors driving twenty minutes to go get their lattes from name brand stores.
Now, there is a line of ten people out the door on this Tuesday morning, and when I spot a flash of strawberry blond hair among them, I have to grit my teeth.
Shit, who told her where I’d be?
“Savannah? Savannah Reese?” someone bellows, and I have to duck my head even farther.
Someone in the line has recognized her, and in a second, they’ll all be turning their eyes to her. Then they’ll turn their eyes to me, gauging my reaction as my high school sweetheart waltzes back into town.
See, this is what happens when you live in a town with a total of five stoplights. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. These people either grew up with you, watched you grow up, or now has a kid who is growing up with your kid. Not that I have any kids to speak of; hell, at least I think.
“Smith? Holy hell, you haven’t changed a bit!” Savannah exclaims, and from the corner of my eye, I see her embrace a large, hulk of a man near the front door of the shop.
There is a giggle or two from her, a few husky deep words from him, and then just as I suspect, I look up, and all eyes are on me.
“Oh, come on, people.” I sigh, rolling my eyes, and everyone seems to snap back to pretending like they’re not all staring between Savannah and me.
They all know the story of how we imploded. Just like they know how heartbroken and sullen I’ve been about love for the last ten years. So yeah, this is about to make front-page news on the Hale gossip wires.
“What brings you back to town, girl? I ain’t seen you since we egged Mr. Edgars house just before graduation night.” Smith rubs Savannah’s back, and I want to rip his hand off with my teeth.
Smith always was kind of a jackass. He was in our grade all through school and hung around our group. But we weren’t friends. He played football; I played baseball. He liked to take advantage of drunk girls when we had bonfires out on the lake shore, and I had always been a one-woman man. Plain and simple, Smith was an asshole. Still is. Parading around this town like he owns it or something because his daddy left the town’s steel plant to him to manage.
“Oh my lord, that was a long time ago. Still funny, though.” Savannah puts her tiny hand to her heart, as if she’s trying to contain the hilarity.
Her accent is coming out in full force, even though she was all Yankee pride with me last night.
I’m making drinks, keeping my head down, when Rudy breathes a dreamy sigh next to me. “Well, if it isn’t the prettiest girl to ever set foot in Texas herself.”
“Oh, Rudy, stop it. I’ve missed you.” She squeezes his hand. “Where’s Loretta today?”
The whole place goes quiet at her mention of Rudy’s late wife. And the minute the silence descends, I see panic set into Savannah’s eyes. I want to be the one who puts the sadness there.
“She passed last year. Hell of a star this town lost.” I give her a pointed look, as if to rub it in that she wasn’t here.
A couple of amen’s and may her soul rest’s are spoken out from the dozen or so people drinking their morning coffee inside the shop.
“It was her time, darlin’. She sure would have been glad to see you back, though.” Rudy gives Savannah a teary smile and pats the hand he’s still holding.
“Rudy, I’m so … so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No, you didn’t.” I shoot at her from my place down the counter.
She doesn’t know about a lot of things that have gone on here since she left. Savannah Reese thinks she can just waltz back into town, have her way with it, and leave again like a breeze on the wind. She has no regard for those she left behind, what has happened here since, or how much it will hurt to see her face and then never glimpse it again.
And someone ought to serve that dish to her cold.
Rudy gives me a sharp look, like he knows what I’m after and won’t tolerate it. “Not your fault, sweetheart. Say, what can I get ya? We got one of those fancy espresso machines now, like your kind loves in New York.”
She looks so uncomfortable, which serves her right. “Uh, I’ll take a cappuccino, please.”
When she pulls out her wallet, Smith interjects, “Please, let me.”
She bats her eyelashes at him, and I want to deck the motherfucker. Or maybe haul her to my chest. I don’t even know anymore. My emotions are so out of whack that I feel like I might explode at any moment.
“We need to talk,” Savannah says, the moment she’s in front of me and I’m making her drink.
I don’t know why, but I’m being extra careful, making sure everything is measured in proportion for her cappuccino. Jesus Christ, Jason, making her the perfect coffee won’t convince her to stay in Hale.
“How did you know where to find me? Been asking around?” I give her a shit-eating grin.
She looks like she’s grinding down her back molars. “Cut the crap, Jason. We have business to hash out.”
“It’s all business with you. I think you forget what it’s like to actually care about your neighbors as if they were your own family.”
“Says the guy who is working as a barista. What, they didn’t have a job for you down at the Piggly Wiggly?”
Of course, everyone in here is listening to our conversation, most of them not even bothering to look like they’re not. Their looks are quizzical, because Savannah has made one huge error in my situation. But I hold up a hand, hoping that it cuts them all off from telling the truth.
“Actually, I tried pumping gas down on Highway 35, but they already had a full-time worker. So, espresso slinging it was.” I shrug.
She thinks she knows me, thinks I’m still that washed up, useless piece of shit who couldn’t get out of bed when his dream fell apart. Her opinion of me is so low, and why should I correct it? Loving someone isn’t about how much money they make or if their career is one that kids strive for when they get into college. You love the person for their soul. And clearly, Savannah knew nothing about that anymore.
A frustrated huff passes her lips. “Can you just be serious for one damn minute? I really need to speak with you, Jason.”
Hearing her say my name is like a bullet through the heart. “And I say, we don’t have nothin’ to talk about.”
I swear, Savannah all but stamps her foot, then lowers her voice. “Let me just write you a check. You’re really messing up a big thing for me.”
“Seems I never can stop messing up when it comes to you,” I say quietly, so no one else hears.
For a moment, we stare at each other, so many old memories coming to life between us.
“Come by and see some of your old friends at Buddy’s tonight, and maybe we can have a chat then. Here’s your coffee. Hope it’s not to white trash for you.”
The look she gives me could kill a thousand house plants.
But as much as I hate why she’s here, I’ll take any opportunity to see her. If I can get her under the same roof as me, I’m going to make it happen.
7
Savannah
I can hear the honky-tonk music from inside my rented BMW.
The car smells like a long ago lit cigarette, which tells so much about the only car rental place at the Timula Airport, the one regional airport that gets you within an hour of Hale.
Flipping down the driver side visor, I check my teeth for l
ipstick in the mirror, and then pinch my cheeks twice. I’ve already applied a thin coat of makeup, nothing like the evening looks I’d put together in New York, sometimes with the help of hair and makeup artists. No, that was far too dramatic for this. Just a sweep of foundation, a swoosh of brown glittery eyeshadow, and a few coats of mascara. That and a nude lip, and I was good to go.
As it is, I’ll be the best dressed person in here with dark blue skinny jeans and an emerald green puff-sleeve blouse. I’d switched my heels for chunky boots at the last minute, knowing that the grime of Buddy’s floors didn’t need to be anywhere near a good pair of Manolo’s.
Plus, I didn’t need Jason to think I’d gotten all dolled up for him. Not that my heart wasn’t pounding in its chest, wondering what he saw when he looked at me now. Did he think I looked old? Was it still the same for him when our eyes met?
As much as I want to deny it, to banish the feeling, each time I drink him in, I’m transported right back to the street-lit nights and stolen kisses under the bleachers in gym class.
I’ve been dreading running into people, but here I am, walking into the lion’s den. Not that being at The Whistlestop today was all that bad, aside from everyone in the place taking bets on how long it would take for Jason and me to run away together. Or rip each other’s throats out. Either or.
No, going to Main Street this morning had actually been … nice. Seeing Rudy, Smith, some of the girls I used to cheer with in high school, it was pleasantly comforting. I’d always had nightmares about coming back here, about people having that horrible sympathy in their eyes. But maybe it had just been too long. Since I’d been back, all of a day and a half, most of the old acquaintances I’d run into were just happy to see me.
And in most cases, I was too. Except for when I’d found out about Loretta’s passing and realized I wasn’t here. How many things had I missed while I’d been gone?
While in New York, I’d barely thought about home. All the painful, golden, lifetime’s worth of memories were tightly locked in a box inside my brain that I never took out for fear of collapsing into my emotions. I’d forgotten how much I loved these people, and how much they loved me. I’d forgotten the buzz of a Friday night football game, when the whole town shut down, or church on Sunday mornings when Mama would cook pancakes for dozens of people.
The whine of a banjo in some song blaring from the speakers inside Buddy’s breaks me from my reverie.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumble as I climb out of the car and head toward the front door.
I’m hit with a blast of stale beer, cheap perfume, and a mess of an eighties country love song. I might not live in Texas anymore, but I do still listen to the genre, and this is the worst of it.
I’m scared to even inch my way inside, since the whole joint seems to be five beers deep and it’s only nine p.m.
“Well, I’ll be …”
A familiar twang hits me in the right ear, and then a squeal comes at me as someone locks their arms around me.
“Sassy Savvy, they said you was back in town!”
I wriggle free of my captor and turn to see two big green eyes staring at me like an excited puppy dog. I’d recognize them anywhere, though it has been a very long time since I’ve seen them.
“Cecily!” I laugh, hugging her just as hard.
As we embrace, I wonder to myself if she’s ticked off that I left. That I’ve never tried to keep in touch. I would be furious if my best friend dropped off the face of the earth and never bothered to call.
But that wasn’t Ceci. She was never one to hold grudges or be anything but sweet as the tea her meemaw used to make us in the summer. We grew up together, Savvy and Ceci. Everyone in town knew we were inseparable, that is until Jason came into the picture. We were all thick as thieves, but he became my number one. Not that she minded. Cecily was so easy and kind that she’d show up when she was invited and find fun when she wasn’t.
I’ve missed her, I realize, as I hold her now at an arm’s length. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“And you’ve changed a whole bucket! Gosh darn, girl, look at you! You look like something out of a magazine. So fancy!” She bounces on her heels, her lithe frame jittering like it always did.
Cecily is like a carbonated fairy, with her white-blond hair and elfish features, she looks like something out of Peter Pan. And never stops moving.
“Just a little New York glow up, I guess.” I shrug, looking around. “You still live in town?”
She nods, motioning for the bartender and then picking up her own beer. “Of course, I’d never leave Hale. I love it too much. You remember Thomas?”
A tall, lean guy bends over the bar, catching Cecily’s cheek with his lips. It’s then that I notice the sparkle of a small engagement ring and band on her finger and the regular gold band on his hand that’s pressed against the bar top.
“You’re married?” I’m so shocked I can’t speak.
There was a time where I assumed I’d be Cecily’s maid of honor, and she’d be mine. We talked about raising babies together, attending their school events, and drinking wine on our porches on weekend nights. And I wasn’t even invited to her wedding.
Thomas looks vaguely familiar; maybe he was a few years ahead of us in school. With the way he’s looking at her, it’s clear they’re in love.
“Going on three years now. It wasn’t anything fancy, nothing up to the New York standard, but we loved it. We live over on Church Street, got our own house and everything. And Buddy turned over management to Thomas last year.” She waves her hand around the bar.
“Oh, well, that’s … great.” I don’t know how else to respond.
I’d all but forgotten about Cecily in the past ten years, a fact I’m not proud of now that the shame of it creeps up the back of my neck. Caught up in my own despair, heartbreak, and devastation, I’d erased all of Hale and its occupants from my mind. But here she is, happy and beautiful, and living the life she’d always imagined.
It made the little voice in the back of my head wonder if I was living the life I’d always imagined.
“So, are you married? Someone mentioned something about a boyfriend.” Her smile is nothing but genuine.
In New York, almost all of my friends, or couple friends of Perry and mine, only asked questions to fish for information. But people like Cecily truly wanted to know if I was happy, I didn’t even have to wonder about it.
I shake my head, noticing a couple other people listening in on our conversation. “Yes, I do. And no, we’re um, we’re not married. But we are going to buy an apartment together, this beautiful penthouse, so …”
She nods enthusiastically, like it’s all just so wonderful. She doesn’t make some jealous expression at our grand apartment or judgmental face at the fact that we’re not married. Because other people’s business and accomplishments wasn’t her business, she didn’t covet it, and I just wasn’t used to that anymore.
“Well, sure glad they don’t let you drive around that city,” Jenkins, who is now the sheriff, pipes up from down the bar. “You’d clear take someone’s head off on all those crowded streets.”
The fact that Jenks thinks you’re not allowed to drive in the city shows just how much he doesn’t know about living in New York. He’s sitting next to Asher, Kyle, and Nicholas, three of Jason’s old baseball buddies. Next to them are Breeland and Corey, a couple we used to hang out with in high school that married at the ripe old age of eighteen.
“You shush,” I admonish him jokingly. “Hey, Thomas, can I buy a round for everyone in here?”
The bartender’s eyes go wide, but I pull out my credit card and hand it to him. A couple of people hoot, some others give me a hawk eye, and Cecily is still right there, smiling. I’m not sure what Jason wants me to do here, or where the hell he is, but I’ll show a gesture of goodwill.
“Did you hear that, folks? She thinks we can’t buy our own beers.”
I turn, knowing that sarcastic, biting tone a
nywhere. “Beau, it’s good to see you.”
Jason’s best friend comes to settle at the bar next to me, looking me up and down. “Can’t say I feel the same.”
Ah, I get it. He’s pissed off about how I left his best friend. I wonder if any of these people know the real story, considering I wasn’t here to tell my side of the truth. Nah, after Jason got injured and my world went sideways, I took off, not bothering to tell anyone why.
“Pity, because you’d get a free beer out of it. Thomas, round for everyone but Beau.” I give Jason’s friend an evil grin.
Beau and Jason were like brothers, considering Jay pretty much grew up at Beau’s house. When we started dating, he was all but adopted by my family, and slept nights at Beau’s house. Jason had little to no family; his mama took off when he was born, and his daddy died overseas in a tank explosion when he was six. Technically, Jason should have been a ward of the state, but the town of Hale raised him like a village. With one lone uncle who drifted in and out of town every once in a while, so he could claim custodianship, and then the people who really loved him could provide for him. Beau’s family, Rudy and Loretta, a couple of his baseball families … they all pitched in and made sure he was fed, clothed, and thriving.
That was what Hale was like. And it isn’t until right this second I miss it so intensely, that I feel an aching in my soul.
“It is good to see you, though, even if I’m the devil to you now. You look good, Beau.” I pat his arm.
He shoots me a look with a bushy brown eyebrow. “I had to come down here tonight instead of tucking my daughters into bed to make sure you didn’t break his heart again. What’re you doing here, Sav?”
“You have kids?” I say in shock.
“We are thirty now. Or did you stop mentioning your age like you fancy women like to? I grew up,” he mocks me.
My nose turns up. “I’m twenty-nine and holding onto every last day of it. How many kids do you have?”
But Beau sees through my tactic. “What are you doing here?”
That's the Way I Loved You Page 3
