by Hope Ford
Meant To Be
Hope Ford
Contents
1. Carrie
2. Carrie
3. Carrie
4. Carrie
5. Carrie
6. Carrie
7. Carrie
8. Carrie
9. Scott
10. Carrie
11. Carrie
12. Carrie
13. Carrie
14. Carrie
15. Carrie
16. Carrie
17. Scott
18. Scott
Epilogue
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About the Author
Meant To Be © 2020 by Hope Ford
Editor: Kasi Alexander
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1
Carrie
My dad wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, whispering against my hair, “I’m so glad to have you home.”
I could stay just like this. The last three years have been hard. I’ve tried to be happy and to do what my parents wanted me to do—to get a college degree. But I’ve been miserable. I hate it, and even though I’ve forced myself to work hard and to pass all my classes, I’m just not happy.
I’ve wondered how my parents would react, and so far, it’s exactly as I thought. My dad is happy to see me, like I knew he would be. He’s always encouraged me to do whatever is best for me as long as I’m happy. I just wish my mother was handling it the same.
With my head on my dad’s chest, I don’t even have to look over at my mother to know she’s shaking her head at me. She’s not taking my early and unexpected return from college even half as well as my dad.
I pull away from him, knowing I’m going to have to deal with this sooner or later. He kisses my forehead and whispers, “It’s going to be okay, honey.”
He doesn’t move until I nod my head, agreeing with him in a small smile. He grabs my luggage and takes it toward my old room.
“Did some boy break things off with you? Is that why you’ve come running back to the nest?” my mother asks with her hand on her hip.
I pick up my purse and backpack and force my tone to be calm and patient. “No, Mom. It’s like I told you. I stuck it out for as long as I could stand it. I knew from the start that it wasn’t for me.”
I give her a pointed look. I never would have gone to college if it wasn’t for my mom pressuring me to do so. I knew I didn’t want to do that. I would have been happy working at the bakery with my Aunt Patty. But Mom wasn’t having that. She thought she knew best by almost forcing me to go. I know I should be thankful. Some people can’t go to college that want to, but it’s been hard knowing what you want to do with your life and not being able to do it.
My mom still doesn’t get it. I can tell by the way she’s searching my face, as if I’m hiding something from her. As her eyes scan down my plus-size belly, hips and thighs, I take a deep breath, as if preparing myself for her to comment about my weight. Some things never change.
“Carrie, you can’t throw away your life just because some college boy made a rude comment about your weight. It was probably just a joke. You’ve always been too sensitive for your own good. Is that what happened? Did someone make fun of you?”
First, I’m dumbfounded. How does she even come up with this stuff? But I should be used to it by now. Mom always thinks she knows it all, and somehow the answer always seems to be about my weight. She thinks everything revolves around the fact that I’m not thin. You would think I’m hideous to look at by the way my mom sees me. She had me on diets starting when I was nine years old. Heck, I think she would have started earlier if my doctor hadn’t told her at my kindergarten physical that it’s unhealthy to put a child of five on a diet. From the time I was nine until I left the house at eighteen, she had me on every diet imaginable. Moving away from home was the best thing I could have done in some ways. It was away from her that I learned to accept my body and love it the way it is. No matter how my mom sees me—and man does she put a voice to it—I’ve still been able to love myself exactly as I am.
“Mom, I know this is going to come to a surprise to you, but my life does not revolve around my weight. No one said anything about my weight. Actually, no one ever says anything about my weight except for you. Why can’t you understand that college is just not for me? It doesn’t make me happy.”
“Oh yeah? What’s going to make you happy? Working in that bakery with your Aunt Patty? You’ll be as big as a house.”
She gives me one look of disgust before she walks out of the room as if I’m the one that hurt her. Does she not know what she does to me? How every word out of her mouth is attacking me?
My head falls back in frustration. I clench my eyes tightly as I mumble, “Why did I come back home?”
I hear my dad’s heavy footsteps as he walks back into the room, but I still stand there with my eyes closed, knowing that’s the only thing that is holding my tears at bay.
Dad wraps me in his arms again. “It’s going to be okay, bug.”
I nod my head against his chest because I don’t want to upset my dad. He’s been my rock all these years, and I don’t know what I would do without him. He always knows how to cheer me up.
“How about we go see my sister? She’s missed you about as much as I have.”
I nod my head again because seeing my Aunt Patty is exactly what I need. I worked at her bakery all through high school, and it’s where I’ve always been the happiest. Going to the bakery is like going home to me. It’s where I fit in and where I’m most comfortable at—and my dad knows it.
I hug my dad tight and wonder if he knows he’s the one that kept me sane all these years.
2
Carrie
“My baby!” Aunt Patty exclaims, bustling around the counter to come and greet me. She wraps her arms around me, and I take in the sweet smell of her. She’s holding on to me so tightly I can’t even breathe, but I don’t dare complain. It feels so good to have been missed. Patty pulls back a little but keeps her hands on my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re home, Carrie. I hope you’re looking for a job, because I could use your help around here.”
I look around the bakery and back at my Aunt Patty. “Yes!” I tell her instantly. We live in a nice size town, but finding jobs is sometimes hard. “I would love to work here with you again.”
Aunt Patty reaches behind the counter and hands me an apron. “Well, let’s get to work. Donald, have a seat. I’ll bring you a coffee and your favorite pie.”
My dad rubs his hands together excitedly. “Ooh, I get my favorite pie? Thanks, sis.”
Patty sets the plate in front of him and waves off his thank you. “No thanks necessary. You brought my girl in. You can even have seconds.”
My dad’s already digging into his pie, and my heart swells at Aunt Patty’s words. It’s right in this instant that I know I’ve made the right decision. Coming home to my dad, my Aunt Patty, the bakery—and even my mom—was the right decision.
“Let’s go, sweetie. We got work to do.” Aunt Patty nudges me.
We get started, trying out a concoction Patty put together, and while Patty is away helping a customer, my dad leans over the counter. “The whole town is going to be happy that you’re back. You always tweaked Patty’s concoctions, making her good dishes even better.”
I just smile and shake my head. He knows I love coming up with
new dishes. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Sure, honey. You need to do what makes you happy. Don’t worry about your mother. She’ll come around. Just give her time,” he assures me as he sneaks another piece of pie from out of the display case.
He walks away, already digging in, and I try not to let his words get to me. Because I’m sure he knows as well as I do that my mother is not going to just let this go or come around. At least not anytime soon.
The rest of the afternoon, Aunt Patty lets me play in the kitchen, getting things prepped for the next day.
My dad had driven me to the bakery, so after he got his fill of coffee and pie, he left with the promise of picking me up later.
As I put the finishing touches on the glazed cinnamon roll, I find that my cheeks are hurting. I smile and flex my lips, realizing that my cheeks are hurting from smiling all afternoon. I haven’t been this happy in a long time. It’s more than just working with my Aunt Patty or even being back in the bakery that I’ve always loved. It’s like I can finally be myself here. I can come up with ideas, try new recipes. There’s nothing like peeking out in the restaurant and seeing the satisfied smiles as someone bites into a pastry that you worked hard on preparing. This is what I’m meant to be doing. This is what makes me happy. I gave up my dream once because I felt I needed to do what my mom wanted. But after living through the misery of the last three years, I know that from now on, I’m going to follow my heart. I’m going to do what I want. And I’m going to be happy doing it.
When my dad picks me up, we go straight home and have dinner. Even my mom nit-picking over what all did I eat while I was at the bakery is not going to get me down. Or her comments at the dinner table. “You do remember that the last time you worked at the bakery, you gained weight. You sure you don’t want to try and get a job at Chrissy’s gym or something?”
I laugh and even snort a little at that. Chrissy would do the same thing. Chrissy was one of my good friends in high school, and I’m excited to see her. I can’t wait, actually. She was always working out in high school, and it was her dream to own her own fitness studio, which she’s done. Her studio is right next to Patty Cakes Bakery, but Chrissy wasn’t in today when I walked over to see her. I can already picture it in my mind. Chrissy’s going to talk me into working out with her, and then we’ll go over to Patty Cakes to enjoy a treat. It’s all about balance.
I shake my head and smile, thinking of my friend. “I don’t want to work at the gym, Mom. I’m perfectly happy working with Patty at the bakery. I actually had a great time today.”
I smile my biggest smile at her, as if I’m trying to convince her how happy I am being home and getting to do what I love. She starts to argue with me, I can see it in the way her lips crease in a tight line. But before she can open her mouth, my dad has placed his hand over Mom’s on top of the table. He interrupts her softly. “That’s right, Suzy. You should have seen our girl. She was having a great time today, and I heard people raving about the cinnamon rolls when I went in to pick her up.” He squeezes her hand softly and gives her a pointed look. “Let her be, honey. She’s home and she’s happy. That’s all that matters.”
I put another bite of salad in my mouth to keep quiet. I don’t want to end a perfect day with another fight with my mother. I’m going to eat the salad without dressing she fixed for dinner and then prepare for my first day at the bakery.
3
Carrie
I’m up and dressed for my first day at the bakery in my jeans and Patty Cakes T-shirt. I no sooner get down the steps than my mom is already up and meeting me at the door. “Are you sure you should be working at the bakery?” she asks with a pointed look at my hips.
“Yes, Mom. I’m going to work at the bakery,” I tell her, already frustrated.
She throws her hands up, and for a second I think she’s going to give up, but now instead of harping on my weight, she decides to nag me to put more effort into my appearance. “You have such a pretty face, Carrie. Some makeup and contouring tricks can make your face look much less round.”
Of course by round, she means fat.
Instead of arguing, I walk back up the steps without another word. I take a few minutes to add some blush to my cheeks and some mascara to my already long eyelashes. When I walk back downstairs I can tell she’s not fully satisfied, but at least she doesn’t argue with me.
I’m relieved when I finally get out of the house even if it’s still dark out and before most people have finished their REM sleep cycle.
The air feels good and smells like rain and springtime.
It’s good to be home.
Scott
There’s a new woman working behind the counter at the bakery. She’s blond, and even though she’s pretty, it still makes me feel even more grumpy than I already do. I got called out twice last night to help Crawford, the rookie, on the job with some calls he wasn’t sure how to handle, the first time including kids going cow tipping and the second time because of a suspicious parked car that ended up belonging to a neighbor. If Crawford doesn’t start showing that he has a backbone to work the job and not just carry the badge, I’m going to have to fire him.
All I need is some donut jokes coming from the new girl.
It never fails. Ever since I’ve taken on the badge, even before I was sheriff, the women and men behind food counters always have to make some sort of jab about cops and donuts. It gets old faster than fast.
“Good morning! What can I get you?” the blonde behind the counter asks with a wide smile.
“Just a coffee, please.”
“Sure, how do you like it?” she asks with her head tilted to the side. For just a second, I get distracted by the blue of her eyes. They remind me of a perfect summer day.
I shake my head. “Uh, surprise me,” I answer her, instead of telling her black. I always drink black coffee, and I don’t know what caused me to buy anything else today.
She looks surprised for a second, but then her smile gets even bigger, and she nods her head. “Yes, sir. One surprise coffee coming right up.”
She turns away, and I stare at her expectantly, a little bump in my chest as I can’t seem to stand still as I wait for her to turn back to me and smile at me again. She’s curvy, and I can’t stop from looking at the way her jeans hug her butt.
As she turns back to me, I jerk my eyes up, not wanting to get caught staring at her ass. I am the sheriff, after all. That’s all I need is to be called out for harassing the new girl in town. Plus she’s young. Probably too young for me. When she turns back to me, she asks, “Are you sure I can’t get you a cinnamon roll to go with this? It will go just perfectly.”
“I don’t eat a lot of sweets,” I explain to her, and her smile falters for just a second and her lips form a perfect “O.”
She pulls the coffee back toward her as I reach for it. She doesn’t want to give it up.
The questioning look on my face has her explaining, “I’m sorry. You may not like the coffee then. It’s a little sweet.”
Because right now I’d do anything to put that smile on her face, I hold my hand out to her. Even if I hate it, I’ll lie if I have to just to get that smile again.
“Here, let me try it.”
Reluctantly, she hands me the cup, and I take a small sip of the hot coffee. I’m prepared to hate it, but my eyebrows raise at the taste. I pull the cup away and look at it before bringing it to my lips again. It’s the best coffee I’ve ever drunk. “What is this?” I demand.
She looks around as if she’s hoping to be saved by Patty, and it’s then that I realize she thinks I’m mad. I’m quick to reassure her, though. “This has to be the best coffee I’ve ever had. It’s not black, but it’s not too sweet. It’s perfect,” I tell her honestly.
And finally, it’s back. The smile that lights up the whole bakery. “It’s coffee, but I added some homemade vanilla creamer and a smidge of cinnamon. Do you really like it?”
I set my hands on the counter and lean in.
“I promise you, it’s the best coffee I’ve ever had. What’s your name?” I ask her.
She blushes prettily. “Carrie. My name’s Carrie. I’m Patty’s niece. And I’m glad you like the coffee. If I’m ever not here, just tell whoever’s helping you that you want vanilla and cinnamon added to it.”
Two things hit me at once. She’s Patty’s niece, and that means she’s young. Probably too young for me. The second thing is I don’t want anyone else to make my coffee. Getting a cup of this good coffee from her smiling face is definitely going to improve my days. Heck, it’s already improved this one.
I hold my hand out to her. “I’m Scott Jordan. Forest Grove sheriff. It’s nice to meet you, Carrie.”
She looks down at my hand for a brief second before placing her smaller hand in mine. I try to ignore the way my heart rate picks up from her touch.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sheriff.”
“Scott. You can call me Scott.”
She blushes again and corrects herself. “Scott.”
I pay for my coffee and thank her. As I leave, I can’t help but notice that my mood is definitely improved from earlier.
4
Carrie
My second day of work, my mom walks into my bedroom, flipping on the light. “Time to get up,” she announces as she pulls the blankets off me.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask her groggily.
