The black Silverado sat nestled amongst a copse of birch trees, easily overlooked.<\/p>\n
But Kyle Worthington didn\u2019t want to be noticed. Not until he knew who\u2019d be coming up the gravel drive with his mother. Unless a lot had changed since he\u2019d left home, she wouldn\u2019t be alone. She\u2019d always depended on his father for everything, including transportation if the trip involved anything outside of a ten-mile radius from home.<\/p>\n
That was why he\u2019d come. When she\u2019d called, she\u2019d sounded so lost, so helpless. Even then, it had taken him four days to make up his mind. Eight years ago, he\u2019d disowned Murphy, North Carolina. But that was because Murphy had disowned him.<\/p>\n
He wiped the fog from the driver\u2019s window with the sleeve of his jacket and stared at the place he used to call home. The large cedar house sat surrounded by naked maple, beech and oak trees, their bare spindly branches fading silhouettes against a darkening backdrop. Over the past hour, the steel-gray sky had deepened to charcoal, draping everything in shadow. The first day of spring was two weeks away, but nothing hinted at its approach\u2014not the heavy silence, not the barren landscape and certainly not the coldness that enveloped him and wrapped around his heart.<\/p>\n
Headlights cut a swath up the gravel drive, followed by the low rumble of an older-model pickup. Probably Hank Dorchester. That was one thing about Murphy\u2014people stuck together. His mom would have plenty of offers to help. He\u2019d known this before he\u2019d come. But there\u2019d been something in her tone he couldn\u2019t ignore, a silent plea no one could answer except her only child. So he\u2019d packed his bags and left, shattering his vow to never again set foot on Murphy soil.<\/p>\n
He reached for the door handle, then hesitated. The bundled-up figure that stepped from the cab was too short to be Hank. Shoulder-length dark hair flowed from beneath the knit cap, and blue jeans disappeared into ladies\u2019 size hiking boots. The driver circled the truck, and before she even reached the passenger\u2019s side to help his mother from the cab, he recognized the confident gait. Samantha Atkinson. Some things never changed.<\/p>\n
And other things did.<\/p>\n
He squared his shoulders and slid from the truck. He should have known she\u2019d step up to help his mom. And if he came back, he\u2019d be bumping into her at every turn. Samantha had written him<\/em> off, not his family.<\/p>\n He closed the space between them. \u201cHello, Mom. Sam.\u201d<\/p>\n When his mother turned, her brows lifted. She wore the strain of the last few days on her face, eyes puffy over sunken cheeks. On both sides of her head, hair had escaped her jacket\u2019s fur-lined hood and framed her face. Sometime during the past eight years, silver had overtaken the black.<\/p>\n A smile crept up her cheeks. \u201cKyle, you came back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course I did.\u201d<\/p>\n He spread his arms, and she stepped into his embrace, squeezing him with a strength surprising for someone who looked so frail. \u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019re here. It\u2019s been too long.\u201d<\/p>\n Guilt stabbed him. Yes, eight years was a long time. He should have come back sooner. But part of the blame was hers. She could have tried harder, been more supportive when everyone turned against him. All he\u2019d wanted was for someone to believe in him. But his mother wasn\u2019t one to stand up to anyone, least of all his father. So she\u2019d thrown him away like everyone else had.<\/p>\n He released his mom and cast a glance at Samantha. She nodded a greeting, but didn\u2019t smile. There was a stiffness to her movements that was missing moments earlier. She lifted several Ingles bags from the bed of the truck, and he took what was left.<\/p>\n \u201cI appreciate your helping Mom out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo problem.\u201d Her voice was tight.<\/p>\n Once inside, she placed the bags on the kitchen island and shed her coat and hat. Then she set about putting away groceries as if she owned the place. As he watched her rearrange items in the fridge, making room for the new, annoyance wove through him. She had slid right in and taken his place in the Worthington household.<\/p>\n \u201cSamantha took me grocery shopping on the way home from the hospital.\u201d His mother removed her jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. \u201cI\u2019ve invited her to stay for dinner. Will you join us?\u201d<\/p>\n Before his denial reached his lips, Samantha straightened and turned, giving him a full view of her right side. Annoyance morphed to shock, and a lead weight filled his gut. Pale, mottled skin stretched tightly across her right cheek, over her jawbone and down the side of her neck, several shades lighter than her natural olive-hued complexion.<\/p>\n She dipped her head and turned away, her hand pressed against her cheek. He hadn\u2019t meant to stare. The last thing he\u2019d wanted was to make her feel self-conscious. He\u2019d just been caught off guard. Blindsided.<\/p>\n There was only one thing that could have scarred her like that. She must have run into the stable the night of the fire to save her horses. She\u2019d been sixteen, he a year older. He\u2019d known about the fire but little else. He\u2019d been whisked away so fast, first to detention, then off to his aunt and uncle\u2019s place in Asheville. A two-hour drive, but it may as well have been half a continent.<\/p>\n \u201cKyle?\u201d<\/p>\n He jerked his gaze to his mother. \u201cNo, thanks. I grabbed something on my way here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to at least sit with us and visit. We\u2019ve got a lot of catching up to do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou make it sound like it\u2019s been forever since we talked.\u201d<\/p>\n It hadn\u2019t. For the first several months after the fire, a thick wall of silence had stood between him and his entire childhood world. Then one Saturday afternoon, his mother had shattered that silence with a surprise phone call. He still didn\u2019t know what had triggered it. Maybe the approach of her forty-eighth birthday the following day had refocused her thoughts on what was important. Whatever the reason, ever since, one called the other at least two or three times a month. Regularly, but never evenings or Sundays when his father would be home.<\/p>\n He sank onto one of the bar stools. \u201cHow is Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot good.\u201d Her voice broke and she turned away to remove an onion from the bin next to the sink. \u201cHe still hasn\u2019t regained consciousness.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry to hear that.\u201d For her sake, not his own.<\/p>\n She placed a garlic bulb and green pepper next to the onion. \u201cThe stroke was bad. We\u2019re still not sure of the prognosis. They\u2019ve moved him from Murphy to the stroke center at Erlanger.\u201d She turned an appreciative glance on Sam. \u201cSamantha made the three-hour round trip to Chattanooga to get me there yesterday morning, then again to pick me up this evening. She\u2019s such a sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n After retrieving a jar of spaghetti sauce and box of pasta from the pantry, Sam set about dicing the onion. \u201cI\u2019m just glad I could help. If this would have happened a few months later, my schedule wouldn\u2019t have been quite as flexible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe by the time you reopen, he\u2019ll be better.\u201d His mother cast a glance over her shoulder. \u201cSamantha runs Wild River Outfitters now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou run it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m buying it.\u201d She gave him a tense smile, but the uneasiness didn\u2019t dim the pride shining from her dark eyes.<\/p>\n She\u2019d done well for herself. A couple of months before he was sent away, she\u2019d gotten a part-time job at Wild River. Now she owned the company. \u201cIt sounds like life is treating you well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is.\u201d She washed the green pepper, then chopped as she spoke. \u201cHalf the year, I\u2019m on the water almost every day. I leave the books and paperwork to someone who doesn\u2019t mind being cooped up indoors.\u201d<\/p>\n That was the Samantha he remembered. Anytime the weather was good, and sometimes when it wasn\u2019t, she was always outside\u2014taking care of her horses, hiking through the woods, rafting the Nantahala or Ocoee. As he watched her scrape diced vegetables into a hot frying pan, he had to tamp down some unexpected envy. She was content. Doing what she loved. Owner of her own company at twenty-four. Her life was on track. At least one of them had reached their goals.<\/p>\n His mother continued. \u201cThe rest of the year she helps Bert with the store.\u201d<\/p>\n He eyed his childhood friend. \u201cYou used to be scared of my dad. Now you\u2019re working with him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe get along great.\u201d<\/p>\n Of course they would. Samantha wouldn\u2019t be held to the impossible Worthington standards.<\/p>\n She gave him another one of those uneasy smiles. \u201cI was scared of him as a kid, because he seemed gruff and stern.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s because he was.\u201d<\/p>\n She shrugged and returned to her meal preparation. \u201cHe\u2019s mellowed a lot over the past few years.\u201d<\/p>\n His mother poured the jar of spaghetti sauce into the frying pan and gave her a pat on the shoulder. \u201cThat, my dear, is because of you. You seem to have that effect on him.\u201d She watched Samantha add minced garlic to the mixture, then reached for some spices. Finally, she turned to face him. \u201cAre you sure you don\u2019t want some dinner?\u201d<\/p>\n He drew in a slow breath, savoring the aromas filling the kitchen. The saut\u00e9ing vegetables had piqued his appetite.<\/p>\n \u201cYou talked me into it.\u201d That burger he\u2019d eaten on his way out of Asheville hadn\u2019t been so great anyway. It could slide over and make room for some homemade spaghetti. A sudden pang of nostalgia hit him. He\u2019d missed his mom\u2019s cooking. His own wasn\u2019t that good. Over the years, he\u2019d had a couple of girlfriends who were okay cooks, but nothing to write home about. Bridgett, his current girlfriend, didn\u2019t cook at all. Actually, there wasn\u2019t much Bridgett did do.<\/p>\n His mom set the table while Samantha transferred hot slices of garlic bread to a towel-lined basket. The stiffness he\u2019d noticed earlier had lessened. As she flipped the ends of the towel over the bread, her movements were fluid. But she wasn\u2019t relaxed. Her shoulders were raised under the multi-colored sweater, and tension radiated from her.<\/p>\n She freed her ponytail and slipped the elastic band around her wrist. Before turning to face him, she finger-combed her hair forward and drew in a deep breath. The thought that she had to steel herself to approach him was a stab in the heart.<\/p>\n After they\u2019d each taken a seat, his mother jammed a set of tongs into a bowl of pasta and passed it to him. \u201cTell Samantha what have you\u2019ve been doing with yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing too exciting. Mostly work.\u201d<\/p>\n His mother pointed at him with her fork. \u201cHe\u2019s done really well on his job.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you do?\u201d<\/p>\n Kyle\u2019s eyes shifted to Sam. Whether she really wanted to know or was trying to be polite, he couldn\u2019t tell. \u201cManager for a machine and fabrication plant.\u201d At least that used to be his job.<\/p>\n \u201cKyle is way too modest.\u201d His mother waved her hand, dismissing what he\u2019d said. \u201cWhat he\u2019s done is single-handedly turned the place around. When he took over two years ago, it was on the brink of bankruptcy.\u201d<\/p>\n He shifted in his seat. \u201cYou\u2019re a typical mother. You think the sun rises and sets on your kid.\u201d<\/p>\n Of course, what she\u2019d said was true. When he came to Simpson Metal and Machine, it was less than six months from closing its doors. Now, after two years and lots of blood, sweat and tears, the company was making record profits. A lot of good it had done him.<\/p>\n His mother reached over to pat his forearm. \u201cI\u2019m so glad you came.\u201d She smiled again, this time with some hesitancy. \u201cAre you going to go see him?\u201d<\/p>\n Kyle rolled some spaghetti around his fork and shrugged. \u201cI doubt he wants to see me. So no, probably not.\u201d<\/p>\n Her face crumpled. \u201cOh, Kyle, someone has to make the first move.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s<\/em> the one who sent me<\/em> away. If he has a change of heart, let him make the first move.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe can\u2019t now. But what about the past eight years?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour father has always been a stubborn man. That stubbornness has left him with a lot of regrets.\u201d<\/p>\n He heaved a sigh. \u201cIt\u2019s my first night here. Can\u2019t we just enjoy the rest of our meal?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPromise me you\u2019ll think about it, and I won\u2019t say anything else.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFair enough.\u201d<\/p>\n When dinner was over, everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh. Though his mom had kept up a steady stream of upbeat small talk, the tension in the room was still heavy enough to slice and package. Her attempts were admirable, but her sing-songy tone didn\u2019t fool him. The cheeriness was nothing but a fa\u00e7ade, one she was struggling to hold in place.<\/p>\n He gathered the serving dishes and crossed the kitchen. Samantha stood at the sink rinsing items and putting them into the dishwasher. As long as he\u2019d known her, she\u2019d never lacked ambition. Or energy. She\u2019d had plenty of girlfriends, but she\u2019d often run with the boys. Though Kyle had initially been her brother Scott\u2019s friend, their activities had regularly included Sam. For much of his childhood, she and her twin brother had been tied for the position of best friend<\/em>.<\/p>\n Then the fire happened. It was one of those monumental events that split time\u2014before the fire\/after the fire. That was when his entire world caved in.<\/p>\n He shoved the memory to the back of his mind. He didn\u2019t need to go there tonight.<\/p>\n His cell phone rang, and he looked at the display, thankful for the distraction. His relief lasted until he read the name. He\u2019d been gone less than four hours, and she was already tracking him down. He stepped from the kitchen to take the call.<\/p>\n \u201cHello, Bridgett.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow is everything going with your mom?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFine so far.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoes that mean you\u2019ll be coming home soon?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI just got here. She needs me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut I need you, too.\u201d The words held the same sultry tone she used when she wanted something. \u201cYou\u2019re going to be back for my birthday, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSince it\u2019s only a week away, probably not.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut Ky-le. I don\u2019t want to celebrate my birthday without you.\u201d<\/p>\n He could picture the pout\u2014mouth scrunched, lower lip extended. It had been cute the first time, not the hundredth.<\/p>\n He heaved a sigh. \u201cWe can celebrate it when I get back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about your job? You can\u2019t stay away too long.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve got lots of vacation.\u201d He winced at the less than truthful answer. Well, he did<\/em> have a lot of vacation.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re letting you take it all at once?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSort of.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018sort of\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n He cringed again, the taste of failure bitter on his tongue. An image filled his mind, his father\u2019s face, eyes heavy with disappointment, lips turned down in disgust. He shook it off. \u201cOld man Simpson\u2019s son decided to return to the company. Simpson made him the new manager.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut that\u2019s your job.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was<\/em> my job.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo you\u2019re\u2026unemployed?\u201d She spat out the word as if she\u2019d just gotten a mouthful of sand.<\/p>\n \u201cAs of yesterday, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you going to do?\u201d Her tone was filled with worry, but he wasn\u2019t fooled. Her concern had to do more with how he was going to buy her the things she wanted than how he was going to pay his bills.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve got some money put back. I\u2019ll just have to be careful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe you\u2019ll find something soon.\u201d Her voice trailed off. She obviously didn\u2019t know how to handle this hitch in her plans.<\/p>\n After several stiff moments, he decided to spare her the discomfort. \u201cWell, I need to go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right.\u201d Relief filled her tone. \u201cHave a good night.\u201d<\/p>\n He slipped the phone back into its case on his hip, shaking his head. More than likely, this would be his last contact with her. One good thing had come out of his losing his job. He\u2019d been looking for a way to end his relationship with Bridgett. A lot of the women he\u2019d dated had been shallow. But she brought new meaning to the word.<\/p>\n He headed back the way he had come. When he passed the kitchen, Samantha was spraying some kind of disinfectant on the counters and wiping them with a sponge. There wasn\u2019t a dirty dish in sight, and all food had been stowed in the fridge.<\/p>\n Samantha and Bridgett were as different as two women could be. For as long as he\u2019d known Sam, she\u2019d put others first. She was always rescuing some poor abandoned animal, caring for her horses, or lending a hand when someone needed help. And patiently listening while one disturbed teenage boy vented. She\u2019d been the best kind of friend, the only one who really understood him. Yes, Sam was everything Bridgett was not.<\/p>\n Too bad it was all a mirage. In the end, she\u2019d turned on him. It had been her accusations that had gotten him booted out of Murphy.<\/p>\n And he\u2019d best not forget it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The black Silverado sat nestled amongst a copse of birch trees, easily overlooked. But Kyle Worthington didn\u2019t want to be noticed. Not until he knew who\u2019d be coming up the gravel drive with his mother. Unless a lot had changed since he\u2019d left home, she wouldn\u2019t be alone. She\u2019d always depended on his father for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":24,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2840","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2840","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2840"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2840\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2842,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2840\/revisions\/2842"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/24"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2840"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}