Somebody to love, p.1
Somebody to Love, page 1
Also by Sharon Sala
Blessings, Georgia
Count Your Blessings (novella)
You and Only You
I’ll Stand By You
Saving Jake
A Piece of My Heart
The Color of Love
Come Back to Me
Forever My Hero
A Rainbow Above Us
The Way Back to You
Once in a Blue Moon
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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2021 by Sharon Sala
Cover and internal design © 2021 by Sourcebooks
Cover design by Dawn Adams/Sourcebooks
Cover images © micheldenijs/GettyImages; MarkD800/GettyImages
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
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—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
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Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
About the Author
Back Cover
Chapter 1
Hunter Knox had never planned on coming back to Blessings, so the fact that he was riding up Main Street in the middle of the night was typical of his life. Nothing had ever gone according to plan.
It was just after midnight when he pulled his Harley up beneath a streetlight, letting it idle as he flipped up the visor on his helmet and glanced up at the Christmas wreath hanging from the pole.
From the sounds going off in town, a lot of people were ringing in the New Year. He could hear fireworks, and church bells, and someone off in the distance shouting “Happy New Year.”
He wasn’t looking forward to this visit, and he’d planned to get some sleep first, but he couldn’t. Too much time had passed already, and there was someone he needed to see before it was too late. So his reservation at Blessings Bed and Breakfast, and the bed with his name on it, were going to have to wait. He flipped the visor back down, put the bike into gear, and rode up Main Street, watching for the turn that would take him to the hospital.
* * *
The Knox family had just ushered in the new year in total silence—eyeing each other from their seats in their mother’s hospital room—already wondering about the disposition of the family home before their mother, Marjorie, had yet to take her last breath.
It wasn’t as if she had a fortune to fight over. Just a little three-bedroom house at the far end of Peach Street that backed up to the city park. The roof was old. It didn’t leak, but it wouldn’t sell in that condition. The floor in the kitchen had a dip in the middle of it, and the furniture was over thirty years old, but right now, it appeared to be a bigger issue than watching their mother still struggling to breathe.
Marjorie had given birth to six children. The oldest, a little girl named Shelly, died from asthma before she ever started school.
Four of her children—Junior, Emma, Ray, and Bridgette, who they called Birdie—were sitting with Marjorie in her hospital room. Only Hunter, the second child and eldest son, was missing. No one knew where he was now, and all knew better than to mention his name.
Their father, Parnell Knox, had died six years ago of emphysema. Marjorie always said he smoked himself to death, and while she’d never smoked a day in her life, now she was dying of lung cancer from someone else’s addiction. The diagnosis had been a shock, then she got angry. She was dying because of secondhand smoke.
* * *
Sometimes Marjorie was vaguely aware of a nurse beside the bed, and sometimes she thought she heard her children talking, and then she would drift again. She could see daylight and a doorway just up ahead, and she wanted to go there. She didn’t remember why, but she couldn’t leave yet. She was waiting for something. She just couldn’t remember what.
* * *
Ava Ridley was the nurse at Marjorie’s bedside. Ava had grown up with the Knox kids because Marjorie had been her babysitter from the time that she was a toddler. Her childhood dream had been to grow up and marry Hunt. But at the time he was a senior in high school, she was a freshman in the same class with his brother, Ray.
She’d spent half her life in their house, making Ray play dolls with her when they were little, and learning how to turn somersaults and outrun the boys just to keep up with them. As they grew older, they hung out together like siblings, but she’d lived for the moments when Hunt was there. At that time, he barely acknowledged her existence, but it didn’t matter. She loved enough for two.
And then something big—something horrible that no one ever talked about—happened at their house and Hunt was gone.
After that, no one mentioned his name, so she grieved the loss of a childhood dream, grew up into a woman on a mission to take care of people, and went on to become a nurse. After a couple of years working in a hospital in Savannah, she came home to Blessings, and she’d been here ever since. Ava had cared for many people in her years of nursing, but it was bittersweet to be caring for Marjorie Knox, when she had been the one who’d cared for Ava as a child.
Ava glanced at Emma. She was Emma Lee, now. Married to a nice man named Gordon Lee. Her gaze slid to Junior, and Ray, and Birdie.
Junior was a high-school dropout and divorced.
Ray worked for a roofing company and had a girlfriend named Susie.
Bridgette, who’d been called Birdie all of her life, was the baby, but she was smart and driven to succeed in life where her siblings were not. She was the bookkeeper at Truesdale’s Feed and Seed Store, and still waiting for her own Prince Charming.
Ava thought the family looked anxious, which was normal, but they also seemed unhappy with each other, which seemed strange. However, she’d seen many different reactions from families when a loved one was passing, and had learned not to judge or assume. And even though it was no business of hers, she knew the Knox family well enough to know something was going on. Her job was to monitor Marjorie’s vitals and nothing else.
The door to Marjorie’s room was open, and the sounds out in the hall drifted in as Ava was adjusting the drip in Marjorie’s IV. So when the staccato sound of metal-tipped boots drifted inside, they all looked toward the doorway.
The stride was heavy, likely male—steady and measured, like someone who knew where he was going. The sound was growing louder, and they kept watching, curious to see who it was who was passing by at this time of night.
Then all of a sudden there was a man in the doorway, dressed in biker leather and carrying a helmet. He glanced at them without acknowledgment, then went straight to the bed where Marjorie was lying.
Ava’s heart began to pound. Hunt Knox had just walked in, and the years since she’d seen him last had been more than kind. His face was leaner, his features sharper. He was taller and more muscular, and his dark hair was longer, hanging over the collar of his leather jacket, but his eyes were still piercing—and unbelievably blue.
She forgot what she was doing and stared as he approached. It took her a few seconds to realize he didn’t recognize her.
“Ma’am. I’m Hunt Knox, her oldest son. Is she conscious?”
“Not ma’am, Hunt. It’s me, Ava Ridley. And to answer your question, she’s in and out of consciousness. You can talk to her if you want.”
Hunt’s eyes widened. He was trying to see the young girl he remembered in this pretty woman’s soft voice and dark eyes.
“Sorry. You grew up some. I wouldn’t have recognized you,” Hunt said. “Is she in pain?”
“Doctor is managing t hat for her,” Ava said.
When his four siblings finally came out of their shock, Junior stood up.
“Where did you come from? How did you know?” he asked.
Hunt turned, staring until they ducked their heads and looked away, then shifted focus back to his mother. She had wasted away to nothing but skin and bones. Disease did that to a body. He put his helmet aside and reached for her hand.
“Mom…it’s me, Hunt. I came home, just like you asked.” He waited, and just when he thought she was too far gone to hear, he felt her squeeze his fingers. Relief swept through him. He wasn’t too late after all. “I’m sorry it took so long for your message to reach me, but I’m here now.”
Her eyes opened. He knew she recognized him. Her lips were moving, but she didn’t have enough lung capacity to breathe and talk at the same time.
Finally, she got out one word.
“Sorry,” and then, “love.”
Everything within him was shattering, but it didn’t show. He’d just as soon shoot himself as reveal weakness.
“It’s okay, Mom. I love you, too. I made you a promise and I’ll keep it. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was out of the state for a while and didn’t get your last letter until I got back, but I’m here now and I’ll take care of everything you wanted.”
Marjorie’s eyelids fluttered.
Hunt waited.
His siblings stood and moved around the bed, waiting. They hadn’t seen her respond to anything in days, and all of a sudden, she was conscious. Then her lips parted.
They leaned closer, not wanting to miss a moment of her last words.
Then she said, “Hunt.”
“I’m here, Mom. I’m right here,” Hunt said, and gently squeezed her hand. “I’ll do what you asked.”
Her lips parted again. “Promise?”
He leaned over and spoke softly, near her ear.
“I promise. I’m here now. You’re free to go.”
Marjorie exhaled. The light was brighter, and there was no longer a weight on her heart. She let go of her son and let God take her home.
Now all four siblings were staring in disbelief, wondering what the hell just happened. Their mother had been hanging on to life like this for almost a week, and the prodigal son walked in and told her it was okay to go. And she died? Just like that?
Ava was trying to find a pulse, but it was gone.
Marjorie’s heartbeat had flatlined on the monitor.
Emma’s voice rose an octave. “Is she dead?”
Tears were rolling down Junior’s face, and Ray was wiping his eyes.
Birdie, the youngest daughter, covered her face and started to weep.
Moments later an RN came hurrying into the room. She felt for a pulse, then looked up at the clock.
“Time of death, 1:15 a.m.”
There were tears on Ava’s cheeks.
“I’m so sorry. My sympathies to all of you.”
Emma hugged her. “Thank you for taking such good care of Mama,” she said.
Hunt had yet to speak to any of his siblings, and was still holding on to his mother’s hand. He knew they were gathering up their things and walking out of the room, but he had nothing to say to any of them now. That would come later.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Ava.
“I’m so sorry, Hunt, but grateful you made it. At the last, you were all she talked about.”
“Thank you for taking care of her,” he said, then let go of his mother’s hand, picked up his helmet, and walked out.
Ava had heard pain in the pitch of his voice, but he did not need her concern or her care. Losing a patient was the hardest part of being a nurse, but in this instance, Ava was at peace. Marjorie Knox had suffered a long time. She was no longer sick or in pain, and that was a blessing.
Hunt was on his way back up the hall when he saw his siblings getting in the elevator. He pictured them standing in the lobby downstairs, waiting for him to come down next, and took the stairwell instead.
* * *
He was already out in the parking lot and on his Harley as they finally walked out of the building. They watched him ride away without acknowledging any of them.
“Well, dammit, there he goes,” Ray said.
“Did any of you ever know where Hunt went when he left town?” Birdie asked.
“I didn’t,” Emma said.
“Me either,” Junior said, while Ray shook his head.
“Mama must have known,” Birdie said.
The others looked at each other in silence, finding it hard to believe that the mother they’d taken for granted had kept a secret like that for so long, but the three of them knew why.
“I wonder what Mama asked him to do?” Junior said.
“What do you mean?” Ray asked.
Junior frowned. “You heard him. He told Mama he’d keep his promise and do what she asked him to do.”
“Oh yeah,” Ray said.
“I wonder where he’s going?” Junior asked. “Do you think he’s going to stay at Mama’s house?”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you drive by the house on your way home and see if he’s there. If he thinks he’s gonna just move in, he has another think coming. I want to—”
“What you want and what’s going to happen are two different things,” Junior said. “There are four of us standing here.”
“But there are five heirs,” Birdie said. “Whatever money comes from selling Mama’s house will be divided five ways, not four. The house is old. It’s not going to bring anything worth fighting over.”
“Nothing is worth fighting over,” Ray said.
Emma glared at all of them. “We’ve already talked about Mama’s funeral and stuff, and there’s just enough money in Mama’s bank account to bury her and nothing more. Let’s go home and get some rest.”
“Did Mama leave a will?” Birdie asked.
They all stopped.
“I don’t know,” Emma said.
Junior shrugged. “I don’t either.”
“How do we find out?” Ray asked.
“Maybe Hunt knows. He already knows something about Mama that we don’t know,” Birdie said.
“I’m going home. If you want to know where Hunt is at, go look for him yourself,” Junior muttered.
Ray got in his car and left, and Junior did the same.
Emma ignored him. “I’m sad Mama is gone, but I’m glad she’s not suffering.” Then she glanced at Birdie. “I wonder where Hunt’s been all these years.”
“I don’t know, but he sure turned into a good-looking man,” Birdie said.
* * *
Hunt rolled up to the bed-and-breakfast as quietly as he could manage on a Harley, cognizant of the other guests who were likely asleep. He locked up his bike, grabbed his bag and helmet, then headed to the door and rang the bell.
Bud Goodhope was still up and waiting for their last guest to arrive, and when he heard the doorbell, he hurried through the hall to answer the door.
“Welcome to Blessings Bed and Breakfast,” Bud said.
Hunt nodded. “I’m Hunt Knox. I have a reservation.”
“Yes, come in, Mr. Knox. I’ll get you registered and show you to your room. You must be exhausted.”
A short while later, Hunt was taken upstairs and given a room at the end of the hall.
“It’s quieter back here,” Bud said. “Breakfast will be served from 6:00 to 10:00 a.m. If you need anything, just press seven on the house phone and either my wife, Rachel, or I will answer.”
“Thanks,” Hunt said. “Right now, all I want is a shower and a bed.”
“Then rest well,” Bud said as he put Hunt’s bag on the bed. “We’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.”
Hunt locked the door, put his jacket and helmet on a chair, then sat down and took off his boots. The room was well-appointed and had a warm, homey feel. It had been a long time since he’d been in a place like this.
He poked around and found a basket of individually bagged, homemade chocolate chip cookies, as well as a mini-fridge of cold drinks. He hadn’t eaten since noon, and it was already tomorrow, so he chose a cookie and a cold Coke and ate to dull the empty feeling in his belly.
When he was finished, he stripped and walked into the bathroom. The full-length mirror reflected the milestones life had left on his body. The scars of war weren’t just within him. Some, like the thin silver ropes left from wounds that had healed, were visible, too.
