The One She Left Behind. KRISTI GOLD
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space and drove away. But he wouldn’t force the issue. Nothing better than curling your bare toes in some good old black Delta dirt, exactly what he’d told Savannah during their first introduction. As if it had happened yesterday, he recalled exactly what she’d been wearing—a pair of leg-revealing white shorts, a fitted navy blue tank top and no shoes. He’d been a goner from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Strange that he remembered those details. Maybe not so strange at all. He remembered a lot of particulars about their time together, especially that day in this very diner when he’d intentionally stomped on her heart the moment she told him she was leaving.
Long ago he’d learned that everyone eventually leaves. Still, even after all this time, he couldn’t stop the resentment that boiled just beneath the surface. And if he had any sense at all, he’d steer clear of her. Unfortunately, he’d never had much sense when it came to Savannah Greer. But he wasn’t that kid anymore, and the man had no use for her.
AS SAVANNAH STOOD BEFORE the white clapboard house that had been in her mother’s family for three generations, she was immediately drawn in by the familiar song of the katydid, the pungent scent of freshly plowed earth and fragrant magnolia blossoms. But appreciation of the old home place hadn’t come quickly or easily. They’d moved here from Knoxville the summer she’d turned fourteen, and she’d hated leaving the city and her friends. She’d basically thought her life was over. Had it not been for her father’s encouragement, she might have seriously considered running away.
You’ll learn to love it here, Savannah. I promise…
Like the remember-when song that had played in the diner, her father’s gentle voice filtered into her mind. The image of his kind green eyes had been forever etched in her memory like the butterflies he’d taught her to capture in her palms. She had always let them go after inspecting their wings. If only she could release the painful loss with such ease. If only she could get past the equally painful memories of her mother’s constant scorn.
She reminded herself why she’d come back here—to say goodbye to her daddy. But now that she thought about it, in many ways her daddy had left her some time ago. The little girl still loved him, yet her adult heart couldn’t forget how he’d never stood up to his wife, never sided with his child even when she had been wronged. He simply remained neutral in the ongoing battle between mother and daughter.
None of that mattered now. Her father was gone, and she wasn’t little Savannah from Placid. She was grownup Savannah from Chicago. And she could face whatever she must in order to put the past to rest.
Savannah drew in a fortifying breath and slowly opened the door. As she stepped into the foyer, the steady drone of conversation filtered into the entry hall. She set her bags at the bottom of the staircase and when she walked into the living room, all talk ceased. Thankfully, the first face she saw was a welcome one.
“Savannah, my goodness.” Her mother’s sister crossed the room and touched Savannah’s cheek as if she were an ethereal presence. “Law, girl, you’re still as pretty as ever.”
Savannah drew her into a hearty hug. “It’s so good to see you, Aunt May.”
May dabbed at her misty eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “Look, Ruth, your baby girl’s come home.”
Savannah turned her attention to the woman standing near the fireplace, her frame as rigid as the floor lamp in the corner. When she locked into her mother’s stern gaze, she found no warmth in the dark brown eyes so much like her own.
“You’re late, Savannah.” Both her tone and expression indicated her displeasure.
“Yes, Mother, I’m late. But I did come home.”
“Yes, you did. This time.”
No other words passed between them. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t already been said.
A nervous cough broke through the awkward silence, switching Savannah’s focus to the place that housed her father’s favorite lounger, where her uncle Bill now stood. “You sure do look good, Savannah,” he said. “Real productive.”
Savannah smoothed the sleeves of the tailored blue suit. “Thank you, Uncle Bill. You’re looking as sharp as ever.”
He hooked his thumbs in the suspenders he’d worn for as long as she could remember. “Still have that story-book imagination, do you, gal? That’s okay.” He patted his belly. “I appreciate your kind words.”
Just as well as she knew the well-worn loomed rug beneath the coffee table, Savannah recognized that few kind words would be thrown around this evening, at least when it came to her mother.
“There’s lots of food in the kitchen, darlin’,” Aunt May said, nervously kneading the handkerchief. “The neighbors have been real nice, bringing in casseroles and desserts and I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you grab a plate and come sit so we can all catch up.”
Savannah slowly surveyed the area to see if any other visitors had crouched in the corner, hiding away from the tension that filled the room like Uncle Bill’s pipe smoke. She released the breath she’d been holding when she discovered no one else was around. “I thought maybe I’d go by the funeral home.”
“The visitation was over an hour ago,” her mother said, more disdain in her voice. “I called you and told you the time.”
Just one of her many shortcomings as far as her mother was concerned. Ruth hated tardiness as much as she hated missing her Monday night bridge game. Since it was Monday, that could account for her irritable mood. But had she ever really needed a reason?
In the interest of peace, Savannah answered, “I’m sorry. I had to take care of a few last-minute briefs and postpone two court dates before I could get on the road.” Suddenly she’d become the apologetic daughter again. Always ready to please, but never quite able to do enough. “I think I’ll grab that coffee,” she said as she dropped her purse onto the piano bench. “Can I get anyone anything?”
Her mother turned away as May raised a trembling hand to her plump neck. “No, honey, we’ve eaten enough to kill a moose. Just help yourself.”
Savannah couldn’t get away quickly enough. She’d surely suffocate if she had to stay two days, much less the planned two weeks. But she’d promised to remain for the reading of the will. Settle whatever needed to be settled, at least from a legal standpoint. She supposed her status as an attorney had as much to do with that as her role as a family member.
Traveling down the corridor past the gallery of photos hanging on the knotty pine walls, Savannah stopped at the small table in the center of the hall and ran a hand over the age-yellowed lace covering. Everything was the same, including the vine-covered vase centered below her parents’ wedding photograph. In a fit of anger, she’d broken that vase, right after her mother had insisted Savannah stop hanging out with Sam because he only wanted “one thing.” She could see the veins where it had been glued back together, still carried the scar on her knee from a cut she’d gotten while trying to pick up the pieces, remembered her mother’s disapproval. Yes, some things never changed, and apparently her mother had been right—Sam had only wanted “one thing.”
Making her way into the deserted kitchen, Savannah took the silver pot from the counter and poured a cup of coffee. She sat in one chair positioned around the small dinette, thankful for some time alone. The reality of her father’s death coupled with seeing Sam again was almost too much to handle, but she wouldn’t cry. At least not yet. Not until she was safely in bed, alone with her grief.
A few moments later, May breezed into the room carrying two empty glasses that she set in the sink before regarding Savannah. “It’s been over five years since you’ve been here, honey. You should try to get along with your mama for both hers and your daddy’s sake.”
She’d given up on that prospect in her teens, and it had been seven years, not five, since her last trip home, something she didn’t care to point out. “I know, May, but she doesn’t