Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) (6 page)

I catch
myself holding my breath as we walk through the front door. It took nearly an
hour to make it through the mourners on just the porch. Using my bag as a
protective shield to keep the condoling guests at arm length, I’ve been able to
control my anxiety of their nearness. It’s all so overwhelming. I step over the
threshold and the first thing I notice is that the interior has been updated
with paint and the wood floors have a freshly polished gleam. My eyes take all
this in before I spot my mother in the den. She is surrounded by a group of
ladies doting over her. As soon as her eyes make contact with my own, a steady
stream of tears rushes down her face. She is heartbroken, and all at once, I’m
heartbroken for her. I want to run over and throw my arms around her and make
our relationship right and be the daughter she needs me to be.

The moment
is lost with the first slash of her sharp tongue. Who was I kidding? Some
things never, and I mean NEVER change.

“What took
you so long? I’ve needed you here!” Jean snaps out so bitterly that I can
almost taste bile. A room full of disappointing eyes finds me embarrassed.

“I… I um,
got here as fast as I could. Sorry,” I mumble while I study my shoes.

“Humph.”

My defenses
kick in, forcing my head back up, and I smart off in true Savannah fashion.
“Well, where’s your famous Julia Rose? Why isn’t she here to hold your hand?”

Jean turns
a violent shade of red. Good. I want her embarrassed too. Might as well not
have to be alone in this, right? I feel the warmth of embarrassment not only in
my cheeks but all over.

“You know
as well as I do, her busy career is not easy to get away from. Maybe you don’t
understand since you do nothing for a living.” She crosses her arms as we
square off. I stand there clutching my overnight bag as though it’s my security
blanket. “She’s trying her best to get here. You have no excuse.”

I don’t
waste anyone’s time with a reply. I turn and walk through the crowd and head
upstairs to my abandoned room. As I open the door and glance around at a room
that looks exactly as I had left it, I am overwhelmed and then pushed to my
knees with times past.

Still
clinging onto my bag for dear life, I feel the tingling begin in my fingertips
and then sneak up my arms in piercing stings. Before I can focus on an escape,
I am paralyzed. This one has hit me hard. My eyes lose focus, blurring the
room, and my heart rate is skipping around. Breathing is labored as though my
lungs have rebelled against me. I have lost this battle, and the demons push me
way under. As I tilt forward, the wood floor rushes towards me before all goes
black.

Chapter Seven

The summer was brutally hot, and I felt
sweat trickling down my back. It’s the kind of humid heat that pushes against
you—thick and uncomfortably. Wiping my damp forehead, I watched my dad pack
suitcases in the car. Jean was on her way to another vacation—a week in Hawaii,
and this time she so graciously invited our dad. This was a first, and
surprisingly, my dad agreed to go.

“Can I
please stay with my friend Chrissy? Please Daddy. Her mom said it was okay.” My
whiny pitch begged out to him to agree.

“Sweetheart,
you know your mother already said no. She wants you here with Julia Rose,” Dad
said as he closed the trunk with a good thud. He patted me on the shoulder as
to say sorry, but that made me even madder. I turned my attention to Jean as
she sauntered down the steps in a new sundress that looked all fresh and
tropical.

“You always
get a break and I’m sick of never getting one!” I kicked at a nearby bush for
good measure and shot daggers in her direction with my scornful glare.

“You are
just a child,” Jean hissed. “You haven’t earned a break yet!” With that, my dad
loaded her up in the car and set out to the airport.

A week
stuck with Evan made me nauseous. Something bad was going to happen. I just
knew it. My eleventh birthday was a few months back and Julia had turned
fifteen just before school let out for summer break. My dad finally agreed to
let us start staying alone in the afternoons. We hadn’t seen Evan for nearly
two months and it was wonderful. However, Dad drew the line about us staying
overnight alone, so Jean talked him into letting Evan stay with us.

The week
passed with John Paul and Bradley coming and going as they pleased, with us
girls having to stay put and do chores. I began viewing Evan as a chore too.
The wandering hands and kisses were tiring to dodge. I set out to not wash the
entire week, but Evan always called me out on it in front of the boys and would
embarrass me into washing. I refused deodorant, though. My hope was to repel
him, but he seemed to take it as an inviting challenge instead.

I got fed
up pretty quickly and headed out to work at the market or restaurant each day
without permission. I knew Dad would find out when he returned, but I would
gladly take the consequences. I wasn’t sitting around that house, like some
open target for whatever that sick man decided he wanted to do to me next. I
remember sitting in the kitchen with Miss May while she worked that first
afternoon. I had already washed up some dishes for her and was waiting for another
task to be ordered.

“Child, why
you rather work here all day instead of enjoying yo’ summer break like the rest
of them young’uns?” She looked up at me and waited for an answer.

I fidgeted
while deciding how to answer her. She tapped the table in front of me with her
knobby knuckles to summon an answer I really wasn’t too keen on giving. I let
out a huff. “I hate him, and I don’t want to be around him.”

“Who?” she
asked.

I met her
gaze. “Evan! I hate him!”

“That’s a
strong word, girl. I don’t take too kindly to lettin’ it be said so easily.”

“Well, it’s
the truth,” I said, screeching out each word.

“Why you
hate him?” she nearly whispered, trying to get me to calm down.

“I ain’t
telling you, so don’t ask!” I snapped at her.

She stood
there eyeing me quietly for a spell, and I could see her resolving some things.
I just weren’t so sure on what she was resolving. She eventually nodded her
head once as though her decision on the matter was made.

“Get me a
box of pudding from the pantry and a small bunch of bananas,” Miss May ordered.
I did as she asked but wasn’t too thrilled with it. She knew that each one of
us young’uns hated a banana. It was the one thing I think we all agreed to
never eat. I personally couldn’t get over the mushy texture and always ended up
gagging.

I handed
her the pudding and watched as she combined it together with a white powder and
milk. “What are you doing, Miss May?” I asked confused. I had never seen her
make this particular dessert.

“I’m making
Evan a treat,” she answered as she began slicing the gross bananas into the
pudding mixture.

“Why?” I
gagged at the gross, sickly sweet scent of the fruit. I took a few steps away
from the table and covered my nose.

“Cause you
done ‘n acted rude and I ain’t standin’ for it.” She cut me a look. It was as
though she was trying to get me riled up with her for some reason—and she knew
it didn’t take much to rile me up. “You gonna give it to him with no lip.”

I crossed
my arms and huffed out, “Well, I ain’t giving that devil a treat. You can forget
it!”

“If you
don’t give it to him and apologize for your mean self, then I’m gonna take to
beatin’ you like yo’ daddy never has.” She crushed some vanilla wafers on top
and placed a lid on the plastic container. As she handed it over to me, Miss
May instructed, “Now get yo’ white butt out my kitchen and don’t come back ‘til
you deliver this.”

I snatched
it out of her hand and stomped out the door. I eventually made it home with the
vile dessert. I may have stopped along the way to spit in it… I stormed into
the house, slung it on a shelf in the fridge, and slammed the door shut with a
satisfying bang. Evan and the boys were at the kitchen table, looking at some
surf magazine. My beating and a banging drew their attention. I whipped around
to leave and found them all eyeing me curiously.

“What’s
that in the container, Savannah?” John Paul asked.

“Nasty
banana pudding,” I grumbled. The boys grumbled their own disapproval for the
gross treat as well.

“Why the
crap you bring junk like that home?” John Paul complained.

“I can’t
believe you would even bring that mess in this house,” Bradley commented with a
wrinkled up nose. We Thortons are something serious over our distaste for
bananas.

“Miss May
made
me,” I muttered.

Evan hopped
up from the table in excitement. “I love banana pudding.” He beamed in delight.
With that declaration, he grabbed a large spoon from the drawer and retrieved
the dessert from the fridge. He sat back down and tore into the pudding like he
hadn’t eaten in days. Me and the boys started gagging from the awful odor and
made quick exits—them slamming the back door with their hasty getaway and me
running upstairs. I was still mad at Miss May, so I decided to hide out in the
attic for the rest of the afternoon instead of going back to her. It was
stifling hot up there, but it was a sure guarantee no one would look for me
there—one person in particular. A sweat-drenched afternoon sounded heavenly
compared to the alternative.

Later that
night, I heard a very sick Evan in the bathroom across the hall from my room
moaning in pain. He whined about it being the worst stomach pains he had ever
had. His
stomach virus
lasted only
until the next day, but he was too weak to bother me or Julia for another day
after that. I was thankful it allowed me a brief reprieve from him—thanks to
Miss May and her mystery ingredients. Needless to say, the leftover banana
pudding made its way into the trashcan without Evan indulging in it anymore. I
think he knew what she did. There was no love lost between the two of them.

When
Thursday rolled around, the boys boomed with excitement. They had been invited
on a three-day camping trip with the Cox family down the street. The Coxes
acted like they enjoyed spending time together and doing the whole vacation
thing as a family. The boys always got invited. I never did. I think it’s
because they only had boys, but I still would have liked to have gone.

Panicked
with being left alone, I begged the boys fruitlessly not to go up until the
very minute they left me.

“Please don’t
go.”

“No way!
This is going to be a blast!” John Paul replied when I begged.

I crossed
my arms over my bowed out chest and glared at him as he gathered camping
supplies from the garage. “Then I’m going to tell Daddy and Jean on you. They
said no leaving the house overnight!”

“Don’t be a
brat about it, Savannah,” he said as he threw a flashlight into his duffle bag.
Bradley was cramming one in his too, but he gave no commentary.

“It’s fine.
I gave them permission.” Evan’s voice came from behind me and made me jump. I
spun around and gave him the stink eye, but it only made him chuckle. He
wandered back into the house as the boys kept packing all kinds of junk. I
watched him until the door closed. I would have brought him another Miss May
dessert, but I don’t think I could have gotten him to eat it.

I
eventually stormed over to the sidewalk’s edge and slung myself down on the
curb. Every so often, I would huff as loudly as I could to let them know I was
still there and still not happy. Bradley would give pause to eye me, but John
Paul just ignored me completely. They passed me as they began their trek to the
neighbor’s house with their camping gear in tow. They were too excited to wait
to be picked up and decided to head over and help with loading up. They looked
like twins almost, in cutoff camouflage pants with all sorts of pockets, black
T-shirts, and tattered Chuck Taylors. Both boys had a head full of long, wavy
hair, just in different hues. They did everything together. You never saw one
without the other. It made me even more jealous that they were so close. I
wanted that with Julia, but our relationship had shifted away from each other
over the last year. I felt lonely all the time.

Bradley
hesitated beside me. “You okay?” he asked with concern in his green eyes.

“Please
don’t go.” I begged. “Please don’t leave us alone with him.”

“Stop being
a brat,” John Paul said again over his shoulder.

“I’m not
being a brat, you jerk!” I hollered back.

Bradley
slightly nudged me with his shoe. “Sorry, Savannah. It’s just… Well, we really
want to go camping so bad is all.”

“Stop
messin’ it up for us,” John Paul said as he continued walking.

“It’s just
three days. I promise to take you fishing when we get back, okay?”

 
Bradley waited for my reply, but I didn’t give
him one. I just sat there, staring down at my scuffed-up Converse sneakers.
They used to be John Paul’s until he outgrew them, and I took them as my own.
Boys’ clothes seemed so much more practical and comfortable than girls’
clothing, so I mostly wore his outgrown clothes. Jean hated this.

“Savannah?”
Bradley tried again, but I continued to ignore him. So with a shrug of his
shoulders, he followed behind John Paul.

I sat out
there willing the boys to return with all my might. By the time the sky
darkened completely, I gave up the hope. I had stayed firmly planted to that
sidewalk for hours and needed to pee something fierce, so I reluctantly went
inside.

I sensed
that it was bad before witnessing anything as I crept into the dark house.
Tiffany was singing about her thinking we’re alone now from the living room’s
stereo, and Evan was laughing in the kitchen. I rounded the corner and spotted
Julia sitting at the table in just her panties and bra, causing the hairs to
rise on my neck.
Bad…This is bad…

I oddly
remember her bra was the same baby pink bra I had just gotten for my birthday.
I was wearing mine, coincidentally. I remember it being itchy and damp from
sweat. Bra wearing was new to me, and I already hated it with a vengeance.

“Now the
party can begin,” Evan said as he walked around the counter towards me,
startling me again. He was only wearing a pair of shorts. His bronze chest was
striking, and my focus was glued there on its own accord. “You enjoying the
view, little miss?” He laughed with too much self-assuredness. Punching the
cocky son of a gun in the gut is what I really wanted to do in that moment. I
was trembling in anger. I felt caught in his snare, and I knew he had won. And
boy did that tick me off something fierce. Yet, I stood there froze in fear.

I looked
over to give Julia a questioning look, but she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Something
was wrong, besides the fact she was nearly naked. I looked back to Evan as he
eased closer to me like an animal stalking his prey. He had a half-emptied liquor
bottle in one hand and was rubbing his chest with the other hand.

“It’s time
for a toast, my beauties.” His words came out in a slur. “Pick up your glass,
my sweet Rose.” He nodded his head towards the glass that I had not noticed
sitting on the table before her. It was filled with the amber liquid. She
hesitantly picked it up, but paused. He made a tilting motion towards his mouth
with his empty hand, and she mimicked him with taking a sip. Her eyes seemed to
tear up and she shuttered a bit as she swallowed.

“That’s my
girl,” he crooned. He eased uncomfortably close to me and draped his arm around
my waist. “Oh ladies. We are going to have such fun tonight,” he whispered
against my neck. He then moved to stand in front of me, and held my cheek as
his glassy eyes studied me. “Now it’s Miss Firecracker’s turn.” The words came
out like an order as he held the bottle to my mouth.