Serenity Falls (31 page)

“No!
I w-would never want to h-hurt you. I love you. If you would j-just listen to
m-me—” I stammer through my sobs.

“I
don’t… I don’t want to hear it. I thought we wanted the same things.” His voice
is hoarse as he wipes away more tears that have broken through the barriers of
his long dark eyelashes.

“I
do. Just not r-right…”

“Save
it. I can’t do this. I love you, but you just broke my fucking heart. I don’t
care about your reasoning. When it comes to love, that’s one fucking emotion I
do not fuck with.” He sneers. His hands fall from his neck as he walks around
my slouched form—away from me, from us.

My
chin drops to my chest, my hair falls around me, shielding me from his hurtful
words. I try to take deep breaths as sobs consume me, but all I can do is gasp
for air as he walks away. In the distance, I hear his voice one last time.
“Goodbye, Kenleigh.”

Right
now, I know that last statement just sealed our fate, and a deep gaping hole
will be left in my heart forever.

I
don’t know how much time passes, but I know Wes left. He didn’t just leave me;
he left our memory behind too. I remember hearing the screen door to the house
slam against the wooden siding. Not long after that, I heard his truck start
and his tires squeal, taking him to where, I don’t know. I wish he would have
given me the opportunity to explain, but he didn’t, and I can’t blame him. I
shattered his heart. Now, I’m left here with a million ‘what ifs’ running
through my mind. I knew my rejection of his proposal was going to hurt him, but
didn’t he see that it hurt me, too? If I‘d had an inclination that he was going
to ask for my hand in marriage, maybe I would have thought my answer out
differently. Maybe I would have said yes. Just as the image of tears running
down his face hits me like a ton of bricks, another round of uncontrollable
sobs hits me.

Warm,
consolatory arms wrap around my shoulders as Mrs. Sandy’s scent engulfs me. “It
wasn’t supposed to end like this.” My words come out muffled as Mrs. Sandy
presses my head against her chest.

“I
know, Dear. I know,” she whispers against my hair.

“I
love him. I do. I never meant to hurt him.” Another sob breaks free, and I’m
left trembling with the fear that I will never see him again.

“Oh,
Honey, we all know that. And he loves you, too. But sometimes… Sometimes, we
have to learn what the best parts in life that we’ve been missing are. It could
be a love like you’ve never known. It may be the biggest regret you’ve ever
made. Hell, it might even be your time here on this ranch. What I’m trying to
say is… You never know what’s missing in your life until it’s gone.” My head
lifts from her chest as she cups my tear stained cheeks in her hands. Her
sapphire irises search mine. “And sometimes, we have to lose the most
important, most valuable things so we can fully appreciate what we once had.”

“I
don’t know what to do. He didn’t let me explain. He wouldn’t let me explain.”

“Listen
to me. Nobody ever said love is easy. It’s hard work. Really hard work. But if
you put in the time and the effort, love can also be the easiest thing you’ll
ever experience. I know you two love each other; even a blind fool can see
that. Have faith, Dear. Everything will work out like it’s supposed to.”

A
huge part of me knows she’s right, but there is a small part of me doubts her
words. “But what if it doesn’t?”

“Then
it was never meant to be. Only you can decide your destiny. Only you can decide
where your happiness lies. And if it’s not with my boy, then you can look back
and say you once had a summer love that most people never find, that most
people wish on shooting stars to have,” Mrs. Sandy whispers, her eyes glossy
from unshed tears. She removes her hands from my face, lifts my hands, and
while helping me stand, says, “Now come on. Let’s get you inside.” 

I let her lead me out of the barn, away from the best,
worst, and last memory of Wes.

Boxes
are scattered all over the place. Some lie sideways where I’ve tossed them on
the floor, others lay strewn about haphazardly on my desk, and a couple sit on
my bed. I can’t be here one more second. Carelessly, I throw my books, laptop,
sheets, clothes, and whatever else I have in the boxes that lay all around me.
Yesterday, I went to the admissions office and decided to take a leave of
absence. As soon as I withdrew from my courses, I started to pack. After I
spoke with Brantley yesterday morning, I knew what I had to do. I needed to
breathe again.

The
past two weeks have been hell. I thought rejecting Wes’ proposal was the right
decision. I’ve tried to call him so many times. The first time, he picked up,
and I tried to explain why I did what I did, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Now
when I call, I’m sent straight to voicemail. And now more than ever, I know I
made the biggest mistake of my life. I remember his baby blue eyes so full of
love and compassion, and the easy smile he wore. All of that was for me. When I
told him no, his beautiful, light blue eyes became empty and dark. A smile no
longer graced his handsome face. Instead, a sneer full of loathing replaced it.
I did that to him, and it haunts me every, damn night. Sometimes I wake up
sobbing and breathless with an unbearable ache stabbing me in the heart.

I
walk around like a zombie, going through the motions of day-to-day life. I
hardly eat. I barely sleep. I refuse to speak to anyone with the exception of
Brantley. I’ve talked to him a couple of times since I left Serenity Falls. He
asked how I was holding up, and I broke down completely. I told him how bad it
hurt just to breathe. That every time I thought of Wes, what I did to him, how
much I hurt him, it broke me more and more. He did his best to calm me down and
told me to take it day by day, that eventually the hurt would go away, but I
can’t help but think that maybe he’s wrong. Mrs. Sandy has called a few times,
but even those calls I’ve refused to answer. I have listened to her voicemails,
but haven’t called her back. I know it’s wrong to ignore her. She knew how
upset I was when I left, but I realize that she’s still Wes’ mom, and she’s
hurting for him, too.
Who would not hurt for their child?

With
only one thing left to put in the last box, I pick it up and drop down to sit
on the edge of my bed. It’s a picture of my parents and me. The last picture we
ever took together. We sat on the couch, watching
The Goonies,
eating
popcorn, and drinking root beer floats. With my mom on my left and my dad on my
right, we all squeezed in to get a picture. As soon as I clicked the on button
the camera, I felt both sets of lips on my cheeks. My mom had the most amazing
set of green eyes. They were as dark as just found emeralds. Her short hair was
as dark as mahogany, and her skin was this flawless, alabaster color. My dad
had a rich, deep tan from working outside, a tan that I was lucky to inherit,
dark brown hair the color of melted chocolate, always cut short, and the most
amazing, piercing, blue eyes, eyes that I swear could see through anyone’s
bullshit. My eyes close, and for just a moment, I let myself remember the day
before they died. The day we took this picture.

My
mom asked me as we sat out by the lake in our Adirondack chairs at our summer
home, “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?”
Sometimes we have discussions like this. I know my mom wouldn’t trade my dad or
me for anything, but I think that she looks back and wishes she had done more
with her life.

“Right
here, Momma,” I reply with a lazy smile.

“Out
of anywhere in the world, this is where you would choose to live?”

“Mmmhmm.
I love it here. This is home,” I answer as I look out over the placid lake.
There’s not a cloud in the sky. “Why? Do you and Dad wanna move?” I ask
skeptically.

“No.
No, we’re not moving. Sometimes your dad and I feel bad because we live in such
a small town. There aren’t a lot of opportunities for you here.” She shrugs her
shoulders as she continues. “Home is wherever you want it to be. It can be a
place where you feel safe, loved, and cherished. It’s a place that makes you
happy. Whether you decided to live here in Conroe for the rest of your life, or
move away to bigger and better things, just remember that home can be
anywhere.”

As
I gently place the picture frame in the last box, and tape it closed, I
whisper, “Momma, I found my home. Now, I just have to hope that my home will
want me back.”

My
phone rings loudly throughout the empty room. I sigh when I see Aunt Brenda’s
name flash on the caller id. I answer on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Hey,
Honey,” she chirps.

“Hi.”
I know I sound depressed, but damn it, I am, and I’m sure she can detect it in
my voice.

“What’s
wrong?” Her tone is no longer cheerful, but worried.

“Everything.
Wes and I had a huge fight, and he left,” I answer with a broken voice. Tears
begin to well up in my eyes as I lay back on my bed.

“Okay.
Start from the beginning, and tell me what’s going on?”

I
do as she asks. I cry my way through describing to her the most romantic
proposal a girl could ever ask for. I tell her about how I told him no, and how
he would not let me explain my reasons behind it. Then I explained how he left
without another word.

“But
you’re back at school, right?”

“Yeah.
I’ve been here for two weeks.”

“I
thought that was your plan all along, to return to school?”

“It
was, but not anymore. I’ve tried calling him again and again, but he doesn’t
answer. My life never felt complete until I met him, and now I feel so broken
and empty, Aunt Brenda.”

“Listen
to me. Calm down, okay? Take a couple of deep breaths and hear me out,” she
says slowly. I take a couple of deep breaths as I try to regulate my breathing.
“Are you calmed down now?”

“Yes.”

“All
right. I’m not sure if you know this or not, but your parents met and married
really young. Your mom was eighteen and right out of high school, and your dad
was a freshman in college. They met and the next thing your grandparents and I
knew, they were married. Honestly, I think they only dated for six months.” She
chuckles softly through the phone while I sit here in shock. My mom and dad
never went into details about how they met, and I never thought to ask. “Your
grandma and grandpa were furious at them, at the situation as a whole. They
told your parents they were too young to be married. But I think the real
reason they were so pissed was because your parents eloped. Your mom called me
from a payphone right before they did it. When she told me what they were doing,
I wanted to protest against it. Hell, I mean, I didn’t want to miss my only
sister’s wedding, but she didn’t let me get a word in. Your mom went on to tell
me that she and your father loved each other, and she knew your grandparents
wouldn’t approve.”

“Wow,”
I breathe out.

“You
didn’t know about any of this?”

“No,”
I answer, shaking my head even though I know she can’t see me.

“Well,
you do now. But what you need to understand is that the type of love your mom
and dad shared is the same type of love you and Wes share. It’s written on your
faces, in your body language, just like it was with your parents. If they were
alive, they would tell you to go for it. A love, the type of love you and Wes
have, isn’t something that comes around very often. If you don’t go after him,
you will always wonder, and wonder turns into regret. And Honey, life is too
short for regrets.”

She’s
right. If my parents could see how much I love Wes, and how much he loves me,
they would stand behind my choice to accept his proposal. I thought I wanted to
find Wes before, but now, the urge to find him just magnified by ten.

“So,
what are you going to do?” she asks, breaking me from my spell.

“I’m
going to go to him, and all I can hope for is that he’ll take me back. He will
take me back, right?” I ask, scared now that I think of it. What if he’s really
done with me, with us? What if I’m not wanted? What if he’s already seeing
someone else?  

“I
can’t answer that, Honey. Just remember what I said about wondering and regret.
You’ll never know unless you try.”

“Okay.
I’m gonna do it. I’m going to fight for us and see where it takes me.” I shoot
up off the bed and square my shoulders as my grip tightens on the phone.
Determination surges through me like never before.

“Good.
Now, go get your man, and I’ll talk to you soon. Be careful and know that I
love you.”

“Thank
you and I love you, too,” I reply as I hang up.

I
look around at the small room that has been my home for the last year. Now it’s
just an empty space with two beds. A part of me feels awful that I never gave
my new roommate a chance. One night, she walked in from a long night of
partying, and saw me in hysterics. She tried to help me, console me, but I
pushed her away. Jenna told me that I could tell her what was wrong, but I snapped
and told her there was nothing she could do for me, to leave it be. And she
did. After that night, she’s barely spoken a word to me. When she realized that
I was making no attempt to be her friend, or even acknowledge her, she quit
trying to reach out to me all together. I wish now that I had the opportunity
to apologize to her. I know she meant well.

With
one last glance around the room, it’s time. Time for me to go home.

Just
as I exit onto the interstate,
Run
by George Strait filters in through
my speakers, and the lyrics alone have tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I
think about the night that Wes led me into the barn. I love how he always
wanted to surprise me with something. I love how, no matter how many times I
would ask where he was taking me, he wouldn’t give in. But what he had planned
for that night, I wasn’t prepared for. Images of red and white rose petals
scattered all over the breezeway floor assault me. The soft, amber glow of
candlelight bouncing off the barn walls pulls at my heart. The smell of
honeysuckle mixing with the warm, humid, summer air invades my senses. “How did
I walk away from the best thing that has ever happened to me?” I ask quietly to
no one but myself.

My
phone rings and interrupts my thoughts. I pluck it off the passenger seat and
see Mrs. Sandy’s name flashes across the screen. In my rush to get out of San
Antonio, I didn’t think to call her to get Wes’ address. Thank God, she called
me, because if she didn’t, then I would have had to call her, and I’m still not
sure whether or not she’ll give it to me. I take a deep breath as I answer her
call. “Hello.”

“Oh
my gosh, Kenleigh. I have been so worried about you,” she says, relief that I
finally answered apparent in her voice.

“I’m
so sorry, Mrs. Sandy,” I reply softly.

“How
are you, Dear?”

“Honestly?
I’ve been better.”

“I’ve
been calling you. You’ve had me and Mr. Will so worried.”

“I
know. I’ve just needed—” The sound of a blaring horn cuts me off.

“What
was that? Where are you?”

I
answer with a sigh. “A horn. Some eighteen wheeler.” I take a deep calming
breath, not once, but twice. I do not want to tell her that the tears welling
up and clouding my vision almost caused me to slam into the side of a big rig.
So many emotions race through me as if I’m sprinting in some damn Olympic game.
Fear of not knowing if he’ll take me back, if he’ll crush me as I crushed him,
if he’ll slam the door in my face. I’d like to think that he wouldn’t do any of
those things. I’d like to say that I have hope that Wes will welcome me back
with open arms. But the realist in me isn’t so sure. I want to believe that our
love, the love he once said is what happily ever after’s were made of, can
withstand anything, but doubt holds me back. Doubt makes me want to turn around
and head back to San Antonio and just realize that I had the best summer of my
life. It makes me want to count my blessings that I had the opportunity to love
someone so much, and in turn, be loved back the same way. But I can’t turn back.
I need to know if what we shared really is real, or if it was just some summer
romance that in twenty years, I’ll look back and wonder what if. I clear my
throat before I ask, “Can you do me a favor?”