Trust Me (2 page)

I board the plane, and I’m ready to go. Excitement is beyond me. A change of scenery is just what I need, and I am practically bouncing in my chair in anticipation of heading to the beautiful beaches of Miami, Florida. It’s just a state away from Georgia, but it feels like I am traveling across the ocean to a secluded place where I can sit and process all my thoughts.

As I hear the flight attendant go over safety instructions in the blandest voice possible, I lay my head back and think about how my life has changed so drastically in just a year’s time. In three days, it will be a year since I received the worst news of my entire life.

Sam and I just finished our sophomore year of college.

There was an art show in town, and Sam had talked me into showcasing some of my photographs that I had taken through the years. My parents had bought my first camera for me at the age of six, and from that day forward, photography became my passion. I’d devoured any book about photography I could get my hands on, so I could learn about all aspects of it. I’d even won a few contests during my high school years. At the end of the show, a writer from a local magazine approached me to tell me he was impressed with my natural talent.

Heading home to our town of Homerville, I say to Sam for the hundredth time, “Can you believe it? They actually liked my photographs.”

“Yes, and they want to offer you an internship. I told you.” She gives my shoulder a nudge as I drive.

“I know. I know. Tell your parents that I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat. I’ll come by tomorrow. I’m too excited to tell Mom and Dad my news.” I’m bouncing in my seat with excitement.

“Will do. Mama’s gonna want to have you guys over to celebrate at some point.”

We start screaming in delight as we pull into Sam’s driveway. Looking disheveled, her parents, Dean and Chandra, run up to the car. As I roll down the passenger window, I notice the smell of freshly mowed lawns.

With Dean standing solemnly beside her, Chandra says, “Hey, girls. Can you come inside? It’s important.”

Her tone alone makes me automatically obey her request.

After we walk inside, Sam and I head straight for the couch and take a seat next to one another. Chandra sits on the other side of me. Dean sits in a chair across from me on the other side of the coffee table. Seeing Sam’s parents’ sad faces, I immediately have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

A tear slips out of Chandra’s eye, and she wipes it away before putting an arm around me. “Allison, there has been a terrible accident, and—”

I know what she is going to say
before she has a chance to finish. “No, no, no. Please no. Tell me they are okay. Please.” I plead with her as my tears start falling faster and faster.

She grabs me and hugs me against her. “Honey, there was an accident at the four-way intersection in town. The semi couldn’t stop, and it hit them.”

I just sob and sob and sob.

As Chandra and Sam sit there, hugging me, the only thing I can think about is the terrible fight I had with my mom last week. It was about me not pursuing my dreams of photography.

Life is a bitch at times.

Later, I was told my parents had never had a chance in the little car they were driving, so they hadn’t known what hit them. Every day, I pray that was the case.

If it wasn’t for Sam’s family, I don’t know what I would have done. They helped me get through everything—the funeral, the will, and the never-ending paperwork. A lot of it seems like a dream. I couldn’t be sure how much I truly functioned, but I went through the motions. Sam was there for me every step of the way. No one could ever have a truer friend.

Decisions regarding the farm had to be made quickly. Animals needed tending, fields needed plowing, and crops needed planting. Selling the farm was the second hardest thing I had ever done. The first had been burying both my parents on the same day.

Within two weeks, it felt like my whole life was completely ripped from me. My heart had been savagely torn out, and each passing week, the hole in my chest kept growing and growing. The pain never ceased.

I became a recluse. I stopped seeing all my friends, and I spent all my energy just getting through the day. Eventually, my friends stopped calling me, and as horrible as it seemed, I was relieved. Sam never gave up on me though. She kept after me and kept after me and kept after me. If it wasn’t for Sam’s persistence, I don’t know where I would be now. This last Christmas, I slowly started to go out to social events. I mainly went to give Sam her social time since she refused to leave me by myself.

My hermit status was one of the main reasons she objected so much to this solo trip, but what she didn’t know was that I had knowingly picked a time when she couldn’t come.

I open my eyes when the plane wheels squeak as we land. This moment feels right, and I know I have done the perfect thing by coming here alone. I was so persistent with Sam about going on this trip because something kept telling me that I had to go find myself.

I’m hoping to clear out all the old cobwebs from the past year. My fear of not letting anyone in because I’m absolutely terrified of losing someone again will hopefully be a thing of the past. Even though I’m frightened, I pray that I have the courage to put myself out there again.

My taxi pulls up to the hotel in the early evening.
Oh, I am in heaven.
Walking up the long blue welcoming carpet into the hotel, I am greeted by shades of golds and blues. Along the perimeter, the floor has an intricate gold swirl design outlined with blue. Tropical plants are strategically placed to further give that paradise feel. The hotel is fairly empty for a Saturday.

The woman at the front desk with a double French twist updo is impeccably dressed in her light blue suit accented in gold. “Hello, and welcome to the Miami Beach Resort. How may I help you?” she asks in her perfected business manner.

“I’m checking in. The reservation is under Allison Scott.” I hand her my credit card. I’m ready to see my room and relax.

“Thank you. We have your reservation for four nights, five days in an oceanfront room. You are in room 717. Here’s your room key. Elevators are down the hall and on the right. Do you need any help with your bags?” Her smile is small as she waits for my response.

As I take the room key off the counter, I respond, “No, thank you.”

“Please enjoy your stay with us and let us know if you need anything else.”

After grabbing my suitcase, I head anxiously to my room.

The sound of the hotel key card opening the door is music to my ears. Taking a deep breath, I cross over the threshold. As the door closes, I take a cleansing sigh of relief and look around with a smile. The royal blue curtain valances remind me of the ocean, the yellow walls make me feel warm, and the taupe furniture and bedding provide me with a peaceful ambience. Immediately, the tension begins to ease out of me while I’m surrounded in this sea of tranquil colors.

Approaching the balcony, I cast my eyes out to the aqua sea.
Breakfast out here tomorrow and each morning after will be a must.

Remembering my promise to Sam, I grab my phone and head out to a chair on the balcony to email her.
If I text her, we will never stop going back and forth.

I giggle as I turn off my phone. She’s going to kill me for that last line when she finds out I was screwing with her. She’s constantly trying to set me up with some of her guy friends. Brad, in particular, has been the most tenacious in asking. He probably just feels sorry for me since I never go out. However, he does nothing for me. He never has.

I want that inexplicable connection I’ve read about—the feeling that consumes my heart, searing the love in forever. Anything less just seems like a waste since I would be giving a piece of myself to someone forever.

I decide to call it a night, and I settle into my room. The crashing waves against the beach lull me into a peaceful deep sleep.

Squinting from the early morning light coming through my balcony doors, I throw off the covers, ready to embark on my day.

As I sit on the balcony, letting the sun penetrate my pores, I think about one of the last meaningful conversations my mom and I had when I was at home during spring break of my sophomore year. That was the last time I saw my parents before their accident.

In our small farmhouse kitchen, my mom and I are making breakfast before my dad comes in from his early morning chores. The smell of eggs and bacon cooking on the stove fill the house. I look at my mom wearing a blue plaid apron as she walks around the kitchen, and I think about how much I treasure these moments because it’s when we truly talk.

“Mom, do you think it’s weird that I haven’t really started dating yet? I keep thinking there’s something wrong with me.”

She opens the oven and checks on the biscuits. “Sweetie, nothing is wrong with you. You’re like me. I never dated anyone prior to your dad.”

“How will I know when I’ve found the one?” I come up beside her as I get glasses out of the cabinet.

She pulls the food off the stove, and then she turns to me, giving me her full attention. She does this when she wants to tell me something important. “How do you know when the peaches from the tree out back are ready to be eaten?”

My brows scrunch together.
What in the world do peaches have to do with anything?
“Um…the color, smell, feel…and the stem gets a little loose, making it easy to pull it from the tree. I don’t know. I just know when it’s right.”

“Same thing will happen when you meet the right one. Your instincts will take over, and you’ll know. Just follow your heart, sweetie. It’ll never lead you astray. You just haven’t found the one yet. Be patient.” She gives me a hug just as my dad walks in from outside.

Those morning chats are now so precious to me.

After finishing breakfast, I go to change into an ivory one-piece swimsuit with a matching sarong wrap trimmed in black. Looking in the mirror, I critique my appearance. I am average-looking with blue-green eyes, slightly tanned skin, and dirty-blonde hair that reaches the middle of my back. At five foot six inches, I’m neither tall nor short, and from my days on the farm, I suppose I am toned. I put my hair up into a French twist, grab my things, and then head downstairs for some pre-lunch sun-soaking.

The large rectangular pool is surrounded by blue-and-white mesh lounge chairs with matching umbrellas. I walk over to some empty lounge chairs sitting next to a few palm trees in the corner, and I settle in. I crack open my latest mystery novel, and I begin to get lost in the book. Every once in a while, I get a whiff of someone’s suntan oil, giving off that perfect beach aroma. The warmth from the sun causes my eyes to close slowly.

Screech.

I stir.

Screech.

Metal being dragged across the concrete is making an awful racket, like nails scratching on a chalkboard. I look over to see who in the world is creating that noise, and I see a guy pulling over a chair, making himself at home right next to me.
Damn, I wish he had picked one of the other many chairs available.
I notice he has a nice toned body. Sam would push me to talk to him, but it’s the same as always. Something is just lacking.