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  I nod, knowing she’s right. I need to let people grieve before I can really move on.

  “She wasn’t a bad person, remember,” Mom reminds.

  “I know,” I sigh. “We moved passed that the last few months. We just wanted different things and came to terms with it.”

  “No,” Mom corrects. “You both wanted the same things…you just wanted them with someone else…someone you let go of and someone she didn’t want to put through all of this.”

  “No,” I lie.

  “You can’t fool your mother,” she says with a smug grin. “I know that you’ve regretted letting Ivy go since the first time she went to New York for school. I saw it again on your face the day you married Julianna.”

  “Mom,” I sigh. “Please…don’t.”

  “I won’t say anything else,” she confirms. “Not right now and especially not in front of the Summerlins. But, you need to help them grieve for their daughter…their only child…for the next few weeks. Then, after that, you can be as selfish as you want.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  “Do you think she’ll come back to pay her respects?” Mom suddenly asks.

  “Who? Ivy?” I check.

  Mom smiles. “Yes, Ivy.”

  “I doubt it,” I reply. “I haven’t seen her since before the wedding.”

  “I know her parents raised her right,” Mom says. “Despite what some of the town folk say about anyone who isn’t a pure breed.”

  “We’re not pure breeds either,” I remind.

  “I know,” Mom returns. “But regardless, she loved you once…perhaps she still does in one fashion or another. I’m sure she’ll come.”

  I don’t comment, not sure of what to say to my mother who’s practically giving me permission, not that I need it, to try and salvage things with the woman I’ve loved since high school. It’s weird to hear my mother say all of this. We’ve never really openly talked about much, especially love. Actually, she talked while dad, my brother, and I just hummed and nodded as if we were listening. The men in my family don’t talk. We never really have which is why Ivy and I didn’t work out and why Julianna and I had so many problems as a couple.

  “Just remember,” Mom says, bringing me back to reality. “Grieving for a few months…after that, you can do as you please.”

  “Why a few months?” I ask.

  “The Bible only gives people three days, most do more, and most will expect more, even from a man who never really loved his wife,” she explains. “A few months is the perfect amount of time for things to naturally occur between you and Ivy…that is, if you still have a chance.”

  “I doubt there’s a chance,” I sigh.

  “You never know,” Mom returns with an encouraging smile.

  “I don’t know how I’ll react if I see her,” I admit.

  ‘I’m sure I can guess a few options,” Mom shares with a smile. “And, I know that none of them will be anger.” Mom looks to her right and notices the cot in the corner. “How long has that been out here?”

  “For a while,” I reveal.

  Mom nods but doesn’t comment. She looks around the barn a little more, inspecting it as she always does whenever she’s over. “Do you need anything?” she inquires.

  “Just for a few months to pass quickly,” I joke lightly.

  “Will you go after her?” Mom asks. “You know…try to find her regardless if she comes back or not for the funeral.”

  I shrug, not wanting to admit the truth to my mother or out loud for anyone, even myself, to hear. I need to be smart these next couple of months. I need to also grow a set of fucking balls and do the things that I was once too chicken shit to do.

  “Well, I’ll let you be,” Mom states. “I’ll go over what you have with the Summerlins to make them feel better and once they head home, your father and I will take you out to eat.”

  “I’m fine eating here,” I say, brushing off her offer.

  “A small mini refrigerator chocked full of beer is not a hearty dinner for my boy to have,” Mom directs. “We’ll be back around six with your brother to pick you and take you to get something to eat. I expect you to be dressed.”

  “Mom,” I huff.

  “Don’t argue with me,” Mom corrects.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I return, knowing that arguing with my mother is pointless.

  She nods and leaves the barn without another word.

  3 Ivy

  “Yes, Momma. I’m on the plane,” I confirm as I try to carry my bag through the aisle while also holding onto my phone between my shoulder and ear. My other hand has my purse and jacket which makes it challenging to talk at the moment.

  “You sure?” she checks.

  “Ouch,” the stranger in front of me says when I collide into her.

  “Sorry,” I apologize while trying to back up a little. “Momma, hold on.”

  A man about my age offers to assist me with my bag to get it in the compartment above my seat. He flashes a sexy, flirtatious smile, but I don’t bother to flirt back.

  “Thank you,” I say, offering some bit of attention for his attempts. Once I get into the window seat in first class, I return my phone to my ear. “Momma, you still there?” I check.

  “Still here,” she confirms. “What was all of that commotion?”

  “Me, getting on the plane like I said I am,” I remind, placing my purse under the seat in front of me.

  “Tell me again why you aren’t bringing my grandbaby with you?” she pushes.

  “Momma, I don’t have time to go over this with you again. Besides, I need to call Cece to make sure they’re good. I’ve never been away from him like this before,” I state, feeling myself starting to panic at the realization that I’ve never been more than twenty-four hours away from my son.

  “Go call Cece,” Momma directs. “Your father and I will be at the airport waiting for you.”

  “Please don’t make a spectacle,” I beg, lowering my head to my hand.

  “Why would we make a spectacle? Since when have we ever made a spectacle?” Momma goads.

  “Every single time you come up to visit,” I recollect.

  “That’s only because you haven’t come back to see us for just over three years,” Momma recounts. “Forcing your elderly parents to have to be patted down by the evil TSA and fly possibly to our deaths.”

  “You’re safer in a plane than a car,” I state, unamused by her melodramatic performance.

  “Oh, yeah…right,” Momma giggles. “Okay, go call your boy and we’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, Momma,” I say. “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” she returns before hanging up.

  I text Cece, knowing that if I get her on the phone we won’t stop talking and that there’s a really good chance that I will get off the plane willingly to keep talking and never make it down to Georgia. It takes Cece only about a minute to reply back that they’re doing fine and that my son has already forgotten all about me. Before I get a chance to complain, she says she’s just kidding, followed by a kissy-face emoji and then sends a picture of her and my little man smiling. I write that I’ll call as soon as I land and that I’ll talk to him tonight before bed.

  Despite the fact that I’ve flown in the past, this time is the hardest since I have to leave my two and a half-year-old son behind. It’s for the best in many ways to protect him from all of the drama in my tiny hometown. It’s not the best for me since he’s my rock out of everything that is my life, even more so than my supportive family. He’s what’s kept me sane since leaving Blackburn.

  I’m able to take a small nap on the plane which makes the just over two-hour trip more bearable. I check some work emails, and then while I have a small snack, I look at photos of my son on my phone. He’s the best thing that has happened to me out of all of the craziness that is my life.

  Getting out of Georgia with a full scholarship for business and marketing is on the list of great things that have happened to me, but de
ciding to go also lead to many interesting life decisions to get me where I am today. There are a few decisions I regret, but having my son is not one of them.

  I always felt stifled in our little hometown and desperately wanted to get out and travel the world, wanting a job that allowed me to do so. I jumped at the first chance that gave me the opportunity—a full ride to a New York State college. I think it was the start to how I lost Henry. In fact, I know it.

  Henry and I were two peas in a pod since kindergarten. Our schools have always been small, with a town population of just barely eight hundred, and with us being only two of a class of twenty all through our primary and secondary schooling in Georgia, I guess it was only natural for us to be drawn together. As we got older, we knew why most of the other kids treated us differently. We weren’t pure breed like the rest of them. Henry and I were different enough with our Cherokee side and it was always more prominent in the summers with how we tanned.

  There were a few other kids in our town who weren’t pure breeds either. Henry’s older brother Davis and my younger brother Grady were two of them. Tyrell and his brother Vernon, who were predominantly darker skinned, were the other two until we hit high school. By then, more non-pure breeds had been moving into the neighborhood which excited us minorities and did the exact opposite for the rest. The town quickly became a melting pot of races; whites, blacks, Hispanics, as well as those of us with Cherokee blood running through our veins.

  I remember how Henry and I were inseparable when we were little. His brother, Davis, was responsible for watching us when we left the houses while my little brother, Grady, always tagged along. I loved my little brother, but he did have a tendency to be bratty from time to time. I especially remember one day because that was when we were ten and playing tag late at night.

  When Henry was coming after me, I shouted, “Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me.”

  That’s exactly what he did. He kissed me.

  It wasn’t the response I expected. I don’t think it was a response any ten-year-old girl would expect from her best friend.

  We never spoke of it and I didn’t think anything of it.

  It wasn’t until when we were older when I remembered the first time our lips connected because it felt completely different when Henry kissed me the second time when we were sixteen. I didn’t know it was going to happen and I’ve never been the same since.

  “Race you to the water,” shouted Tyrell as soon as soon as his feet hit the pavement of the parking lot where Davis always parked at the lake.

  “Keep an eye out for animals,” Davis warned as he locked up the front of his truck while the rest of us leaped out of the back and grabbed the cooler and bags.

  “I got it,” Henry offered, taking my bag from me and slinging it over his shoulder before I got the chance to object.

  “What am I supposed to carry?” I asked, feeling awkward suddenly.

  “Just walk with me and let the rest of them race,” Henry suggested as he picked up the cooler.

  “You got it?” Davis checked.

  “Yep,” Henry confirmed.

  “I’ll go ahead a make sure they don’t get attacked or do anything stupid then,” David offered. “You two good?”

  “Yep,” Henry confirmed.

  “Okay,” Davis returned though he was eyeing the two of us. “Want to come with me, Ivy?”

  “Nah,” I refused politely. “Someone’s got to make sure Henry doesn’t eat all the food before we get to the lake.”

  Davis nodded and then jogged off down the path.

  “He likes you, you know,” Henry blurted when we made it to the top of the path.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “As a friend.”

  “No,” Henry chuckled oddly. “He likes you more than a friend.”

  “You’re full of it,” I accused, suddenly feeling really nervous by the idea and how I’m supposed to act around him from now on.

  “Am not,” Henry defended.

  “I’m sixteen and a barely a woman,” I stated. “Besides, there are prettier girls in school than me.”

  “Like who?” Henry gasped.

  “Like Julianna,” I remarked.

  “She’s pretty,” Henry confirmed.

  “See,” I pointed out, not surprised by him agreeing.

  Most of the boys in school thought she was pretty. There were even rumors of some of them getting to a few bases with her too. I didn’t know what that exactly meant, not until momma filled me in on the details when I had repeated something to her one day about what the boys had said about Julianna. I tried not to judge Julianna after momma explained, but I never did hear it from her whether or not the rumors were true. She and I were friends, to some extent, but not good enough friends that I felt comfortable questioning her.

  “But, you’re prettier,” Henry added.

  “What?” I asked, suddenly more nervous by our conversation.

  Henry turned and walked toward me. “You have a better personality,” he mentioned. “And, you’re still prettier…inside and out.”

  I felt my cheeks flush and I was suddenly unsure of what to say or how to act. “Stop messing with me,” I declared, punching his shoulder. “You know I don’t like it when anyone teases me.”

  “I’m not teasing you,” he replied.

  “Yes, you are,” I corrected, getting angry. “You know what happens to Grady when he teases me.”

  “He gets the shit kicked out of him along with anyone else who does,” Henry laughed. “And, they deserved it every time.”

  “Damn straight,” I stated proudly. “So, if you don’t want the shit kicked out of you, you better stop teasing me.”

  “You’re still pretty even when you threaten me,” Henry laughed, placing the cooler and my bag down on the ground.

  “This is your last warning, Henry Lee Rein,” I cautioned.

  “Or what?” he goaded.

  The heat in my cheeks alter from embarrassment to irritation and I lunged at him. For as skilled as I was with taking down my little brother to the ground into a hold to cause him to beg to be released, or beating down any of the boys from town who tried to mess with me, Henry put up a better fight. Maybe, I also didn’t push as hard either, but I’m not quite sure. I can’t remember. However, somehow Henry ended up tripping me and he landed on top of me with my back to the ground.

  “Stop teasing me, Henry,” I warned, desperately trying to break free from his hold.

  “I would if I was teasing you,” Henry claimed.

  Before I got the chance to say anything else, Henry’s lips were pressed against mine. They were soft and the emotions and sensations that flooded my body surprised me. Henry released my mouth and stared at me for several long seconds. My chest heaved and the heat in my cheeks turned into something I’ve never felt before.

  Henry hesitated, but only for a brief second before his mouth returned to mine. That time, my eyes closed and I willingly kissed him back. Right as his tongue was slipping into my mouth a second time, Henry jolted up to his feet.

  “Everything okay?” Davis’ voice called out suddenly.

  “Yeah,” Henry claimed. Henry took my hand and pulled me to a standing position.

  My eyes scanned for Davis as my hands frantically wiped the dirt off my body.

  “Ivy just tripped,” Henry lied as Davis appeared from around the bend.

  “You okay?” Davis asked sweetly, rushing toward me.

  “Yep,” I confirmed, brushing myself off more. “I just wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  Davis looked back and forth between Henry and me. “Here,” he said, offering me his arm. “I’ll help you the rest of the way.”

  “I’m good,” I replied, preferring to walk with Henry.

  “I’d rather make sure you don’t fall again,” Davis proclaimed. “I don’t want your parents getting mad at me or anything.”

  I looked to Henry for a second. “Sure,” I replied hesitantly, unable to find an appropriate exc
use to decline politely.

  Davis took my arm and started to lead me slowly down the path. I gazed back at Henry, unsure of what to make of what just happened and if I should be letting Davis assist me. Henry offered a smile, but there was something in his gaze I couldn’t make out. It took only a few weeks after that incident for me to realize that there was a little bit of jealousy and anger in Henry’s eyes.

  “Ma’am,” an unfamiliar voice calls, pulling me back to the present.

  “Hum?” I reply, unsure if it was meant for me.

  “Ma’am, your tray table needs to go back up. The pilot is getting ready to land the plane,” she states with a sweet smile.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say as my hands rush to give her my now empty glass. “Sorry.”

  “No worries,” she says before slipping behind me to check on another passenger.

  A chill runs down my spine and I find myself with an uncontrollable, giddy smile on my face. I can only imagine how pathetic I may have looked to the flight attendant.

  If my emotions for Henry are this strong, I’ll need to keep myself in check when we finally come face to face. I can’t make myself look like a fool to a grieving widower, to his family, or anyone who will be around.

  The smile on my face falters and the joy turns to darkness. What if Henry doesn’t want to see me? What if there isn’t a second chance for us? I think I’ve made a mistake and need to get off of the plane and get back to New York as soon as possible.

  4 Henry

  “Julianna would have liked you to wear this suit,” Mrs. Summerlin states, walking down the stairs with something in her hands.

  I’ve been standing in the foyer with my family, waiting for her and her husband to come downstairs so we can leave. The woman has been in the house for twenty minutes doing God only knows what.

  “I’m wearing this one,” I reply calmly despite the fact that I’m irritated at how my dead wife’s mother is still trying to control me which all started when we got engaged.

  “I think he looks good in this one,” my mother states, tapping my chest. “The only difference is the pin-striping in that one.”