Return of the Runaway Bride Read online

  Miz Ida, as all the neighborhood children had called the spirited, energetic woman, was busy at the counter with a customer. Savanna picked up a plastic basket and began scanning the shelves of groceries.

  She put a box of tea bags in the basket and glanced toward the counter. Savanna fondly recalled Ida Watson as the town gossip, the one person who knew everything about everyone.

  Would the woman even recognize her? Savanna wondered. Or would she be forced to go through the embarrassing task of introducing herself? Don't be silly, she chided. Of course Miz Ida would remember her. Hadn't she slipped Savanna about a million cinnamon jawbreakers over the years? Besides, Savanna's mother was certain to have told Miz Ida of her daughter's impending return. And if Ida knew, then probably everyone in town knew too.

  Actually, Savanna hoped to glean from Ida some impression of how others in town would greet her. If anyone could tell her what to expect, Miz Ida could.

  Ida's gossip, so far as Savanna could remember, had never been malicious, simply matter-of-fact. And the woman's softhearted nature might compel her to keep the sticky questions concerning Savanna's past to a minimum.

  Ha, I should be so lucky, Savanna thought as she chose a quart container of skim milk and tucked it in her basket beside a small brick of cheddar cheese.

  "Savanna?" The voice behind her was uncertain.

  Startled, Savanna turned. And then she smiled.

  "Savanna Langford!" Ida threw her wiry arms around Savanna and gave her a warm hug. "It's so good to see you. You look lovely. Just lovely."

  "Well, thank you, Miz Ida," Savanna said. "You look wonderful too."

  "Fit as a fiddle, I'm happy to say." Ida's eyes glittered with pride. "I don't suffer from bursitis, arthritis or any of those old-fogey ailments. I'm so healthy, this store's been open every day but Christmas for the past twenty-three years." Ida chuckled. "Oh, I did close down one Saturday last year for Chrissy's wedding."

  "Your daughter got married?" Savanna asked.

  "Finally did it. Caught herself a pharmacist from Richmond. I hated to see her move away, but she's happy as a bear cub in a honey factory and that's all that counts." Ida took the plastic basket from Savanna, moved up the short aisle and set it on the counter. "But enough about me and mine. I want to hear all about you."

  "Well," Savanna said. "I'm back."

  "I can sure see that. I was right happy to hear that you bought the house when your parents retired south. I hated to see them go, but you know how they longed for that sunny climate." Ida shook her head. "I don't see how they stand all that heat, myself. But your mother called me last week, and she was just bubbling. Told me all about how you'd be comin' this week." Planting a fist on her hip, Ida continued, "Like I said, I'm glad you bought the house. It would have been awful to see it go to strangers."

  Savanna shoved aside the clamor of emotions that careered inside her at the thought of strangers owning her childhood home. "It's a good investment." She nodded emphatically as she said the words.

  Ida's eyebrows lifted a fraction. "An investment?"

  "Um-hmm. I plan to renovate the house and rent it out." She shrugged. "I may stay in Fulton a few weeks, a month maybe, while I do some fixing up, but then I have to go back to Baltimore."

  "Oh." Ida's voice held a note of bewilderment. After a moment of silence, she blurted, "I sure am glad you and your ma are back on speaking terms." Her voice lowered to a murmur as she said, "For a long while there, every time your name was mentioned your ma's mouth would pucker up like she was sucking a lemon."

  Savanna shrugged an admission. "Mom was pretty upset about my... leaving Fulton the way I did."

  Ida pursed her lips and whistled. "Upset is putting it mildly, honey. She was fuming. Mad as the proverbial wet hen, she was." Then her face became serious. "She finally got over it, though."

  "Yes, she finally did. I can't tell you the number of letters she returned to me unopened. Or the number of times she hung up the phone just hearing my voice on the other end."

  Ida's eyes softened. "That must have hurt, child."

  "Well," Savanna said, "she was..." Her voice trailed as she shook her head.

  "I know, angry. And embarrassed." Ida's chin dipped as she commented, "And there wasn't another person in Fulton who could hold a grudge like Margaret Langford. Remember that time when Les Richards let his pooch go doodie in your mother's flower beds? Lordy, she was fit to be tied." Ida's eyes danced at the humorous memory. "She never did speak to that man again. And she tried to douse that dog with the water hose every time he came anywhere near her yard." Ida hooted with laughter.

  "I was never allowed to play with Rags again," Savanna added. "It was awful because I loved that pup." The disconcerting memory wasn't enough to keep her from joining in with Ida's amusement.

  "Your mother was one stubborn woman," Ida commented.

  “It wasn't all her fault that it took months to straighten things out between us," Savanna had to admit. "For a while she didn't even know where I was."

  "Well," Ida said, her tone making the word light and airy, "that's certainly understandable. You needed time to sort things out for yourself."

  The empathy in Ida's eyes pulled at Savanna to elaborate. But before she could speak, warning bells jangled in her head, signals that were a reminder of Ida's gossipy nature. Savanna had come into the store seeking information about public opinion concerning herself, not to disclose some tidbit that would start stories flying like a flock of squawking crows. She was certain there would be enough of that without her help.

  When Savanna made no move to expound on the past six years, Ida started pulling groceries out of the basket and lining the items on the counter. "I guess you didn't have much time for anything else but that highfalutin job your ma told me about."

  Savanna could tell the statement was a compliment and took it as such. "Owning my own business does keep me busy," she said. "I spend a lot of time flying up and down the east coast, but I'm based in Baltimore."

  "Your ma said your job had something to do with raising money."

  Ida's statement seemed more like a question, but Savanna didn't mind. She liked nothing more than talking about her work. After all, it was the main focus in her life.

  "After college-"

  "Your ma preened like a peacock with that news," Miz Ida put in. "She went on and on about how proud she was that you worked your way through college with help from no one. And everybody with ears to hear had to listen to your daddy tell them how you finished a four-year degree in three."

  A lump rose in Savanna's throat at the thought of her mother and daddy boasting about her. She loved her parents dearly and was happy to know they were proud of her.

  They'd been hurt when she'd fled town. It had taken Savanna and her parents months to finally reconcile, and even longer to find some middle ground on which to build their new adult relationship.

  But even after six years there were certain topics of conversation that were strictly off-limits, Danny Walsh, his parents, Fulton, anything that had to do with "the big scandal" were among the subjects that were never mentioned. It was best that way. Easier for everyone concerned.

  Suddenly her chin dipped nearly to her chest as she realized how useless it was to lie to herself. She knew her parents followed the unwritten rule of silence, not because they wanted to or were comfortable with it, but because it was what was easiest for her, their only child.

  Savanna noticed the silence the same time she became aware of Ida's intent gaze. Heat flushed her face, but she ignored the embarrassment at having become lost in her thoughts, and she started her story again. "After college, I landed a job for myself raising funds for a senatorial campaign. I enjoyed myself so much, I decided to give it a try professionally." She lifted her hands, palms up. "With the senator's recommendation, things just took off. And here I am with a successful career."

  Ida looked at her a moment, then her forehead creased. "Well, if things are going so well for you i
n Baltimore, why come back to Fulton? Why buy your parents' house? Why come to such a small town, when you obviously need to be near cities and airports and such?"

  Ida's frank questions weren't new. They'd been asked by the few friends she'd made in Baltimore and by her worried clients far and wide. She'd given them all the same pat answer she now offered Miz Ida. "Well, the economy is so slow right now. The house had been on the market for weeks, and Mom and Dad really wanted to move to Georgia."

  Ida snorted indelicately. "It can take months to sell a house. Your parents knew that before they put out the for sale sign."

  "Well," she hesitated. "I could afford to buy the house and... I wanted to do something nice for my parents." Her chin set with determination as she remarked, "It is a good investment. Too good for me to pass up."

  "Good investment, my foot," Ida declared. "You'll be a good two-hour drive from your so-called 'good investment.' What if the roof springs a leak, or termites eat into the foundation? What if a bad storm blows through? Those things can wreak havoc. Why, there's dozens of problems that could crop up. What if the tenants don't pay the rent? You going to keep running down here to straighten things out?"

  "I hadn't really thought about it." The sentence came out sounding drawn out and lame even to her own ears.

  Savanna knew exactly why she'd bought her childhood home. Even though she hadn't been back to Fulton for years, she'd always felt that, with her parents living here, she still had some small thread binding her to the town. That thread had been in danger of being cut when her mother and father announced their intentions of moving to Georgia where her father had been born and raised.

  She'd fretted for weeks while the house was on the market. How could she finally make things right with everyone in Fulton if her best excuse for returning, her parents, were no longer there? She was devastated and riddled with guilt to think that she'd waited too long to right all her wrongs.

  Then the answer had dawned on her; she should solve this problem as she'd learned to solve all her problems. Head-on. She needed no manufactured excuse to return to Fulton, to make things right with her friends. The fact that she could afford to buy the house and help her parents realize their dream was simply icing on the cake.

  So, she wondered, if her intention was to face her demons, why was she hemming and hawing with Miz Ida's questions?

  Savanna leveled her gaze at the woman and said, "The truth is, I have other reasons for coming home."

  Ida simply pressed her lips together as if she were a mind reader.

  "But buying the house is a good investment," Savanna stressed.

  Miz Ida nodded. "I'm sure it is," she murmured without pausing her tally. "And it was darn nice of you to do it too."

  When the final total showed in the small window of the register, Miz Ida asked, "You want these things in a box or is a bag okay?"

  "A bag is fine," Savanna said, relieved that Ida didn't press her to explain her 'other reasons' for returning to town.

  Ida bagged the groceries in a brown paper bag. "A salesman came in here not too long ago and tried to tell me how much money I'd save by using plastic bags instead of paper." She snickered. "He hightailed it out of here right quick when I gave him a long lecture on the environmental soundness of paper versus plastic." Making a disgusted noise, she said, "Some people think that stupidity comes with wrinkles."

  "But then some people just don't think," Savanna added, chuckling.

  "You can say that again." Ida looked directly into Savanna's eyes and asked, "Have you seen Daniel Walsh?"

  The unexpected inquiry left Savanna momentarily speechless as she was stabbed with knife-sharp guilt. Daniel Walsh, Danny's father, had always treated her as if she were his daughter. His wife, Susan, had done the same. And Savanna, in turn, had loved them as if they were her own parents. She knew she should have talked to them, called them, something. But when she had first left Fulton, she hadn't been able to bring herself to contact anyone…other than the one letter she'd written to Danny, the letter he'd never bothered to answer. As the months had turned into years, Savanna had found it harder to generate the courage to get in touch. So she simply hadn't, and she'd lived for the past six years with the guilt of knowing her behavior had been inexcusable.

  But she was here to fix all that. She had every intention of visiting Daniel and Susan Walsh, every intention of apologizing for her actions of six years ago.

  Her thoughts of Daniel and Susan Walsh prompted a sudden, uninvited picture of their son. A crystal-clear image of the smile that gently curved Danny's mouth, of his dark eyes gazing at her lovingly just before she'd run away from him, their wedding, and the future they had spent so much time planning and dreaming about.

  She clamped down on the vision, shutting it from her mind.

  "No, I haven't seen him." Her tone was meek. "I just now drove into town. But I plan to." In an effort to discourage any more probing questions, Savanna asked, "How much do I owe you, Miz Ida?"

  Savanna handed a few bills across the counter and received change. As she hefted the bag on her hip, she tried to smile. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

  "You come in anytime," Ida told her. "Don't wait till you need something. Just come for a visit."

  "I will," Savanna promised.

  "Oh, wait." Ida scooped her hand into the large candy bowl on the counter. "Take some of these with you. They always were your favorite." Her lips drew into a grin. "You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

  Savanna popped a cinnamon jawbreaker into her mouth and smiled. She waved a goodbye over her shoulder and walked out into the sunshine.

  If everyone she encountered was as blunt with questions as Ida had been, Savanna mused, this visit to her hometown was going to be filled with some complicated emotions. But then she'd expected that, hadn't she? There were wrongs to right, hurt feelings to assuage. She definitely had a huge job in front of her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Turning onto Peach Tree Drive, Savanna let the memories wash over her. As a child, she'd ridden her bike on these sidewalks, first a tricycle, then a two-wheeler. She remembered the warm, carefree breezes that would tangle her hair and turn her cheeks a bright pink as she pedaled faster and faster around the block.

  Savanna sighed contentedly. Home at last.

  The thought made her sit up straight, and a frown bit deeply into her brow. What on earth had brought that idea into her head? She wasn't planning to stay in Fulton. To the contrary, she had definite plans of returning to Baltimore and the neat little studio apartment she kept there.

  As Savanna turned south onto Sycamore Lane, she marveled at the trees lining the wide street that were its namesake. Their huge, gnarled branches shrouded the asphalt with deep shadows, allowing not one shaft of sunlight to touch the pavement. She remembered these trees as being mature, she'd even climbed in them on occasion as a child. But as she ambled past them now, they didn't seem as big as the ones in her memories.

  Then she saw the house. She pulled into the driveway and sat there staring, opening the floodgates of her emotions and letting them fill her to the brim.

  The three-story, white Victorian home was by no means small, but the house in her memory had been a mansion, a fairy-tale castle where she had celebrated birthdays and Christmases, and had an incalculable number of sleep overs with hordes of giggling, squealing friends. This house was an unmistakable symbol of warmth, love, security.

  Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she inhaled slowly, deeply, and gave herself over to the tingling sensation of happy recollection that raised gooseflesh on her arms.

  She opened the car door and stepped out, surprised to discover her legs were unsteady. Clenching her fist, Savanna pressed it firmly against her stomach, trying to calm the joy, excitement, anxiety, anticipation and a thousand other feelings that churned there.

  "Home." The single word passed her lips in a breathy whisper. Tears prickled behind her eyelids, and her throat seemed to swell. Her exhalation of breath w
as ragged with tender sentiment.

  Buying this house had been the right thing to do; she knew it as surely as she knew her own name. She sniffed and fumbled in her purse for a tissue. This place meant too much to her to see it sold to strangers.

  After swiping under her eyes, she let her gaze wander. The gingerbread trim that supported the eaves, the hinged shutters that flanked the long, paned windows, the white door with its beveled glass inset.

  She saw other things as well; worn roof shingles, peeling paint on the wide front porch, overgrown shrubs, weed-infested flower beds that ran along the curving brick walkway. The house had been sitting empty since Savanna's mother and father had moved south more than six weeks ago. That last big campaign in Baltimore had kept Savanna from visiting Fulton before now. Her schedule was free and clear for at least the next four weeks.

  "One month," she murmured. From the looks of it, Savanna felt sure she would need every day if she was going to get the house in order.

  She grinned and rubbed her palms together, eager to start working. Her first act as a new homeowner was to pull up the real estate agent's sign that declared the house "SOLD" in big, bold letters. She leaned it against the cement foundation and went up the porch steps. But she reached the front door and stopped abruptly, the smile fading from her lips.

  As she let her eyes rove over the thick, wooden railing, the rattan rocking chair and the porch swing, she was overcome by nostalgia, alluring memories carrying heady, sensuous overtones. This had been the very place where she and Danny had shared so many goodbyes and good-night kisses. Savanna closed her eyes. She could almost feel Danny's fingers, soft and warm, against her cheek, could almost taste his lips on hers, could almost smell the scent of his skin, could almost see the desire in his gaze.

  Her eyes opened wide and she shoved the vivid memory from her.

  "You know better than that," she scolded herself aloud.