Chapter Thirteen #2
I want to laugh at the hypocrisy, but I don’t.
Because Mom only tried to control my life when I was still trying to figure out what happened to it.
It dawns on me that she was simply a terrified mother unsure of what was going on.
Just as I was attempting to figure things out, too.
She wanted to protect me, and while I still don’t like how she went about it, I think I understand.
But all this time… I’ve thought she was ready to push me out of the house and hitch me to the first man she saw.
But no. That was a false reality I concocted in my head.
A motive I assigned to her without questioning it.
The tears push their way out as I stand and hug Mom. “I’m so sorry for worrying y’all over the past week. I just needed space.”
“We know, sweetie.” Mom silently cries onto my shoulder. “But did you really think I wanted to marry you off quickly in the name of stability?”
I nod, sniffling.
Mom whispers against my ear as she hugs me close.
“Sweetie, I need you to know that I want you to have a marriage full of love and romance and friendship, just like I have with your father. Stability is important, but who you marry is the most important decision you can make outside of giving your life to the Lord. When the Lord brings that man into your life, you will know it. Just as I knew your father was the one for me.”
Dad joins the hug as I break into heavier sobs, and before we know it, he squeezes us tight and picks us both up. “I love my girls.”
We break into tearful laughs, and when my feet are planted firmly back onto the floor, I narrow my eyes at my brother.
“Ethan,” I drag out his name through my ragged breaths. “Get over here.”
He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the smile hiding behind his bearded face.
Sam pushes Ethan out of his chair and drags him to the hug pile.
I stand there, surrounded by my family, feeling a little more whole than I have in a while.
It’s true what they say—fights bring family closer together.
When you can trust someone enough to fight with them, beautiful bridges are built to bury all of the nasty water under it.
Ethan mutters against my ear as his brown beard scratches my cheek. “I’m sorry, Meme. I just don’t ever want to see you unconscious on a hospital bed again. You hear me? And no more forgetting years of memories between us.”
Tears spring free once more, but this time, they’re ones of completeness and healing. I sometimes forget that my infirmities impacted those closest to me. We all have mountains to overcome together.
“And for the record,” Ethan adds, “I did try to talk you out of marrying Bryan. You got hot mad at me and Sam over it.”
“Well, thank you, I guess. And sorry for getting mad.”
Ethan steps back and shrugs while Sam laughs.
“Mom,” I say, breaking free from the huddle. “I wrote in my book that you pushed me to go on my honeymoon to find someone new. Is that true?”
“Well, I said that, yeah. But mainly because I wanted you to go out and experience something your father and I have never been able to afford to do. I didn’t really want you to meet some stranger on an island halfway across the world.”
Sam giggles as we all move back to the table and sit. “Oh, but that’s exactly what you did. And I, for one, am proud of you for that.”
“So, if I find him,” I look to Dad, “you aren’t going to try and put a restraining order on him, are you?”
“No, baby girl. Not unless he hurts you.” He pauses for a second, then adds, “If your book is true, then I need to shake that man’s hand, look him in the eyes, and thank him for saving your life.”
***
R ubbing my sweating palms onto my jeans, I take a deep breath. In. Hold. Release.
“Chill out, Esme. Lucy May’s not gonna bite you.”
I’m sitting beside Ashton in a quaint coffee shop-slash-bookstore called Books and Beans in the Lucy May’s hometown of Juniper Grove, Mississippi.
My all-time favorite author. Ashton picked me up on his way through, and we drove nearly two hours north to attend The Sweet Tea Writers Association's quarterly in-person gathering.
“Esme.” Ashton waves a hand in front of my face. I snap to attention, pulling my gaze off the flourishing bird-of-paradise plant sitting on the windowsill by the door.
“I’ve read all her books, Ashton. I’m nervous. She’s like a legend to me.”
Ashton folds his arms across his dark green Henley shirt. The color pops nicely against his tanned skin and brings out the green in his hazel eyes. The familiarity of him eases me, and once more, I’m awestruck that I found a friend in him so quickly.
My said friend, however, is scowling at me. “You only fangirled for a half of a second when it came to me. And that half of a second was an hours-long afterthought.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really, Ashton? You told me you had a twin who apparently wanted to marry me before I lost my memories and that we both almost died because of some kidnapper. But no, I was supposed to focus on the fact that you’re one half of the Ashton Ashley.”
“He’s always had a bit of an ego when it comes to his stories,” a feminine voice retorts from beside us.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water as a curly-haired redhead with hazel eyes and a tremendous amount of freckles on her face stretches out her hand, a toddler wrapping himself around her leg.
Lucy May acts as if she doesn’t even notice the boy.
“Hi. I’m Lucy Harper. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Esme.
Noah went on and on about you. I’m sorry about the memory loss. That sucks.”
Swallowing the starstruck lump in my throat, I grab her hand, and in the process, knock over my coffee, which proceeds to spill all over the table. I yank my hand back, squealing a string of apologies as I hunt down napkins to clean the mess. Where are the napkins in this place?
Just as I move to go check the front counter, the blonde barista walks over carrying a towel. “I got it!” she says, setting to work easily cleaning up my mess.
When she’s done, she kisses Lucy on the cheek. “Good to see you again, Luce.” The barista bends and ruffles the blond hair of the boy still attached to Lucy’s leg. “And good to see you, too, Mr. Andrew Harper. Where’s your twin?”
Andrew roars like a monster as he hollers, “Daddy!”
Lucy laughs, shaking her head. “Patton’s with Stone heading to Dasher Valley.
We divided and conquered today. I’m leaving to join my boys after our meeting.
Speaking of,” Lucy motions me over. I feel like the Tin Man as I force my joints to work.
I’d been standing back, watching the madness unfold with a slack jaw.
“This is Esme Jenkins. She’s joining our writing group. ”
My heart thuds as I shake the barista’s hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Sorry for the mess.”
The woman waves me off, her bright smile infectious. “It’s no big deal, girl. I’m Emma Jane, by the way. The owner.”
Mortification doesn’t begin to address the feeling that implodes through me.
The owner of this place cleaned up after my mess?
If this had happened back at Main Street Coffee, Katie would have thrust a mop into my hands and told me to get to work, relishing in the role reversal where she could boss her former teacher around.
“Again, I’m so sorry,” I hurriedly state.
Emma Jane waves me off again and then tells Lucy May that she’ll watch Andrew. Lucy thanks her with a hug, and then Emma Jane pries Andrew off his mother’s leg. “Whew, what a start to the meeting,” Lucy says, taking her seat across from me.
“I just watched from afar,” comes a masculine voice from behind me. “Y’all didn’t even see me come in. That was chaotic.”
Lucy and Ashton, at the same time, shout, “Chase!” and jump up. Lucy hugs him like a brother and then Ashton does the bro- pat on his back. I stay firmly seated to not cause any more messes.
“Meet Esme,” Ashton says. I get a good look at the tall, chiseled, lean man. He’s got honey-blond hair and gorgeous dark blue eyes. “Esme, this is Chase Hayes. Also known as Rac—”
“Stop it!” I shout before he finishes as I connect the dots, going over the mental list of Mississippi authors I keep in my head.
I cover my mouth with both hands. Everyone laughs as I stare wide-eyed at yet another one of my favorite contemporary romance authors.
I drop my hands, making the decision that I couldn’t possibly embarrass myself further. “You’re a guy?”
He shrugs with a smirk, then walks with Lucy to sit across from me and Ashton.
“I feel like I’m in the presence of romance royalty,” I say, still dumbfounded. Emma Jane returns and sets a new iced caramel latte down in front of me before rushing back to a mischievously giggling toddler.
“Never a dull moment when we all meet up,” Ashton says through a wide smile. “Where’s Katy, though? I thought she was flying in.”
“Oh! She texted me this morning and said she woke up late. She said she’s going to sit this meeting out but will join our Zoom one next month.” Lucy shows us the message from Katherine Newcomb.
“Is she published?” I ask.
Chase nods. “Katy is a natural disaster journalist. But on the side, she’s writing a mystery romance novel. It will be her debut into the world of fiction.”
“I remember your debut into fiction two years ago,” Lucy comments. “I’m glad you decided romance was worth writing in the midst of your bland political analysis books.”
Chase bristles a bit, but he quickly regains control and smirks. “Your twin loves them.”
“That she does.” Lucy laughs. “Speaking of, I need a signed copy of your new one before you leave. I’m traveling to Korsa for Lorelei’s family-only baby shower and can give it to her then.
She’ll like a book more than another noisemaker for baby Estelle.
Finley will also be pleased not to deal with an overstimulated and hormonal wife. ”
It dawns on me that Queen Lorelei Andersson is Lucy’s twin. I remember hearing about the marriage four years ago. Every woman in Mississippi wanted to be her.
Who are these people, and how did I find them?!
“Speaking of husbands and wives,” Chase comments, fixing his gaze on me and Ashton. “You’ve returned from Bora Bora, but Noah isn’t present.”
I want to ask how that has anything to do with marriage, but Noah must have told them that we were—I swallow—engaged. Guess it’s true, then. My palms start sweating again.
Ashton saves me the pressure of responding. “He wasn’t there. We’re going through Esme’s manuscript to try and find where he might be. We were hoping to get y’all’s help today.”
“Do you remember anything, Esme?” Chase asks. Ashton shoots him a glare.
“A little,” I respond truthfully, once more rubbing my palms onto my jeans. “I’ve started having little glimpses. Emotions. Remembering smells, sounds, and specific moments.”
“And do they align with your book?” Lucy May asks, leaning on the table toward me.
“Yeah, so far. I guess.” Outside that one glimpse where I seemed outwardly closed off to Noah, that is.
She grins. “Then let’s dive in. I want our Noah found. This group ain’t half as funny without him.”
Ashton mocks offense, but we laugh (me uncomfortably, of course).
This table of all-star romance authors is about to read my incomplete manuscript. Mine .
“Hey,” Ashton whispers against my ear. “They’re going to love it. And any feedback will be constructive and polite, I promise.”
Nodding once, determination taking over, I reach into my backpack and pull out my laptop and my printed manuscript. “Here. Dig away. I’m going to go throw up now.”
Lucy laughs, but I slide out of my seat and head through the bookstacks to the bathroom. Once inside, I take a moment to collect myself and not think about the authors I love reading my book. My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Ashton Prewitt: Don’t hide away, Esme.
“Pft. Easy for you to say.” I shove my phone back into my pocket and grab a paper towel to blot the sweat from my face and neck. As much as I love Mississippi, sometimes I really wish I could live somewhere cooler. Somewhere that had an actual winter and more mild summers. Like Alaska or something.
I toss the paper towel into the trash, daydreaming of snow.
Alaska .
Honeymoon .
Crescent Cove.
There it is, sweetheart. Come find the real me, the deep voice living inside my head purrs.
I plow through the door, tripping over my feet as I announce to the entire coffee shop in a breathless voice, “I know where he is!”