There's No Place Like Home: A Small Town RomCom

Chapter 1

Welcome to Fawn Creek.I murmur to myself as my car charges to the top of the hill, overlooking the valley that contains my hometown. As my car comes to a stop at the four-way intersection on the outskirts of the city, I find myself drawn to the open field under the Fawn Creek city limit sign. Today, the field is full of nothing but rows and rows of short green sprouts. Anyone that doesn’t know better would probably assume they are beans or some other crop planted by a local farmer. However, I know exactly what is coming. Between now and July, those rows of sprouts will continue to grow, resulting in a field full of bright yellow sunflowers.

I haven’t seen the sunflower field in years, but the memory of it is etched into my soul. Every summer, no matter where I’d been or where I was coming from, that familiar sight told me I was home. It’s a shame that I’m going to miss it again this year.

The familiarity continues as I drive into town. Every driver I pass waves in my direction, without having the slightest clue of who I am. They don’t wave because they know me. They wave because this is the way Fawn Creek is; friendly, welcoming and kind, just like it’s always been.

As I drive towards the First Baptist Church, I marvel at the booming downtown business district. On the surface, not much has changed here since I left. Sure, some buildings have been repainted, and a few of the store names have changed, but the charm of Fawn Creek remains the same. I immediately notice that they closed the candy store and replaced it with a clothing boutique. However, right down the street, the flower shop, McDaniel’s, has remained faithfully open and unchanged after all these years. Well, unchanged except the freshly hand-painted flowers that cover the large display windows. The bright, cheerful display puts an immediate smile on my face.

McDaniel’s isn’t the only business that’s put extra effort into their decor. Almost every store front is decorated for the upcoming Memorial Day festivities. Every building boasts American flag bunting, and flowerpots full of red, white and blue arrangements. Per usual, Fawn Creek is fully dedicated to the seasonal festival. I expect nothing less, of course.

I pull to a stop in the parking lot of the First Baptist Church. Not surprisingly, the lot is almost completely full. I imagine by the time the funeral begins in forty-five minutes, there won’t be a parking spot in sight. If that isn’t a testament to how loved my Grandma Hazel was, I’m not sure what is. She was a noble woman and an active member of this community in every capacity that she could be. Fawn Creek won’t be the same without her. Honestly, the world just won’t be the same without her here.

I fire off a quick text to my boyfriend, Elliot, letting him know I arrived safely, after my three-hour drive into town. Immediately, my phone pings to alert me of a text, but it’s nothing more than a thumbs up emoji. The lack of response feels like a punch to my gut. These past few days without Hazel have been really tough. I’ve tried so hard to stay strong. I know she wouldn’t want me to lie in bed for days, crying over her death, but it’s been hard to go through the motions leading up to today. All I can think about is how my life will never be the same without her here. She may have been my grandmother, but she was also one of my very best friends. She was my biggest cheerleader, my toughest (yet kindest) critic, and my safe place to land. My Sunday afternoons will never be the same now that I can’t call her and talk for an hour over any and everything that crosses my mind.

I place my phone in my purse and then I sense the overwhelming feeling that someone is watching me. I glance towards the old brick church and spot the culprit immediately. My mother is peering out the window of the side door. As our eyes meet, she lets loose of the curtain, allowing her gaze to disappear behind it as though the moment never occurred. I take a deep breath and slowly exit my car. So much for taking my time to enter the lion’s den now that I’ve been spotted. Oh well, let’s get this over with. I enter the church through the side door and tiptoe into the family waiting area. I politely smile and exchange pleasantries with family members I haven’t seen in a long time, except for holiday gatherings. Just as I’m getting ready to ask my cousin, Robin, where my parents are hiding, the sound of the swinging kitchen door causes me to start and make a 180-degree turn.

My mom exits the kitchen first, carrying a tray of grocery store cookies, arranged in neat rows. Her polyester dress swishes loudly as she moves in my direction. She places the tray down on a nearby table and then dramatically pulls me in for an embrace. My mother has never been much of a hugger. My childhood was not exactly filled with hugs and “I love you’s”, but when in public, my mother portrays the perfect motherly image.

“Hi, Mom.” I whisper into her hair, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume.

She releases me, only pausing for a moment to look into my eyes while gripping my forearms. Her expression shows a deep mixture of exhaustion and sadness, and I try to remind myself to give her some grace today. After all, she lost her mother this week, just like I lost my grandma. This is going to be a hard time for everyone.

Next, I move toward my father, who has suddenly materialized behind her. “Hey, kiddo.” He says, squeezing me tightly. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks with a white button-down shirt. His beer belly hangs over the waistline, and the exhaustion on his face is clear as well. I can only imagine how hard this week has been for them both. Even with the best laid plans in place, a funeral is difficult to navigate. Hazel may have had everything arranged ahead of time, but I truly believe we all just assumed that she would live forever.

“Where’s Elliott?” My dad asks, stepping backwards from our embrace while his eyes survey the room, looking for my missing other half.

“Oh,” I pause, nervously tugging at the hem of my dress, “He really wanted to come, but he couldn’t get away from work.”

“Couldn’t get off work, huh?” He laughs with a grunt. “You’d think being here to support you in your time of need would be more important than that silly computer lab he’s sitting in.” He says.

I ignore my father’s snide comment, although I must admit it stung. “I know, Dad. He really wanted to, but he’s working on a big project right now and just couldn’t get away.”

“It’s hard to believe he couldn’t just take one day of bereavement.” He mutters under his breath.

“Well,” I shrug. “Since we aren’t married, he doesn’t get company time off for the death of my relatives.”

“Well, if you two would just get married already, you wouldn’t have those problems,” my mother chimes in. “It’s been three years, Tyler. What are you waiting for?”

I bite my tongue and try to keep from saying something I shouldn’t in the heat of the moment. Especially in the basement of the First Baptist Church. Luckily, the moment is interrupted just in time. A tiny bald man in a suit, presumably an employee of the funeral home, enters the room through a side door. “We are ready for the family.” He announces solemnly. Per usual, Grandma Hazel intervened just when I needed her most.

After the funeral service at the church, I elect to drive myself to the cemetery rather than piling into the family limo with the others. My mother was resistant at first, but she wouldn’t dare make a scene in front of the entire congregation. I’m sure I’ll pay for that decision later, but that’s a problem for Future Me to worry about. My mother will gladly add it to my list of shortcomings, I’m sure.

At the graveside service, I stand back quietly and watch as they lower Hazel’s casket into the ground. The further she goes, the further I feel my heart sinking into my stomach. Years’ worth of memories come flooding back instantly. She was always there for me when I needed her, for everything from my first broken bone to my first broken heart. She was always the one I turned to when I didn’t know where else to go. And now? She’s gone.

Suddenly, I feel a hand wrap around mine and squeeze it tightly, awakening me from my trance. I glance to my side and meet eyes with Avery, my best friend. She shoots me a soft smile and I attempt to return the gesture, but fall short. She always seems to know the right time to step in and help maintain my sanity. Goodness knows it’s a full-time job. It wasn’t necessary for her to come to the graveside service today, but I’m glad she did. I’m so grateful for our friendship, especially on days like today.

My eyes wander around the graveyard while the preacher speaks. I think every person here but me is crying. Suddenly, I notice my lack of outward emotion and feel extremely self-conscious.

I’m an emotional person by nature. I cry all the time; when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m hungry, or excited. Hell, just last week I cried over a cat food commercial. For some reason, though, I haven’t yet cried over Grandma Hazel. I’ve been waiting for it to happen ever since Mom called me three days ago to break the news, but so far, nothing. I know the dam will break eventually, and I’m sure it’ll be at the most inopportune moment. Part of me just wishes it would happen so I could get it over with.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m devastated about her passing. I loved Grandma Hazel more than anyone else on the planet. As her only grandchild, I know she loved me, too. My best childhood memories all revolve around my time with her. Every weekend, she insisted on “giving my parents a break” and taking me home with her. She would pick me up after school on Friday and basically spoil me until Sunday evening, just before dropping me off for a shower and bedtime. I think she just liked to keep me around for the company. My grandpa had passed away from a heart attack when I was a baby, and she never remarried. “I’m too old to train a new husband.” She would tell anyone who would listen.

Honestly, I think she never remarried or even dated just because she truly enjoyed being alone. She reveled in her solitude and when she was tired of the quiet, she would come and get me to fill the silence. She told me she’d much rather spend time with me than those “dusty old ladies at the beauty shop” and I liked to feel wanted. My mother and I weren’t very close, and we butted heads more often than not. The relationship Hazel and I shared made up for the one I didn’t have with my mother. It was exactly what I needed during my formative years, and I’m extremely grateful for those days.

Hazel was kind and caring, yet fiercely independent. She would go toe to toe with anyone that had ill intentions towards her family or the community. She would make you dinner or give you the shirt off her back in a heartbeat, but she would also tell you to go to hell if you needed to hear it. Hazel was truthful, honest, and strong. She was everything I want to be one day. I hope I don’t disappoint her.

After the service, I’m driving back through the downtown area on the way to my parents’ house when a neon sign lit up on Main Street catches my eye. Without giving it a second thought, I pull into a parking spot and make a beeline for Drip, Fawn Creek’s quaint little coffee shop. The bell jingles happily as I pull the heavy glass door open and slip inside, following the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods.

From what I understand, this shop was recently purchased by new owners and completely renovated. This shop was once an outdated cafe, with brown wood paneling on the walls and yellowed ceiling tiles. The new owner transformed the storefront into a warm and welcoming space. It seems like every detail was intentionally chosen and meticulously organized. Everything is perfect, from the dark hardwood floors to the exposed brick walls and barn wood looking coffee bar. As soon as I step through the door, I feel like this is a place I could spend hours on end, working and visiting with other customers. I love the familiarity that comes with it.

“Tyler Burris, is that you?” I hear a vaguely familiar voice yell out from somewhere I can’t quite pinpoint.

“That’s me!” I respond, walking towards the counter, trying to find the source of the voice.

Finally, a petite body peeks out around the doorframe from the office on the other side of the room. Cassidy Martin, my childhood neighbor, comes barreling out of the doorway and across the hardwood floor towards me. I brace myself as she wraps me in a hug, lifting my feet off the ground as though I’m still six years old.

“I thought that was you on the security camera. How are you?” She asks, cupping my face and checking me over lovingly.

“I’m doing okay.” I say with a small smile. “The best I can under these circumstances, anyway.” I add with a shrug.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your Grandma Hazel. Today was her service, wasn’t it?”

I nod. “Yes, I just left there, actually. I thought I’d better stop in for some caffeine before heading to Mom and Dad’s.”

She smiles softly. “I’m so glad you did. I haven’t seen you in forever, but I think about you all the time. Are you still living in Oklahoma City?”

“Yep, still in OKC. Living the dream.” I say with a smile, stepping out of the way as a mom enters the store with a little boy in tow. “How are you? How’s Sierra?” I ask Cassidy.

“We are great! We just bought this place a few months ago, and I’m just trying to put some finishing touches on it.” She gazes around the space proudly. “Sierra’s getting married this summer! Can you believe that?”

That news stuns me for a second, but before I can answer, I feel a tug on my dress. Surprised, I look down to see a grinning toddler holding up a ball towards me. “Ball?” He asks. I glance towards his mom, who is ordering her coffee while balancing her phone on one shoulder. I take the ball and begin a game of catch while continuing my conversation with Cassidy. “Little Sierra? She’s not old enough to get married. Is she even out of high school yet?”

I used to babysit Sierra when I was a teenager. Her parents hired me to watch her one summer while school was out because they couldn’t find a reliable sitter. The two of us instantly clicked, and it turned into a year round Nanny job. They lived in the house between Avery and mine, so it was convenient for everyone. Sierra would just walk over to my house every morning and I would drop her off at school. After school, I’d pick her up and take her home, watching her until her parents got back. Everyone we didn’t know just assumed that she was my little sister, because of all the time we spent together. While we aren’t blood related, I’ve always loved her like she was the sister I never had. Taking care of her was my only job when I was a teenager and still one of the best jobs I’ve ever had.

“Jacob! Please leave the nice lady alone.” The disheveled mom calls out as she rushes towards us. “I am so sorry.” She says to me. “He was rolling the ball back and forth on the coffee bar and then my phone rang…” She trails off.

I shake my head. “It’s okay! He wasn’t bothering me at all. I enjoyed playing catch with him.” I add with a smile. The young mom thanks me and apologizes again before scooping up her toddler and fleeing from the store.

“What about you? Are you married? Any kids yet?” Cassidy gently pries. “You always have been so amazing with children.” She adds, as she watches the mother and son duo that just left as they travel down the sidewalk.

Just as I’m about to respond, her office phone rings, saving me from acknowledging the stagnant state of my life.

“Shoot, girl, I have to go. You take care, okay?” She says, while she hurries back to her office to answer the phone, not waiting for my response.

Saved by the bell.

I step up to the counter and I am greeted by a man, probably around the age of nineteen, wearing a name tag that says Devin. After a quick glance at the menu, I order a large iced vanilla latte and swipe my card just as Cassidy emerges from her office once again.

“Hey, Tyler. Are you going to come home for Mayfest?” She asks.

Mayfest is an annual festival in Fawn Creek held every Memorial Day weekend. Friday night kicks everything off with a concert featuring a semi-famous band, with the opening act as a local musician. Depending on who the headliner is, the show usually draws in quite a crowd from the neighboring communities. The sales from the beer garden alone are a huge moneymaker for the festival.

“Eh, probably not.” I shrug. “That’s too many people in one place for me.”

“Seriously?” she scoffs, placing her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me, the girl who left here and moved to a city of 600,000 people won’t come to our festival because of the number of attendees? You know that makes no sense at all, right?”

“Valid point.” I shrug, taking my drink from Devin, and take a long sip. “But all those people aren’t crammed into the middle of the street eating turkey legs at the same time either. They have a little more room to spread out in the city.”

Cassidy just laughs and rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m just saying Jordan Johnson is our headliner. This will probably be our biggest show ever.” She says with a prideful look on her face.

That news causes me to pause and reconsider for a moment. “Ugh, I love Jordan Johnson.” I say, biting my lip. Jordan is a red dirt country singer that I have followed since the beginning of his career. It’s no secret to those who know me that I’m a big fan. I have seen him perform half a dozen times at least, and he always puts on an incredible show. Unfortunately, in the city I don’t have any friends that like Red Dirt Music, so I haven’t seen him in years. Honestly, I don’t have any friends at all in the city, and Elliott despises country music completely.

“That’s a tempting offer. I might have to consider coming back for that.” I glance down at my watch. “Okay, I really better get going. My parents are expecting me.” I say, backing away from her to politely end our conversation. Cassidy’s ability to chat your ear off sure hasn’t changed since I left here ten years ago. Luckily, her office phone rings again, just in time for me to slip away.

Refusing to waste the chance at escaping, I spin on my heel to hustle towards the door. Just as I complete my turn, I look up to see a man, one that I’ve never seen before, standing face to face with me, but it’s too late. My feet are already in motion and my body doesn’t stop until it collides into his. On impact, I spill part of my iced latte down the front of his plaid button-down shirt. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I exclaim, stepping back to survey the damage.

“Dammit. Watch where you’re going.” He growls through gritted teeth, with anger flashing in his eyes.

I swallow hard and turn towards the counter to gather napkins and help cleanup the mess I created. Just as I secure a handful, I turn and watch him storm out the front door. His face reddens as he makes his way down the sidewalk and disappears out of sight.

I watch, flabbergasted, as he makes his dramatic exit, unsure of how a little bit of spilled coffee could create such a problem.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I’ve just met the asshole of Fawn Creek.