Waiting on Faith (She's Beautiful Series Book 2) Read online

  “Yes, ma’am.” My cheeks pulled up from ear to ear, showing off my thankful-to-be-there smile.

  From the counter she picked up a plate filled with a lot more food than I could possibly consume, and handed it to me. Alongside the extensive meal, Aunt Claudia had made my favorite, cherry pie.

  A few bites in, Uncle Blair strolled into the kitchen with a newspaper in hand and decided to join us. Aunt Claudia set a dessert plate in front of him, and he looked up at her with a loving smile. “Thank you, darlin’.” She patted his shoulder, reciprocating the smile.

  “So, how soon do you think it will be before you’ll be able to start down at the lumber yard?” he asked, cutting a piece of his pie with his fork.

  “When did you have in mind? I’m sure I can start in a day or so.”

  “Well, I’d like you to get settled in first. We’ve also got a new girl, Grace, filling in for Leila while she’s out on maternity.” He took another bite of his dessert before he continued, “And so far, she’s a good fit.”

  “What about next Monday? I should be settled by then.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Sounds good to me.”

  Aunt Claudia took my plate as soon as it was empty, and excitedly I rushed to get settled into my room. I wanted to take advantage of the beautiful summer night. Putting my clothes away in the dresser drawers, I came across one of Spencer’s T-shirts, and it had me thinking how grateful I was to have him. He was the brother I never had. With the ball of fabric still clutched in my hand, I grabbed my phone, plopped myself onto the bed, and sat cross-legged while I sent him a text.

  ME: Hey, I made it safely.

  SPENCER: about damn time . . . started to worry.

  As I typed my reply, he sent me another text.

  SPENCER: Almost called SWAT to look for you. ;)

  I shook my head, smiling at his silliness, but honestly, I was thankful he always looked out for me.

  I wouldn’t have blamed him for turning his back on me after the way I treated him. Not even the people I called friends spoke to me anymore. He didn’t though. When I needed him, he was there for me. I would forever be grateful for that.

  ME: Thanks again for everything! I love you.

  SPENCER: I love you more!

  I tossed my phone on the bed, rifled through one of my suitcases, and grabbed a dark-green hoodie in case it was cool outside.

  “Hey Uncle Blair, I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in a bit.” I kissed his cheek. He grunted his approval and I headed for the front door.

  I wandered aimlessly, strolling along the riverside. The tiny ripples and the way the moonlight sparkled and danced off the water quickly mesmerized me. A few feet ahead, a nice open grassy area invited me over, and I picked a spot to lie down and get comfortable. Turning my eyes upward, I watched the few stars twinkling bright in the night sky. Hmm, this is what peace feels like.

  Before I left San Diego, I promised myself I wouldn’t be that meek, scared girl anymore. When I fell for someone again—if it ever happened—I would want to be with that person. An urge to do something I normally wouldn’t do shot through me. I got up and stripped down bare. Running toward the water, I crisscrossed my arms over my breasts and jumped right in, splashing and causing a ruckus. The lukewarm water billowed over my naked skin like a caress. Submerging my entire being into the water, felt cleansing—healing.

  Smiling to myself, I could not believe what I had just done. Giggling and enjoying this carefree side of myself, I splashed around for a while before finding a spot to stand in the middle of the river where the current was gentle. I was standing there with my face turned to the sky when a man’s voice brought me out of my calm. I covered up my gasp, but didn’t turn around. Thank goodness the water covered most of my body, except for my exposed breasts. I sank a little deeper into the water.

  In a deep Southern voice, the man politely warned, “Miss, I have a towel here for you. It’s probably not the smartest thing to be skinning dipping all by your lonesome.” He stopped talking. I peeked carefully over my shoulder. His back faced me, and he had his head bowed just a little.

  Nervously, I managed to squeak out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone was out here.”

  It was only because of the bright moon that I was able to see him nod his head. “I’m going to head on up. I swear I won’t look, but please be careful,” he warned again in that deep and sexy voice.

  Right before he walked off, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  When I was certain he was no longer in sight, I hastily rushed out of the water. “Ouch . . . Ow, shit, dammit!” I cursed as something sharp jabbed the bottom of my foot. Hopping the rest of the way on one foot, I tried to shield my intimate parts, not fall over, and grab the towel at the same time.

  Well, that was fun while it lasted.

  How could I have thought someone wouldn’t walk up on me? Oh my god, I hope he didn’t see me strip out of my clothes. And where the hell did he run off to?

  It was as if he disappeared into thin air. By the time I made it back to the shore, he was gone, but the strong Southern accent still rang through my mind. I actually liked hearing it. If it weren’t for the fact that I was naked, I would probably try to find him and give him a proper thank you for not being a pervert. Maybe I would even get a chance to talk to him a little longer and find out if his voice was as sexy as my mind was making it out to be.

  Oh goodness, here I go.

  I dressed as quickly as possible and hoped he wasn’t watching from somewhere in the distance.

  After getting completely clothed, I laid the towel on the ground, grabbed my hoodie, yelled a quick, “Thank you,” and took off as fast as I could.

  It seemed like forever to get back to the house, and the only real thought I had was, who did that voice belong to?

  I WOKE UP fatigued and weighed down. I hadn’t had nightmares in quite some time, but last night they were persistent. Maybe it was because I no longer had my crutch—Spencer. I also hadn’t seen my therapist in weeks.

  After I left Trent, the nightmares would come every time I slept. I would wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding a furious rhythm in my chest and a cold sweat covering my skin. Each time, I forced myself to lie still as a corpse as my eyes searched in the dark, straining to see if Trent was actually there.

  Dr. Lake, the therapist Spencer found me, helped me tremendously to deal with the abuse I endured. After a few months of learning to cope, my mind slowly came to the realization that my subconscious was playing nighttime tricks on me. I memorized the techniques Dr. Lake taught me to cope and calm myself through those frightening times. It also helped that Spencer was there to hold my hand. I had come to learn how powerful my mind could be. I also had to learn that what Trent put me through was not my fault. His actions were all on him.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I lay in my queen-size bed, borderline exhausted. Wrapped in my favorite six hundred thread count sheets, I stared with wide eyes at the ceiling fan. When I packed up my trunk that fateful night, I made sure to grab all the good stuff.

  I loved Spencer, Uncle Blair, and Aunt Claudia, but even then I knew that at some point in the future it would be nice to have a place of my own. A place where the only rules that existed were rules I set.

  I knew they wouldn’t treat me like a child or expect me to tell them where I was all the time, but out of respect, I felt like I should. What if I met a guy and wanted to bring him back to my place and have wild sex all over every flat surface of my home? A smile touched my lips; that would be something out of character for me, but who knew, maybe I would?

  I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand next to me, propped myself up on the slew of pillows against the headboard, and wondered what in the world I could possibly do to keep myself busy. I opened my web browser and searched for things to do in Savannah, Georgia.

  Scrolling through the headings, I chose one titled, “Bucket List of 25 Things to Do in Savannah.” Hmm, the choices looked
promising except for all the ghost talk crap, which wasn’t my thing. Touring the city looked somewhat interesting.

  With my plans forming in my head, I showered and dressed for the day. It wasn’t until I reached for my purse that I faltered.

  Trent had bought it for me. He bought me a lot of extravagant gifts over the years to try to buy back my loyalty before the bruises were even healed. It made me sick to think of all the times I had caved.

  Trent made sure I owned a well-stocked closet, housing opulent possessions. I was the trophy on his arm at parties and his punching bag behind closed doors.

  I saw my Chanel clutch tucked toward the back of the shelf and was overwhelmed by the need to throw both items in the trash. As much as I enjoyed them at one time or another in my life, I didn’t feel their glitter anymore.

  Dr. Lake suggested I get rid of everything months ago, but I had reasoned myself away from that idea. I needed what I had. I couldn’t afford to go buy new purses and shoes and I didn’t expect Spencer to flip the bill for it. So all of these tiny reminders have stayed with me.

  Maybe Uncle Blair had a fire barrel out back where I could burn all this stuff. I needed to rebrand Natalie Brentwood, and my first step would be getting rid of the old Trent-approved branding.

  Dr. Lake had also suggested I learn how to do things alone. “Solitude,” she said, “is the path to finding oneself.”

  It was all very Zen, and I scoffed at first. Of course she had been right. Solitude was the best way for me to figure myself out. The whole thing made me feel silly at first. Going to dinner and movies by myself felt odd. After a little while, and some getting used to, I enjoyed the quiet little path I was on.

  After a peaceful lunch sitting in a secluded patio corner people watching, I headed to the Old Town Trolley. “Welcome aboard. I’m George, a Georgia peach native.” The driver chuckled as he introduced himself through his microphone. He failed to add gracious and animated to his title. My guess was he had been around since the early forties. He had a pleasant narrator’s voice and was dressed in a crisp, white shirt and navy blue slacks. His salt-and-pepper hair had a shiny bald spot on the top, his eyes were a faded blue, and his smile was infectious. Despite his age, I could tell he had probably been handsome back in his day. He was the perfect man for the job.

  The trolley was half full, and I wondered if today was an off-peak day for tourists. I sat on the wooden bench seat directly behind George, in case I needed to ask a question. What kind of question, I had no idea, but if something came to mind, I wanted to be close enough to ask. Or maybe I just wanted a friend, even if only for an hour or two.

  Watching history pass at a slow speed, I listened to George give tidbits of information on the different homes, cathedrals, and museums, and we would chat a little after each of his dialogues.

  “So, little lady, are you traveling alone?” He tilted his head over his shoulder as he kept his eyes on his route.

  I shook my head. “No, I just moved in with my aunt and uncle and needed something to pass the time until I start my new job.”

  “That’s great. Well, I’m glad you chose my trolley for the city tour. It’s the best one around,” he cooed in his baritone grandfather voice. I giggled at his self-confidence.

  “How long have you been a guide?”

  “Well, let’s see now. I just graduated from Georgia Southern University in nineteen sixty-eight.”

  Not quite what I asked, but if he wanted to tell his story, I had the time to listen. I leaned in a little closer, making sure I heard all the details clearly.

  “Panic was hitting the streets, things were happening overseas, and the draft was taking place. My mama cried, of course, but I won’t ever forget the look in my daddy’s eyes.

  “I’ll never know for sure, but I figure he was torn. Heck, they had just spent all this money to get me a Civil Engineering degree, and not a month after graduating, I got drafted.” He shook his head, blowing out a heavy breath. He paused while we were stopped to let the sightseers off. I stayed on, hoping to hear more of his story.

  After everyone disembarked, he turned sideways in his seat and rested his arm atop his seatback. “I knew it hurt my daddy, me getting drafted and all, but I had no choice.” His eyes were sad at the mention of his father.

  “Fought in Nam, and I did two tours before I got out. After a while, I found a job doing what I loved and met my Mitzi along the way.” His eyes brightened at the mention of the woman’s name, and he got lost for a few seconds. He chuckled, shaking his head as he came back to me. “Yeah, Mitzi is somethin’ . . .”

  This time he looked at me, and his eyes darted down at my left hand. “You’d be a perfect catch for my grandson.” He smiled warmly.

  Embarrassed, I tucked my chin down a little. Needing to shift the subject, I asked, “Do you have family here?”

  “Sure do, still got my beautiful wife, Mitzi, been married for forty-nine wonderful years.” He tapped the top of my hand. “We went on to have three beautiful girls, who then blessed us with nine grandchildren, seven girls and two boys. I’ve been surrounded by an overload of estrogen for a really long time.” Winking, he chuckled and shook his hand in the air. “I’m just kidding . . . Well, sort of,” he joked, and a big grin spread across his wrinkled cheeks as he tapped my hand again.

  “I’ve got one daughter here in Savannah with two granddaughters and a grandson, one girl in New Mexico with a grandson and two granddaughters. My youngest baby, though she’s not a baby anymore, is in Tennessee with the other three granddaughters. But if you ask me how many great-grandchildren I have, I couldn’t tell you.” He let out another healthy belly laugh. “I’m getting too old to keep track, and it’s even harder since they don’t live close.”

  I laughed and was glad I stayed and got the chance to meet with such a heroic loving person. Before we knew it, the tourists began trickling back onto the trolley and we continued en route.

  George and I chatted a little more, but when some quaint little shops caught my eye, I tapped his shoulder.

  “George, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I think I’ll get off here. Those shops are calling my name.”

  Nodding, he happily replied, “Well then, little lady, it has been a pleasure. I thank you for riding my trolley and hope you have a wonderful day.”

  “Thanks, George, you too.” I waved as I stepped down on the last trolley step.

  I did some shopping and then visited the bench stationed in Chippewa Square where Tom Hanks was filmed in Forrest Gump. It was so cool and was by far the second best part of my day. The first was getting to meet George. Wishing Spencer were around to enjoy the sights with me, I snapped a few selfies and texted them to him, telling him how much I missed him.

  Wandering a little more, I grabbed a cup of coffee and found a cute handmade necklace I had to have. I was about to head home when I spotted a consignment shop, which I walked right into and asked about their consignment policy.

  STAYING OCCUPIED HAD proved harder than I thought it would, so the day Uncle Blair introduced me to Grace, the new girl at the lumberyard, I didn’t hold back. I wanted a friend desperately, and the feeling in my gut told me she would be a perfect match. I went out on a limb, and our friendship had been blossoming ever since.

  She even introduced me to Monique, a teacher down at the elementary school where Drew went to school along with his best friends, Connor and Dion.

  Grace and I didn’t get to do a lot of things people in their early twenties normally did, since she wasn’t one to continually depend on her Aunt Jackie to watch Drew, her son. Instead of going out clubbing, getting shit-face drunk, and ending up in bed with a tall, tan, and handsome stranger, we had girls’ nights in and fun sporadic lunches together. I was there to witness when Jill, a complete crazy person, admitted to sending Grace lurid pictures and videos. I never saw them myself, but the way Grace described them, well, let’s just say, I didn’t blame her for walking away from AJ. I also didn’t blame her when
she threw herself back into AJ’s arms after finding out the truth, either. He was seriously hot. They started dating and she got pregnant. Or maybe she was pregnant before she walked. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t ask. I thought she would drift away as friends sometimes did when they fell ass over teakettles for someone, but she didn’t. We remained friends, and as time passed, I realized that going out and getting drunk at a club wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I would much rather hang out with her and help with things like food drives at her son’s school, which is where I was now.

  Grace pulled open the door to Drew’s classroom, and a beautiful, all-American blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty greeted us. Grace looked at me, “Natalie this is Miss Montgomery, Drew’s teacher. Miss M., this is my good friend, Natalie Brentwood.”

  She offered her hand for a handshake.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I added politely.

  “Please call me Addie, and it’s a pleasure,” she replied just as politely with a soft smile, “If you guys want to put your stuff over there behind my desk, I’ll set you up in just a second.”

  I followed Grace and realized it was us and seven other parents who showed up to help. The only person I recognized was Matt, Connor’s dad. He was a handsome divorcee who had had the hots for Grace at one point. The way his eyes scanned over her told me that despite the fact that she was obviously pregnant, he wasn’t quite over that little infatuation.

  Addie assigned each of us a duty. Grace and I were designated to separate canned goods by type: vegetable, fruit, meat, and random. I guess if you were less than fortunate, even a “random” category could be appealing. What a pretty depressing thought. It was sad to see people going through tough times without a place to call home, and it was even sadder to see a veteran, a man who served his country to protect our freedom, come home to have no one give a damn. I shook off the thought, not wanting to be a Debbie Downer.

  After giving the rest of the volunteers an assigned duty, Addie came over to where Grace and I were stationed and joined in. “So, Natalie, have you lived here long? I don’t remember seeing you around. Do you have a child attending school here?”