Smoky Mountain Sweethearts
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Cheryl Harper
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Chapter One
BEING ROUSTED OUT of bed like she was thirteen again wasn’t how Avery Montague thought she’d start the last Friday before her thirty-fifth birthday, but her mother had never let little things like closed doors stand in her way.
If she’d wanted to sleep in, Avery never should have gotten hotel rooms with connecting doors.
“Get up. We can’t miss that flight.” The long a in “can’t” sounded so much like home that Avery had to wait for a second to let the wash of homesickness fade. Every one of her mother’s cain’ts used to drive her crazy. On the few occasions she’d managed to talk her husband, Robert, into a visit at the holidays, they’d locked eyes to communicate silently whenever her mother said it. He’d been amused at Avery’s pet peeve.
Homesickness was chased away with the dueling realizations that he was still gone and she was free to do whatever she wanted again. That freedom wasn’t a gift most days.
After almost ten years of marriage, including three years of being his nurse, she’d spent the last two years adjusting to the realization that she could step out the door without fearing that life would never be the same when she came back home.
No matter what she did from this point, her life would never be the same. The dream of building a family with the man who’d derailed the plans she’d made at eighteen was over.
But her life? It kept on going, one hour dragging into the next. Some days she had to brush away the thought of how much simpler it would be to just...stop.
“We won’t miss the flight, Mama. I’m packed. Let me put on some clothes and run a brush through my hair and I’m ready.” Avery slipped out of the adequate sheets the airport hotel preferred and ignored her mother’s gasp as she padded barefoot across the floor.
“Gonna bring back a toe rot or something, girl, if you don’t put your shoes on.” Her mother was fussing with the large bag of cosmetics she almost never let out of her sight.
The laugh that bubbled out surprised Avery. Trust her mother to say something to make it easier to go on. “Toe rot? That’s what you’re worried about?” Avery studied the carpet from the bathroom and realized her mother might have a good point. The suspicious stains had clearly been cleaned more than once, but who knew how long it took for toe rot to disappear?
Her mother was wagging a perfectly French-manicured finger at her when Avery wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You don’t watch enough news programs, Avery Anne Abernathy. I am telling you, there is funk in that carpet.”
Whatever funk she got from walking unprotected across hotel carpet might be worth it for the way her mouth held a smile as she headed back into the bedroom. For so long, she’d had nothing to smile about, but now she was going home.
One quick glance in the mirror was all it took to know she was leaving in the nick of time. The dark circles under her eyes were familiar. So was the gray in her short hair. Only the small curve of her lips, which surprised and pleased her, seemed out of place.
If she didn’t hurry, her mother would barge back in with a can of hair spray in one hand and her leftover cheesecake in the other. She’d be forced to eat while her mother teased and sprayed. Then they would definitely miss their flight into Knoxville, and Avery wasn’t sure how well she’d weather a setback like that.
She quickly slipped on the jeans that were so loose they were uncomfortable and yanked on a sweater. For years, through Robert’s treatments and hospital stays, Avery had learned never to leave home without layers. It might be October, but the cold had become a permanent part of her life.
Her mother was still fussing when Avery stepped out of the bathroom. Her view from her room into the connecting room showed a whirlwind of destruction. “Mama, you only slept in that bed for one night. What in the world were you doing?” The sheets were tumbled into a ball while all the pillows save one were stacked against the headboard in a teetering tower. Avery was worn out just studying the mess.
“Hunting for the bedbugs.” Janet Abernathy rolled her eyes. “Hotels are famous for bedbugs.”
Avery almost argued with her. If hotels were famous for bedbugs, no one would stay in them, ever. And this airport business-class hotel might not be big on amenities or renovation, but it was clean enough. Arguing wouldn’t change her mother’s mind, though. Janet Abernathy never missed a news program. Because of that, she knew the world outside of Sweetwater, Tennessee, was filled with dangers. Only constant vigilance would do.
Avery’s suitcase was still on the side of the bed where she’d left it. If her mother’s room was an after shot of a crime-scene investigation, hers was barely disturbed. At least she’d slept through the night. She was beginning to depend on that.
With a shove of her hairbrush and the clothes she’d slept in into her bag, Avery was packed. She quickly zipped up the suitcase and slipped on her flats while she smiled again at her mother’s relieved sigh.
“Do we need to call a cab?” her mother asked as she looked one last time in the mirror over the desk.
“No, they’ll get us one downstairs,” Avery said as she moved to stand next to the door.
“I can wait if you’d like to put on lipstick,” her mother said with an encouraging nod. “I have choices.”
“And I still don’t care to see them,” Avery answered as she pulled open the door. “We better hurry.” They were still two hours before boarding, but it was important to both of them that they get home soon. And coffee was the only thing that would make this day bearable.
Avery handled the checkout while her mother fiddled nervously with her bags, her hair and her rings, both eyes locked to the muted cable news channel running in the hotel lobby. “It’s okay, Mama. We’ll be home soon.”
Instead of fussing back, her mother reached over and squeezed Avery’s hand. “And I’ll be glad to know you’re safe, my girl.”
The tears that sprang to Avery’s eyes were disappointing. For months, she had been fighting these stupid emotions that blindsided her when she was least expecting them. She’d gone to therapy and used antidepressants and self-help books. Still, the tears were there, under the surface. This wasn’t like her at all.
If she was going home and planning on leaving the house at some point, she had to get that control back. The day she’d been packing and opened the front door of the house to find her mother standing on the step, she’d buckled so badly under the weight of the tears that she was certain her mother would never look at her the same.
Avery Abernathy had only cried when she was mad or when her father died.
Avery Montague cried at the drop of a hat.
Herding her mother through Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport was the perfect distraction from any worries she might have. It was a bit like keeping up with a teenager who had a credit card with no limit. When they finally sat down at the gate, Avery was on her second cup of coffee and her mother had a load of shopping bags.
“Watch my seat. I have to go to the ladies’.”
Probably to put on more lipstick.
Avery wrestled the lid off her cup and blew to cool down the coffee she desperately needed.
At least she’d done the hard part. The bags were checked, except for her mother’s airport must-haves. When they landed in Knoxville, Avery would do her best to hustle her mother right to baggage claim and on out into the parking lot.
The businessman seated opposite her pointed at all the bags stacked in the chair. “Forget a few things?” His charming smile was easy to answer.
“I think it was more about killing time.” Avery sipped her coffee and watched her mother meander around the newsstand across the way. She had two magazines in one hand already.
“Is Knoxville home?” the guy asked as he set his computer aside.
“No, over an hour away.” Her home had been in Chicago for almost ten years, but it was easy enough to understand his question. And Sweetwater was where she was headed to stay.
“I’m based out of Knoxville.” He reached for his wallet to pull out a card and hand it to her. “I’m Chuck. Nice to meet you.”
Chuck Armstrong was a liquor distributor, apparently. Why would she need his card?
“Nice to meet you, too,” Avery said and laid the card carefully next to her on the seat. She’d drop it in the trash somewhere to avoid hurting his feelings. Maybe he thought she had a restaurant or something.
“Lookee what I found,” her mother crowed as she plopped down next to Avery. “Cute actors. Cute singers. Cute designers. And cute dogs. If you can’t find something to read in this stack, you ain’t even trying.” She dropped the magazines in Avery’s lap and pulled off the one on top. “This one’s mine.”
“Cute couches. That’s what you’re going with?” Her mother devoured decorating shows, books and magazines, and occasionally decided to revamp the house Avery had grown up in. “What color is the living room now, Mama?”
Her mother sighed. “You don’t remember how many paint chips I tested?” Their conversations for a while had been all about her mother’s projects, mainly because Avery had stared at hospital walls and nothing else for days straight. “Colonial gray. That’s what I’ve got right now.” She tapped the white sofa with splashes of bright red flowers. “This would be darling.”
It would. Years of study meant Janet Abernathy had a good eye. “Have you ever thought about opening up an interior-design business?”
Her mother straightened in her seat and shot her a surprised glance. Then she laughed as if Avery had said the most amusing thing she’d heard in a while. “It’s a hobby. I don’t have any training. And who in Sweetwater’s going to be hiring an interior designer? No, ma’am. Right now, my focus is on you. Once you’re home, everything will be okay.” She turned the page slowly and then folded the corner down so she’d remember to come back to it. If she’d been in a better frame of mind, stronger, Avery would have insisted they talk about this. Her mother needed more in her life.
At this point, Avery was not in a position to argue, but having her mother’s attention focused solely on her? This could be a problem.
“I like working at the school part-time, here and there as needed. It’s never dull,” her mother said with a careless shrug. Since her eyes never met Avery’s, it was hard to decide if she meant what she was saying. “Are you thinking of opening up a...something? Going into business for yourself? It ain’t easy. I mean, I don’t know why you can’t go back to school, but...”
This was her mother’s subtle way of asking what Avery was going to do with the rest of her life. Since she’d been mainly focused on tying up all the loose ends left by Robert’s death, closing up and selling their two-story house, and sleeping sixteen hours a day, Avery hadn’t had much time for career planning. The first several times her mother had asked, Avery had shut her down. Sharply.
Going back to law school? All she could imagine was the stress and terrible grief from the memories it would no doubt provoke.
That was where she’d met Robert.
She couldn’t go back.
Her mother would continue to ask what Avery planned to be when she grew up. She needed a better answer.
And after almost two years, she should have one.
“Maybe. I don’t know yet.” As long as she was happy living with her mother, Avery could float for a long time without any income at all.
Her mother wouldn’t be satisfied to leave her alone for more than a week.
“Girl who put herself through college...”
But never graduated law school.
Her mother’s mutters trailed off, but it was easy to see that she disapproved of Avery’s lack of focus. At least she’d learned a bit of control.
As the gate crew called the first group to board, Avery slipped the magazines in her tote and the business card fluttered to the ground. Her mother picked it up to hand it to her. “Leftover from some other trip?”
Avery shook her head and pointed with her chin at Chuck, who was waiting in the line with the priority passengers. He was scrolling through something on his phone. “No, that guy introduced himself and gave it to me. I didn’t want to give it back or...” Avery blinked. She still wasn’t sure what had happened in that weird conversation.
When the next boarding group was announced, Avery stood and grabbed her mother’s shopping bags. Her mother was shaking her head sadly. “What?”
“He was hitting on you. That was an invitation to call him when you’re in town or something.” Her mother dropped her purse on one shoulder and took her armful of bags from Avery.
The wave of people heading for the line flowed around Avery while she processed what her mother had said. “Hitting on me? No way.” She wasn’t dead but she might be half a step away. It had been months since she’d applied mascara. “What man in his right mind would be hitting on me?”
Once upon a time, that had been a common occurrence. She never would have missed Chuck’s interest at twenty. Then she’d fallen in love, gotten married, and that all stopped.
She was technically single again, but how could the world tell?
After she’d lost so much weight that her wedding rings had slipped on her fingers, Avery had taken them off and put them safely away. Did she need to find them again?
“Any man who likes smart women would be hitting on you, sweet girl. That hasn’t changed.” Her mother wrapped a hand around her arm to urge her into the boarding line. “And that won’t be the last time, either.”
“I’ll get my rings resized, put them back on. That’ll help.” It hadn’t stopped every flirt through the years, but she’d lost the knack of understanding a man was flirting and the ability to answer properly. Chuck had deserved a better conversation than the one he’d gotten. She still wouldn’t be calling him for a date, but she could have given him his card back without a trace of guilt.
She wasn’t in the market for Chuck or any other man.
“Not to come back to life, it won’t,” her mother snapped before graciously handing a member of the gate crew her boarding pass.
Avery did her best to respond to the attendant’s pleasant greeting and then nodded in a friendly manner at Chuck as she passed. He tapped his phone in a nonverbal signal that she should call him. Once all the bags were stuffed overhead and her mother had settled with her neck pillow, her blanket and her magazine, Avery tipped her head to say, “I’m perfectly fine without a man in my life for now.”
“Thing is, you better not lose something that will make you happy because you got your head buried under a pillow.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Grieving is important and only you know how to do it for you. It’s been two years, and I love you too much to let you grieve yourself right on into the grave.”
Avery closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “This isn’t grieving. This is...”
“...being confused.” Her mother turned to catch Avery’s stare. “I get it. I’ve been there. Let me tell you something. The more time you lose figuring out what you want, the harder it is to go for it. Once you stop, it’s hard to get started again.”
“I’m not confused. I’m sad, Mama. Heartbroken. I can’t even believe this conversation.” Avery yanked open the magazine she’d picked up off the stack, the cute-dogs one, and flipped it open to study the table of contents, a weak sizzle of anger fizzling quickly.
Her mother cared even if she didn’t understand.
The short flight to Knoxville was so easy that Avery had to sit back and think how long it had been since she’d flown. At least seven years. Maybe her first step should be a real trip, one without her mother. She did not want a weeklong lecture about the dangers of foreign toe rot.
The Knoxville airport was easy to navigate, but Avery was breathing hard and feeling the strain all through her body by the time she and her mother made it through baggage claim and to her mother’s small SUV. With the last push of her strength, Avery loaded the bags and staggered around to the passenger side to flop down in the seat.
Her mother, instead of showing signs of fatigue, was perking up. “Want to eat before we head home?”
“No.” Avery covered her forehead with one hand. “Let’s pick something up, if you want.”
If she had to get out of the car anywhere other than her mother’s driveway, she’d stumble. Her mother didn’t need to deal with that scare right now.
As they left the city behind and the road wound through the rolling hills toward the Great Smoky Mountains in the distance, Avery breathed deeply and memorized the dense forests, the running streams and the way the mountains rose behind Sweetwater all over again. If there was any place in the world that would feed her the energy that had been slowly drained over years of distance and struggle, it was this one.
“Need some rain. Fall color’s off, all the dry, dead leaves,” her mother said, “but it’s still the prettiest place on the planet.” Avery had loved so much of Chicago, but it was impossible to argue with her mother.
Avery turned on the radio and the country music that flowed out of the speakers made it easy to relax through the curves that her mom handled like a race-car driver. Whatever came next, this was the right decision.
“Thanks for coming to get me, Mama,” Avery said softly. She might have stayed in that house until they’d kicked her out and in Chicago until she faded away. Already Avery could feel the color in this world.
“I should have come sooner.” Her mother’s lips trembled and she flapped her hand in front of her face like she’d done anytime tears threatened for as long as Avery could remember. “And I want everything for you, Avery, all you ever wanted.”
“I was fine. I’m fine.” Avery had assured her mother she was coping with every phone call.
Her mother’s snort was easy to understand. “You’re not fine, honey. But that’s okay. You will be.” The grim set of her lips was worrying, but Avery didn’t have the right words to convince her otherwise.
And the way she felt, she needed to conserve her energy. They passed the tourist draw of Gatlinburg and wound north before turning off to stop outside Sweetwater. As her mother drove down the lane to her farmhouse, Avery was relieved that almost everything outside was the same. “What happened to the oak?” It had once been home to a rope swing and the beginnings of a tree house that her father had started but never finished.
“Storm came through. I told you that.” Her mother waved a hand as she slid out of the SUV. “Maybe not. I thought it might depress you.”
And we both know I don’t need to be any more depressed.
“Had to call in a tree service. Sammy was too concerned about how close it was to the house to try to take care of it himself.” Her mother yanked open the back of the SUV and started unloading the bags. “Plus, it was in the park’s busy season. Kid works as many hours as he can.”
Kid? Samuel Blackburn was exactly Avery’s age, definitely old enough to have outlived “kid.” He’d been the thorn in her side growing up, but his mother was still Janet Abernathy’s best friend.
“After we get you settled, I’ll run over and let Regina know I’m home. She’s been watching the place for me.” Her mother hustled up the four steps to the wide front porch and unlocked the front door. “Need to get you a new key made. Had the locks replaced after I had the renovations done.” She paused in front of the grand entryway and said, “The new foyer.”
“It’s lovely.” The old wallpaper was gone. Gleaming hardwoods were stained dark, and the front room was done up in grays and blues. “I could spend all day in here with a book.”
Her mother pointed up the stairs. “Your room is ready. You go take a nap. You look tired. I’ll see about dinner and let Regina know we made it in.”
Before she could disappear, Avery wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for letting me come home.”
Her mother sniffed. “Girl, if you make my mascara run, we will both be sorry.”
Avery squeezed her again and then let go. “Now, do I need to be worried about toe rot in my room?”
“Only if you brought it in,” her mother said as she narrowed her eyes. “You bring any rot at all into my place and we will have words.” She waved and then stepped back out on the porch.
Avery was still smiling when she opened the door to her old room. The linens and paint were different. All her awards had been boxed up, but the afternoon light through the window that warmed her favorite spot in the world, the window seat that used to overlook the old oak, was exactly the same.
Her phone rang and she didn’t even pull it out of her purse. She knew who was calling, the only one of her friends who still made the effort. Maria Benton had been one of the lawyers fighting for people who needed them most in Chicago’s Legal Aid. She’d spent the time Avery had volunteered there testing her and encouraging her, and when Robert had been diagnosed, she’d been Avery’s most loyal friend.
And for two years, she’d called and left messages and never once accepted Avery’s excuses for why her return calls were so very few. It hurt to talk to Maria. It hurt to remember that old life.
Today, Avery was going to put off until the day after tomorrow what she couldn’t face today. She was home now. She’d have more energy any day now. That was the day to call Maria. Until then, there was voice mail.
Avery dumped her bags on the floor and sprawled sideways on the queen-size bed. A nap. Then she’d get started on figuring out the rest of her life.
