The Beautiful Now Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  The Beautiful Now

  M Leighton

  Contents

  The Beautiful Now

  Copyright

  Description

  Rights

  2004

  Chapter 1

  1984

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  2004

  Chapter 5

  1987

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  2004

  Chapter 9

  1989

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  2004

  Chapter 15

  1989

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  2004

  Chapter 19

  1989

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  2004

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Your Free Book!

  Connect With Me!

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books By M. Leighton

  YA and PARANORMAL

  About the Author

  The Beautiful Now

  A Novel

  By

  M. Leighton

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 M. Leighton

  All rights reserved.

  Cover photo by michaeljung www.depositsphotos.com

  ISBN: 1976544890

  ISBN-13: 978-1976544897

  Description

  Dane James worked my stepfather’s fields. He was the boy next door.

  Strong.

  Hardworking.

  Forbidden.

  From the moment we met, we were star-crossed lovers—always wanting, never having. We loved each other for most of our lives, but right from the beginning destiny had other plans. She knew we would fall in love. She knew we would fall apart. Over and over again, like the curse of a recurring nightmare. Or the hope of a familiar dream.

  Our past was tumultuous. Our future was bleak. But the one thing we always had was the beautiful now.

  Until that was taken from us, too.

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  Rights

  First Edition

  Copyright 2017, M. Leighton

  Cover photo by michaeljung

  http://www.depositphotos.com

  http://www.mleightonbooks.com

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  This book is dedicated to all those who have been hurt by someone close to you. There is light and hope and love at the end of the tunnel.

  Where there is hate, there is misery.

  Where there is forgiveness, there is healing.

  Where there is love, there is…everything.

  And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. – 1Cor 13:13

  2004

  32 Years Old

  Chapter 1

  I don’t intend to slow down when I see the Welcome to Shepherd’s Mill sign; my foot just hits the brake. It’s a reflex, like jerking your hand back that first time you touched the pretty orange coils on the stove. It’s a muscle-memory response to remembered pain.

  And, boy, do I remember the pain.

  I swore I’d never come back here. But surely, after all this time, things are different.

  Surely.

  Not that it matters. The reason I’m darkening the streets of this lost little town is sitting right next to me in the car, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. No place I wouldn’t go. No risk I wouldn’t take. No depths I wouldn’t sink to.

  Even if it means coming back here.

  That’s what mothers do.

  Well, not mine, but that’s why when I was about Celina’s age, I promised myself that if I ever had a daughter I would love her more than anyone or anything else. I’d never put money or status or a man above her like my momma did.

  I couldn’t imagine not keeping that promise. Celina is my world.

  Casually, as if I’m not nearly paralyzed by fear, I accelerate again. Just as casually, I glance at her to see if she noticed my moment of panic. She may only be fourteen, but her eyes, a green so much like my own, are every bit as discerning as an adult’s. Maybe even more so.

  Leave it to me to produce a child who’s like a mini Dr. Phil with boobs.

  “Why are you doing this, Mom?” she asks, and not for the first time. “Why are you really doing this?”

  Long ago, I made the mistake of telling Celina why we never visited this place. Well, sort of. I would never tell her the whole truth. Some truths make life more difficult, and I do my best to spare her from those. But I did make the emotional decision to tell her how much I hated where I grew up. It was reckless and totally regrettable, and now that slip has come back to bite me right in the ass. She knows I’d never come back here unless the situation was dire.

  And the situation is dire.

  I just won’t tell her how dire. She has enough on her plate.

  When I don’t answer right away, she draws her own conclusion, and the guilt and heaviness in her voice break my heart. �
�You’re doing this because of me, aren’t you? You just won’t tell me.”

  The small oval of her face is so beautiful, yet so pale. She looks exhausted and her eyes don’t shine like they used to. They haven’t in a while. That is why we’re here. I’m determined to do all I can to restore that shine, whatever the cost. Monetary or emotional.

  “Baby girl, I’m doing this for me. And for your grandmother, too. Although she’d never admit it, she could use some help and it will be good for us to mend our relationship. You’re just tagging along because I’m so awesome and I would never deprive you of that awesomeness. I’m considerate like that.” I grin over at her, the half-truth slipping easily from my lips. I’m sure lying to your child isn’t often the most advisable route, but my only goal in life is to protect her. Even if that means a few fibs along the way.

  “Why not just bring her to Maryland to live with us then? You hate it here.”

  “The only way she’d leave this town is in a body bag, so someone has to be crazy enough to come to her. And that person is me.” I send her my best crazy eyes. “Because you know how I am. I’m loco en la cabeza.”

  That earns me a smile. Since she started learning Spanish, it’s always made her laugh when I use what few words I know. She says my Southern accent thickens when I try to speak a different language. I don’t hear it, of course, but she swears it’s true and it usually makes her laugh. I may or may not use that to my advantage at certain key times.

  Okay, I totally do. I’m shameless in my efforts to amuse her. Or distract her, depending on the need.

  There is a short pause, during which I really hope she’s going to let this drop. I’m not entirely surprised when she doesn’t, though. Celina is nothing if not tenacious. She’s like a gorgeous, delicate little pit bull. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Why won’t you tell me?”

  As I drive slowly down Main Street, a street I’d hoped never to have to see again, I reach out with my right hand to cup Celina’s cool, silky cheek. My heart swells with a combination of unending love and unbearable fear. All teasing is set aside when I answer her. “Because you have enough to worry about without me adding to it. You’re my child. You’re not meant to carry my burdens.”

  “But what if I want to?”

  Oh Lord God.

  She’s so selfless. So amazingly selfless and loving. I don’t know where she gets it.

  I gulp at the knot gathering behind my tonsils. I laugh and make jokes as often as possible, but most of the time I feel like I’m one second away from tears. “Sweetheart, I love that you want to, but it’s my job as your mother not to let you. It’s my job to make life as carefree as I can, while I can. There will come a time when I can’t protect you from the pains of life, but right now you’re my baby. My sweet, sweet Celina. I’d take a bullet for you if it meant saving you from one more second of pain.”

  “It’s not like I’ve lived a sheltered, painless life, Momma.”

  I suppress a grin at the exaggerated wryness written on her face. It reminds me that she’s a teenager.

  Lest I ever forget it, I think sardonically.

  “I know you haven’t. You’ve had more hurts already than some people do in a lifetime. But that’s why I want to protect from all the ones I can. I’d put you back in my stomach if I could, so be glad shielding you is as bad as it gets.”

  “Mom! Gross!”

  I snigger at her response. She stretches “Mom” into two disgusted syllables—mah-ahm.

  “Seriously, Celina, try not to worry about it. Just be a normal fourteen year old. Well, as normal as you can be whilst sharing my DNA.”

  Her voice is so small I almost don’t hear her reply. “I can’t even remember what normal feels like.”

  Another wave of intense sadness washes through me. When I look right, I see the bowed head and downturned mouth of my little girl. Times like these I wonder that my heart isn’t literally splitting in two, right down the middle, neither half ever to feel healthy and whole again. “You’ll see it again, honey.” Please, God, let her see normal again. “And you’ll remember how boring it is.” Please help her through this.

  I hope I sound convincing, but I have my doubts when Celina just nods. I wonder if she can see right through me, inside to where I feel anything but confident. I wonder if, in reality, I’m as transparent as the bug-spotted windshield in front of me.

  “And until you do, we can meet in my old room every night before bed and laugh about Grandma’s pants. I bet she wears old lady pants. And old lady underwear. You know, those really big ones that go way up over her stomach. Like to her armpits.”

  I wrinkle my nose at Celina and she wrinkles hers back, and at the same time we both say, “Ewwww.”

  After a minute or two, she sighs heavily. Loudly. Dramatically. Typical teenaged angst. “I guess it’ll be fine. Things can’t get any worse.”

  I won’t tell her that things can always get worse, and I certainly won’t tell her that they often do. She doesn’t need to know that. I’ll keep her from learning that as long as I possibly can. I wish someone had done the same for me. But, alas, life hasn’t stopped showing me for twenty long years, beginning with the day I moved here when I was twelve.

  “Buck up, pretty girl. You never know. This might be the best thing to happen to you.” I sniff noisily, inhaling the smell of fresh-cut grass, sunshine and something sweetly unique to Shepherd’s Mill as it pours through the open window. “Smell that?”

  I haven’t smelled that particular combination in fifteen years. It almost makes me nauseous now.

  “What is it? Did you poot?”

  “Celina Holland, no, I did not poot. That, young lady, is the smell of a fresh start.” I sniff again, grimacing. “And probably a little bit of cow manure.”

  Celina shakes her head and closes her eyes. “You’re so weird.”

  “That’s me. Weird but awesome.”

  We both fall quiet and, as we roll through the heart of Shepherd’s Mill, I try to see the town as Celina sees it, all bias aside.

  The sidewalks on either side of Main Street are empty and all the shops still bear CLOSED signs in the windows. There are no cars parked in the slots that dash the curbside like stitches, and there are no sounds to speak of. It’s actually a little eerie if you don’t know the people here. All that’s missing is tumbleweed rolling across in front of us to complete the ghost-town appearance. That would be misleading, though. This town is very much inhabited. But in this case, the ghosts are devils and they’re all in church.

  “Where is everybody?”

  Celina is used to the hustle and bustle of a bigger city. She was already dreading moving to a small town, but this…this is probably really freaking her out.

  “In church.”

  As if on cue, just as we’re approaching the only place of worship in town, the front doors burst open and a throng of people gushes out, pouring over the concrete steps like water over rocks. I know from experience they’re waiting for the pastor to make his way to the exit so he can shake the hands of his flock as they leave. I’ve always thought it was his last attempt to try to convince them not to do sinful things at least for the rest of the day.

  Far as I could tell, it never worked, although I have to give them credit for going to the one place that has any chance of turning them into decent people.

  The first ones out turn to watch us as we pass. I resist the urge to scrunch down in my seat in shame. I’m sure they’ll draw their own conclusions about why Brinkley Sommers has returned after all this time, and with a child no less. Just thinking about it causes me to cast a rebellious eye their way, throw up a hand, and wave as if I don’t know what they’re thinking.

  As if I don’t know what they’re like.

  I actually laugh at the shocked expressions I see overtake face after face. Once upon a time, that would’ve bothered me. But not now. They don’t know that they can’t control me anymore. They don’t know that I don’t live and die by
their rules anymore.

  They don’t know me.

  Not anymore.

  Finally, we make our way past the graceful white building. I give the place one last glance in my rearview mirror. I wish I was seeing them in my rearview mirror because I was leaving this town rather than returning to it, but…

  My wistfulness is interrupted by my daughter’s scream, which jerks my attention back to the road in front of me.

  “Moooom!”

  Reflexively, I grip the steering wheel, straighten my arms and slam on the brakes, barely missing a farm animal that’s walking casually across the paved street.

  “Oh shit! What is that?” Celina’s leaning forward, hands braced against the dash, staring out the windshield.

  “It’s a goat,” I answer breathlessly, my heart thudding like a bass drum. “What does it look like?”

  “Why is there a goat in the middle of the road, in the middle of town?”

  I turn a wry smile toward my only child. “Welcome to Shepherd’s Mill, sweetheart.”