Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

V ivian spent a lot of time thinking about her next move. It consumed her. She prowled the house for hours, mind on things she hadn't thought about in years and plans she hadn't dared dream of until now. When the sun rose on the second day after she'd left Dallas at his place, she packed a small bag and wrote two letters.

The first was for her brother Benton. She apologized for taking the large, heavy-duty ranch truck, but with most of the roads still in bad shape from the storm, she couldn't chance anything else. Vivian told Benton she'd arrange to have it brought back when she was done with it. She told him to give Nora a kiss and to let the little girl know she'd see her soon, and that she'd left Lily in their house for the girl to look after. She didn't give a return date because she had no idea when it would be. The only thing she was sure of was that this time, she wasn't leaving like a thief in the night.

And that she'd be back.

The second note was for Dallas. Her eyes blurred as she read it over, making sure she got everything right.

D allas,

I know what I told you was a shock. I've pictured the moment many times, but honestly never thought it would happen. I didn't think I was strong enough to tell the truth. Partly because I'm ashamed of it. Of what happened between my father and myself. Of that last night when I followed you to Big Bend. Of the things we said to each other. Even after all this time.

I didn't realize that it would be years before I came back. That it would take Benton getting hurt and Scarlett getting married for me to take those steps. There are still things I can't face. Things that are painful. I don't know if I can ever forgive my father for the things he said and did.

But seeing you again has made me realize there are some things I can't run from anymore. Some things I need to face on my own. Because I think that only then will I have some kind of chance at happiness. I don't want to live only half a life anymore. My mom would want so much more for me.

Don't be mad that I left. I mean, for all I know, you might be okay with it. But I will be back. And maybe together we can close the door to a past that wasn't always kind.

Anyway, I don't know if any of this makes sense.

Viv

W as there anything left to say?

Of course there was. But they were words that wouldn't cross her lips again. Not yet, anyway. With a heavy sigh, Vivian folded the letter into an envelope and left it on the kitchen table. She headed out into the brilliant sunshine and made the first move at reclaiming her life.

T he flight to Louisiana was delayed twice due to weather, and it was nearly midnight by the time Vivian deplaned. It took nearly an hour to grab her luggage and rental car, and by the time she pulled up to the B and B in Belle Adair, it was nearly three a.m. She'd sent them an update so the owner, a woman named Miss Callie, knew she was checking in much later than she should have been. Luckily, the lady was understanding, and as Vivian slid from her car and stretched, she was happy to see the porch light on.

Miss Callie had given her the code to the front door, with instructions on how to get to her room on the upper level. Said she could check in officially when the sun was up.

Inside the house, the lighting was muted, so she didn't get a good look around, but then Vivian was so damn tired, all she could think about was a bed and a pillow, and, hopefully, at least six hours of dreamless, uninterrupted sleep.

Her accommodations were beautiful. Up two flights of stairs, it was one of two rooms in a converted loft. Decorated in light blues, creams, and whites, it was spacious, with a kitchenette, seating area, and private bathroom. The bed was king-size, with sheer draped material hanging from four bedposts. If she weren't so damn tired, she would have taken more time to enjoy the space.

Vivian splashed water over her face, tossed her clothes onto one of the overstuffed chairs near the large window, and fell into bed. She was asleep within minutes, and it was nearly noon before she rolled over and squinted against the bright sun that fell in from two windows. She rubbed at the sleep that made it hard to see. After blinking a few times, she stared up at the ceiling as she took stock of her situation.

She was here. She was really doing this.

Her stomach churned at the thought. With a groan, she slid from bed and headed into the shower. There was no time or space to be weak or flip-floppy. She was done sitting in the back seat when it came to her life. From now on, she was driving that particular train, even if things got rough and she went off the rails.

It was nearly one in the afternoon when she made her way downstairs and over to the front desk located in the foyer. A woman sat there, her shiny silver hair pulled into an expertly done chignon, her delicate features relaxed as she read a book and sipped from a crystal glass. She was older for sure, but her bone structure was timeless and made it hard for Vivian to guess her age.

The woman glanced up as Vivian came to a stop, and soft blue eyes smiled up at her as she got to her feet.

"Why, you must be our midnight visitor." Her voice was soft, propped up by a slow Southern drawl. "I'm Miss Callie."

"Hello," Vivian replied with a smile. "It was a bit later than midnight, and I'm embarrassed that I only got up an hour ago."

"Don't be embarrassed by sleep, sugar. Our bodies tell us when we need it, and obviously, you did." She moved toward the computer. "Now, let's get you officially on the books, and then I'll tell you anything you need to know about Belle Adair while you have some luncheon. We serve until two o'clock, so you've got time."

Once Vivian was checked in, she followed the woman into the kitchen and inhaled the kind of smells that made her stomach grumble. She helped herself to coffee and a generous helping of cheesy bacon and grits, biscuits and gravy. She tucked into it with gusto and thought, screw the carbs and cholesterol . She could enjoy this kind of decadence every once in a while.

"You're from Montana, I see." Miss Callie had busied herself with the food, wrapping up the leftovers and such.

Vivian nodded. "Near Yellowstone."

Miss Callie pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and filled the large sink up with hot soapy water. "I've always wanted to visit that part of the country, but this here place has kept me rooted firmly in Belle Adair." She turned to Vivian. "Why, I've only been to California once and New York City a while back." She winked. "Of course, I've been to Tennessee. Memphis, to be exact. Any true Southern woman makes the pilgrimage to Graceland at some point in her life."

"Elvis, right?" Vivian asked with a small smile.

Miss Callie winked. "Is there any other reason to go to Memphis?"

Vivian chuckled. "I guess not."

"Is this your first visit to the South?"

Vivian's smile slowly faded, and she shook her head. "No. I was here a long time ago."

"Oh? Are you back for personal or business?"

"I…well, it's just…" Vivian tumbled over herself trying to explain something she had a hard time explaining to herself. Seriously. What was she trying to accomplish? It was one thing to turn the page and start a new chapter, but to go back to that dark place? Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she'd thought things out enough.

"Don't pay me any mind." Miss Callie got busy with the dishes. "Sometimes I talk too much. It's a byproduct of living alone. Though I suppose it's better than talking to myself." She flashed a wry grin. "Something I do a lot of."

"It's okay." Vivian got up and brought her empty plate over to the sink. She placed it on the counter and, over the woman's protestations, grabbed a dish towel. It didn't take long for her to dry the dishes. She hung the towel on the hook to dry.

"Thank you," Miss Callie said. "Dinner is from five to seven. I only have one other guest at the moment, a young man who fancies himself a writer, though he spends more time than he should at the Crab Tree, a local watering hole. I think he fancies himself a Hemingway or a Tennessee Williams." She moved toward the door. "Anyway, he may or may not show up is what I'm getting at." She flashed a smile. "Do you need any information about the area? Something you might have forgotten since the last time you were here?"

"No." Vivian shook her head. "I should be fine. Thank you for the lovely food. I'll most likely take advantage of dinner and be back for six or so."

Miss Callie bowed out of the room, and Vivian went back upstairs to grab her cell phone and freshen up before heading outside. She'd dressed casually in jeans, flip-flops, and a plain white T-shirt, but it was a bit cooler than she'd first thought, and she wanted to grab a light sweater as well.

And the folder.

It stared at her from the table beside her bed. She picked it up and held it for a few moments, then sank onto the mattress. Carefully, she opened it and retrieved the papers from inside. There it was in black-and-white.

Her secret.

Her pain.

Her shame.

The words jumbled and blurred as she read over the information again.

- F emale baby born June 3 rd , 2009, weighing 6 lb 9oz and measuring nineteen inches

-Mother, Vivian Bridgestone

-Father, unknown

-Adoption arranged by Frank Stirling, a lawyer in New Orleans, Louisiana.

-Couple residing in Belle Adair, Louisiana, are the adoptees

-Info on adoptees attached

-pictures and info on child attached

V ivian's fingers trembled as she paged through the additional papers. The couple who'd adopted her baby were Alicia and Edmund Landry. They'd been childless up until welcoming her daughter into their home, and since then had adopted two others, a boy they'd named Frank and another girl they'd named Pheobe.

Alicia, forty-two, was a stay-at-home mom, while Frank, forty-six, owned a successful property development business. They'd never been in trouble with the law, paid their taxes on time, and led the kind of life most Americans dreamed of.

Vivian's throat tightened as she skimmed the rest of it—she'd read the pages many times since receiving the report. They'd named her daughter Summer Rose Landry.

"Joelle," she whispered, touching the photo that was attached to the next paper. She'd held her once, and Vivian had named her after her mother.

She swiped at a tear that rolled down her face and studied the photo. It was taken at an event in Belle Adair only a few months earlier. Her daughter was beautiful. Tall, coltish, with long blonde hair that waved and blue eyes that pierced.

She has my cheekbones and chin.

She has Dallas's eyes.

Summer Landry, fifteen, excelled in school and was the top of her sophomore class. She showed horses, took dance classes, and was on the swim team. She had a close group of girlfriends. Played softball and made time for the church choir.

And she'd wanted to meet Vivian for the past three years.

The note she'd written to Vivian was still in the envelope. The seal had never been broken because she'd never had the balls to read it. In fact, she'd told the lawyer not to contact her ever again. He'd informed her that he was retiring and that he would let the girl know Vivian's wishes. At the time, she hadn't wanted to know anything about her daughter. Where she was living, who she was living with. It was too painful.

Vivian tucked the letter back into the folder. She still wasn't sure this was the right thing to do. She still wasn't ready to read the letter.

Yet, she was here and that was a step forward. If I actually take it.

She checked her watch. It was now or never. After a few moments, she got up, grabbed the sweater, and turned toward the door. Nervously, she ran her hands through her hair, then wondered if she should wear something different. Something a bit more sophisticated. Or maybe she should wear her hair up. That would look more like…

Like what? she thought. A mother? Like a woman who hadn't given her child to complete strangers?

"God," she muttered, walking out of her room before she changed her mind. It was after two in the afternoon, and she had fifteen minutes to find the café and get settled. Fifteen minutes to grow the kind of balls she needed to get through the next hour.

Fifteen minutes before her life would change forever.

"Geez, drama much?" She laughed at herself, a nervous sound that echoed in the empty stairwell, and then ran down the stairs. It was overcast and on the cool side, so she pulled on her sweater and got into her rental.

She punched in the address she'd stored into her phone, then, just before she was about to leave the B and B, her call rang.

It was Jack.

"Hey," she said, picking up.

"I just listened to your voicemail. Are you okay?" He made no effort to hide his concern. "I should be there with you."

She'd called him the moment she left the ranch, but he'd been out, and now she was embarrassed at the length and desperation of the message she'd left him.

"I'm okay. On my way to some café in town."

Silence followed her declaration, and she pictured him on the other end, mouth pursed and brow furrowed while he decided what words would best serve the situation.

"I promise I'm okay," she said, pulling out of the driveway and taking a left on the street that should take her to the downtown area.

"How long will you be there?"

"I don't know. A few days, maybe."

"And where are you exactly?"

"I'm in a town called Belle Adair, staying at a B and B."

"With a name like that, Louisiana would be my guess."

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, if you need me, just call. I'll hop on the first plane. To hell with Richard's family. They can wait."

"No. I'm good." She wasn't, but she didn't need to burden her best friend with her fragile state of mind. "I'll call you later."

"Okay. I love you, darling."

"I know."

"And I'm not asking about your man and what went on with him, because I know you'll tell me when you're ready."

She couldn't help but smile at that, however bittersweet it was. "Thanks."

"Call me when you can."

Vivian exhaled and concentrated on the road and the voice that fell from her GPS. She drove for exactly eleven minutes and found the café, not far from a charming and bustling downtown. There seemed to be some sort of festival in the works, and as she parked and got out of her car, she noted a stage being built in the town square and folks busy setting up booths.

Normally, she would have loved to wander, but it wasn't her reason for being there.

Vivian swallowed her fear and walked toward the café, her legs shaky, her stomach filled with anxiety. She paused for a few moments to catch her breath.

Then pushed open the door.