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Renewal
Renewal
Renewal
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Renewal

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All Grace has ever done is run away. After high school, she ran to Ole Miss, a college far away from her home in Sunset, Louisiana. After college, she ran to a job in Wyoming that spared her from a life in Jackson she didn't want. Now, at twenty-nine, her husband has passed away and all she knows how to do is run, so she's run back home.

Now she must work through her loss while building a new life. First, she must repair her relationship with the younger sister she left behind. Then, she has to find a new job, which lands her dealing with an arrogant, sexist boss and a very competitive co-worker. They're the least of her problems, though. Her old college boyfriend, the one who broke her heart, is the Assistant Director. On top of that, her childhood friend, Morris, keeps showing up asking for a date and flaunting his country boy good-looks.

Going home seemed to be the right answer, but now she's tired of running. It's time for her to learn to let go, give in, and to heal. She has to learn that it's OK to remember, it's OK to hurt, and it's OK to love again. Can she convince herself to move forward? Or will the pain of her husband's death leave her unable to reach out to others?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherTabitha Short
Release dateAug 2, 2013
ISBN9781301764815
Renewal
Author

Tabitha Short

Lover of stories, written and read. An appetite, insatiable. Inherited from my father, who inherited it from his.

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    An entertaining read, I was drawn into the story from page one. Tabitha Short gives us a gem in "Renewal." A glimpse into the life of a young professional woman's life after tragedy. We are given a wonderful story about her journey back to her hometown and family to consume herself by taking care of others. In the end, she finally learns to accept help from others and face her grief.

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Renewal - Tabitha Short

RENEWAL

By Tabitha Short

The First Five Pages

Publications

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright 2013

ISBN: 9781301764815

Discover other titles by Tabitha Short at Smashwords.com:

Her Sister’s Murderer – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/253755

Arena Games: Legend of Petrova - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/295148

The Corpses of Old Farm Hill Road: The Arrogant Man –https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/236513

Cover Image Credits:

Design is a compilation by

The First Five Pages Publications

Stock photography provided Big Stock Photo

Brushes provided by Obsidian Dawn

Distribution Prohibited.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

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

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To all my readers,

I had forgotten how much pain a human is capable of feeling until my husband died. I was reminded of the first time I had felt the pain of loss. It had been when my first true love, my college sweetheart, ended our relationship. That was so long ago, and I had been so young, that when Bradley died, the pain was new all over again. The precious time that had gone by and healed me from the first wound was no longer a savior because even though it had taken away the pain, it had also washed away the strength I'd built to get through it. I was defenseless when Bradley died.

I guess no matter how familiar you are with the pain of loss, it doesn’t make it more bearable, though. All it does is help you understand that you’ll be over it someday. It only gives you hope. That, in turn, gives you strength to keep going and God knows I needed strength. I guess all the pain we go through is simply preparation for the next life challenge of endurance. If it hadn’t been for Morris, well, I don’t think even the hope that creates strength could have gotten me through it.

My husband and I had been married only four years. He had just turned thirty and I was reaching twenty-nine. We had tried for kids, but weren’t able. It ended up just fine, though. We adopted three dogs and a cat and lived happily ever after until the lung cancer hit.

He wasn’t even a smoker. He’d never smoked a day in his life. He’d never worked in any environment that would cause it, either. It was just one of those things.

He died three months after diagnosis. It had been stage four and there wasn’t anything anyone could do for him.

The day he died my world turned upside down and inside out. Even though I was a grown woman, all I wanted was my momma, so I sold the house and everything I could and then fled to Louisiana. I guess that’s where I’ll start… going home to Momma.

Everything was just as I remembered it. My parents live in quaint, split-level brick house in a small suburban area. It was the house I’d grown up in, so seeing it undisturbed brought back a dozen memories. Each one came whirling at me at a million miles an hour. I remembered the smell of bacon in the morning, the feel of clean, cotton sheets, the Louisiana humidity, the mud bogs, the four-wheelin’, corn-on-the-cob, family picnics, and Sunday church. I remembered the first time I shot a rifle, the first time I tracked a ‘coon, and the first time I shot a deer (and then cried afterward). I remembered learning to can picked beans and tomatoes, how to grow grapes on a vine, and how to make pickled… well, anything.

As I sat there in my BMW convertible reminiscing in front of the house, I saw the side door open. Out from it came my smiling mother. She seemed to have grown older since I saw her last, which was only about three weeks ago at Bradley’s funeral. I jumped out of the car and couldn’t get to her hug fast enough. When I wrapped my arms around her, I could really tell she’d aged. Her grip wasn’t as tight and her body felt almost frail.

Oh, my baby girl. I’m so glad you’ve come home, she said. She pulled me at arm’s length and then added, I hate the circumstances, but I love that you’re here.

In that moment, I couldn’t hold my tears back. Everything inside of me broke and I cried heavily, reaching for my mom and pulling her back into me. I cried hard, too. I don’t even want to know what the neighbors might have thought, if they were watching, and I’m sure they were.

Oh, baby girl, my mother said into my hair. Don’t you worry, sweet baby. It gets better with time. Let’s go inside and we’ll cry it out together. I don’t even know how my feet worked, but we made it inside. I cried for ages. I had held it in too long. Sure, I’d cried at his funeral and my mom had been there, too. I had held it all back, though. I had a duty. I had to be there with his mother and his father. I had to help his sisters. I had to put him to rest. Now that was over, and it was my time to hurt. Boy did I ever hurt.

Eventually, I laid down on the couch and cried myself to sleep. I had gotten to the house around 2:00 PM and when I awoke, it was dark outside. All the lights in the house were off and I knew my parents were in bed. My sixteen year old cousin lived with my parents and even his light was off. The fluorescent timepiece on the cable box read 2:40 AM. I’d slept for twelve hours. It reminded me of a story from the Bible. I can’t remember what book it was in and I can’t even remember where and when I’d heard it… or maybe I’d read it. I’m not sure. The only thing I remember is a man was broken hearted and God told him to sleep. When he awoke, he was able to move forward. I guess sometimes sleep is like medicine.

Waking up in a house full of people when no one else is awake is lonely. I considered waking up my cousin just to keep the loneliness from overwhelming me. Instead, I went into the kitchen for some water. I turned the light on and there was a note on the fridge.

Your pills are in the cabinet to the right, it said. My mother… always thinking ahead. I smiled and wished I were as thoughtful as her.

I opened the cabinet and there they sat… wonderful, glorious sleeping pills. I took them and don’t remember much after that.

Some six hours later, I woke up and heard the shrill and gleeful squeals of a three-year-old. I think it was the only thing in the world that could have made me smile. The door burst open and my niece, Kylee, jumped up onto the bed.

My mom followed right behind her crying out, No, Kylee, don’t go in there! Aunt Grace is sleeping!

Kylee’s face was even with mine and I saw the startle in her eyes. She hadn’t realized I was under the blankets. She backed away as if she’d seen a ghost. Her fright turned into a smile once she realized who was sleeping in ‘her’ bed. I threw the blankets off and scooped her up, which perpetuated more happy squeals.

What are you doing in my room? I teased as I pulled her into my arms.

"It’s my room," she giggled.

"Your room? It’s my room." I lifted her shirt and blew a raspberry on her belly. She giggled so hard that she lost her breath. I rocked her from side-to-side and then started pecking her face with kisses.

I’m the kiss monster! I growled playfully.

Breakfast is ready, I heard my mom say. She stood in the doorway smiling. Kylee’s giggles faded. I looked down at her and her smile was priceless.

You know what I think? I said to her.

What? She said in her tiny voice.

I think the kiss monster is going to get Gramma. He wants you to help him, I told her. She laughed and jumped from my arms to the ground. I swung my legs over the bed and we ran to my mom. I wrapped my arms around her and pecked her face with kisses, too. Kylee gripped her leg and buried her face into my mom’s belly, kissing with everything she had. Finally, I let her go and she dropped to her knees to let Kylee kiss her face.

She wrapped her arms around Kylee and lifted her onto her hips, but not before I noticed a brief pause as she arose. Her back pain must be getting worse.

She carried Kylee down the hall, who kicked and squealed the entire way until Mom had to let her down. As I passed the mirror in the hallway, I caught a glimpse of my face. It was swollen and red. My eyes were bloodshot. I needed a shower, but first, I had to say hello to my dad.

Some things never change. He sat in the same seat he’d sat in every morning since I could remember. He drank the same brand of coffee, the same amount of sugar, and the same non-dairy creamer. A newspaper separated his eyes from mine. Kylee’s booster seat was strapped to the chair I’d always sat in when I was growing up. I couldn’t help but smile and wonder if my mother was trying to fill the void, you know, relieving the empty nest syndrome by giving Kylee my seat and my bedroom when she was there.

Where’s Jess? I asked. Jess was my younger sister. She’d had Kylee when she was sixteen, but I had to hand it to her, she was trying. She finished high school by getting her GED, started working full-time at Walgreens, and rented an apartment for her and Kylee. She’d recently picked up a part-time job, too. Kylee’s dad, on the other hand, continued going to high school and graduated last spring. He spent most of his days playing video games. Jess was pretty much on her own. She doesn’t know it, but she truly amazes me.

Work, Dad said as he lowered the paper. It rattled my heart to see how much he’d aged in just a few short years. His salt-and-pepper hair was more salt than pepper now. His neck was droopy. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and I could see his hands were as strong as ever, though. He peered at me over the rim. I knew what he was telling me. He wanted me to get a job, too. I definitely agreed with him. Working would take my mind away from losing my husband. I know it might sound harsh, to force your almost-dead-from-a-broken-heart daughter into the labor force, but, honestly, sometimes Dad knows best and I think this was one of those times.

I nodded my head and looked to the floor.

Oh Gramps, stop pestering her. She’s got healing to do, my mom said as she brought in a half-gallon of juice and filled my glass.

Thanks, I said to her. I had meant thanks for the juice, but my dad heard it wrong. I didn’t have enough strength to try to correct it.

Just saying, he said as he lifted his mug for another drink. I chuckled a little. It was funny to hear him use pop culture phrases. I looked up and caught a glimpse of a grin on his face.

I picked at the bacon on my plate as Mom slid two fried eggs onto it.

I want ce-real, Kylee said, unable to pronounce cereal.

Cereal? My mom exclaimed. You’d rather have cereal over eggs?

Kylee giggled.

Yesh. Her giggle was contagious and I couldn’t help but smile and chuckle.

Regina, Morris is coming by on the eighth to pick up those boards in the back yard, my dad said loudly, trying to reach my mother’s ears as she went back into the kitchen.

Thank God, she said. My back yard has been an eye sore ever since you tore that building down.

You tore down the wrench shed? I asked, stunned. The wrench shed, as I had always called it, was his get-away. Jess and I were never allowed in it. It was where he went when we kids got on his nerves. He had retreated there many times, closing the door and locking us out. As I think on it now, we were all grown. There was still Kylee, though, and there was my cousin, Brendin, too. At that moment, Brendin walked into the dining room. He sat down and didn’t say a word, just dove right into the eggs and bacon on his plate.

Well, we have a reason for it, Dad said with a sigh. What reason could he possibly come up with for getting rid of his fortress of solitude? We’re getting a pool.

That’d do it, I thought.

Wait… did you say Morris? Like, Cry Baby Morris? Morris had lived beside us from the time I was six until I was fifteen. I remembered the day he moved in next door. I saw him sitting out on the curb. He was obviously crying and I had asked Mom why. She’d told me that his mother had died and that he missed her a lot. I had felt sorry for him, so I had gone outside to talk to him. I remember it like it was yesterday.

He was crying so hard he didn’t hear me come up beside him. He jumped when I sat down by him on the curb. He quickly turned away from me and wiped his face.

Go away, he said and then scooted down the curb. I moved closer to him and he scooted away again.

I’m sorry about your mom, I said as I moved closer once again. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his hand. I’d had a cold, so there were tissues in my both my pockets. I handed him one before I realized that I’d given him the tissue from the wrong pocket. It was a tissue that I’d already used. He took it, though, and wiped his nose on it.

Was she pretty? I asked him. He sniffed and nodded. I couldn’t think of anything else to ask. The next thing that came to me was, Was she a nurse? He shook his head no. Was she a teacher? He shook his head again. I gathered my knees to my chest, trying to think of more questions. Do you have any pictures of her?

He nodded his head and then in a broken voice he asked, Do you want to see? He led me inside his house and showed me a shoebox full of photos. He was right; she was beautiful. When I told him that, he smiled really big. We were really good friends for a long time after that. Then we became teenagers and the kids made fun of us, saying we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Morris didn’t like that so much. At the time, I didn’t care that he didn’t come over anymore. I had new friends and a really big crush. I

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