Sometimes in Autumn

By Natalie-Nicole Bates

Fifteen years ago, Bethany Minor fled her hometown after being left at the alter by Dane Brennan. After the sudden death of her mother, she is forced to return home and face her past.

 

The years have been hell for Dane, and seeing Bethany again only reopens wounds he long thought closed.

 

When they realize the flames of their past love never died, Bethany and Dane will need to confess all before they can have a chance to reclaim their life that once should have been.

 

But when the truth of the past is finally revealed, will they still stand as a couple?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paperlate Press
• Release date: Sep 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223270393

Natalie-Nicole Bates

Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author. Her passions in life include books and hockey along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography and antique poison bottles. Natalie contributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia. She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19th century post-mortem photos.    

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Natalie-Nicole Bates

Sometimes in Autumn

First published by Paperlate Press 2023

Copyright © 2023 by Natalie-Nicole Bates

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Natalie-Nicole Bates asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Natalie-Nicole Bates has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

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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

About the Author

Also by Natalie-Nicole Bates

Chapter 1

Chapter Separator

It was official: Bethany Minor was an adult orphan.

Bethany hurried from her car and dodged the barrage of hail pellets that hammered down from above like mini baseballs. She’d escaped this town once under black events and she’d returned under equally bleak circumstances - to plan her mother’s funeral.

The swollen, rain-filled clouds above reflected her somber mood as she squinted at the sky while the icy rain pelted her face.

It was only October, but it was so cold.

Finally, she ducked under the familiar awning of Brennan Funeral Care.

Also known as the last place she wanted to be, not only because of her mother’s death.

What seemed like forever ago, when her life seemed so perfect, she’d worked here. Back then, it was called Brennan Funeral Home. Three generations of Brennan men owned and operated the business. If things went according to plan fifteen years earlier, Bethany would now be the wife of one of those men. But things did not go according to plan; things went horribly wrong, and she wished she never needed to return to Clewiston again.

But she had no choice.

She pulled open the imposing glass doors and walked inside. The cloying sweetness of flowers caused an immediate wave of nausea, and she clutched at her stomach. When she’d worked here all those years ago, the smell never particularly bothered her.

Today, it felt suffocating.

Maybe because her mother just died, or perhaps it was the prospect of seeing people again that she’d tried to put out of her mind for well over a decade.

As she stood at the threshold on the taupe plush carpet that was the color red the last time she was here, she shivered inside her denim jacket, then smoothed back her long black hair.

Everything appeared eerily quiet.

She checked her watch, the crystal case almost completely obliterated by condensation. Five minutes to twelve. She’d arrived on time for her noon appointment.

Where was everyone?

She walked past one empty viewing room on her left, then another to her right. A telephone rang in the direction of the office, and she followed the sound. But the office was empty. Should she answer the phone?

She’d worked here for four years, she knew the protocol. It could very well be a family member that needed to plan a funeral. In their grief, it would be agonizing not to get an answer, and they might opt for another funeral care.

She reached across the desk and lifted the receiver. Good afternoon. Brennan Funeral Care. Bethany speaking.

It wasn’t a family member after all, but a casket supplier. She lifted a pen and wrote down the name and number on a message pad. When she turned back, her past stood in the doorway.

It might have been fifteen years, but she would know Dane Brennan anywhere. Still, the change in him was noticeable. His hair, the color of rich dark red, which few people were naturally blessed with, was tied neatly back in a ponytail. His eyes were an ethereal blue, but something she couldn’t quite put her finger on looked different about them. Yet perhaps the most startling change was the full beard and mustache he now sported and the prosperous look of his hand-tailored suit.

Oh, Dane. Wow, she said when she found her voice.

He took a hesitant step toward her.

Beth, what are you doing here?

My mother died, Dane.

To say the words caused a jolt to her heart, and she clenched the fingers of her right hand into a fist so tight, her nails pierced her palm. Ever since the news of her mother’s death, she’d been thrown into a panic as she tried to figure out what she needed to do next, while fueled by only caffeine and adrenaline. She hadn’t really absorbed the finality of the truth.

Her mother was gone.

Suddenly he stood next to her.

"I’m so sorry, Beth, he said with an awkward touch to her shoulder.

She shrugged her shoulders in response but didn’t make eye contact with him. His nearness made her feel uncomfortable, but she wasn’t quite sure why. It was a long time since Dane broke her heart, and sent her life spinning into chaos. She thought she’d overcome that trauma.

It’s Bethany, she corrected. I…I have an appointment with your father.

I suppose Dad doesn’t trust me alone with you, he sniped.

Before she could respond, Ed Brennan, looking younger than his sixty years, entered the office and immediately engulfed Bethany in an embrace.

I’m so sorry about your mother, Bethany. But it’s so good to see you again.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Dane retreat. Most likely he felt as uncomfortable around her, as she did with him.

Thank you, Mr. Brennan, she replied simply when he finally released her.

She’d always liked Ed Brennan.

If circumstances had been different, he would have been a wonderful father-in-law.

There’s no need to call me Mr. Brennan. Ed will do.

He took her firmly by the hand, and led her into the cozy consultation room, then helped her out of her damp jacket. She sunk into the plush couch across from Ed’s expansive oak desk. A wave of exhaustion mingled with nausea, washed over her, and she closed her eyes.

How are you holding up? I know your mother’s death was unexpected.

That was the truth.

The surgeon assured both her and her mother that he’d performed her type of surgery dozens of times. There was no reason to expect anything but a positive outcome. But when he walked out of the operating room with a grim expression over weary features, she knew her mother died before he even uttered the words.

I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that she’s gone, she admitted.

Well, that’s to be expected, Bethany.

He opened a folder. At least your mother exercised excellent forethought and pre-planned her funeral.

Bethany wasn’t quite sure she heard him correctly.

She pre-planned her funeral?

She looked to Ed for confirmation.

"Pre-planned and