The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

Thankfully, no one stood on the other side because she burst through as if chased. Maybe she was. By her guilt. Her conscience.

Not stopping, she barreled down the sidewalk, almost blind and deaf to anything but the pain that throbbed with every heartbeat. She pushed into the pharmacy and blindly hobbled to the book and magazine section at the back. A large rack of the audiobooks Cole had told her about offered a partial barrier between her and the rest of the store. And she took advantage of it.

The air punched out of her lungs on a loud, harsh gust.

She scrubbed her hands over her face, and when the strap of the shopping bag abraded her cheek, she realized she still clutched the gift from her mother. And that she’d left the sonogram pictures behind. A sound between a sob and a serrated chuckle escaped her.

Dammit.

She couldn’t go back.

Not now. Not when she so precariously teetered between screaming at her mother to, for once, have her back and begging her to see Sydney, accept her...love her. Not out of obligation because Sydney was her daughter. But love her because she actually liked her. Admired her. Saw her as more than a troublesome, rebellious child. Saw her as a strong, capable woman who made her smile.

Today had been the first time in years that her mother had simply smiled at Sydney.

How sad did that make them?

Worse...what did that say about Sydney when her own mother couldn’t find simple delight in her?

Another sob crawled its way up her throat, and her hand rose as if the gesture could contain the cry that threatened to rip free. Tipping her head back, she sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking against the burn of tears. Jesus, today had started off so well. Joy-filled. Even wondrous. And now... She shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes, the shopping bag knocking against her chin.

Now, she huddled in the back of the pharmacy trying to avoid an epic breakdown right between the Good Housekeeping magazines and the fiction section.

“Have you been over to The Glen? It looks fantastic. Cole Dennison definitely came through with his promise about making the rally bigger. I know you didn’t vote for him, but I’m glad I did,” a feminine voice said from the other side of the audiobook stand.

At Cole’s name, Sydney stiffened, and lowered her arms and head. Like a tuning fork, every bit of her went on alert. Eavesdropping was a sign of poor upbringing—hadn’t that been one of her mother’s endless rules?—but that didn’t stop Sydney from edging closer to that partition. Focusing on this conversation also provided the added benefit of distracting her from crumbling into an emotional heap.

And if something inside her hungered for any mention of Cole? Well, that was just because he was her friend.

The lies we tell ourselves.

“I mean, I like Cole,” another voice, a woman’s, a little deeper, joined in. “I just thought he was a little young for the job. Jasper Landon is older, more experienced and has been mayor for years.”

“He also hasn’t brought any change here in years,” the first woman observed dryly. “He made campaign promises to win another election and didn’t see one of them through. I should know. The previous election, I voted for him just because he swore he’d update the technology in the school system, including buying Chromebooks for every student. I’m still waiting on those,” she said.

“Okay, that’s one thing—”

“And approving raises for the police department,” the first woman continued. “Which, I might add, Cole has already done, and he’s only been in office months, not years.”

“Fine,” the deep-throated woman grumbled. “But Jasper hasn’t suffered a heartbreak like Cole. C’mon, Lynn, be truthful. Cole hasn’t dated since Tonia died. He’s not the same man. We both know he’s not over it. That kind of thing can make it hard for a person to focus on anything, much less being mayor of a town.”

Sydney scowled, glaring at the audiobook she held, Michelle Obama’s Becoming. This woman obviously knew nothing about Cole if she believed he wouldn’t give his all to this town. Hell, he’d proven that.

“Are you kidding me?” the first, and obviously much smarter, woman scoffed. “Who wouldn’t be scarred by that? He lost his wife—his childhood sweetheart—and their baby in childbirth. What was supposed to have been the happiest day of his life turned into the most tragic. But that has nothing to do...”

Sydney couldn’t hear the rest of the women’s conversation. She couldn’t hear anything past the deafening cacophony of words in her head, crashing against her skull like thunderous waves.

He lost his wife—his childhood sweetheart—and their baby in childbirth.

...the happiest day of his life turned into the most tragic.

She pressed a fist to her chest, right over the heart beating out a rapid tattoo. But it didn’t stop the shock, grief and pain that threatened to rip a hole right through her rib cage.

No one had mentioned...

She’d assumed that Tonia and his son had died in an accident. Like a car crash. Not while bringing their baby into this world.

No wonder he’d paled when he’d first seen her stomach behind the church. And no wonder his hand had trembled like a leaf battered by a summer storm when he’d touched her belly in his office. Jesus. How had he managed it? Had that been the first time he’d touched a pregnant woman since Tonia? Why hadn’t he said something? Told her?

Why had he insisted on going with her to her prenatal appointment today?

You’re also a soon-to-be mother who is about to experience one of the most emotional moments of her pregnancy.

He’d murmured those words in the clinic lobby, and he would know. And that moment would be branded in his memory because it’d been one of the few times he’d seen his son. One of the joyful times he and his wife had shared during her pregnancy. God, it must’ve been torture reliving that today.

And he