Friday, April 12, 2013

A Hometown love

This is the beginning of a story I am working on. It's about a woman who left her small hometown as soon as she turned eighteen, and only returns fifteen years later for her sister's wedding. While in town, she runs into her high school love, the guy she promised to marry, but left behind for life in the big city. I hope you enjoy.





Chapter 1
It had been fifteen years since Miranda Underwood left the small town of Clint, Alabama in her rear view mirror. It’s been fifteen years since she stepped foot in the town either. But now as she drove her silver Maserati down the long stretch of open road and watched as the fields of grass soon turned into familiar childhood hangouts-like old man Sheldon’s candy shop where he always let Miranda and her little sister Ashley get as many free candy as their little hands could carry, the old junior high baseball field where she had her first kiss, and the old malt shop where she had her first job-she felt a peace she hadn’t felt in years come over her.
At the first stoplight in town, Miranda rolled town all the windows in her car and closed her eyes in pleasure as the fresh country air hit her face. It reminded her of when she and Kent used to drive his pickup truck to lookout point-the highest hilly part of town where a lot of young people hung out-and lay out in the bed of his truck while the warm summer air danced with their hair and clothes. It was also the best place to see the stars at night.
A honk behind her startled her out of her thoughts. She looked to find the light had turned green. She waved an apology to the car behind her, and took off again. As she approached the old car service station, she looked at her gas tank and figured she ought to fill it up before she made it to her parents’ house.
Veering into the parking lot, Miranda found herself impressed with what the owners had done to the place. When she was growing up there, the building always had chipping white paint, the ground was always dark stained, and the inside made you want to turn back around and run away. But now it was painted a caramel brown color. The grounds, although still slightly stained, you could tell the owner spent a lot of time keeping it cleaned.
Miranda sat in her car for a good two minutes before she noticed that no one was going to come out to pump her gas. The place had always been a place where the workers did everything for you. Sighing, she swung open her car door and stood to her full 5’7 height, which was currently 5’11 in her four inch cream leopard print Louboutin heels.
Walking into the shop side of the service station, she was taken aback by the cleanliness of the inside. It was bright white; all the shelves were neatly organized with chips candy and sunflower seeds. The soda fridges where actually clean enough to see inside. Whoever the new owner was, they deserved a metal for the way they transformed the station.
“Hello,” she called out after seeing no one around.
“I’m back here,” a masculine voice called out from behind a large crate of Snapple juice.
“Okay, but shouldn’t you be outside? I sat there in my car for five minutes waiting for someone to come out and service me,” Miranda fussed as she removed her large Prada sunglasses from her face.
“That’s because the gas pumps are now self service. We no longer have attendants to do that.” His voice got closer to Miranda
“When did that stop?”
“About fifteen years ago when I took it over. You obviously haven’t been to Clint in a long while. Why don’t you…” his voice trailed off as they finally came face to face. “Miranda Mary-Jane Underwood. Why, you’re the last person I’d expect to ever see here again.”
Upon hearing her name come out of the guy’s mouth, Miranda took a closer look at the person who stood in front of her. The pasty face that was once covered in red acne, was now smooth tanned olive colored and was covered by a stubbly 5 o’clock shadow beard. The chocolate brown hair that used to hang well past his chin in a bad mullet was now neatly cropped into a sleek medium-length cut. He was now taller, much taller than she was, but he still held the same intense gaze in his crystal blue eyes that mad you think he was looking right into your soul.
“Kent Lambert,” she said in a breathless voice.

“The one and only,” he grinned, revealing pearly white teeth.
“Wow, you look…wow.” Miranda couldn’t think of the proper thing to say to describe how handsome he had become. “What happened?”
Kent shrugged his wide shoulders. “Late bloomer, I guess. Oh, I know why your hear. Ashley’s getting married this weekend to the mayor’s son, Dennis O’Shey.
“That’s right.”
“You’re looking good. You look like you stepped off someone’s fashion runway.” He openly stared at her and took in the leopard print heels, the dark denim skinny jeans, the fashionable cream blouse, and the designer shades that sat perched upon her dark hair. Her hair. The last he seen her it was full of wild wayward dark curls that had a mind of its own. He used to love to pull a curl, and watch it spring back into place. Now it had been straitened and hung all around her shoulders like a silky black curtain. Her smooth cocoa skin had always been perfect and required little makeup to look nice, but he could still see color above her eyes and tented color on her plump lips.
“I’ll take that as a complement.” Miranda shifted nervously from one foot to the other under his intense scrutiny.
“I guess. I rather liked the girl who used to wear ripped jeans, dingy sneakers, and graphic tees,” he said.
“We all change.”
Some more than others, he thought. She looked like one of those Hollywood stars she was always reporting about. California had obviously gotten to her. He wondered if the old Mi-Mi was still under all those designer clothes somewhere.
“Well, I’m sure you don’t have time to listen to me babble. Why don’t I help you pump your gas so you can be on your way,” he said as he led her back outside.
“You don’t have to do that. I can do it myself,” she said, now embarrassed by how much she didn’t know about the place she grew up.
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he halted as he stepped out the door and whistled. “Wow, this silver bullet belongs to you?”
“It’s a Maserati. And yes, it belongs to me,” she said.
“California sure is treating you nice.”
Kent didn’t say another word as he filled up her tank for her. As she passed him the money, he held it in her hand for a few minutes.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he said as he stared deeply into her big amber eyes.
Miranda gasped as a strange electricity went up her arm from the contact. The brief touch warmed her insides. She shivered when he let go, feeling cold and craving to feel his hand in hers again.
“I’ll be here all week, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Miranda smiled, the sped off before she said something stupid

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