That was the only plan I had in mind when I pulled my car into the gravel driveway of my childhood home. Then I heard the whisper, soft and smug, drifting through the hallway like it had been waiting for me to arrive.
“She already dropped out of the Coast Guard,” my stepmother muttered to a neighbor over the phone.
I stood in the entryway, listening to the sharp sound of her laughter as she moved toward the kitchen. “She just can’t finish anything she starts, and it is honestly such an embarrassment to the family.”
I did not correct her or defend my record, because I had not come back to this town to start an argument. I had come home to let her talk, right up until the moment she said the wrong thing in front of the right uniform.
The state of Georgia looks harmless when you have been away for several years. I drove past the same long stretches of highway and the same pine trees that lined the perfectly manicured lawns of my youth.
The car radio found the local country station on its own, acting as if it remembered exactly where I belonged. “Tonight at the Legion Hall,” the announcer said, “we will be honoring longtime resident Robert Montgomery for his years of service.”
Hearing my father’s name spoken with such respect felt strange given the tension waiting for me at home. I probably should have stayed at a nearby motel to avoid the drama altogether.
I could have slipped into the hall, watched the ceremony from the shadows, and left before anyone noticed me. However, part of returning to a place like Oak Haven is paying the emotional toll required to see your family.
I stopped for a quick coffee at a small cafe on the main strip because I needed a moment to steady my nerves. The woman behind the counter stared at me for a long beat before her eyes widened in recognition.
“Is that you, Andrea?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised that I had actually shown up.
“Hi, Miss Bev,” I replied as I reached for my drink.
Her eyes tracked the way I stood with my shoulders squared and my back perfectly straight. Two older men sitting at a corner table paused their conversation to watch me walk toward the door.
“I heard she quit the service,” one of them muttered loud enough for me to hear.
“She probably couldn’t handle the pressure,” the other man replied with a dismissive shrug.