Chapter Nine

Sacha

It was just past noon when I rounded the last bend into Tilly. So much had happened since the last time I was there, it nearly made my head spin. Or perhaps it was motion sickness, something I'd never had before but seemed to come over me now when I drove on a winding road.

Which in Georgia, was pretty much all of them.

It was another weird side effect of being pregnant. I worried about every little flutter or ache, but my obstetrician had assured me that for my age, I was in good health. I was twelve weeks along, so chances were good I would carry to term with no problems. But that still didn't keep me from worrying over the future.

I almost hadn't made this trip. The temptation to simply go on with my life and never look back was strong. But I had been betrayed before and left in the dark. My father abandoned my mother and me when I was nine, never explaining why. And Kevin's transgressions had started long before I went on that fateful trip to Jersey years ago. If he had been honest with me about his dissatisfaction with our marriage, maybe things would have gone differently.

Maybe if my mother and my father had talked more about their marriage problems, he wouldn't have disappeared. Bile rose up in my throat at the memory of the day we discovered he was gone. I swallowed a sip of water from a bottle, willing the tragic images away. I had to focus on the task at hand, not the reasons that were causing my dread in the first place.

I let out a groan and gripped the steering wheel as I drove through town. Despite my strong desire to raise the baby my way, I couldn't escape my damned conscience, which told me the father-to-be had a right to know.

What he did with the information was his choice.

The entire three-hour trip, I'd rehearsed what I was going to say, and what he might say in return. If he wanted, I'd allow some involvement, but this was my show. If we actually had a chance at a relationship, things might be different. But as it was, we were from two separate worlds and would likely remain that way.

Especially if I moved to Alabama. Which still hadn't been decided. Just yesterday, I'd asked Dan for more time, stalling by saying my mother had taken ill. It was a lie, but I wasn't ready to disclose my pregnancy to anyone yet.

The company had taken over my life for years. They could wait a few more weeks.

Mom. I still hadn't told her about the baby. Somehow, keeping it to myself made it seem like it was just a dream. It wasn't real. Once everyone knew, there was no turning back, and then I'd have to accept the truth. For now, it was my secret, and I could fantasize about how I wanted the future to be.

I guess the decision to tell Gibson in person was my way of beginning to deal with the truth. Once that was over, the rest would be easier. I hoped.

If I could even find him. I was almost at the end of town, and the motel where I had stayed came in sight. Knocked up by a one-night stand in a seedy motel after too many margaritas. It was such a cliché, I almost laughed. Not exactly the picture of domestic bliss I'd envisioned when I first married Kevin.

"Oh, well. First stop, the Frisky Beaver."

I pulled into the parking lot of the bar, hoping Stuart, the owner, was in. He had been so nice and seemed like he knew everyone in town. I reached behind my seat for the bottle of flavored vodka I had brought as a gift.

"When you show up unannounced, always bring a gift," Mom once told me, and it never failed.

The bar was empty of customers, but music from a sound system competed with the sounds of someone banging pots and pans in the kitchen. A tall, skinny kid was mopping the floor, rearranging chairs as he went. I approached him since no one else was around.

"Excuse me? Do you know where I might find the owner?"

He nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. "He's back there."

Stuart seemed genuinely glad to see me, though it meant abandoning his sink full of pots to be washed. Wiping his hands on a white apron, he escorted me to the bar where he set a pot of coffee to brew.

"So, what can I do for you, Miss Sacha?"

His conspiratorial wink made me worry he thought this might be a social call, so I got to the point.

"I'm looking for someone I met when I was here a few months ago. He…left something with me and I thought he might want to know."

"Let me guess. Was it the tall blond guy with the beard?"

My heart fluttered, an involuntary reaction. "Yes. That's him. Gibson was his name."

"Gibson? I have to admit, I don't know the guy. It was the first time I'd seen him in here. But he seemed to be smitten with you."

I blinked. "Smitten?"

Stuart laughed. "Yeah, I could tell he didn't want me hanging around, but I had to make sure you were having a good time here."

"I did. Thank you."

Stuart went on to talk about his regular customers, the strange things tourists would ask for, and a few other topics-nothing to do with why I was really here. But I listened politely, nodding and barely sipping the coffee. Twenty minutes had gone by before I could speak. When he stopped to take a breath, I jumped in.

"So, any idea where I might find this Gibson guy? Or is there anyone who might know?"

Stuart removed his ball cap and scratched his head. "I bet the guy who runs the drugstore would know. Everyone goes in there sooner or later, and he's been here forever. His name's Mitch."

"Is that the one near the post office?"

"Yep. Kitty-corner from it."

To be polite, I stayed another fifteen minutes listening to his stories. But he ended up placing an order for the flavored vodka, so my patience paid off.

My next stop was the drugstore, but I was told Mitch wouldn't be back until after three. Since I had a few hours, I made the rounds of the restaurants and bars in town, following up with some of the clients I had met before. My last stop took longer than anticipated, so it was after four p.m. by the time I made it back to the drugstore.

When I got there, Mitch was at the register, but there were five people in line ahead of me. As I waited, it seemed each person had to engage in a conversation with Mitch, increasing the time it took for each purchase. As customers began to line up behind me, I wondered if I should come back later. I really didn't want my conversation to be overheard by half the people in town.

When I finally made it to the register, Mitch looked at my empty hands. "Can I help you with something, young lady?"

"Yes, I was told you might be able to help me find someone. I think he lives near here."

"I'll try. Do you have a name?"

I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. The woman behind me seemed to be hanging on my every word.

"Only his first name. Gibson."

Mitch's mouth opened to answer, but his eyes looked over my shoulder. I turned to find a man standing next to me. Tall, blond, and bearded, he said just one word.

"Sacha?"

~*~