Undertow (Dragonfly) Read online

  Undertow

  By Leigh Talbert Moore

  Copyright

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or win it from an author-sponsored giveaway, this book has been pirated. Please delete it from your device, and support the author(s) by purchasing a legal copy from one of its many distributors.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Undertow

  Copyright © Leigh Talbert Moore, 2013

  www.leightmoore.com

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Cover design by Jolene B. Perry.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.

  To my faithful readers and friends.

  To my Mammaw and my Bobie, who loved to read and

  loved romance. I wish you could have read this one.

  And to my husband, Richard, who keeps me believing in my big dreams.

  Table of Contents

  Anna—December 26

  Book 1—Meg

  Anna—December

  Book 2—Lexy

  Anna—December

  Book 3—Bill

  Anna—December 31

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Anna – December 26

  Day after Christmas, and it was eighty degrees out. Everyone was complaining about the heat, but not me. I loved that it was still warm enough to venture into the ocean in only a swimsuit—even if it was a one-piece.

  I lay back on my board, trying hard to hold my eyes closed against the glare of the sunlight. The breakers crashed behind me, and I let the gentle rocking of the waves relax my shoulders. Yesterday I’d been at Nana’s all day with my parents, exchanging gifts and having Christmas dinner, and when I got home late last night, all I could think about was getting out here today.

  One more week and semester break would be over. Then we’d be back, flying to the end of senior year with all that entailed—prom, graduation, leaving for college… But right now I could hold onto this quiet, savor the calm. It was a welcome relief after the last six months.

  My best friend Gabi moved away in August, and instead of solitude, I’d stepped onto a roller coaster. It started the minute Lucy Kyser invited me to her enormous home for a study date. I met her brother Jack, had a mini-sexual revolution, started to fall in love with him, then lived through four months of drama as he pushed me away only to pull me back again.

  And I let him.

  I cringed in shame at the memory, and my mind flooded with the images. Every touch, every kiss, every fight, every make-up leading to a make-out. My stomach twisted, and I sat up fast on my board, crossing my arms over my waist. I hated how that stupid longing tried to creep back in when I didn’t expect it. How it meant there was still the tiniest possibility I had feelings for him. That I wasn’t completely sure what would happen if he showed up here wanting me back.

  It made me mad. I’d spent the whole break focused on conquering these emotions. This was not helping me find my calm.

  I closed my eyes and flexed every muscle in my body—I even held my breath. It was silly, but I imagined pushing him out of my heart and my head by sheer force of will, as if I could somehow focus so hard, I could send that stupid last bit of longing flying out of me like the cork from a shaken champagne bottle…

  At that very second, a body shot through the quiet water with a loud yell. My eyes flew open, and I screamed even louder. All the breath I’d been holding blasted out, and I gripped my board so I didn’t fall off.

  Julian could barely speak for laughing. “Gotcha!”

  “Julian!” I yelled.

  Adrenaline surged through me, making me trembly and weak, and I curled forward to rest my head on my fists, trying to hide my smile. Julian, my funny, gorgeous, incredibly talented friend did get me, and I was so glad.

  After a moment, I felt his warm hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” he said, still fighting laughs. “I didn’t give you a heart attack, did I?”

  “You wish,” I said, turning my head to slant my eyes at him. Then I stretched forward to lie on my stomach.

  His blue eyes sparkled like the waves. “Admit it. You freaked.”

  I sighed, pretending to be annoyed. “You are so mature.”

  He crossed his arms on the end of my board, and his face was close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin. Every kiss we’d shared danced through my mind, and I pictured myself sliding off the board and into his arms. This last week as he’d taught me to surf, our bodies pressed together in only swimsuits, he’d managed to be very respectful of my request for time. But it was getting harder for me to fight my feelings.

  Still, I had to. I couldn’t let Julian be some stupid rebound thing. He meant so much more than that. I had to be sure I was over Jack first.

  “It’s a terrible day to surf.” He looked around the water with a frown. “Didn’t I teach you anything? What are you doing out here?”

  “Trying to have some alone time, thanks.”

  “Okay.” He let go of the board and moved like he would swim to shore.

  “Wait,” I rose to my elbows. “Julian. Don’t be like that. How was your Christmas?”

  He turned back with a smile and warmth traveled all the way to my toes. “Same as always,” he shrugged. “New art supplies, a few tools. Just me and Mom. I didn’t expect to see you out here. You were very deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”

  I studied my palm, not wanting to tell him what I’d been doing before he burst through the water.

  “I don’t know. School starts next week,” I said. “I was thinking about the end of senior year.”

  “It’s gonna be great. We’ll do everything.”

  My nose wrinkled as I squinted at him. “Everything?”

  “Sure! If it’s happening, we’re doing it. You still working at the paper?”

  “All the way to May.” I loved my internship at the city paper. It had been my one constant through the emotional mess of last fall, and it made my college applications look so good. “And possibly some during the summer.”

  “You should.” He smiled, holding the end of my board again. “You’re a natural. Anyone who could get Mom to talk about her art career… I never thought that would happen.”

  My eyes flickered away from his. He didn’t know why his mom had offered to talk, that her interview had been in exchange for my silence after I’d discovered her secret—that Julian was the son of Bill Kyser, the ultra-rich, most powerful developer in town. That he and Jack were half-brothers.

  It was not a deal I’d asked for. I told her I’d never tell Julian what I’d discovered, although now that promise felt like it was becoming harder to keep. I was afraid of what Julian would say if he found out I knew and didn’t tell him. And I couldn’t help thinking how this secret could change his life.

  As the son of Bill Kyser, Julian could take his place beside Jack and Lucy as one of the leaders in our town, possibly even beyond. Every door would fly open to him.

  The way things now stood, he and his mom lived in a tiny cottage a block off the beach road in Dolphin Shores. His mom ran a local art and souvenir shop a few blocks east of that, and he’d had to work so hard for everything he’d achieved, even his scholarship to the Savannah College of Art and Design.

  I wanted him
to have everything he deserved. I wanted him to know the truth. But Bill Kyser said no. He insisted their connection had to remain a secret, and he’d even given me three journals to convince me to trust him. Journals that still lay under my bed just waiting for me to read them.

  “What are you thinking, Anna? You’re not even listening to me,” Julian said, his voice softer.

  I glanced up at his blue eyes, and again I remembered the few times he’d kissed me. I longed for the day when I could reach out and touch him, pull him close without having to worry.

  “Just… working at the paper,” I said. “What did you say?”

  “I said I have to go to Darplane next month. They’re putting my runner at the National Athletic Center, remember? I figured if it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t even know about me, so you should be my date to the unveiling.”

  “I’d love to go!” I said. “But I thought the ring was my thank you gift for that.”

  My mind drifted to the delicate, sparkling dragonfly ring he’d made for me. It was unique and beautiful, and I kept it wrapped in tissue and hidden safely in my drawer.

  Without thinking, I reached for his hand, which rested on the board beside my arm. I turned it so I could see the tiny, matching dragonfly tattoo he’d inked above his thumb. Warmth filled my chest as I ran my finger across it.

  He shrugged, watching my movements. “That wasn’t a thank you. It was something special. Just for you.”

  “I love it.” I smiled, picturing us together. Soon, I thought. “And I’d love to go with you to the unveiling. But let’s paddle in now. I need some lunch.”

  “My house?”

  “Sure.” I slid off the board and swam with him back to shore.

  * * *

  Last-minute instructions were given, kisses and emergency numbers handed out, and my parents were off for their annual, post-Christmas, long-weekend getaway. It was their tradition, following the month my mom spent organizing Christmas on the Coast, the huge fundraiser for the arts association in Fairview where she worked.

  The house was finally quiet, and I was finally alone with the journals. The story.

  It was a complete accident that I had walked in on Jack’s dad locked in an embrace with Julian’s mom. They’d said they were simply old friends, but working at the paper, I’d discovered their deeper connection hidden in the dusty files and old pictures.

  Nothing was in writing, but when I’d asked Julian’s mom, she’d told me the truth. She’d also nearly had me fired—until Mr. Kyser intervened. And did the unthinkable. He put the whole story in my hands in the form of three private journals, and he made me promise to tell no one about them. Not even Ms. LaSalle.

  I couldn’t wait to dig into their contents, but so far, every time I’d pulled them out to read, something or someone had interrupted me. Now I had an entire weekend alone to immerse myself in the story, to try and understand.

  Breathless with anticipation, I slid the first one off the bed and slowly opened the cover. It belonged to Margaret Weaver Kyser, Meg for short. She was Will, Jack, and Lucy’s mom, and she died in a car crash when they were babies.

  My fingers trembled as I gently turned the pages. There were gaps in the timeline, I noticed, and I wasn’t sure what I would discover here.

  But I was ready to know.

  Book 1 – Meg

  May 31, 19—

  Margaret Louise Kyser. Mrs. William S. Kyser. William and Margaret Kyser. Bill and Meg. Bill and Meg Kyser. Bill and Meg Kyser cordially invite you to their estate on Hammond Island…

  Nothing’s more exciting than a new journal. The blank pages just waiting to be filled with all the interesting and amazing things about to happen to me. I’m starting a new life. It’s almost as fun as planning a wedding. And planning a wedding is so much more fun than going to high school.

  I’ve actually been planning my wedding since I was a little girl dressed up in my grandmother’s chiffon nightgowns and scarves. Meeting Billy provided the face to my mystery groom, and what a perfect face. I knew the minute I saw him our first day at Fairview High School that he was the one. Tall and slim with soft brown hair and beautiful blue eyes—it was love at first sight.

  We’ll be together forever, of course, with little Will, John, Lucy, and Megan. Will will be named after Billy and John for my daddy. Lucy is for my best friend Alexandra Marie LaSalle, who has the coolest name ever. We all call her Lexy for short, and I know, Lucy’s not the same as Lexy. But it reminds me of Lexy, and I want my little girl to be just like her—creative, beautiful, full of flair, and loyal to the end.

  Megan’s for me, but that’s just my safety. Billy hasn’t said if he wants four babies, but I can probably change his mind. And I know, my given name is Margaret. But everybody calls me Meg. That’s why I chose Megan. It’s a cute little variation and will give her her own personal style.

  Our wedding is set for June 15. The perfect date for the most perfect day of our lives. We’ll be married on the beach, of course. The beach Billy is always talking about filling with high rises. I don’t want to be disloyal, but I think blocking up the East End Beach skyline is a terrible idea. Of course, Billy knows best.

  He and his best friend Bryant Brennan have a plan for taking the barren landscape of South County and turning it into a high-end tourist destination. I don’t care about that. I’m only interested in our perfect house and our three (or four) perfect children. He can take care of the rest.

  Lexy is my maid of honor. We’ve been best friends since she moved to Port Hogan to live with Mrs. Stella Walker and go to the Magnolia School with me. Miss Stella has a big old Victorian home down on Port Hogan Road, and she’s famous for helping the Sisters of St. Joseph with their orphans. Before she lived here, Lexy lived with the sisters at the Little Flower Convent in Sterling. Her mother’s mentally ill and can’t take care of herself, much less a baby.

  I think growing up in a place called Little Flower must’ve had some influence on how artistic and imaginative she is. But we don’t ever talk about that. I’m sensitive to Lexy’s feelings.

  When we started kindergarten, she had the biggest brown eyes of any little girl I’d ever seen. She was very shy, but she was certainly eye-catching with her long dark hair and olive skin. I knew immediately we’d be best friends. With my long blonde hair and blue eyes we were like night and day together. The complete set.

  Lexy is the most talented artist I’ve ever met, which I guess isn’t saying much because I don’t know any other artists. Still, her brilliant oil paintings fill a room, just like her personality now that we’re grown up, and she’s already been accepted to the Savannah College of Art and Design. That’s the best art school around.

  Everybody calls it SCAD, which I think is crazy because it sounds like SCAB, but whatever. I told her she’d get in. Gallery owners all over Newhope and East End Beach have been carrying her works since she set up an easel outside the marina where Billy keeps his boat. She would sit out there and slap brilliantly colored paints on huge canvasses and in a few hours she’d be signing off on massive images of sailboats waiting to go out, brown pelicans sitting atop pier posts, even piles of blue crabs stacked after emptying a day’s trap. Tourists and locals would wait for hours to pay her for a finished piece, and she was only in high school.

  In a month she’ll move to Savannah, but before she leaves, she’s going to walk down the aisle in front of me to celebrate the most perfect day of my life.

  My mother, Mrs. Georgiana Weaver, is on practically every volunteer board and committee in South County. That’s because my daddy, Dr. John Weaver, is the best surgeon at the hospital in Fairview, and he’s a founding member of the hospital expansion committee.

  When the county commissioner’s wife had to have her gall bladder removed, she insisted on having my daddy perform the surgery. It means we have a lot of money, and it tends to make people take notice of us.

  Anyway, my mother wasn’t too keen on the idea of me getting married right
out of high school. Those were her exact words, “not too keen.” But once I explained to her the only thing I wanted to do was marry Billy and start having the most beautiful children this county’s ever seen, she laughed and said I should follow my dreams.

  Everyone acts like your dreams should be something earth-shaking and huge. When I was South County’s contestant for the State Junior Miss competition in Sterling, all the other contestants would talk about how they were going to be ambassadors or newswomen or actresses—things that would take them far away from their homes and families.

  I’m glad I didn’t win. I can’t imagine living anywhere besides here. I know everyone in South County. I know where everything is and who owns what, and once Billy sets his plan in motion, he’s going to put East End Beach on the map, and we’ll be rich. He’s told me that a hundred times, and if anybody does what they say they will, it’s Billy.

  We’re perfect for each other, Billy and me, because I’ll be his patient, loving wife making his home and taking care of our beautiful children while he’s out conquering the world. I’m used to husbands who work a lot from my daddy. He’s always on call or at the hospital late or on Saturdays and Sundays. Billy’s working won’t bother me a bit because in the end we’ll just be two old people sitting on our front porch surrounded by our grandbabies. And we’ll smile and pat each others’ hands and reminisce about how hard we had to struggle and how happy we are together.

  It also helps that Billy’s daddy owns a good-sized horse ranch in Midlind, so even if my future husband’s master plan doesn’t pan out, we’ll still land on our feet.

  Lexy’s coming over to try on her maid of honor dress in a few hours, and I can’t wait. Miss Sensory Ocean-Mystic “You shouldn’t be getting married so young” is going to flip when she sees it—dark maroon strapless bodice with a white tulle skirt. She’ll look amazing next to me in my all-white, strapless dress with matching tulle skirt.