Rock My World

  ROCK MY WORLD

  Lauraine Henderson

  Copyright © 2019 Lauraine Henderson

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:9781687039491

  Vector design by Vecteezy.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to anyone who, in a moment of despair, uncertainty, or ignorance, made a decision that forever haunts them. The miracle of forgiveness is real through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Forgive others and then, forgive yourself.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’m grateful to friends and family who support me in my writing journey. They keep me going.

  I’m grateful to readers who like my books. I try to produce the very best I can.

  I’m grateful to Sandra Meaders, my editor, who patiently finds all my grammatical errors and makes wonderful suggestions.

  I’m grateful to my Heavenly Father who inspires me with stories that seem so real..

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  PROLOGUE

  "Y ou know what makes graduation even better?" Julianna asked, shaking back her long, chocolate tresses.

  "What's that, Junior?" J.R. responded, a look part mischief, part anticipation in his deep brown eyes accompanied his half-smile.

  Working past J.R.'s soft brown curls that recently had been the recipient of her loving caress, Julianna took a deep breath and said, "That I never have to see you again."

  Standing next to them, Julianna's friend, Stacy, gasped.

  Julianna watched J.R. flinch as though she had stabbed him with a knife and for a minute, his boyish good looks paled. She held his stare for what seemed like an age.

  Finally, he said, "I guess you didn't read what I wrote in your yearbook." He turned and walked away, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

  Julianna recoiled slightly from the dejected slope of his shoulders as he turned the corner to the school building.

  "Wow," said Stacy, "that was harsh."

  "He deserved it," she said with conviction.

  "I wonder what he wrote in your yearbook," Stacy murmured, pulling her blonde waves behind her ears.

  "Yeah, whatever." Julianna dismissed the idea like a bug in her way. J.R. Bentley was going to be a faded memory before she started her first class at Oregon State University.

  Even so, a chunk of her heart chipped away and fell into oblivion.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ten years later...

  J ames Robert Bentley, known by everyone as J.R., rounded the final corner and slowed his truck as he made the final drive down the long gravel driveway toward the place that he had once called home. The shiny new truck he drove looked out of place in front of the rundown farmhouse.

  Peeling paint, rusted screens, and the overall dejected look of time, weather, and negligence weighed down J.R.'s heart, already heavy with the reason for his return. Ten years ago, he thought he had left Cooper Springs for good.

  Sharon Bentley opened the screen door at the front of the house and walked slowly onto the front porch stoop, stopping at the railing and leaning heavily as she stared directly at J.R. Her gray curls piled high on her head and her dark eyes bore a hole in J.R.'s heart. Always slender, Sharon had aged gracefully, but J.R. could feel the weight of the plans ahead.

  Slipping quickly from the cab of the truck, J.R. silently made his way down the narrow walkway, up the front steps, and into Sharon's waiting arms.

  "Mama."

  "James."

  J.R. knew she only called him that when she was mad or emotional. He held her for an age, welcoming her warmth and strength. Ten years of distance, broken only by phone calls and her occasional visits to Portland, disappeared as J.R. hugged his mama, fighting the lump in his throat to keep his own emotions at bay.

  "I'm so glad you're finally here." Sharon's voice quivered slightly, but her hug never faltered, and J.R. could feel her strength fill the void created when he had walked away the summer after his high school graduation.

  "I love you, Mama," J.R. managed. The rest of the words could wait until he could keep his composure. He hadn't realized how hard it would be to come home, but for Mama's sake he would be strong, like her.

  "Come inside and take a load off," Mama said, pulling out of his arms and heading back to the front door. Her labored gait had been hidden from him when she first walked out, but now he saw the care she took with each step and breathed a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't had any mishaps before he returned. He was here now and could take care of her.

  Holding the ratty screen door, so pointedly out of square it screamed for him to grab his tools and start on the repairs immediately, he tempered his thoughts and urged himself to be patient. He was going to be here for a month. There was plenty of time to get the place in shape and ready to sell.

  Sharon crossed to the well-worn sofa and settled heavily onto a sagging, threadbare floral cushion. Pulling a soft blanket over her lap, she leaned back. "Did you make good time?"

  J.R. took his place across from his mama in an equally dilapidated loveseat. Leaning forward with his hands on his knees, he said, "Sure. It didn't take much time at all, maybe four hours or so."

  "Hard to believe you've been so close all these years and..." Her voice faded away.

  J.R. looked at his hands and frowned. She didn't need to remind him he'd been away a long time. "I know, Mama. But I'm here now. Let's focus on that, okay?"

  "At some point we're going to have that talk, J.R. I don't know when, but it will happen."

  "I suppose. But today is not that day."

  J.R. stood up, the confines of the small sofa too reminiscent of the long drive. Pacing around the generous, but cluttered living room, he glanced over the faded family portraits sitting on the fireplace mantle. His parents had been so old when he was born, it was almost as though they were grandparents instead. Intricate cross-stitch pictures hung on the walls; the pieces and parts of his mother's life scattered about on every horizontal surface. Memories flooded through his spirit and the heaviness he felt when he started this journey wrapped around his soul. Of course, it had been too long since he was here. Of course, he should have made more time to see his mother, care for her better, and help her around the house. Coming home now when the house was practically falling apart clawed at his heart.

  He closed his eyes, and the years he'd been gone scattered. Visions of high school and a young man who wanted to take on the world slowly came into focus. But he wanted to take on the world with someone special at his side and the fact that the one he'd chosen hadn't felt the same way bore a hole into his heart the size of the Pacific Ocean.

  "How soon do you want to get started on the repairs?" he asked. "I'll need to get back to my place eventually, you know. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get it on the market."

  "The retirement home isn't expecting me until next month. We have that much time. I don't want to put it up for sale until I've moved out. I'm not interested in watching strangers paw through my home."

>   "That's fine. I may have to run back to Portland once or twice to check on business. But I'll make sure it all gets done."

  "I've made a list. You can look it over later." Sharon pushed the blanket aside and stood. J.R. walked over to offer help. She gave him a stink-eye. "I've been living alone for a long time," she said with a grimace. "When I need your help, I'll ask for it."

  "Yes, Mama." J.R. ran his hand over his face and stood back, following her lead into the kitchen.

  The smells of hearty comfort food teased J.R.'s nose as they entered the kitchen in the back of the house. "Smells good," he said with a deep breath.

  "It's a new recipe, but it has all the basics of a good stew." Mama took a potholder from the drawer beside the stove and opened the oven door.

  Waves of rich beef scents with spicy seasoning floated through the room and J.R. enjoyed the delectable fragrance. "How soon will it be ready?" he asked, realizing he hadn't eaten since long before he left his apartment earlier that day.

  "Soon."

  J.R. sat down at the kitchen table while Sharon slowly moved from counter to counter putting together the ingredients for biscuits. Watching his mother carefully, he tamped down the guilt from being gone for so long. He may not have been here physically, but he called her every Sunday with updates on what was happening in his life. He simply didn't know how to explain his reluctance to return to a place that held so many good memories gone bad. It had been easier to focus on college and then work and push away everything that reminded him of this little podunk town; except for Mama.

  Maybe if he knew where Junior Brown lived, he could relax and feel more comfortable. But if he asked Mama, she would be curious and eventually figure out Junior had something to do with his long absence. He wasn't ready to divulge the embarrassing actions that led to his broken heart. Someone in this town would know, and he'd try to get the information while he shopped for supplies for the renovation.

  "Anything I can do to help? I'm pretty good in the kitchen."

  Sharon laughed. "No need. I'll just get the biscuits done and by the time they've baked, dinner will be ready."

  J.R. stood and walked over to the sink. He couldn't sit still and let her do all the work when he was here now to take care of her. "I'll just do up these dishes then until it's time."

  Giving her son a slanted glance, she said, "You just do that."

  The sound of a small engine needing muffler service roared down the driveway and stopped in front of the detached garage behind the house. A door slammed shut, and J.R. heard singing, but it was too far away to distinguish the words. Crisp steps on the back deck alerted J.R. to the newcomer approaching the door to the kitchen, and he glanced at Mama. She hadn't seemed to notice, continuing to cut small mounds of biscuit and slipping them onto the greased cookie sheet on the counter.

  "Company?" J.R. asked.

  "My tenant out back," Sharon answered cryptically.

  "You have a—"

  "Mama! I'm home," the young female voice announced. "Whose truck is parked out front? I brought ice cream and brownie mix for dessert." With her head hidden behind a grocery sack, J.R. couldn't identify the voice, but a shiver rolled through him.

  Sharon turned slightly. "That's great, Julianna. Dinner is almost ready."

  Julianna Brown marched into the kitchen and settled her bag on the counter next to the refrigerator. Without a passing glance, she opened the door to the freezer and tucked the ice cream inside. Then she opened the fridge and took out a carton of eggs. "I'll get the brownies ready to go into the oven while the biscuits are baking." Turning toward the sink where J.R. still stood, frozen in place, Julianna let out a small scream and the carton of eggs shattered on the floor. "What the hell?"

  "Julianna! Your language."

  "Sorry, Mama."

  J.R. sucked in a ragged breath. "Junior?"

  If eyes could kill, J.R. would be six feet under. Unprepared for his reminiscences to suddenly come to life, he grabbed onto the kitchen counter for support. He staggered as he was pushed aside when Julianna grabbed a paper towel from beside the sink and made quick work of the egg mess on the floor. He wobbled again as she dumped it all into the garbage can under the sink. When she finally looked at him again, the daggers were gone and only a bland expression remained.

  "Hello, J.R."

  "Junior," he repeated.

  "You know, no one has called me that in a long time. I'd forgotten how much I hate it."

  "Julianna," cautioned Sharon.

  "Mama, I think I'll have dinner in my trailer tonight. You two enjoy your reunion." Wiping her hands on the towel hanging from the stove, Julianna headed for the back door.

  "Stop!" When Sharon Bentley raised her voice, everyone froze. "You're having dinner with us whether you want to or not. You're going to be a part of this, and we're all going to get along."

  J.R. faced his mother. "A part of what?" he asked.

  "A part of the renovation."

  "I don't think so," he said. "I can get it all done on my own."

  Sharon's eyes narrowed. "Probably. You're a big-time real estate developer now. But you've only got a month, and you're going to need some help. Julianna can help. She's been keeping this place up for a long time."

  "No wonder it's about to fall down," J.R. said without thinking.

  "Can I kill him now?" growled Julianna.

  Sharon laughed. "Not yet. He just got here. J.R., you need to apologize. Why, if it wasn't for Julianna, I'd be falling through stairs, living with leaky pipes, and catching rain in buckets all over the second floor. She's been a big help."

  "He doesn't need to apologize. I'd just as soon have everything on the up and up," Julianna interjected. "That way I can keep hating him."

  "Julianna!"

  "Sorry, Mama. No filter tonight. Charlie's was busy, and it's been a long day," she said as she took out the oil from the cupboard. "I don't know why everyone needed groceries today."

  "You forget that filter more times than not," Sharon reprimanded. Turning to J.R., she said, "And you'd better find yours, too."

  J.R. walked over to the table and sat, uncertain if his legs would continue to hold him up. Junior was here in his mama's house, and it appeared she was an integral part of his mother's life. How long had she been here? Why hadn't Mama ever mentioned her living here? How would he ever be able to focus on the job to be done with her around? And Mama wanted her to help him? Like that would happen. Dear Lord, he prayed, what have I gotten myself into?

  Easing the oven door open, Sharon reached for the Dutch oven holding the stew. In a nano-second, Julianna took the potholders from her hands and shooed her out of the way. "I've got this. Go sit down and talk with your son." The stew came out, and the biscuit tray slid in quickly. Taking a bowl from the corner cabinet, she dumped in all the ingredients for the brownies and stirred as though she was whipping cream.

  "Slow down, Julianna," Sharon said, "you're not beating it into submission. It's better when it's just barely blended, remember?"

  Julianna's hands stopped spinning. "Sorry, Mama." She retrieved a baking dish from under the oven, greased it, and poured the thoroughly blended brownie batter in.

  J.R. felt like he was in a time-warp, and the earth was spinning out of control. His worst nightmare was standing in his mother's kitchen, and he'd only been here an hour. He checked his phone, a cover for trying to think of a way out of working with Junior Brown. Why was she living in the travel trailer? What was she doing taking care of his mama? How in the world did Mama think he could work with her on fixing up this house? Absentmindedly, he got up and took dishes out of the cupboard to set the table, while a thousand images raced through his brain, each fighting for dominance. Shaking his head to rid himself of their scratching grasp, he slapped the plates and bowls onto the table.

  "James!"

  "Sorry, Mama."

  "Oh, good grief," Sharon exclaimed. "This will never do." Sharon moved the dishes and cutlery to their places around the
table. "Julianna, bring everything over to the table and sit down."

  The stew pot landed hard on the table while Julianna shot withering darts toward J.R. Unfortunately, Sharon took the seat at the head of the table, forcing Julianna to sit directly across from him. J.R. took the stew and started helping himself.

  "Wait," Sharon said abruptly.

  "What?" J.R. felt like he couldn't do anything right anymore as the pot landed back in the center of the table.

  "Grace," came the answer across from him.

  Julianna's smirk wounded J.R. She had riled him up to the point of forgetting to say grace. Now his mama and Julianna would think he never said it when he was home which was not true. He didn't really care what Junior thought, but he did care what his mama thought. "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm...I don't know what I am, but I usually say grace," he insisted.

  "Of course, you do," Sharon said with a pat on his hand.

  "I'm not five Mama,"

  "Then stop acting like it and say grace."

  "Yes, Mama."

  CHAPTER TWO

  J ulianna peeked over her fork at J.R. He sure looked good. The last time she had seen him had been graduation day from high school. They had both been scrawny kids. But J.R. wasn't scrawny anymore. He had grown up and filled out. Always the cutest boy in school, his looks matured and he was now a whole lot of handsome. From his long, black denim-clad legs to his dark green Henley that couldn't hide the muscles she knew were real and not gym-induced, he simply smoldered.

  Shivers ran down her spine just as the timer went off. She jumped up to retrieve the biscuits from the oven, replacing the golden-brown morsels with the brownie pan and reset the timer. Once the plate of piping hot biscuits landed on the table, she resumed eating her dinner. She stabbed a chunk of beef, rolling it around in her gravy before taking a bite. A little of the sour feeling she had when she first saw him sweetened, but she was an old hand at guarding her feelings. He couldn't touch her now.