Kyland (Sign of Love #7)

  Kyland

  A Sign of Love Novel

  Mia Sheridan

  Kyland

  A Sign of Love Novel

  Copyright © 2015 by Mia Sheridan.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Permission by the author must be granted before any part of this book can be used for advertising purposes. This includes the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

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

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Shirley. Thank you for being my number two fan, and for giving birth to my number one fan.

  The Taurus Legend

  The Taurus legend tells of a lonely, wandering bull named Cerus. Though he was not immortal, most people assumed him to be because of his incredible strength.

  Cerus was wild and out of control, and belonged to no one. One day, the spring goddess, Persephone, found him trampling through a field of flowers and reached out to him. Her beauty and gentleness calmed him, and he fell in love with her. The goddess tamed Cerus, teaching the bull patience and how to use his strength wisely.

  In the fall when Persephone leaves for Hades, Cerus travels to the sky and becomes the Taurus constellation. In the spring when Persephone returns to the land, Cerus returns to join her. She sits upon his back and he runs through the sunlit fields, as she brings all of the plants and flowers to bloom.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tenleigh – Seventeen Years Old

  The first time I really noticed Kyland Barrett, he was swiping someone's discarded breakfast off a cafeteria table. I'd looked away, attempting to preserve his dignity, a gut reaction on my part. But then I'd looked back as he walked in my direction toward the doors, stuffing the small portion of leftover food in his mouth. Our eyes met, his flaring briefly and then narrowing, as again, I looked away, my cheeks heating as if I'd just intruded on a deeply personal moment. And it was. I should know. I'd done it myself. I knew the shame. But I also knew the achy emptiness of a Monday morning after a long, hungry weekend. Evidently, Kyland knew it, too.

  Of course, I'd seen him before that. I'd bet everyone who was female had let their eyes linger on him, with his strikingly handsome face, and his tall, solid build. But that was the first time I really saw him, the first time I felt a throb of understanding in my chest for the boy who always seemed to wear an expression of nonchalance, as if he didn't care much for anyone or anything. I was well acquainted with men who couldn't give a rat's ass. That was trouble I didn't want any part of.

  But apparently not all the girls in our school had too much of a problem with trouble, because if he was in the company of anyone, it was always someone female.

  It was a large school, housing students from three towns. I'd only had a few classes with Kyland over the three and a half years we'd been in high school, and he'd always sat in the back of the room, rarely uttering a word. I always sat in the front so I could see the blackboard—I guessed I was probably nearsighted, not that we could afford an eye exam, much less glasses. I knew he got good grades. I knew he must be smart despite his seemingly careless attitude. But after that day in the cafeteria, I couldn't help looking at him differently, and my eyes always seemed to find him. I looked for him in the overcrowded hallway—packed with teenagers moving slowly to class like cattle being herded to greener pastures—in the cafeteria, or walking ahead of me. Most times I found him with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and if outside, his head down against the wind. I liked to watch the way his body moved, and I liked that he didn't know it. I was curious about him now. And suddenly that look on his face seemed more wary than immune or removed. I only knew a little about Kyland. He lived up in the hills like I did. And apparently, he didn't have enough to eat, but there was no shortage of hungry people around these parts.

  In the middle of rolling green hills, breathtaking mountain views, waterfalls, and quaint covered bridges, lies Dennville, Kentucky, a part of the Appalachian Mountains that would put any urban slum to shame, where hopelessness is as commonplace as the white oak trees, and unemployment is the rule more so than the exception.

  My older sister, Marlo, said God had created Appalachia and then had promptly left and never come back. Something inside me suspected that more often it was people who disappointed God than the other way around. But what did I really know of God anyway? I didn't even go to church.

  What I did understand was that in a place like Dennville, Kentucky, Darwin was the one who had his facts straight: only the strongest survived.

  Dennville hadn't always been as bad off, though—there was a time when the Dennville coal mine was open and families in these parts made a decent wage, even if some had to supplement with food stamps. That's when there had been at least a few thriving businesses in town, jobs for people who wanted one, and people who had a little money to spend. Even those of us who lived on the mountain in a sad collection of small houses, shacks, and mobile homes—the poorest of the poor—seemed to have enough to get by on in those days. But then the mine explosion happened. The papers called it the worst mining tragedy in fifty years. Sixty-two men, most with families relying on them at home, were killed. Kyland's father and older brother both lost their lives that day. He lived in a tiny house a little ways below mine on the mountain with his mother who was an invalid. What she suffered from, I wasn't sure exactly.

  As for me, I lived with my mama and sister in a small trailer nestled in a grove of pine trees. In the winter months, the wind would come howling through and rock our trailer so violently, I was sure we'd tip over. Somehow it had managed to hold its ground so far. Somehow, all of us on that mountain had managed to hold our ground. So far.

  One late fall day, as I walked up the road that led to our trailer, pulling my sweater around me as the wind whipped through my hair, I spied Kyland walking a ways ahead. Suddenly, Shelly Galvin went running past me to catch up to him, and he turned and nodded his head at her as she walked beside him, acknowledging something she'd said. I lost sight of them as they turned at a bend in the road, and I got lost in my own thoughts. A few minutes later when I turned around the bend, they were nowhere in sight, but as I passed a grove of hickories, I heard Shelly giggle, and stopped to peer through the brush. Kyland had her pressed up against a tree and was kissing her as if he were some wild, untamed animal. Her back was to me so I could only see his face. I don't know why I stood there, staring at them, blatantly interrupting their privacy rather than moving along. But something about the way Kyland's eyes were closed, and he wore a raw, heated look of concentration as he moved his mouth o
ver hers, made me clench my legs together as heat flooded my veins and lust gripped me. He moved his hand up to her breast, and she made a moaning sound in the back of her throat. My own nipples pebbled as if it were me he was touching. I reached out to grab hold of the tree right next to me and the small noise of my movement must have caught his attention because his eyes popped open and he stared at me as he continued to kiss her, his cheeks hollowed slightly as he did something with his tongue I could only imagine. And imagining I was. Hot shame moved up my face as our eyes locked, and I was unable to move. His eyes narrowed. As reality came flooding back, I stumbled backward, filled with humiliation.

  And jealousy. But I hardly wanted to acknowledge that. No—trouble I did not want any part of.

  I turned and ran all the way up the mountain to my trailer, flinging the metal door open and rushing inside as I slammed the door behind me and fell onto the couch, gasping for breath.

  "My goodness, Tenleigh," my mama singsonged, as she stood in the tiny kitchen, stirring a pot of something on the electric hotplate that smelled like potato soup. I glanced over at her as I got hold of my breathing. I groaned internally to see that she was wearing a negligee and her tattered Miss Kentucky Sunburst ribbon across her chest. Today was shaping up to be a very bad day. In more ways than one.

  "Hi, Mama," I said. "It was cold outside," was all I offered in explanation. "Need any help?"

  "No, no, I've got it covered. I'm thinking of bringing something warm into town for Eddie. He loves my potato soup, and it's going to be such a chilly night."

  I grimaced. "Mama, Eddie's at home with his wife and family tonight. You can't bring him potato soup."

  A cloud moved over my mama's features, but she smiled brightly at me and shook her head. "No, no, he's leaving her, Tenleigh. She's not right for him. It's me he loves. And he'll be cold tonight. The wind . . ." She continued stirring the soup, humming some nameless tune and smiling a small smile to herself.

  "Mama, did you take your medicine today?" I asked.

  Her head snapped up, a confused look replacing the small smile. "Medicine? Oh no, baby, I don't need medicine anymore." She shook her head. "That stuff makes me want to sleep all the time . . . makes me feel so funny." She wrinkled her cute little nose as if it was just the silliest thing. "No, I've gone off that medicine. And I feel wonderful!"

  "Mama, Marlo and I have told you a hundred times you can't just go off your medicine." I walked over to her and laid my hand on her arm. "Mama, you'll feel good for a little while, and then you won't. You know I'm right."

  Her face fell just a little as she stood stirring the thick soup. Then she shook her head. "No, this time will be different. You'll see. And this time, Eddie will move all of us up to that nice house of his. He'll see that he needs me with him . . . he needs all of us with him."

  My shoulders sagged as defeat washed through me. I was too tired to deal with this.

  My mama patted her deep, chestnut brown hair—the same hair she'd given me—and smiled brightly again. "I've still got my looks, Tenleigh. Eddie always says I'm the most beautiful woman in Kentucky. And I've got this sash to prove he isn't lying." Her eyes grew dreamy as they always did when she talked about her Miss Sunburst title, the one she'd won when she was my age. She turned toward me and winked. She lifted a strand of my hair and then smiled. "You're as pretty as I was," she said, but then frowned. "I wish I had the money to enter you in some pageants. I bet you'd win them just like I did." She sighed heavily and went back to stirring the soup.

  I startled as the door flew open and Marlo burst inside, her cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. She grinned over at me. "Lordy, that wind is bitter today."

  I nodded at her, unsmiling, and moving my eyes over to our mama who was spooning soup into a plastic container. The smile vanished from Marlo's face.

  "Hey there, Mama, what are you doing?" she asked as she took her jacket off and tossed it aside.

  Mama looked up and smiled prettily. "Bringing soup to Eddie," she said as she snapped the lid on the container and walked with it into our very small living/dining area.

  "No you're not, Mama," Marlo said, her voice sounding bitter.

  Mama blinked at her. "Why yes, Marlo, I am."

  "Give me the soup, Mama. Tenleigh, go get her medicine."

  Mama started shaking her head vigorously as I scooted by her to get her medication, the medication we could barely afford, the medication I bought with the earnings I made sweeping floors and dusting shelves at Rusty's, the town convenience store, owned by one of the biggest dickheads in town. The medicine Marlo and I missed meals for so we'd have the money to buy.

  I heard a scuffle behind me and hurried into the bathroom where I grabbed my mama's pill bottles from the medicine cabinet with shaking hands.

  When I ran back into the main area of the trailer, Mama was sobbing and the soup was spilled all over the floor and all over Marlo. Mama sunk down onto her knees in the mess and put her hands over her face and wailed. Marlo took the medicine from me and I could see her hands were shaking, too.

  She went down on the floor with our mama and kneeled in the mess and hugged Mama to her, rocking.

  "I know he still loves me, Mar. I know he does!" my mama wailed. "I'm pretty. I'm prettier than her!"

  "No, Mama, he doesn't love you," Marlo said very gently. "I'm so sorry. But we do. Me and Tenleigh, we love you so much. So much. We need you, Mama."

  "I just want someone to take care of us. I just need someone to help us. Eddie will help us if I just . . ."

  But that thought was lost in her sobs as Marlo continued to rock her, not saying another word. Words wouldn't work with our mama, not when she was like this. Tomorrow she'd take the sash off. Tomorrow she'd stay in bed all day. And in a few days, the medicine would kick in and she'd be somewhat back to normal. And then she'd decide she didn't need it anymore and secretly go off it and we'd do this all over again. And I had to wonder, should a seventeen-year-old girl be so tired? Just tired down to my bones . . . weary in my very soul?

  I helped Marlo and Mama up and we gave Mama her medicine with a glass of water, walked her to bed, and then quietly returned to the main room. We cleaned up the potato soup, spooning it from the floor back into Tupperware, preserving as much as we could. We didn't live a life where wasting food was ever acceptable, even food that had been on the floor. Later that night, we spooned it into bowls and ate it for dinner. Dirty or not, it filled our bellies all the same.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tenleigh

  "Hi, Rusty," I said as I breezed into the convenience store where I worked four days a week after school. I was breathing hard and was damp from the rain. I ran a hand over my hair. Outside, it was just beginning to clear up.

  "You're late. Again." Rusty scowled.

  I cringed inwardly at his harsh tone and glanced up at the clock. Walking the six miles from school in Evansly in an hour and fifteen minutes was impossible. I jogged a good part of the way and usually came in the store sweating and breathless. Not that Rusty cared. "Just two minutes, Rusty. I'll stay two minutes after, okay?" I offered him my prettiest smile. Rusty's scowl only deepened.

  "You'll stay fifteen on account of that there was a cracked beer bottle in one of the six-packs Jay Crowley brought up to my register this morning."

  I pressed my lips together.

  The fact that Jay Crowley was buying beer first thing in the morning wasn't surprising, but what a cracked beer bottle had to do with me, I wasn't sure as Rusty was the one who unpacked the liquor. Even so, I just nodded, not saying a word as I went to the back to get my apron and broom.

  It was the first of the month so I had to clear and organize the pop shelves quickly because in about an hour, after the food stamp debit cards were credited, Rusty's would be swamped with folks selling carts full of the sugary drinks. It was welfare fraud at its finest—take the five hundred or so dollars a family of four gets to eat for the month, buy pop down the highway at JoJo's gas station and
sell it back to Rusty for fifty cents on the dollar, converting the government assistance into two hundred fifty dollars cold hard cash. Cash buys cigarettes, liquor, lottery tickets . . . meth—food stamps do not. And Rusty was happy to make the profit, never mind that it meant kids would go without dinner. In all fairness, though, if it weren’t Rusty buying the pop back, it would have been someone else. That's just the way it worked around here.

  A couple hours later, the crowd had dwindled, and I was dusting a back shelf when the door chime sounded. I kept busy, glancing up when I saw someone in my peripheral vision opening the refrigerator door on the back wall. My eyes met Kyland Barrett's as he turned and I stood up from where I'd been squatting, facing the shelf. My eyes moved down to his hand as he stuffed a sandwich in the front of his jacket. His eyes widened, and he looked shocked for a brief second before his gaze darted behind me where I heard sudden footsteps. My head turned. Rusty was coming up the aisle, a scowl on his face as Kyland stood behind me, his hand and a large lump of sandwich still under the front of his jacket. If I moved, he'd be caught, red-handed. I made a split-second decision. I pretended to trip ungracefully, knocking several boxes of what surely must be stale Cheerios—the non-sugary cereal never sold—off the shelf and letting out a little scream. I don't know exactly why I did it—maybe the look of shocked fear on Kyland's face touched something inside me, maybe it was the understanding of hunger that existed between us. It certainly wasn't because I knew the quick action would completely alter the course of my entire life.

  I stepped ungracefully on the boxes, smashing them and causing cereal to spill out onto the floor.

  "What's the matter with you, you stupid girl?" Rusty demanded loudly, stooping to pick up a box at his feet as Kyland rushed by us both. "You're fired. I've had it with you." I heard the door chime and stood up quickly, making eye contact with Kyland again as he turned back, his eyes wide, his expression unreadable. He paused briefly, flinching slightly, and then the door swung shut behind him.