Hummingbird Dreams: A Second Chance at Love (Harper's Mill Book 1) Read online

  Jim Light, one of the seniors in the group, approached them and waved his arms, indicating the crowd should pay attention to the unfolding drama. Firelight surrounded him in a glow and threw his sharp, hawk-like nose into stark relief. “Hey, Spencer,” he began, his tobacco raspy voice carrying in the cold air, “looks like ya’ got someone to stay sober with tonight,” he teased and Honor felt a few ounces of tension leave her shoulders.

  Spence didn’t drink.

  Spence shrugged. “I don’t need alcohol and you guys know I want to get into a good program with the Navy. Underage drinking isn’t going to look good on my record when I go and take my ASFABs.”

  Jim’s girlfriend Mandy approached with two sealed containers. “This isn’t really fair,” she said, snapping her gum. “He never loses a dessert challenge.”

  “Dessert challenge?” Honor asked, intrigued by this new facet of Spence’s personality.

  He rolled his eyes. “We go through this every few weeks,” he explained. “Especially when there’s a new group of freshman,” he said, waving his hand in the general direction of some of the younger crowd. His eyes hardened. “I’m like a sideshow some days.”

  Honor’s eyes grew round with understanding. Telling her – confiding in her – had been a big deal. “You aren’t a side show or a circus freak,” she whispered, touching his hand gently. “You have a gift.”

  Spence nodded and brushed his lips across the back of her hand, thanking her for her support.

  Jim was clearly the Master of Ceremonies of the night’s festivities. His icy blue eyes narrowed and looked at Honor with shrewd intent. “I think we’ll raise the stakes on Spencer tonight,” he said to the crowd’s delight. “If he’s right, he gets to kiss the girl of his choosing. But if he’s wrong, I get to kiss the girl of my choosing.” Drunken laughter and hoots of delight met his suggestions.

  “Jimmy!” Mandy said, obviously displeased with his suggestion.

  The crowd grew taut with anticipation as the news made its way around the group. There was a new drama being played out and they held front row tickets. They would be the first to spill the beans to the rest of the school.

  Honor blushed hotly as she realized she had become the center of attention. Everyone’s eyes were on her and panic rose in her throat.

  Spence brushed another kiss across the backs of her knuckles in a show of attentive solidarity.

  He turned to Jim and raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to, Jim?”

  Jim smirked. “Afraid?”

  “Spence?” Honor whispered, confused. “What’s going on?”

  “I got this,” he said with brash, teenage bravado.

  The two boys, each on the cusp of manhood, eyed each other like gunslingers of old until Spencer’s demeanor changed. He nodded, kissed Honor’s forehead, and stood up. “Bring it on, Mandy,” he said, his eyes never leaving Jim’s.

  Mandy brought both closed containers to him and he inhaled. And frowned. He inhaled again and Honor watched with fascination at the changing emotions playing out on his face.

  Jim’s eyes were gleeful, certain he had stumped Spencer. “Oh, little Honor Rose, you are going to be a perfect prize.”

  Honor sniffed with disdain. “As if. I didn’t agree to this wager,” she said, smartly.

  Her words were brave but she felt her heart pounding strongly in her chest. The desire to flee home pressed against her and she held onto her legs to keep from bolting.

  “They’re both apple pies,” Spence said after a moment. “The one on the right came from my mom’s bakery. The one on the left has too much cinnamon.” He opened his eyes and openly challenged Jim’s authority.

  The crowd held a collective breath and waited for Jim’s response.

  “They used to date, you know,” whispered a girl behind Honor. “Mandy and Spence,” she clarified. “No one knows what happened, but after they broke up, Jim went for her right away.”

  Honor nodded. She wasn’t quite up on all the cool kids’ gossip but she had seen Spence and Mandy at the Homecoming Dance. Then suddenly, they weren’t a couple and Spence asked her out.

  Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Testosterone fueled tension arced between Jim and Spence.

  Jim nodded once. Curtly. Then said, “He did it again, guys. What girl are you going to claim your victory kiss from, Spencer?”

  Spence shrugged and walked back to the spot Honor was keeping warm for him. “I’ll claim my kiss later,” he said, pulling Honor close for a hug. He brushed a flyaway strand of hair caught in her eyelashes. “Away from a curious audience.”

  Gradually, the tension in the group dissolved and the beer flowed freely once more.

  And in that single moment, Honor believed in Sugar Sight.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, holding his hands in her own.

  “For what?” Spence was genuinely confused.

  “You told me a pretty unbelievable story,” she started, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of his knuckles. “You told me and I should have trusted you more. Instead, I half believed you were teasing me. Telling the outsider a story.” She bit her lip before braving looking directly into his eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “You believe?”

  Such a simple question, yet so loaded with meaning. Did she believe him? Did she accept him? Did she want him, knowing what she now knew?

  She smiled and brushed a kiss to his chin. “Forever.”

  ***

  Emma’s heavy footsteps alerted Honor to her returning friend and pulled her out of her reverie. She looked at her belly and wondered how a baby could be growing within her. Spencer said every first born Spencer son had the sight.

  Was this a boy? Would Spence’s child also have his Sugar Sight? Was that why lineage was so important to the Spencers? She pressed her hands against her bellybutton, imbuing her growing little bean with love.

  A dark thought emerged, unbidden and shocking in intensity. If she had an abortion, and it was a boy, would that end the gift? Was it the first born? Or the first conceived? How did it all work?

  The delicious chatter of hummingbird wings caught Honor’s attention. For long moments she watched the blur of color as the sweet little bird flitted from flower to flower in the window sill. Fleetingly, she wished the tiny bird could take her troubles away and fly them off to a new location. She longed to be a hummingbird, loose and free in the sun. If she were one, she could enjoy each sip of nectar from every flower before moving on to another without a care in the world.

  Her mother, never the most supportive person, was going to flip, Honor thought with a sigh. Emma was wonderful. Her best friend. But she needed an adult. Someone to help clear away the underbrush and help her make the right decision. Deep down, she knew she needed her mother but suspected there wouldn’t be much support from that corner.

  “You didn’t have a lot to choose from. My mom has, like, dozens of teas, all for any specific ails. I did find green tea, which will have to do. Mom always says caffeine isn’t good for pregnant mommas and since she’s had like a bazillion kids, she should know,” Emma said. She took a sip of her own mug and wrinkled her nose. “All I taste is teabag. Yuck.”

  “Five isn’t exactly a bazillion,” Honor said with a smile.

  “Close enough,” Emma said.

  “Tell me,” Honor said.

  “About what?”

  “The town.”

  Emma sighed. “Will you believe me this time?”

  Honor nodded and accepted the hot brew.

  “Over a hundred years ago, a family of seven sisters settled in what is now Harper’s Mill,” Emma began, slowly. She spoke as if the words were memorized, like a Shakespearean soliloquy, and only by telling them in order would she remember them all. “Some said the girls were blessed by God. Others thought they were witches. Whatever the truth may be, they formed the core of what became Harper’s Mill society. The Old Families, as we’re called now.”

  “It was a railro
ad town, but not well populated. And the grain mill, of course. The one in town. As the railroads died away, the town grew in instead of out.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Honor said, rolling her eyes, “Being the new girl in town where everyone’s known each other since birth is daunting.”

  Emma nodded. “Very few new families found this village so it became very tight knit. Most of the Old Families married and have intermarried by now and it’s hard even for me to keep track of the lines and the legacies.”

  “You tried to tell me before,” Honor prompted.

  Emma nodded. “You came here when Steve Simpson went looking outside for a mate and found your mom. But your mom can’t have any more babies, can she?”

  “How do you know that?” Honor asked.

  “I’m an Evans,” Emma said. “Knowing these things is my legacy.” She paused to bite her lip nervously before continuing. “Simpson men require a son. One son, per each male. No daughters have ever been born and no wives have ever stayed.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Not completely. Some things are outside my sight and Mother still thinks I’m too young to tell all the old stories.”

  “Parkers don’t lie,” Honor said.

  “No, not ever. Which is why so few of them marry and have children,” Emma said with a smile. “The line has almost died out but every now and again, there’s a new marriage or child. Mr. Parker at the Market simply doesn’t talk. To anyone. I think it helps because he’s been married for twenty years now.” The girls shared a giggle and Emma looked off into the distance.

  “The Race family grows things. Their apples are better. Sweeter. Everyone loves going up to their orchard and help pick apples in the fall. It’s said if you eat one of their apples, you’ll get a glimpse of the man you’ll marry.” The two girls giggled with the idea. “Their vegetables taste better than anything you can find, elsewhere.”

  “Ruthanne says she only uses ingredients she buys or produces locally or by special vendors.”

  “Ruthanne Spencer is old Elijah Race’s youngest daughter. She began baking in high school.”

  “Who is left? You said seven sisters.”

  “Right,” Emma agreed. “The current Old Families are the Spencers, Lights, Simpsons, Races, Harpers, Parkers, and my own. Evans.”

  “So, you’re all cousins?” Honor said, wrinkling her nose.

  “To some degree or another, yeah, I guess. But the first generation of cousins was over a hundred years ago.”

  “Spencers have a sweet tooth.”

  Emma shrugged. “It’s more than that, but yes. How much did Spence tell you?”

  “It’s more like how much did I believe at first.”

  “Oh, Honor. You didn’t!”

  “I said at first. I believe him now!”

  “Well, the Lights are a family that never seems to do much except have babies they can’t feed and sell quilts down at the farmer’s market during the summer months. There’s a little section down on Polk Road that locals refer to as ‘Lightville’ because there are four or five families living together down there.”

  “So, I guess that leaves the Harper family?”

  “John Harper was the seventh son of a seventh son and he married the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Legend says, their powers were incredible. Other than that, no one knows a lot about him. Some have suggested he was the son of a witch. Others say he was just a shrewd businessman. Whatever the case may be, the Harper family was gifted. Their grain sold better. Their cows produced the best milk. His businesses all did well. He opened a private academy – Harper Academy,” she clarified. “It was set up to teach the children of his employees. When the village finally incorporated and became a town, it was named to honor John Harper.”

  Honor set her empty cup on the window sill and patted for Emma to join her on the bed. She rested her head on the other girl’s shoulder and asked in a small voice, “This could be a first born Spencer son.”

  “Probably,” Emma said slowly. “There have been a few daughters in the line but mostly the family produces boys. And I’ve never heard of any but the first born to be a son. ”

  Honor smiled at her friend. “I’ve decided,” she said. “Not all of it, not completely,” she said when Emma opened her mouth to say something. “But enough. I’ve eliminated one option. I won’t have an abortion.”

  Emma nodded and sighed. “You’re only sixteen, Honor. That’s going to be a tough road.”

  Honor nodded. “I know.” She took a last sip of tea, closed her eyes, and let the soothing hot beverage do its job. “Could you hand me that that pen? I’m going to get a postcard off to Spencer tonight.”

  An hour later, she returned home from the post office, hot peperoni pizza in hand and waited for her mom to come home from work.

  Chapter Two

  “Honor Rose Thompson, you are not having that baby!” Connie Thompson declared, chin firmed and eyes narrowed.

  Honor sighed. This was going far worse than she had planned. Why did her mother always make everything difficult? And to be middle named!

  “This is the worst time in the world for this to happen, young lady. What were you thinking?” Her mother took a long drag on a cigarette to calm her nerves and then exhaled. “It doesn’t matter,” she said with a wave of her non-smoking hand. “I’ll make an appointment in the morning for you to see a doctor to confirm the pregnancy and then we’ll get it taken care of.”

  Honor stared at her mother across the dinner table, the now cold pizza congealed and ugly lying between them. Two angry combatants faced off with a life on the line. “I’m glad you think you have this all worked out, Mother,” Honor said, fighting to keep her tone. “But I am not having an abortion.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Honor. Of course you’re having an abortion,” her mother said, standing up to put the dirty dishes in the sink.

  Honor gripped her sides and reminded herself she was protecting her child. Spencer’s child. Their child. “I am not having an abortion, Mother,” she reiterated. “I am not killing my child.”

  “It’s just a collection of cells at this point. It isn’t life.”

  “A collection of cells which will become a baby,” Honor said. “My baby.” Mine and Spencer’s, she thought, cradling her belly.

  “You’re only sixteen. How do you plan on taking care of it?”

  Him, Honor thought. My baby isn’t an “it”. My baby is a he. “I don’t have a lot of details worked out just yet,” Honor began. She was rather hoping to not make any plans until after Spence finished up in Great Lakes. They needed to talk and make arrangements. Eight weeks wasn’t that long, after all.

  “You aren’t staying here with a baby in your belly,” Connie said. “I won’t have that shame.”

  But you’re fine with the shame of kicking your daughter out, Mom? Honor thought, but kept her mouth shut.

  “I won’t help you raise it,” her mother threatened. “If that’s what you had in mind, you can change it quick, missy. I don’t have enough time for Steve as it is, you know how hard money is to come by, and now you want to bring in another mouth to feed?”

  “Why is it always about Steve,” Honor demanded, furious with her mother and hurt with rejection. “You’ve been dragging me around from one boyfriend to the next my entire life, Mom. Somehow that never shamed you much!”

  “Don’t talk to me that way,” Connie challenged, her eyes hard. “You’ve been fed and taken care of your entire life!”

  “Mom,” Honor begged, sacrificing her pride. “I need you right now. What about me? What about your grandchild?”

  “Bite your tongue,” Connie said, looking around sharply as though someone would hear them. “Do you have any clue how hard it is to find a good man at my age, Honor Rose? After your father left us…”

  “Daddy died, mother. Stop saying he left us.”

  Connie glared at her. “As I was saying,” she continued. “Steve is quite a bit younger than I
am. Do you think reminding him of my age by having a little brat call me ‘grandma’ is going to help?”

  “So I should have an abortion to please Steve?” Honor demanded. The hurt and betrayal she felt at the hands of her mother throbbed and took on a life of its own. She needed her mom. Why was Steve getting a say in this decision?

  “No,” her mother insisted. “You should do it because it’s the last thing you need, Honor Rose. Children get in the way. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

  Honor gasped at her mother’s words. Was that all she was? In the way?

  “Have you even discussed this with Spence,” Connie continued. “Was this planned? I can’t believe you two. You’re underage. He is the father, right? I could bring him up on charges of statutory rape and let’s see how bright his military future is then!”

  “Mom, no!” Honor shouted. The desire to protect both the men in her life overwhelmed her. She thought her mom was bluffing and she knew the age of consent in New Jersey was sixteen, but still. What if there were different codes of conduct for the military? True, he’d broken her heart, but she hadn’t told her mom that. She hadn’t want to hear the broken record of “I told you so” added to the refrain of her shortcomings as recited by her mother.

  Honor rose to her feet in outrage. “It was consensual and we used protection! It obviously didn’t work.” Honor sighed, sensing her mother couldn’t be swayed on the point of letting her keep the baby. Well, she would try again tomorrow. And the day after that. Because nothing was going to change her mind to keep her baby.

  Crap. Crap. Crap. What was she going to do? Would Spencer call her, so they could talk? Did she dare risk telling his mom? Could the Red Cross get through to him?

  What if her mom followed through and had him arrested on rape charges?

  Ugh! So much resting on her shoulders and she didn’t have a clue where to start unraveling the mess she had gotten herself into.

  “I’ll see a gynecologist,” Honor said, cleaning up her plate. “But I will not agree to an abortion. I’ll figure something else out.” Despite the anger broiling and burning inside of her, Honor remained aloof on the outside. She left the kitchen and locked herself in her room.