Read Online Justified Love (The Southern Gentleman Series Book 1) by Nicole Hite - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicole Hite
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she was mine, and I paid for her. Paying for my truck was the first step in developing my independence. She was my baby. I cared about her just as much as I cared about Dad, Granny, and my besties.
Getting back on the open country roads felt like bliss. With the windows rolled down, the morning sun kissed my face. The best part about country folk, they would do practically anything if you just lend a helping hand. Before our neighbor, Ole’ Man Johnson passed away, he started to liquidate his assets. He was getting so old he couldn’t drive his truck anymore. I traded him two hundred dollars and a summer of cutting grass to get Bessie. He would have given her to me for free, but I refused. I needed to do something for him since he had been so generous.
There were times when I went over to his house just to sit on his porch drinking sweet tea talking about the “good ole’ days.” I know some people my age prefer not to talk to older people, but I love talking to them. They have the best stories. Stories that have nothing to do with iPads, cell phones, or what the hottest clothes on the market are. Their stories were real, authentic and full of emotion.
Ole’ Man Johnson used to tell me how he missed his late wife, and how they used to dance in the kitchen on hot summer nights. They’d sit under the weathered metal fan at the kitchen table, and sway to the sounds of Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald. Their romance was something to admire - something to strive for. I hope one day I have that with someone I love. Maybe that someone is Colton?
Sometimes I think Ole’ Man Johnson just liked having the company, which was probably why he was willing to give me Bessie for practically no cost. Ole’ Man Johnson never had kids, but he and his wife always hoped they would someday. In a way, I liked to think I helped him cope with the loss of not only his wife, but also not having children. By coming around, I felt a piece of his heart lessened the cracks from the pain.
Driving past his house, I looked over and saw the tire swing still hanging from a tree in the front yard. It breaks my heart that he never had any of his own children to push, but was pleased that I helped in any way I could.
●
Pulling up to Harley’s house, I tucked away those memories of Ole’ Man Johnson and skidded to a halt in her gravel driveway. Harley came flying off the front porch as her mama, Sue Ellen, sat flicking ashes off the terrace.
Trying to be courteous, “Hi, Ms. Bridges.”
Not responding she grabbed her “orange juice”, and walked away.
Nice to see you, too. Jesus, it’s not even nine a.m. and already she’s drinking. To say Harley’s family was dysfunctional would be an understatement.
Turning out of the driveway, I managed to watch my speed since Mrs. Bridges was standing on the porch. She would tell my Granny or Daddy I had been reckless if I had peeled out the driveway the way Harley would have. Her mama was always looking to stir the pot in order to get a little attention here and there. This town is nothing, if not full of compulsive gossipers. You never know what could come flying out of someone’s mouth, and who's watching whom. To be perfectly honest, Sue Ellen was the last person who should be spreading gossip.
Skye’s family dynamic, on the other hand, was completely opposite. Her parents were bona fide hippies. Her parents, Alistair, and Moon Beam, screamed “free love, make love, not war, man.” You could always find them sitting in their garden naked, smoking pot and listening to old Grateful Dead records. A lot of the boys in town believed Skye lived the same free
Getting back on the open country roads felt like bliss. With the windows rolled down, the morning sun kissed my face. The best part about country folk, they would do practically anything if you just lend a helping hand. Before our neighbor, Ole’ Man Johnson passed away, he started to liquidate his assets. He was getting so old he couldn’t drive his truck anymore. I traded him two hundred dollars and a summer of cutting grass to get Bessie. He would have given her to me for free, but I refused. I needed to do something for him since he had been so generous.
There were times when I went over to his house just to sit on his porch drinking sweet tea talking about the “good ole’ days.” I know some people my age prefer not to talk to older people, but I love talking to them. They have the best stories. Stories that have nothing to do with iPads, cell phones, or what the hottest clothes on the market are. Their stories were real, authentic and full of emotion.
Ole’ Man Johnson used to tell me how he missed his late wife, and how they used to dance in the kitchen on hot summer nights. They’d sit under the weathered metal fan at the kitchen table, and sway to the sounds of Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald. Their romance was something to admire - something to strive for. I hope one day I have that with someone I love. Maybe that someone is Colton?
Sometimes I think Ole’ Man Johnson just liked having the company, which was probably why he was willing to give me Bessie for practically no cost. Ole’ Man Johnson never had kids, but he and his wife always hoped they would someday. In a way, I liked to think I helped him cope with the loss of not only his wife, but also not having children. By coming around, I felt a piece of his heart lessened the cracks from the pain.
Driving past his house, I looked over and saw the tire swing still hanging from a tree in the front yard. It breaks my heart that he never had any of his own children to push, but was pleased that I helped in any way I could.
●
Pulling up to Harley’s house, I tucked away those memories of Ole’ Man Johnson and skidded to a halt in her gravel driveway. Harley came flying off the front porch as her mama, Sue Ellen, sat flicking ashes off the terrace.
Trying to be courteous, “Hi, Ms. Bridges.”
Not responding she grabbed her “orange juice”, and walked away.
Nice to see you, too. Jesus, it’s not even nine a.m. and already she’s drinking. To say Harley’s family was dysfunctional would be an understatement.
Turning out of the driveway, I managed to watch my speed since Mrs. Bridges was standing on the porch. She would tell my Granny or Daddy I had been reckless if I had peeled out the driveway the way Harley would have. Her mama was always looking to stir the pot in order to get a little attention here and there. This town is nothing, if not full of compulsive gossipers. You never know what could come flying out of someone’s mouth, and who's watching whom. To be perfectly honest, Sue Ellen was the last person who should be spreading gossip.
Skye’s family dynamic, on the other hand, was completely opposite. Her parents were bona fide hippies. Her parents, Alistair, and Moon Beam, screamed “free love, make love, not war, man.” You could always find them sitting in their garden naked, smoking pot and listening to old Grateful Dead records. A lot of the boys in town believed Skye lived the same free
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