Words From the Heart Read online

  Words from the Heart

  LC Taylor

  Words form the Heart Copyright © 2019 by LC Taylor. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by designrans

  Editor: Alice I. Lunsford

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

  LC Taylor

  Visit my website at www.authorlctaylor.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: December 2019

  LC Taylor Publishings

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Thank you!

  More to Read

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to my Aunt Kathy. She showed me a woman can achieve any goal if she sets her mind and soul to it.

  It was in her lake house as we sat there shooting the shit with her friend Gloria about my books, this story was born. I decided to write a love story that took place off the banks of Shoal Creek.

  The town has a way of making you want to stay and make it your home.

  One day I’ll sit on my porch overlooking the creek as I write more stories.

  Until then…

  I’ll settle for hers!

  I love you Aunt Kathy.

  XXOO

  Chapter 1

  Delilah sat solemnly and listened as the lawyer droned on, speaking words that should have meaning to her. But instead she felt as though she was stuck inside a Charlie Brown cartoon. She knew she should be paying closer attention, this man was giving her the details of her grandmothers last wishes. Instead, her mind wandered to the only mother, and father, she’d ever known – Isabella Greyson. Her grandmother had raised her from birth. Delilah’s mother had passed away during her delivery from complications. It didn’t help that she was a mere eighteen when she’d birthed her, a child herself. So, in true southern fashion, Isabella, or Momma Belle as she’d grown up calling her, raised Delilah as a single parent. And now, as Don Houston spoke of her as a thing of the past, she found herself struggling to concentrate.

  “Did you hear a word I said?” Don drawled out in his deep southern voice.

  Delilah shook her head, “Sorry – I spaced out for a moment. Can you repeat it?” She smiled sweetly at the burly man seated across from her, trying to banish the sadness threatening to take her focus once more.

  “Darlin’,” he slid his hand across the desk, placing his palm against the top of hers, “I know this is hard. Isabelle was a wonderful woman who did a lot for this tiny community – she’ll be missed, by everyone.”

  “I know. It’s just hard to believe she’s gone. I should have been here – instead…” her words faded as she fought back a sob.

  “Delilah,” Don squeezed her hand, “your grandmother was so proud of you. Don’t for a second blame yourself or feel guilty. She wanted you to go and live a life.”

  “Yeah – look at that life.” Delilah snorted, a lone tear rolled down her cheek.

  “None the less,” Don pulled his hand free, “she left everything to you. The house, the farm, the land. Hell, she even left her truck to you. It’s all paid for, Delilah. Not only that,” he smiled as he pushed the folder towards me, “she was sitting on a pretty nice nest egg.”

  She pulled the folder towards the edge of the desk and flipped it open. Her eyes glazed over the legal jargon, landing squarely on the last sentence.

  Isabelle Greyson bequeaths her entire financial portfolio to her only living relative, her granddaughter, Delilah Greyson. The portfolio contains several stocks and bond, in addition to 1.45 million dollars. The portfolio is managed by…

  Delilah swallowed, the mention of who managed the money a forgotten detail as she looked up at Don, “What the hell, 1.45 million dollars? How does my grandmother have, 1.45 million dollars?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder how she hardly worked? Delilah, your grandmother invested wisely – as you can see, and it amassed wealth that kept you two sustained comfortably.”

  “I never knew,” another sob bubbled up her chest, “She gave me such a good life – and the first chance I got, I ran from it. How could I be so stupid.” Delilah shook her head, the regret icing her veins. As soon as she had the chance, she left this town and never looked back.

  She’d graduated from the University of Northern Alabama with a bachelor’s degree in English, and a minor in creative writing. Her senior year in college she met John. He was also an English major, studying to be a journalist like her. Delilah thought he was her forever. She packed up and followed him to New York. He’d landed the dream job as a correspondent journalist. He’d proposed to her shortly after they’d moved there, asking her to support him while his career took off. Delilah begrudgingly took a part-time job for a local community paper, doing fluff pieces. She hated every second of it but bit her tongue and supported John. Everything was going well, so she thought. Then everything she’d planned out crumpled in a matter of twenty-four hours. She’d received the call about her grandmother’s accident. The accident that left her dead. The memory of that day plays on repeat in her head. She’d packed up her things from her tiny desk, informed her boss she’d be leaving for a few weeks and headed out. John hadn’t been answering his phone, so Delilah rushed to the apartment they shared in New York. As she unlocked the door and stepped through, the hairs on her neck prickled. Sounds of skin slapping and moans filled the room. Frozen like a deer in headlights, she stood wide-eyed at the door. Clothing littered the floor, leaving a trail to the bedroom. She recalled the moment her world crumpled before her. There, in the bed she shared with John, laid a woman she’d never seen. Above her John was thrusting his hips into her as she screamed out his name. They had been so caught in the throes of passion they hadn’t noticed Delilah standing at the door. Slowly she moved around the man she’d given her heart to and gathered a few belongings. As she stepped into the bathroom, she’d fought back the tears threatening to spill. Swiftly she collected her things, tossing them in the backpack she’d grabbed from the closet. Emerging from the bathroom, she realized John was now on his back, while the mystery woman ground atop him. This time he saw her. He’d sworn, tossing the woman off him and jumped from the bed. Grabbing at Delilah, he begged her to listen to him, swearing it was a mistake. Looping the key from her ring, she tossed it to the counter alongside the ring she’d taken off. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she stepped out slamming the door, shielding her from John’s pleas.

  Glancin
g up, she realized Don was watching her. “Look, Delilah. Your grandmother held no ill will towards you. You’re young and you needed to find yourself. Maybe now, you can do just that.” He slid the keys across the table, “Here are the keys to the house and her truck. I’ll warn you though…” he huffed out a breath, “the house isn’t in the best shape. She was in the process of having it repaired. Here’s the number to the contractor she was using, you should get in touch with him. It’s been pre-paid, so it would be a waste not to finish the work.” Nodding, Delilah gripped the keys in her hand and stood.

  “Do you need a ride?”

  “I think I’ll walk. I need to clear my head.” She slung the backpack over her shoulders and stepped outside. Don followed her to the door.

  “I’ll need your banking information so I can get the finances transferred to you.”

  “Give me a day or two. I need to get an account on my own first. Everything was tied up with John… and now, well – that’s over.”

  Don nodded in understanding, “No rush. You have access to her accounts as is, but it will be easier in the long run to put them in your own account.” He slipped a card from his pocket, “here’s my card. It has my cell on there. Call me if you need anything, ok?”

  “Thank you, Don. I’ll be in touch.”

  Delilah adjusted the heavy bag on her back and glanced around at the tiny town she’d grown up in. It wasn’t much, nearly four miles in total and only six hundred or so people lived in the city limits of St. Florian. It was like someone had dropped a town from a story book in the middle of Florence, Alabama – a much larger city only a hop away from here. Even though the town was mostly wooded, bordering Shoal Creek, she felt safe enough to walk home. Her grandmother owned seventeen acres just outside the city limits. The property ran along the edge of Shoal creek, which by its own right was more like a river, stopping at the edge of county road 94. From town, it was a five-mile walk, but she didn’t care – she needed time to think.

  Chapter 2

  Delilah’s feet hurt. The trek to her grandmother’s house was harder than she remembered, or maybe it was because she was older. She’d stopped at the Happy Hollow store to grab a drink and rest briefly. It was nice to see Mr. Bullock, or Mr. B as she called him when she was a child, still owned the shop. His grandson, Matt, was building a boat dock with pumps and a small open-air bar on the back, but the rest was how she remembered it. He had been kind, reminiscing about her grandmother as they sat while she rested. As she started her walk again, her phone vibrated relentlessly in her back pocket. Slipping it from the denim, she scowled when she saw it was John… again. She wasn’t ready to hear his sob story so she ignored the call and shoved it back into her pocket. As she rounded the corner, nostalgia hit her. The driveway was just as she remembered. A heavy metal gate blocked the gravel entry. Delilah gripped the iron gate, slipped it across the rocky path, and pulled it shut behind her. Dusting her hands off across her knees, she took in the scenery. The driveway was half a mile long, shielding the house from the roadway. As she got closer to her childhood home, she could hear the sound of banging echoing off the massive pines surrounding the land. She remembered that Don had mentioned a contractor was doing work for her grandmother, but she hadn’t thought he’d be here so soon after her funeral. She took the aged steps to the wrap around porch and tossed her bag near the door.

  “Hello?” she called out, not wanting to startle anyone, as she made her way around the side of the house. The porch was massive, wrapping the entire house and connecting into a large rear deck that overlooked the water. Skidding to a stop, she sucked in a breath at the sight before her. Standing, clad only in a pair of blue jeans that hung loosely off his hips, was a man. The sheen glint of his sweat covered his body – and oh my God what a body it was. His muscles were chiseled to perfection and his skin was kissed with the sun. He grabbed a towel from his back pocket and wiped the sweat that was dangerously close to dripping into his eyes. And holy crap his eyes. They were as blue as the Caribbean Sea. Delilah sucked in a breath, startling the stranger.

  “Shit,” he stumbled, knocking off the hammer he’d set down on the railing, as he glared up at Delilah, his eyes froze on hers.

  “Oh – god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me calling out.”

  He wiped his hands down his pants before running one of his palms through his shaggy brown hair. “Um, no… I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you over the banging. I’m Parker. Isabell hired me to do some work around here.”

  “Yeah, Don told me, I just didn’t expect to see you here so soon after…” her voice trailed off, her eyes clouding with tears. Delilah stepped toward him, her foot stumbling over the fallen tool.

  “Shit,” Parker moved fast, grabbing her hand, “You alright?” he steadied her on her feet as she wiped at her face.

  “Yeah – sorry.” She half laughed.

  “Delilah, I miss her too, don’t apologize for your tears. Isabelle kind of took me in after I moved here. She was like my grandmother.” He smiled, and man what a smile. Delilah couldn’t help but stare.

  She swiped at her eyes, fingering the wetness that was gathering, “Sorry – I just wished I could have talked to her, before… you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He fingered the tear that fell free despite her efforts to wipe them away. Realizing he was in her personal space, he let her hand fall and stepped back. “Anyway. I hope me being around won’t be a bother. But I intend to finish this job. Like I said, she was like a grandmother to me, too.”

  “Sure – yeah. That’s fine.” Her phone rang in her pocket, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Parker. Pulling it free, she grunted in disgust and hit ignore.

  “Everything ok?” Parker asked as he watched a myriad of emotions cross her face.

  “Yes… no… ugh, I don’t know. My fiancé, no ex-fiancé, won’t leave me alone. He thinks I should buy his bullshit that his dick being in someone else was a mistake. Shit,” she looked up at Parker, whose face was filled with shock and something she couldn’t place – anger? Sorrow? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that to you. You don’t know me and you sure as shit don’t want to hear my problems. Anyway, I need to get my stuff inside and then figure out what needs to be done around here. I’m sure the animals need tending to.”

  “Animal.” Parker smirked.

  “What?”

  “You said animals. But your grandmother only has one. That demon of a horse, Ed.” He chuckled as he bent down and picked up the fallen hammer.

  “What? She got rid of the others?”

  “Yeah – said they were too much work. But she couldn’t let that mean ass horse go.”

  “He was mine… and he’s not mean – just ornery.”

  “Ornery my ass.” Parker shook his head as he walked away, “Ornery in not what crossed my mind when he bit me. A horse that bites… seriously. Delilah, if you need anything you let me know. Here’s my card,” he reached into his back pocket and handed her a card, “Your grandmother talked about you so much, I feel like I know you. And Delilah,” he called out as he bounded down the steps into the yard.

  “Yeah?” She called out behind him.

  “John’s an idiot.” Parker disappeared around the house, leaving Delilah with her mouth agape in shock. She couldn’t help but feel warmth in her cheeks as she smiled at his words. Parker was right, John didn’t deserve her. Her phone vibrated again, reminding her that he wasn’t just going to disappear. She’d have to face him eventually – but not today. Today, she was just going to worry about the house.

  She walked back around the front and grabbed her backpack before heading inside. The inside was just as she remembered, minus the gaping hole in the ceiling above the living room.

  “What the hell?” She threw her bag down and pushed the screen door open, “PARKER!” She hollered, hoping he could shed some light on the new open-air ceiling.

  He came running around the side of the house, “What’s wrong?�
��

  “Why is there a giant hole in the ceiling?”

  “Uh, a tree fell on the house a couple of weeks ago.”

  Delilah paused, her grandmothers death hitting her square in the chest. She’d died when a tree fell and struck her, killing her instantly. Don’s words flooded her memory, he’d said her contractor was there with her when it happened.

  Parker.

  The tree.

  The hole in the ceiling.

  Delilah dropped to her knees on the porch, sucking air into her lungs. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe even though air rushed into her chest with each breath she took.

  “Whoa,” Parker was at her side immediately, “Slow down. Breathe slowly. That’s it, nice easy breaths.” His hand pressed into her back.

  “I can’t stay here…” She stood abruptly, Parker’s hand falling from her back.

  “What? Delilah… the hole is covered at night. The bedrooms are fine, as is the rest of the house. I’ll have the roof repaired in a couple of days.”

  “No…” she stomped down the steps and spun on her foot pointing at the now visible hole she’d missed earlier when she’d arrived, “that… that…” her words caught in her throat.

  Parker glanced at her, then back at the house. He swiped his hand over his face, “Delilah…” he took the steps in one large stride, stopping in front of her, “That hole has nothing to do with your grandmother’s death.”

  She narrowed her eyes, “What?”

  “Yes, your grandmother was killed by a falling tree… but not that particular tree. That one fell on the house weeks ago. It was huge and it took she and I days to chop it down. No… that isn’t the one that took her from this earth. That –…” he pointed towards the edge of the creek, “That stump is all that’s left of the monster that took her.”

  Delilah’s eyes moved with his finger, coming to rest on the remnants of a stump, at least she assumed it was a stump. It was charred black and been hacked into splinters of wood. She looked back at him, his eyes were filled with anger as he pierced the blackened wood with his gaze.