Chapter 2: Peach Cobbler and Unwritten Rules

Mom had heard Lily’s situation was bad, so she took me to Savannah herself. She said showing up in person was better than sending a housekeeper. I believed her.

The drive down was long, miles rolling by in a blur of pine trees and sleepy little towns. Mom packed sandwiches and sweet tea, and for once, let me roll down the window and let my hair tangle in the wind. It felt like freedom, or at least a taste of it.

Officially, we were visiting Mom’s old friend, Mrs. Jennings. But along the way, I had the happiest days of my life.

We stopped at roadside diners, tried peach cobbler in towns I’d only seen on maps. I laughed more those few days than I had in months. Mom and I talked about everything and nothing—the clouds, the songs on the radio, old stories from her college days. For a while, I forgot about Carter Ellison and all that heavy future pressing down on me.

For a girl raised in a tight-knit family, outings were rare—maybe a dinner or two a year, always with a chaperone. A trip this far from home? Unheard of. Once we left the city, all the rules seemed to slip away. I watched the streets, the people, the barbecue joints along the road. Sometimes, out of every ten vendors, there’d be a woman working the stand.

I counted them, just for fun, wondering what their stories were. Some smiled and waved as we passed. I imagined setting up my own little stand, selling lemonade or wildflowers, just for the joy of it. The world felt bigger than I’d ever known.

At first, I thought Mom would scold me for staring, but then I overheard her tell Aunt Ruth, “A girl only gets so many days like this. As her mama, I’ve gotta let her have a little fun at least once.”

Hearing her say that made me feel light as air, like she’d given me permission to soak up every moment. I caught her eye in the rearview mirror and smiled. She winked back, just once.

Knowing she wanted me to enjoy myself, I got even bolder. I wore a big sunhat, lingered by the river at sunset, even snuck a couple sips of cider at the diner.

The cider was tart and sweet, the kind that warms your cheeks. I dipped my toes in the river, felt the cool mud squish between them. For the first time, I felt young and wild, like the heroines in those dog-eared paperbacks I kept hidden under my mattress.

But happy days always go by fastest, and soon enough, we rolled into Savannah.

The city welcomed us with old oaks and Spanish moss, the air buzzing with the promise of rain. I watched folks on the sidewalk, each with their own story, and wondered where mine would lead next.