Authors: Amy Durham
Tags: #paranormal, #paranormal paranormal romance young adult, #teen romance fiction, #teen fiction young adult fiction, #reincarnation fiction, #reincarnation romance
Once Again
Copyright 2012 by Amy Durham
Published By Amy Durham
Smashwords Edition
Contact Information:
[email protected]
Formatted By
Ironhorse
Formatting
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living
or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely
coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in
any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of
this author.
To Jayne Squires, who first told me I could
do this and whose belief in me translated into my belief in
myself.
Teresa Reasor, I can never thank you enough
for your support, encouragement, and expertise. For reading and
critiquing for me, I give you my deepest gratitude. To Kari Lee
Townsend, thank you for your insightful editing and critiquing, for
believing in this book, and for helping me make it even better. To
my fellow KY Romance Writer members, thank you for the wonderful
camaraderie that exists only between fellow writers. To Glenda
Edwards, thanks for 25 years of abiding friendship and all the
encouragement and brainstorming a girl could want. To Ray
Hollenbach and the rest of the folks in my local writers group,
thank you for your encouragement and for giving me a place to share
this part of myself. To my parents, every opportunity I’ve ever had
has been because of you. No words are sufficient, but thank you
nonetheless. To my husband, Kevin, thank you for loving the
creative side of me (and the rest of me!) unconditionally. Kelly,
my first-born, thank you for believing in my dreams – I hope my
ambitions will inspire your own. To Eli and Reece, thank you for
the infinite joy you bring me. And most importantly, thank you God
for imagination, creativity, and storytelling, and for putting all
of the above in me.
Okay, I
had to admit that Maine in July was spectacular.
Spotless white clouds dotted a sky of perfect
aqua blue. Bright green leaves hung heavy in the trees. Together
with the rich landscaping of the town, nature had created a lovely
and charming little place.
My parents had chosen an extraordinary
location for our new home.
But, being sixteen, I didn’t say it out loud.
I was still pretty unhappy about leaving Nashville. Music City, USA
had been my one and only home, and the thought of starting over
with only two years of high school left scared me silly.
Not that I’d been at the top of the social
ladder in Nashville. Far from it. But I’d been me, and I’d known
where I stood. Now, who knew what or where I’d end up?
It seemed odd to spend Independence Day
house-hunting in Sky Cove, Maine, but my parents had decided July
fourth would be the perfect time to visit before making the move.
After touring several places, we’d settled on a red-brick house in
a middle-class neighborhood. Two-floors, it was a perfect square
rising up from the ground, very much like a cracker box. In
addition to some storage space, the small upstairs had one bedroom
and one bathroom, and my parents had agreed it could be mine.
It was a perk meant to make me happy. To ease
the transition.
It sort of did. I liked the idea of having
the second floor to myself.
Heading across town to the realtor’s office
to settle the business of purchasing the new home, my parents took
the road that ran parallel to the ocean. I lounged in the backseat,
watching the gaps in the trees lining the road as they gave me
glimpses of the shore just beyond. The blue of the water surprised
me when I first saw it. Somehow I’d thought it would be green and
brown and ugly.
The bits of shore I could see were rough and
rocky, with patches of sand scattered throughout. I thought how
nice it must be to walk barefoot on the sandy spots on warm summer
days.
At once, I felt a huge longing to walk the
beach, combined with a strange sense of foreboding. The air in the
car turned damp, and liquid seemed to fill my lungs with each
breath. The temperature dropped, far too cold for July.
Disconcerted, I turned around for one last
look at the shore before we headed into the town. An opening in the
trees offered an unobstructed view, and I saw a woman jogging.
No, that wasn’t right. She was running. And
she was wearing a dress. A really old looking dress. How odd.
A family picnicking on the beach sat directly
in her path, yet she didn’t slow. She just kept running. She didn’t
even seem to see them in front of her.
My heart picked up speed. I craned my neck
and turned in my seat, the aged vinyl upholstery creaking as I
shifted. Knowing the collision was imminent, I held my breath. The
running woman plowed right into the family eating happily on their
blanket.
I cringed.
Then realized that nothing had happened.
Mystery woman still ran down the beach with
frantic speed, but the family still sat, enjoying their holiday
picnic.
I squinted. She kept running toward a rock
wall, and the forward momentum of our car took me further away. Her
form grew smaller and... transparent?
No, of course not.
And then she disappeared, like dust blowing
away in the breeze.
My skin warmed as the cold air in the car
faded.
I rubbed my eyes, shook my head, and turned
back to face the front of the car. It had been a very long day.
The
morning fog that swirled through Sky Cove had lifted. The sun
warmed the air, and it was a lovely late-August day.
I’d convinced Mom not to drive me to school
on my first morning.
On the day that I, Layla Bradford, started my
junior year of high school in a strange and far-off place.
Well, maybe Sky Cove wasn’t exactly
that
far-off, but compared to Nashville, it might as well
have been the other side of the universe.
Truth be told, the town was kind of nice. And
the summer weather was spectacular. I’d been surprised to learn
that gray and overcast wasn’t the norm for Maine. The sun
apparently knew how to shine here as well as it did in
Tennessee.
Yep, Sky Cove was lovely.
But it wasn’t the city. No crazy traffic. No
shopping malls. Not that a shopping mall was ever a huge draw for
me, but I did enjoy the bookstores. And I was pretty sure that the
pleasant summer weather I’d been enjoying since my arrival two
weeks ago would soon turn to a winter like I’d never seen
before.
Great. I couldn’t wait.
The thing about being a teenager is that
you’re at the mercy of your parents’ decisions. Mine decided to
move to Maine, and despite the fact that it was about the last
thing in the world I wanted, I didn’t have it in me to be one of
those bratty, whiny kids who made their parents miserable when
everything wasn’t going their way. Besides, I could see how excited
my dad was about String City, the guitar store he now owned.
So... here I was.
Pulling my old, sensible Honda into the
parking lot of Sky Cove Senior High School.
I’d worn my favorite baby-doll shirt, the
teal green one. My mom said it matched the color of my eyes. I
guess moms are supposed to say stuff like that, but the shirt did
lend me a little confidence in my appearance. And because the
breeze in a coastal town forever whooshed about in the mornings,
I’d left the natural waves in my shoulder length brown hair. No
sense spending all that time with a flat iron if the wind was just
going to whip it around.
Another thing about this town is that, with a
population of less than five thousand, there’s only one high
school. Which means everyone knows everybody and there are no
secrets.
Or so I’ve been told about small towns.
At any rate, I knew finding a way to fit in
would be difficult. Most of these kids had grown up here and been
in the same classes since nursery school.
Fitting in had never been my number one
priority. No, I was always more of a
blending
in kind of
girl. I didn’t try to be noticed by having the right friends or
dressing the
correct
way. I just wanted to fly under the
radar.
I hated being the center of attention.
Which was exactly what I became the moment I
stepped through the front door of the school.
My mom and I had toured the school with the
principal last week, which was helpful, because I already knew
where my classes were and wouldn’t have to stumble my way through
the first day. But what I hadn’t realized was that the front lobby
was the
gathering spot.
Kids sat in chairs, the floor, and leaned up
against the walls. Every face turned and every eye focused on me as
I walked in. I’d avoided, on purpose, arriving at school early, to
steer clear of just this thing. They all stared, and I knew they
were sizing me up, deciding whether or not I was worthy, and
ultimately finding me lacking in the wow-she’s-hot department.