Autumn's Dance (Season Named Series Book 1) Read online

  Autumn’s Dance

  Book 1 of The Season Named Series

  Sarah Gai

  Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Gai

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  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.

  This is dedicated to all the people who love to cheer for the characters within the pages; for readers who want to read a story that goes straight to the heart, leaving you wanting more. For all those who want to leave the real world behind for just a moment and become apart of someone else’s story. You are my people and I absolutely adore you all!

  Contents

  Autumn’s Poem

  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

  Please Leave A Review

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other titles by Sarah Gai in Chick Lit genre

  Autumn’s Dance

  See how she moves

  So fragile, such beauty

  She hides the pain of veiled truths.

  With such strength,

  She camouflages the scars

  Buried within her soul,

  Innocence in her eyes

  She gazes towards the sky

  As Autumn’s dance becomes a memory.

  That girl becomes my all.

  -Sarah Gai

  Autumn - June 2010

  The sound of tires hitting a rough patch of pavement woke Autumn Nash from her dreamless slumber. She stretched lazily, like a cat rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had been napping for the past one hundred miles or so, in a deep, much-needed rest. She tended not to sleep all too well when on the road, finding it hard to relax when they pulled over at the truck stops along the way to wherever they were headed. Looking outside the pickup’s grimy window, she saw the early summer trees, their leaves a bright, verdant green. Her father reached across the front seat, punching her arm lightly with his large, bear-like fist.

  “Hey kid, have a nice sleep?” he asked gruffly, a hint of sarcasm lacing his croaky smoker’s voice. It’s not like Autumn’s father had a right to be snooty with her; she did the majority of the driving the past year and a half. How they both managed to still be in one piece, when her father was mostly drunk or hung-over all those years when she wasn’t even old enough to drive, was nothing short of a miracle.

  “Just entering Ligonier!” Her father’s voice boomed above the radio, cutting off her silent mind mutterings.

  Ligonier, Pennsylvania was the one and only town they ever returned to during their nomadic existence. The long drive from Virginia in the heat and the return to familiarity contrasted steeply, making it both exhausting and bittersweet.

  “Why do we come back here?” she asked, as her father just laughed.

  Why she bothered with the question was ridiculous. She has asked the same question over and over throughout the years, always getting the same answer.

  “It’s where the summer jobs are,” he replied evasively.

  Liam Nash could have a job in several other states for the summer, a fact they both knew well, but Ligonier was, and always would be, a constant sort of home base, even though it was one big mystery.

  There were things that, even though she and her father were the only ones they each had, neither one of them spoke aloud to the other. Most things concerned Ligonier, but another was about Autumn’s mother, who left them years before. Autumn barely remembered her; fragments of a sweep of blond hair or her bubbly laugh and smile that didn’t reach up to her mahogany eyes would find their way into her memory on occasion, if in fact they were memories. Nonetheless, her face was a distant blur. Some nights, Autumn closed her eyes tight and prayed for a glimpse of her mother, but the memory of a three-year old was not good enough after fourteen years passed.

  Their beat-up blue pickup passed the sign announcing their welcome to Ligonier: population 1,549…though for the next three months, 1,551. It was a small, historic town in rural Pennsylvania that boasted one of the country’s oldest amusement parks and a large mountain resort. Summer brought the town an abundance of tourists who shopped at specialty stores along the tree-lined Main Street while children coasted on their bikes along the sidewalks. Autumn smiled as she rolled down the window, letting the breeze hit her face as a thought formed in her mind: home.

  They drove through the main part of town as the pharmacy, local grocery store, post office, and floral boutiques flew past their windows; Autumn rolled her eyes knowing instinctively where her father was headed. Not daring to turn her head and risk giving her father a deep scowl, Autumn heard the click of the blinker as her father signaled, the truck turning into a parking spot in front of his favorite bar, Pesky’s. The light-colored brick façade and welcoming golden lights had a hypnotic hold on her father. Turning off the car, he stretched as he got out and slammed the pick-up’s rusty door, without so much as a word or a backwards glance as he marched straight towards the bar.

  Autumn groaned, “Typical.”

  After the long drive between job locations, her father could barely make it to the next bar. Autumn knew his drinking habits were well on the unhealthy side, along with his taste for gambling. It was also a part of her reality, never seeing or knowing Liam Nash to be any different. But that was another thing she never ever brought up.

  She popped her seatbelt off and got out of the truck, slamming the door shut. Walking around to the truck bed, she pulled out her trusty black duffle, their sleeping bags, and the tent. Slinging the bag and tent over both shoulders and hugging the sleeping bags to her chest, she began her trek to the outskirts of town. It was only another ten minutes beyond Pesky’s bar, right before the sign announcing “Leaving Ligonier.”

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as she walked down the last bit of Main Street. It was late in the afternoon and the slanting sun warmed her skin pleasantly. People milled about in front of the buildings, but Autumn avoided their gazes, a natural reaction to the obvious outsider. She could feel their judgmental eyes and knew what they were thinking: tourist season. If they only knew she was there annually. She recognized a few people, though she knew almost no one, really. Her father encouraged her to keep to herself. Actually, encouraged was a nice word—threatened was the more truthful term. It was easier that way; everything was easier when you had no one you were leaving behind. However, Ligonier was different in that it was the only place Autumn had friends. Aiden and Meg were twins, easily recognizable by their harmonizing fiery orange hair and Autumn couldn’t wait to see them, along with Av
a and Sharon, the closest thing she ever had to a family, besides her father.

  Autumn left Main Street, heading purposefully toward a thicket of trees. The buildings started to give way and the presence of other people slackened; she passed a woman walking a large German Shepherd and a kid riding his bike and then she was alone. Looking to make sure no one saw her, she cut to the side, leaving the pavement and plunging deep into the foliage, to find the place in the woods in which she and her father camped every year. It was deep enough in the trees for them to live unseen, but it close enough to society for necessities.

  Autumn started off setting up the tent. There would not be any food tonight, she was sure, so Autumn crawled inside the tent without bothering to light a fire. As the sun set, she nestled into her sleeping bag and pulled out her book and flashlight, reading until her eyes closed involuntarily.

  Autumn

  The next morning, Autumn woke up in the tent, light filtering through the green canvas. Aside from the welcoming morning sounds of birds high up in the trees and the occasional falling branch, the only sound Autumn heard was the creek, a mere hundred feet away, bubbling as it made its way over the rocks.

  Abruptly, she heard heavy movement nearby, footsteps, possibly from her father, she assumed, although it would be unlikely for him to be able to stumble so far from the bar. Autumn’s best guess, based on past experience, was Liam was kicked out at closing, barely able to walk to the back of his truck to pass out, and only waking when she, or a random stranger, prodded him to make sure he was still alive. It was a sad truth, Autumn recognized, after more nights than she cared to recount.

  Autumn rolled over, sticking a hand into her duffle to find her Power bars she kept hidden from her father’s drunken munchies. She mentally made a list of groceries to pick up before she and her father began their search for work. Biting into the starchy, sweet food, she heard more movement outside of the tent—footsteps for sure, and then the voice of a stranger.

  “Hello?”

  Autumn froze, her stomach dropping in fear and panic. She quietly dropped to her knees, unzipping the front flap of the tent slowly and peering out. Still chewing the bar now gluey in her mouth, Autumn looked out and, surprisingly saw a young man standing just inside the clearing. He was tall, at least 6’2”, well-built with broad shoulders, and wore a stark white t-shirt over a pair of khaki cargo shorts. He smiled at her expectantly with the whitest teeth she ever saw. Autumn had yet to speak as her eyes continued their wanderings; raven hair, longer on top and shorter at the sides, a clean-shaven, chiseled jaw, and the bluest, most hypnotizing eyes Autumn ever laid eyes on. Autumn had no clue how long she was staring, but she guessed a while as the handsome boy’s mouth turned up at one side, a look of amusement showing.

  Clearing her throat and coming to her senses, she snapped, “What do you want?” Her voice was harsher than she meant, though part of her Power bar was still tumbling about inside her mouth.

  He looked taken aback for a second, before the smile returned to his face. “Ah, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He raised a hand, running it through his thick locks.

  “It’s okay, I didn’t mean to sound so rude,” Autumn replied, finally forcing herself to choke down her last bite.

  “I’m Eric,” he declared, walking closer. “Eric Foster. I’m staying with my grandfather at that house…ya know, just through those trees?” He waved a hand behind him.

  Autumn nodded knowing which one he was talking about—the large, brick house on the historical register. It had a kind of Mansard roof and was built in the 1800s, but was now owned by the town’s pastor, whom Autumn knew by sight. She went to church in Ligonier—to see what it was about. She hadn’t understood much, but Meg and Aiden were regulars and insisted she go with them. But she would have remembered a young man looking like Eric, yet she had never seen him before.

  “Um, yeah,” he continued as he ran a hand through his hair again, seemingly unsure of himself. “So, do you live here? In the woods?”

  She nodded. Autumn figured she better begin talking since the more she continued to answer in return with nothing but a head nod, the more Eric looked a little uncomfortable.

  “We’re just here for the summer,” she replied. He started looking around and Autumn realized she said “we.” “My father isn’t here at the moment.”

  “Oh,” the boy replied, his shoulders relaxing. “And you call yourself?”

  “Autumn,” she managed to smile. She realized she better start doing something remotely animated before he started thinking she was just downright strange.

  “Nice to meet you, Autumn.” He crouched down, as if he was going to stay awhile, yet wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.

  Autumn took another bite of the bar. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest and her palms were sweating a little. Aside from easily chatting with the twins, this was the first person, though a little older, but roughly around Autumn’s age, she actually spoke to in quite some time.

  “Do you want a Power bar?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Eric replied eagerly.

  Autumn quickly ducked back inside the tent digging inside her duffle and pulling one out, feeling a little guilty it was all she had to offer. She exited the tent fully, still wearing yesterday’s jeans and a wrinkled, blue-checkered shirt, and tossed the bar to him.

  He unwrapped it and took a large bite. “Oh,” he said. “Now, I say this with all of the best intentions…”

  “What?” Autumn crouched next to him.

  “This tastes horrible.” Eric screwed his face up dramatically.

  There was silence as both stared at one another—their faces serious. Autumn was the first to break and they both laughed. Autumn knew exactly what he meant.

  “They have a high calorie content,” Autumn replied. “Keeps me going when Dad doesn’t have the time to buy groceries.”

  “I see,” he replied, looking puzzled, but politely not asking any further questions, for which Autumn was grateful. She did not know him well enough for a deep and meaningful conversation. For all she knew, this was the first and last time she would ever speak to the boy.

  “So, what brings you to Ligonier?”

  “Work,” she answered, keeping things simple. “And yourself?”

  “I was…sent,” he raised his eyebrows. “To find God.”

  Autumn cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “My grandfather’s the town preacher,” he began. “My dad thought spending the summer in a house with a man who does the Lord’s work would set me on the straight and narrow path, or so to speak.”

  “What does your mother think?”

  “Well, she died several years ago, so I’m not really sure.” He pondered for a moment. “She’d be angry, most likely. I mean, not that I’m here, but that I was screwing up my life back home.”

  “My mother is gone, too.”

  “So, you get it then, too?” he asked, misunderstanding her.

  “Get what?”

  “The Dead Mother Look,” he stated plainly. “You know the one.” He opened his eyes really wide and forced a comically sad face.

  Autumn nodded, letting the mistake stand. As far as she knew, her mother was still alive. Her father simply told her that her mother didn’t want either of them anymore and just up and left. Autumn was pretty sure that’s when he began drinking; well, that’s what she told herself. Truthfully, Autumn could not remember a sober day.

  “I’ve seen that one, for sure,” she stated. “So, what did you do?”

  “Well, how do I cut a long story short?” Eric rubbed his chin thinking of how to explain it. “I was attending Memphis College of Art on a scholarship. It was a big deal, since neither of my parents went to college.”

  “Do you paint?” Autumn interrupted excitedly.

  “Nah, I’m a sculptor, but I also play jazz guitar,” he said with a hint of sadness. “Anyway, I started hanging out with some of my dad’s old m
otorcycle club buddies.” He paused, rubbing his chin in thought again. “You ever heard of the Heathens?” Autumn shook her head. “They’re a motorcycle club based in Memphis. There was this guy, an old buddy of my dad’s from before he went straight, that offered me a job. Being in college, I needed the money. So anyway, it started with soft drugs like weed. Arnie gave me a couple of bags and I’d deal to some of the kids at the dorm. It was easy. Eventually though, he started giving me harder stuff, like cocaine and meth. It was a side gig, of course. The club knew nothing about it so I figured my dad would never find out.” He paused, looking at Autumn to gauge her reaction.

  “You don’t look like a biker.” Eric most definitely did not resemble a hardened rider. If anything, Autumn found him manly, a little scary, but maybe a…little pretty—no, beautiful.

  “Hah, no. Just because I grew up around them doesn’t mean I need to be them. Besides, my mother tried her hardest to make me choose my own path in life. She encouraged me to go after what I wanted,” he grinned at her.

  “So, what happened next?” she prompted. She wasn’t used to people being so open with her; now she wanted to know everything.

  “My dad happened. He ran into some of his old brothers from the club who told him they found out what Arnie was doing and he admitted to hiring me to do some stuff for him. My dad just about blew a gasket. The guys from the club have deep respect for my dad so they pursued Arnie, which wasn’t a good thing. Dad came and got me from school. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house for a week. He took all of my cash and donated it to some rehab center. When I fired up at my old man and told him there was no way I was going to stay with my grandfather, well…he caught me off guard and knocked me out.”