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    Going Home Again
    Going Home Again
    Going Home Again
    Ebook160 pages2 hours

    Going Home Again

    By Carol Cassada

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Fashion photographer Rachel Mitchell was living the good life in New York; she had everything she ever wanted. However, the death of her mother sends Rachel home to Virginia to be with her family. Upset she seeks comfort from her ex-boyfriend Cole Ashton and they start to reconnect. Their reunion makes Rachel question her life and she’s left with a difficult decision, either stay in New York or start a new life with Cole in Virginia. Which will she choose?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCarol Cassada
    Release dateNov 4, 2013
    ISBN9781310126086
    Going Home Again

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    • 3/5
      This book was a smooth and easy read. The story had its sweet and tender moments. However, it seemed "familiar" - I have read the same type of story many times. I wanted to find something new, a new twist or disturbance that made it stand out as unique. The main character's thought process was a little repetitive. Actually, I thought there was too much of her thought processing, talking to herself in her head more than I wanted to read. There wasn't any terribly strong conflict with choosing between the two men... and the scene that drives her to the decision was predictable. I was given this book for free in exchange for an honest review. I liked it enough to finish the story but didn't find it compelling. If you are looking for a light easy beach read, this may be right for you.

    Book preview

    Going Home Again - Carol Cassada

    Going Home Again

    By

    Carol Cassada

    Copyright © 2013 Carol Cassada

    All Rights Reserved

    Acknowledgements

    To my mom, thanks for encouraging and supporting my dream.

    To Y. Correa for creating the beautiful cover.

    Chapter One

    Rachel Mitchell made her way through Norfolk International Airport. She knew the whole routine, with the baggage check, although she didn’t like having a stranger sift through her belongings. She made so many visits to her hometown of Norfolk, VA to visit her family. Her frequent trips came during the holidays; Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Fourth of July, when everybody was in a festive mood, except this visit was different, one that would change Rachel’s life more than she could imagine.

    It was three days ago, another busy day in Rachel’s New York office; and she was sifting through photos from the Vogue photo shoot. At 9:00 a.m. the phone rang, it was her sister Jessica. Rachel knew immediately from the tone of Jessica’s voice that something was wrong, her sister’s voice was trembling and she could barely speak; finally she told Rachel the sad news. Their mother, Nancy Mitchell, was dead at the age of fifty-five. Jessica explained how mom was driving home from work when a drunk driver hit her car. She was rushed to the hospital, but it was too late; she was gone.

    Rachel tried to wrap her mind around the events that happened the past few days. Dead. Mom’s dead. Rachel couldn’t believe it; when she heard the words from her sister’s mouth, Rachel felt like she had just been punched in the stomach, only it felt much worse. Many people believed Nancy was the type of woman who’d live forever; including Rachel, now it was difficult talking about her in the past tense. Whenever Rachel thought of her mother she pictured a vibrant, caring, and free-spirited woman, who survived a messy divorce and raised four rambunctious daughters. Out of all of her daughters, Nancy was closest to Rachel, mainly because she was the firstborn. Rachel and Nancy’s bond was so strong it nearly broke her mother’s heart when Rachel moved to New York after college graduation. But like any good mother she accepted and supported her daughter’s decisions.

    Rachel always felt guilty for leaving her family for New York, but she had to follow her dream. She tried to remain close to her family by making surprise visits, weekly phone calls, and numerous emails. Rachel always wondered if she should have stayed in Norfolk, but she pushed those thoughts out of her head and reminded herself she had a wonderful life in New York: a great job, great apartment, and great boyfriend; she was very happy. Or was she?

    *****

    Rachel stood outside of the airport, watching as the dark clouds rolled in and the wind started blowing, the makings of a storm. She’d checked the weather report earlier; it said it was going to be sunny all day. Yeah, right. They can never predict the weather.

    She hoped she could catch a taxi, she was so used to taking them in New York, it was her only means of transportation. But there was none to be found near the airport. Rachel thought about calling her grandma or one of her sisters to pick her up, but she didn’t want them to get out in this weather. She pulled her Blackberry out of her red leather handbag and started dialing the number when she heard her name being called.

    Rach, over here.

    Rachel recognized that voice from anywhere. She turned around to see her sister Jessica waiting for her. You could spot Jessica from a mile away, with her brown shoulder-length hair, mega-watt smile, and sparkling blue eyes. There she stood, her curvy figure hidden behind her blue jeans, white blouse, and denim jacket. Sweet, lovable, and reliable. Those were the words Rachel used to describe her sister. Rachel ran down the sidewalk to greet her favorite sister.

    Jessica, what are you doing here?

    I thought you needed a lift.

    I knew I could rely on you.

    They gave each other a brief hug, then made their way across the parking lot to Jessica’s black Ford Taurus. She bought it when she was sixteen and still had it nearly ten years later. After putting Rachel’s suitcase in the trunk, they hopped in the car and started the drive to their grandma’s house, where they would be staying. Along the way Jessica informed Rachel of the arrangements. Jessica had taken care of everything; she’d called everyone to let them know, picked out an outfit for their mother, and wrote the obituary. Rachel sat in silence; she couldn’t believe everything Jessica had done. Ever since Rachel left, Jessica became sort of the headmistress of the sisters, a role Rachel once occupied.

    After hearing about the funeral arrangements, Rachel’s thoughts turned to her grandma and her two younger sisters; Peyton and Laney.

    How’s grandma doing?

    She’s upset. Although she won’t come out and say it; you can sense it.

    How about Peyton?

    She’s doing pretty good. She tries to put on this tough persona, but deep down she’s hurting.

    And Laney?

    I think she’s having the toughest time. We convinced her to stay at grandma’s with us, but she doesn’t want to talk to anybody. She just locks herself in her room and says she wants to be alone. Jessica grasped her hands tighter to the steering wheel. I was hoping that you could help.

    Me? What do you want me to do?

    Maybe you can try to talk to her and see if she comes around. You were always good about reassuring us that everything was going to be okay. Jessica shifted her glance to Rachel. Will you do it?

    I’ll see what I can do, alright?

    Jessica nodded.

    "How are you doing?" Rachel asked.

    I’m—I’m doing pretty good. It’s just that…Mom was the glue that held us together. During the tough times she’d always be there telling us that everything’s going to be alright. Now that she’s gone, I’m scared that we’re going to drift apart.

    Jess, there’s no way, not in a million years would anything keep us apart.

    I know it sounds silly. But you gals are my family, you’re all I have left and I don’t want to lose you.

    *****

    They sat in silence for the rest of the drive. Finally they reached their grandmother’s house on Driftwood Ave, a brick ranch-style house with its white window shutters and pink rose bushes. It was still in good condition; except for a new roof, nothing much changed. Edie and Dan Higgins, Rachel’s maternal grandparents bought the house forty years ago. It was in that house they raised Nancy and eventually helped raise her four daughters; Rachel and her sisters practically grew up in that home. Many of Rachel’s fondest memories came from times spent there: grandma busy cooking and cleaning in her tiny kitchen, while grandpa would keep himself busy with house repairs or working on his old truck. Rachel preferred spending time with grandpa by helping him work on his truck; he called her his little assistant. Rachel would hand him his tools and hold the flashlight for him. Afterwards they would drink a root beer to celebrate a job well done.

    It was hard on Rachel when her grandpa died five years ago at the age of seventy-two, but not nearly as hard on grandma. After grandpa’s death, grandma admitted she sometimes felt his presence. Mom tried to convince grandma to sell her house, but grandma being as stubborn as she was, refused. She explained there were too many memories attached to the house. It’s where she raised her daughter and granddaughters, and one day she hoped to raise her great-grandchildren.

    Rachel’s mind flooded with her childhood memories, and she barely heard her sister talking. When Rachel finally regained her attention she and Jessica made their way up the walk to the front porch. Jessica walked a few paces in front of Rachel, who was straggling behind with her heavy suitcase, and cursing at herself for packing so much since she was only going to be in town a few days.

    They entered the living room, where they were greeted by the aroma of grandma’s famous chicken casserole cascading from the kitchen. Rachel looked around the living room. Much like the outside, the inside hadn’t changed much either, grandma still had the same fifties-style green furniture, along with grandpa’s beige recliner. Pictures were perched atop walls and tables and of course the shelves were adorned with angel figurines and other knickknacks.

    Rachel’s gaze turned towards the kitchen doorway. Peyton, her twenty-one year-old sister stood there with a half-hearted smile. Peyton was considered the rebel of the family; she did the opposite of what she was told. When she was eighteen she dyed her hair jet black even though her mother forbid it. She still had the same hair color, only a different hairstyle, this one a shag, which fitted her personality and made her baby blue eyes shine. Peyton walked to Rachel and gave her a hug.

    I’m so glad you’re here, Peyton whispered.

    So am I.

    Where’s grandma? Jessica interrupted.

    Where she’s been all day. Peyton nodded her head to the doorway. The kitchen.

    I’ll go get her; I know she wants to see Rach. Jessica left Rachel and Peyton alone.

    So how are you doing? Rachel asked.

    I’m fine.

    Are you sure? Rachel raised her eyebrows.

    You could always see right through me. Peyton sank onto the couch and clasped her hands together. The truth is I’m a wreck.

    Rachel sat down on the couch next to her sister. Do you want to talk about it?

    God, Rach, I can’t believe she’s gone. Peyton held her hand up to her face. I talked to her just before she left for work. The last thing she said to me was ‘I love you’. I don’t understand; one minute I’m talking with my mom and the next I’m getting a phone call saying she’s in the hospital. By the time I got there she was already gone.

    Rachel put a comforting arm around her sister’s shoulder as Peyton began getting choked up. Shhh. I’m here for you. Everything’s going to be alright.

    Peyton composed herself and gave a smile. You always know the right words to say.

    Peyton and Rachel gave each other a hug.

    What about you Rachel? How are you handling all of this?

    Before Rachel could answer, Grandma Edie entered the room. There’s my Rachel! She exclaimed with delight. Edie was like the typical grandmother, always busy cleaning and cooking, the kind you saw on old television shows. Unlike most women, Edie managed to age gracefully. Her long gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her blue floral print dress was hidden behind a pink apron. It was hard to believe that she was seventy-six.

    Rachel rose from the couch and gave her grandma a hug. Edie stood back to get a good look at her granddaughter, trying hard to remember every single detail of Rachel’s appearance: her long blonde hair, her emerald green top, and black pants, complemented by her diamond and gold jewelry.

    My, my, just look at you.

    Rachel blushed; she didn’t like grandma’s bragging, she didn’t like the extra attention grandma paid to her.

    Just look at how skinny you are! Edie continued examining her.

    I’m not skinny, grandma. Rachel defended herself, she knew that her grandma had a tendency to over exaggerate things. Rachel was petite, but she was at a healthy weight of 120 pounds. But in

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