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  Copyright © 2016 by Sharon Sala

  Cover and internal design © 2016 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Tom Hallman

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  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—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Letter from the Author

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Dear Reader:

  I welcome you to Blessings, Georgia, the best small town in the South.

  No, there aren’t any secrets kept here, and yes, everybody knows your business, but when bad things happen, good people come to your rescue.

  I grew up in a place like that—a place everyone should live in at least once in their lives, but since that’s not possible, I’m offering the next best thing: stories about that way of life—touching stories, funny stories, stories that will break your heart on one page and heal it on the next.

  “Count Your Blessings” was the novella introducing my readers to the Georgia landscape.

  You and Only You was the first full-length novel set in Blessings. It’s a story about the faithfulness of friends and family and what it means to be Southern to the core, as well as being a sweet love story to enjoy.

  I’ll Stand By You was the second full-length novel. It’s a story about how people starting life off on the wrong foot can still find a way to live happy ever after.

  Saving Jake is the next story, the one you’re holding in your hands. It’s a story that gets to the heart of what matters in life: redemption, forgiveness, and trust. It’s a story of the times, and yet timeless in its simplicity.

  Pick up one of my stories and take a visit to Blessings with me.

  You just might like it enough to stay.

  See you between the pages,

  Sharon Sala

  Chapter 1

  Thomas Wolfe once wrote, “You can never go home again.” Jacob Lorde never took the word of a stranger. He was on the way home, marking the passing of every mile with a war-weary soul. He needed a place to heal and Blessings, Georgia, the place where he grew up, was calling him.

  He’d come back briefly over a year ago to bury his father, and the calm and peace of the place had stayed with him long after he’d returned to his unit. Only a couple of months later, an IED on one patrol too many earned him a long stint in the hospital and brought his time with the army to an end.

  Now he was coming home to try and bury the soldier he’d been.

  He wanted to be done with war.

  He needed peace.

  He needed the emotional security that comes with knowing where he belonged.

  He needed that like he needed air to breathe, so when the Greyhound bus in which he was riding came around the curve and he saw the city-limit sign of Blessings gleaming in the early morning sunlight, his eyes blurred with sudden tears. He took the sunglasses from the pocket of his uniform and slipped them on, then held his breath as the bus began to stop.

  The brakes squeaked. They needed oil.

  Jake stood slowly, easing the stiffness in a still-healing leg, walked down the aisle, and then out into a sweet Georgia morning. He took a deep breath, smelling pine trees on the mountains around him and the scent of smoke from someone’s fireplace.

  He was home.

  The driver pulled his duffel bag from the luggage rack beneath the bus, shook his hand, and got back on board. The rest of the trip home was on Jake.

  * * *

  Ruby Dye had just opened The Curl Up and Dye when the Greyhound bus rolled through Blessings, belching black smoke from the exhaust. Because the bus came through Blessings on a regular basis, she never paid it any attention, but today it began slowing down. When it stopped, she moved closer to the window, waiting to see who got off, but the only person she saw was the driver who circled the bus to remove luggage from the carrier beneath.

  A few moments later, the bus drove away in a small cloud of the same black smoke. It was then Ruby saw the man in uniform reaching down to get his duffel bag. From this distance she couldn’t tell who it was, but he was limping slightly as he walked away.

  “Welcome home, soldier,” she said softly, and then went back to work.

  * * *

  Jake paused on the sidewalk and took a deep breath as the early morning air filled his lungs. Enveloped by the silence, he exhaled slowly as the weariness of the bus ride fell away. Shifting the duffel bag to rest easier on his shoulder, he headed south. Unless he caught a ride somewhere between here and home, he had a six-mile hike ahead of him, but after sitting for so long, he didn’t care.

  As he walked through town, it was somewhat comforting to see everything pretty much looked the same. Granny’s Country Kitchen still appeared to be the main place to eat. He thought about stopping there for breakfast, but food wasn’t as urgent a need as it was to see home.

  He continued south down Main, noticing one thing had changed. The old barbershop was closed. There was a sign in the window that read: Haircuts Available at The Curl Up and Dye. He smiled, remembering Ruby Dye and the girls at her shop.

  When he noticed a school bus heading out of town, he guessed the driver was beginning his route and thought of all the boys and girls hurrying around in their homes right now, getting ready for school, still innocent of what life could do to their dreams.

  Traffic was picking up by the time he reached Ralph’s, the small quick stop at the edge of town. He’d already had the utilities turned on at the house a month earlier, had cable set up so he’d have television service, and had the house cleaned at that time as well. But there wasn’t any food, and picking up a few things here would be enough to tide him over while he settled in. The bell over the doorway jingled as he walked in, which made everyone in the store turn and look.

  Jake knew the army uniform he was wearing and the military duffel bag marked him as a vet and wondered if ther
e was anyone inside who might give him a ride.

  Ralph Sinclair, who had always reminded Jake of Santa Claus because of his white hair and beard, was behind the counter. “Jake! I heard you might be coming home. It’s good to see you!”

  “Hi, Ralph. It’s good to be here,” Jake said.

  He set his duffel bag against the counter, picked up a small shopping basket, and started moving down the aisles. He was reaching for a squeeze bottle of mustard when he heard someone call out his name. When he turned to look and saw Truman Slade standing at the end of the aisle, the first thought that went through his head was, Well, hell. Probably the only enemy he had in the entire state, and he was not only out of prison, but back in Blessings. A muscle jerked in his jaw as he forced himself not to react.

  * * *

  Truman Slade was two hundred and twenty-three pounds of pure mean, exacerbated by the years he’d spent in prison thanks to Jake Lorde’s testimony against him. Truman didn’t give a damn that all of that had happened when Jake was still in high school. All he knew was the kid’s statement at his trial sent him to prison for eight years. The years and Truman’s lifestyle had not been kind to him. Even when he was young, his short legs and big, round face, plus a distinct underbite, had given him a bulldog look. Now he had the big belly to go with it.

  The moment he’d seen Jake Lorde walk in the door, his first thought had been time for payback. He walked up to where Jake was standing, pushed himself into Jake’s personal space, and waited for him to react. He so wanted to whip his ass.

  To Truman’s dismay, Jake didn’t acknowledge his presence. Instead, he calmly reached over Truman’s head for a loaf of bread, which accentuated how short Truman really was, and how tall Jake had grown. As he did, his elbow grazed the tip of Truman’s nose, which made Truman flinch. Jake was acting as if Truman were invisible. When he turned around and moved a few steps down and put a box of granola in the basket with the bread and mustard, Truman followed.

  “Still afraid of your own shadow?” Truman whispered, then made a gun with his hand and pointed it at Jake.

  Jake stared at Truman until he flushed a dark, angry red and shoved both hands in his pockets. Jake walked back to his duffel bag, pulled a big handgun from a side pocket, gave Truman another look, and then slapped it down on the counter in front of Ralph.

  “Hey, Ralph, do you know where I could get ammo for this?”

  Truman heard Ralph talking, but he couldn’t focus on the words, thinking of that look Jake had given him. It was just beginning to dawn on Truman that war had changed Jake Lorde in a dangerous way. By the time he tuned back in on what was being said, Jake had shoved the handgun back into his bag and was at the deli, waiting to get some lunch meat and cheese sliced to take home.

  Truman was leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face, and when Jake approached with his shopping basket to pay, Truman purposefully slid his shoe in front of Jake, intending to force him to step aside. Instead, Jake took the next step right on top of Truman’s shoe and then stopped.

  Truman inhaled sharply. The bastard was standing on his foot! He started to push Jake off, and then something told him not to lay a hand on the man. By his own actions, he was momentarily pinned to the floor.

  Jake paid, picked up the groceries, shouldered his duffel bag, and left the store.

  Truman groaned beneath his breath when the pressure on his foot was released and then hobbled out the door and drove toward town. He needed to put distance between him and Jake Lorde to recoup his swagger.

  As for Jake, his head was pounding as he walked out of the store. The blood raced through his veins the same way it had done at the end of a deadly exchange of gunfire. Even though the morning air was cool, he could almost feel the desert heat. Despite his inability to focus, instinct kept him moving toward home.

  * * *

  Laurel Payne was on her way into Blessings to an early morning cleaning job. She would have to drop her daughter, Bonnie, off at a friend’s house in town until it was time for them to walk to school. There were always difficulties arising from being a single parent, and having good friends to help her out like this made her life a little easier.

  She was less than a mile from town when she saw the soldier walking on the side of the road. Her heart skipped a beat. The sight of a man in uniform was still a painful reminder of her own husband, Adam, who’d come home from a war without a single wound and then shot and killed himself only a few months later.

  As for the traveler, she knew who he was even before she got close enough to see his face. She knew because she’d been the one who’d cleaned his father’s house weeks earlier. He was not a stranger. He was a few years older, but she’d known him all her life.

  When she passed him, the first thing she thought was that the neighborly thing to do would be to give him a ride home, but she didn’t want to reawaken the sleeping demons in her life by befriending anyone who reminded her of Adam. Then she glanced in the rearview mirror, saw the slight limp in his stride, and her heart sank. Despite her reservations about getting involved, she hit the brakes.

  “Mommy, what are we doing?” Bonnie asked, as Laurel made a U-turn in the road.

  “I’m going to give Mr. Lorde a ride home,” she said.

  Bonnie frowned. “But Mr. Lorde went to heaven already. Did he come back?”

  Laurel sighed. “No, honey. That man we just passed is his son.”

  “Oh,” Bonnie said, but her curiosity was piqued.

  * * *

  Jake saw the old pickup coming toward him but paid it little mind because it was going the wrong way to do him any good. When it came closer, he noticed a young woman and a child inside, but didn’t recognize them. He nodded politely as they passed and kept on walking.

  When he was a little farther down the road, he heard the vehicle braking, then turning around, and his first instinct was to brace for another confrontation. When the pickup caught up with him and stopped, he didn’t know what to expect.

  Laurel rolled down the window and managed a brief smile.

  “Jake Lorde?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m Laurel Payne, your neighbor down the road. Get in and I’ll take you home.”

  Jake breathed an easy sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he said, and put his things in the truck bed. He saw the little girl in the backseat as he opened the door and winked at her as he got in.

  Bonnie was immediately charmed, partly because he reminded her of her father, whom she missed, and partly because he belonged to Mr. Lorde, whom she had adored.

  Laurel waited until he settled before she accelerated.

  “Welcome home,” she said shyly, and kept her eyes on the road.

  “Thank you,” Jake said, trying to figure out who she was, and then it hit him. “You were Laurel Joyner, right?”

  She nodded.

  “You said it’s Payne now. By any chance did you marry Adam Payne? I knew him in high school.”

  “Yes, I did,” she said.

  “My daddy is dead,” Bonnie announced.

  Laurel sighed. “That’s my daughter, Bonnie. She’s a first-grader this year.”

  “Hello, Bonnie. I’m sorry about your daddy, and I’m sorry for your loss,” he told Laurel.

  “Thank you,” Laurel said, but when she wasn’t forthcoming with any further information, Jake didn’t push the issue.

  A few minutes later they drove up on the mailbox at the end of his driveway. Laurel slowed down, and when she turned off the road and headed up the driveway, the ruts were so deep that they bounced in the seats all the way to the house.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Looks like you just pointed out the first repair I need to put on my list,” Jake said.

  She pulled up to the fence surrounding the yard, put the truck in park, and started to get out.

 
“No, don’t get out. I can get it all,” Jake said. “I really appreciate the ride and hope I didn’t make you late to wherever you were going.”

  “We’re fine with the time,” Laurel said. “Have a nice day, and again, welcome home.”

  “Thank you,” Jake said.

  Laurel waited while he gathered all of his things from the back of her truck and then headed for the front door. As soon as he was clear of her truck, she began backing up to turn around.

  When Jake turned to watch her hasty exit, he saw her little girl on her knees in the backseat watching him. She waved.

  He waved back and then they were gone and he had no other excuses to delay the inevitable. He reached above the door for the key, unlocked it, and went inside. He set his duffel bag against the wall and then headed to the kitchen with the groceries.

  His footsteps echoed on the old hardwood floors, and despite the cleaning, the rooms smelled musty. He set the groceries on the counter and then opened the two windows in the kitchen to start airing the house. The house might get chilly, but he was choosing fresh air rather than airless, musty rooms.

  Opening the cabinet doors as he put up food was like turning back time. His mother’s dishes were still stacked in the same places they had been when he was growing up. A couple of coffee cups were missing, probably broken from years of use. When he opened a drawer to the left of the sink and found the notepads and pens they’d used to make lists and saw his father’s writing on the top page of one pad, a moment of anger swept over him. His father’s grocery list was still here, but he wasn’t.

  He picked up the one on top to begin a new list of things he was going to need, then took it with him as he walked through the rooms, making notes of what he needed to buy.

  He knew for sure he needed toilet paper, bath powder, and toothpaste for the bathroom. Laundry soap, stain remover, and cleaning supplies for the utility room. Light bulbs for the house, and everything it took to restock a kitchen.

  He was passing a window when he saw the school bus go by the house. He glanced at the clock and smiled. Fifteen minutes to eight—the same time he’d always caught the bus. He continued through the house, checking off things needing repairs. The showerhead was leaking and he’d noticed loose boards on the front porch when he’d stepped on it.