Author Kelly Moran           

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Come Sunday

(Kelly Moran is still writing this book. Look for it coming soon.)

~Synopsis~

            They hadn’t spoken in years. After college they went their separate ways, hardly remembering the connection they shared, the bond that was nearly unbreakable. While Jason, Livvy, and Meg chose to remain in their native New Hampshire , Troy , Heather, and Brock scattered across the country. They were onto bigger and better things, living their dreams. The friendship had all but fizzled. Facing each other again was inconceivable. The death of one of their own was unimaginable. The accident forces them back home for the funeral of a once dear friend and makes them confront one another all over again. But could one weekend repair all the damage they’d done over the years? And could love renew itself to heal their broken hearts?

~Excerpt~

 It was, immeasurably, the worst day of her life. Worse than the time she broke her leg attempting to jump from the great oak in her parent’s front yard at eight. Worse than her first broken heart when Jason moved to Texas at twelve. Worse- far, far worse than anything. Ever.

That’s how she rationalized it. She wasn’t organized like Meg. She wasn’t calm and collected like Troy . She wasn’t prone to tantrums to get out aggressions like Heather. She couldn’t envision herself somewhere else, as someone else, like Brock could.

She was just Livvy. Livvy who saw two sides to every story. Livvy who made lists in her head of pros and cons. Livvy who made everyone smile in that wistful sort of way, like a pat on a child’s head for saying something silly. Livvy who could be put off until there was time to chat because no one ever worried about Livvy!

What was she going to do now? Would they worry now? Would they come? Of course they would! If not for her, for Jason. They’d come home for Jason.

She sat back in her glider chair they picked out together. The smooth, easy motion calmed the nerves fluttering in her belly. It could be the baby, could be gas. It was hard to say at that point. Eight months pregnant, the nursery wasn’t even painted yet, and her husband was dead.

Dead. It was hard to wrap her mind around. Her husband was dead at age thirty.

She was past the shock. That came hours after the police left with their heads down, loathing the job today. She was cried out, as well. It wasn’t the brutal sort of gushing she may have envisioned, but it was real. There were no more tears left. Not tonight, anyway. Now she was numb. Senseless, drained, and listless.

All the calls had been made. All the apologies, and regrets, and questions answered and received politely.

Meg knew, too. The only one who remained in Canterbury with her and Jason seven years ago. She knew. But the others didn’t. They weren’t here in the town where gossip spread like wildfire. They stayed until that summer after college and fled. Fled far and wide and hardly glanced back.

But it was time for them to come home. Oh yes, it was time to call the rest of the troops. Meg had offered to do it for her. Meg would.

 No. It was for her to do herself.

Livvy rubbed her hand over her engorged belly and the little girl growing inside. Matilda. They were going to name her Matilda, after her mother. She was quiet now, too. As drained as Livvy was. Drifting her hand to her back she rubbed in methodic circles to work out the cramps. At 5’4” and easily a hundred and twenty pounds when not pregnant, Livvy was having a hard time carrying. And Matilda was going to be a big girl.

Eying the phone next to her, she sighed. She knew she was putting it off. The family took it hard. That was expected. But the others, they were hard to gauge. They were her life blood. Her ties to a life lived with true soul mates. They were close once. But, that was a long time ago. Now they were lucky to call once a year or reply to a Christmas card. Even then, it was the 'hope you’re doing well' variety. They didn’t even sign x’s and o’s any longer. It was all so very different. There was a time they couldn’t live without each other.

Suck it up, Livvy. She reached for the phone.

                                                                                                    Kelly Moran