The Long Way Home Read online

  Synopsis

  They say you can’t go home again, but Raine St. James doesn’t know why anyone would want to.

  Rory St. James was disowned after she came out at seventeen. She rebounded by moving to Chicago, changing her name to Raine and putting down her hometown to audiences around the country. Now, ten years later, too old to be considered a gay youth, broke, evicted, and fresh off a much needed break-up, Raine St. James is forced to accept a job teaching at Bramble University in Darlington, the town she’s been publicly bashing for the last decade.

  Beth Devoroux was born and raised in Darlington. Despite losing her parents at a young age, she is well loved by everyone who knows her. She leads a comfortable life with good job at Bramble University, a long-term but closeted relationship, friends that she can count on, and everything she thinks she wants, so why is she so drawn to a rabble-rouser like Raine St. James?

  Can Raine and Beth face their pasts and come to terms with their differences in order to have any hope for a future together?

  The Long Way Home

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  Praise for Rachel Spangler’s Fiction

  Trails Merge

  “The meeting of these two women produces sparks that could melt the snow on the mountain. They are drawn to each other, even as their pasts warn of future pain. The characters are beautifully drawn. Spangler has done her homework and she does a great job describing the day to day workings of a small ski resort. She tells her story with wonderful humor, and gives an accurate voice to each of her characters. Parker Riley’s best friend Alexis is as true to the sophisticated “City” girl as Campbell’s father is to the country. Trails Merge is a great read that may have you driving to the nearest mountain resort.”—Just About Write

  “Sparks fly and denial runs deep in this excellent second novel by Spangler. The authors’ love of the subject shines through as skiing, family values and romance fill the pages of this heartwarming story. The setting is stunning; making this reviewer nostalgic for her childhood days spent skiing the bunny hills of Wisconsin.” —Curve Magazine

  Learning Curve

  “Spangler’s title, Learning Curve, refers to the growth both of these women make, as they deal with attraction and avoidance. They share a mutual lust, but can lust alone surpass their differences? The answer to that question is told with humor, adventure, and heat.” —Just About Write

  “[Spangler’s] potential shines through, particularly her ability to tap into the angst that accompanies any attempt to alter the perceptions of others…Your homework assignment, read on.”—Curve Magazine

  By the Author

  Learning Curve

  Trails Merge

  The Long Way Home

  The Long Way Home

  © 2010 By Rachel Spangler. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 10: 1-60282-178-XE

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-178-1E

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: September 2010

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Shelley Thrasher and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  Acknowledgments

  There’s a common narrative in gay and lesbian fiction in which a young person grapples with her sexuality within the confines of her small town, surrounded by small-minded people and overbearing family members. The protagonist somehow finds some reserve of courage hidden deep inside herself to come out and make her getaway, leaving all the small-town narrow-mindedness behind as she bravely chases her dreams to the big city. Those are common themes in our books because for a long time those were common themes in our lives. For many of us, the need to get away in order to find ourselves is still part of our coming-out stories, but this is not one of those stories.

  This is a book about going back and having the courage to stay. Mostly, this is a novel about being wise enough to look past stereotypes and caricatures and learning to see our friends, neighbors, families, and even ourselves as complex, dynamic human beings with the capability to change and grow.

  I’ve done a lot of changing and growing over my last few years at Bold Strokes Books. Radclyffe has surrounded me with an amazing support staff (Connie, Lori, Kim, Cindy, etc.) and provided me with the best cover artist in the business in Sheri, who somehow manages to outdo herself every time, even with authors like me meddling with her vision. Shelley Thrasher is more than an editor. She’s a professor who has taught me more than even I can put into my very wordy sentences, but any improvement you see in my writing should be credited to her. Stacia Seaman, copy editor extraordinaire, does a job I could never do, and she does so with a ceaseless efficiency. Thank you also to the bigger Bold Strokes Books crew of authors who never fail to offer support and advice, or even a playful distraction, all while continuing to raise the bar for me as an author.

  I have amazing friends who’ve challenged and supported me both as a writer and as a person through the creation of this book. Toni Whitaker and Barb Dallinger served as beta readers, and God bless them, they are the sweetest, kindest, gentlest souls who understand that they have been entrusted with my baby. Neither one of them made a sharp or hurtful comment throughout the process and yet still somehow managed to guide several characters into much stronger, more refined positions. This story is fuller because of their input. Outside of official beta readers, I’ve also gotten boat loads of attabois and confidence boosters from Will Banks, Georgia Beers, Lori Ostergaard, Jamie Glass, Lynda Sandoval, Jove Belle, Kim Baldwin, Smitty, Lee Lynch, Elaine Mulligan, Cate Culpepper, Heather Lohnes, Gill McKnight, Rev Cynthia Wickwire, JLee Meyer, Cheryl Craig, Carsen Taite, VK Powell, Gill McKnight, and the FSU Rock Band/Theological Poker Night Crew.

  And to the people who keep me coming back for more, thank you to every reader who’s ever bought and read one of my books, and even more gratitude to those of you who took the time to write, ask questions in the VLR, e-mail, or comment on my Facebook wall, and say what you liked (or didn’t) about it. Y’all have taken a hobby of mine and transformed it into a passion.

  Finally, to my family, the people who’ve shaped who I am, I cannot thank you enough for the love and support you continue to give me. I’ve pushed you all out of your comfort zone a time or two, but you’ve never failed to rise to the challenge. I know there’ve been times when you’ve been a lot more patient with me than I was with you, and I appreciate that. To Susie, who continues to be the single biggest influence in my life and writing, I don’t know why an amazing woman like you would ever take a chance on a boi like me, but I’m so glad you did. You are the reason I want to keep getting better, come what may. And to Jackson, you’re teaching me more about life than I’m teaching you. Thanks, Jackie boy.

  Most importantly, thank you to my Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, for giving me such a long list of people to thank.

  Dedication

  To all who have the courage to live the life they want to live regardless of what the world tells them life is su
pposed to look like and to every person in a small town who refuses to be typecast as small minded.

  And to Susie—whether you believe it or not, this one is your fault, too.

  Chapter One

  August 1

  Ali was sexy as hell, but she was awfully high maintenance for a sometimes lover. Now she wanted to go downtown to the theater.

  Raine said, “For the fifth time, I’m broke and out of energy. And I told you I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I’m staying in and trying to find a way not to get evicted.”

  Ali rolled her eyes. “You won’t get evicted. No one in Boystown would evict their Little Orphan Annie. You’ve spent ten years playing the disowned teenager. Why stop now?”

  “I’m not seventeen anymore. Eventually I’ll have to—”

  The phone rang, mercifully saving Raine from having to come up with an end to that sentence. How could she get her life back on track? Change her act? Find a new career? She didn’t like to think about either of those options. She glanced at the caller ID and saw the number of her agent, Edmond Carpenter. “I have to take this.”

  “We’re already late,” Ali whined.

  “We’re done, Ali.” Raine turned her back to the living room and answered the phone. “Edmond, please say you’ve found me a job.”

  “Who loves you, baby?” Edmond asked a second before Raine’s front door slammed shut. Ali had recognized her cue to exit.

  Raine chuckled. “I hope you do, because I’m pretty sure Ali doesn’t.”

  “Another one bites the dust. Good riddance to bad trash, there’re other bitches in the sea, and all those standard breakup clichés that are supposed to offer comfort.”

  “I don’t need comfort. I need a job.”

  “How about a job, room and board, and a chance to get published again?”

  Raine flopped onto her couch, dizzy with relief. “Oh my goddess, you’re shitting me.”

  “Ugh, you can’t be that vulgar if you accept an academic position at a liberal arts college, especially since they’ve offered to put you up on campus as their guest lecturer for the year.”

  “A lecturer position?” Raine felt giddy. “That’s exactly what we wanted. Could it be more perfect?”

  “Now before you get all excited, it’s not totally perfect. It’s four hours away from Chicago.” Edmond’s voice pitched a little higher, a sure sign he was tense.

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. This place is starting to wear on me.”

  “It’s at a small college. You’d be their first guest lecturer.”

  “I’m a trendsetter.”

  “You’d have to start in two weeks.”

  “Edmond, I’m out of options and my rent was due yesterday. I’ll take anything.”

  “I hoped that’s what you’d say.” Edmond didn’t sound relieved. “The job’s in Darlington.”

  “That’s not funny.” Raine struggled not to let the mention of her hometown dampen her mood. “Seriously, where is it?”

  “I’m serious. It’s at Bramble College in Darlington, Illinois.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? I’ve spent my entire life getting away from that place. I’m Raine St. James, the one who survived.” Raine needed to remind herself that she’d made it out alive.

  “Exactly. You made it, you beat the odds, you made something of yourself, and now you’re a local celebrity ready to return triumphantly. Think about the articles you could write. Hell, maybe even a book. You’d be a hero.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. In Darlington I’m just Rory, a dyke who disgraced her parents and snuck out one night, forever. Those people have no idea who I’ve become. They don’t read The Advocate. They’ve never seen any of my articles or heard any of my public speeches.”

  “Well, somebody at Bramble knows who you are, because the dean’s office contacted me. They want you there. They’re offering you a prime job with a place to live, two classes of your choice. . .”

  Raine didn’t hear any of it. Her chest ached and her head throbbed as memories of her youth rushed back. The angst, the fear, the self-loathing—she could summon it all so easily even after a decade. No way could she take that job. She wasn’t that desperate, was she?

  *

  August 14

  Raine didn’t need the GPS in her Toyota Prius to tell her which exit to take off I-55. She’d learned how to drive on these roads. The four-lane highway had been her way out, her path to freedom, though she’d been heading in the other direction back then. The only time she’d driven toward her hometown in the past ten years had been in her dreams.

  Her memories had faded to black and white over time, but they never disappeared. If not for the vivid colors around her now, she could convince herself that what she was seeing was nothing more than a memory. The cornfields still rose in every direction as if attempting to swallow her whole. The August heat was every bit as oppressive as it’d always been. The only sign of life was the occasional truck, tractor, or freight train, all of them old, run-down, and covered in rust, like the people who drove them.

  The shrill ring of Raine’s cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She glanced down at the caller ID display and hesitated. If she hadn’t been alone in the car for four hours, she wouldn’t be speaking to her agent, but Raine was an extrovert by nature. She gave in and answered.

  “I hate you, Edmond Carpenter.”

  “Oh, good, you’re speaking to me again.” Edmond had been her agent for almost as long as she’d been in Chicago, and though Raine currently wanted to hate him, she had to admit he was her closest friend. “Are you there yet?”

  “I can still turn around if you’ve found me another job.”

  “We’ve been through this, Raine.” They’d reviewed her options every day for the past two weeks, and Raine had wrestled with the decision until she received her eviction notice. She didn’t have a choice.

  “I don’t have to like it, or you.” Raine pouted.

  “Don’t kid yourself, honey. You love me more than pussy.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Seriously, Raine, you have to learn to control your mouth. You’re about to become a college teacher. You have to play your cards right. This job could revive your career.”

  “I know how to behave.” Raine sighed as she drove into town. “I went to college, you know?”

  “I know, cupcake. I got you the scholarship.”

  “Yeah, and you would’ve skimmed ten percent off the top of that, if you could’ve figured out a way to.” Raine knew she was acting like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it. She felt like a child again. Returning to Darlington made her revert to her teenage mentality. “I’m sorry. I’m in town now, and I don’t have the energy for witty banter.”

  “I understand.” Edmond’s voice softened. “If you need someone to talk to tonight, you know my number.”

  “Thanks.” Raine flipped her phone shut and focused on the road ahead. The cornfields gave way to homes that became increasingly closer together as she approached a large green sign proclaiming Darlington City Limits, Population 5,000. City, my ass. I’ve lived in apartment complexes that housed more than five thousand people.

  She slowed to thirty-five miles per hour and scanned her surroundings. The gas station had a new neon sign, but it still didn’t stay open twenty-four hours a day. The high school looked exactly like it had the day she graduated. All of the little houses still had their perfectly manicured lawns and patriotic bunting strewn on porches. The grocery store still used the same weather-worn banners to advertise double-coupon day. The town square was ringed with American flags and yellow ribbons probably left up since the first Gulf War. In fact, the only significant change was that the Walmart had been super-sized. To anyone else this ride would’ve been a nostalgic peek into small-town America, but Raine fought to swallow the bile that rose in her throat.

  Perfect. That’s what they want, perfection. White picket fences and brightly colored flowers lined each walk
way. The women she saw through store-front windows wore dresses, and the men wore ties. Everyone was clean-cut, clean-shaven, and clearly gendered. That’s why she’d never belonged. She wasn’t the perfect all-American girl to fit in the perfect all-American town. She was an outsider and an outlaw. Homo, dyke, faggot—she knew all the names people here called people like her, but she also knew the worst one. Queer. It didn’t just mean gay. It meant different, strange. It meant not like us. It was the antithesis of Darlington, where team play and conformity were valued above all else.

  How could this be happening? She’d vowed that she’d never come back, and she had no idea what she’d do now that she’d returned. Just a few years earlier she’d been the toast of Boystown, a hero in her own small circle, a disowned gay teenager who’d shown the world what she was made of. She’d spoken at colleges and community centers across the country. Everyone had wanted to hear her story, a young woman who had beaten the odds. Her audiences had been so impressed when she was seventeen. Few people had met a more resilient twenty-year-old. Even when she was twenty-five, most college students saw her as one of them, part of a new generation of out-and-proud lesbians.

  When had that changed? At first she’d had only a few less speaking engagements each year, but then her articles began to be rejected. Editors had asked her if she had anything new, as if being disowned once wasn’t enough. At twenty-seven she was still gay, and she still had the same message. Why was a story about running away from home less interesting when someone nearing thirty told it? Yes, the events that had shaped her might have happened a decade ago, but they still felt real. The memories flooded Raine’s mind so thoroughly that she worried she wouldn’t be able to drive.