Linley Floyd left Pigeon Creek, Alabama and all she was, including the name she was born with, in the rear view mirror seven years ago when she moved to New York. When her boyfriend and she's sure, the love of her life, proposes, she finds herself r...
Warnings: discussions of grief, discussions of miscarriage, discussions of animal death
A/N: This chapter is one of the saddest in this entire fic. I know, I know. It's awfully hypocritical of me to say that when most of Sweet Home Alabama (the movie) is really really sad. This is the chapter I sobbed while writing. It's also the first time Jake and Linley address the pain they have put each other through. I hope you love it!
Thanks to the gorgeous desert-fern for reading over this chapter and smacking my imposter syndrome demon when it refused to give up.
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Pigeon Creek's Catfish Festival is busier than you've ever seen it when you pull up and park your rental car on Main Street the next day. The festival used to be your favorite day of the summer, the one day during summer vacation when you could run free and eat as much candy and fried things as you wanted. You walk through the crowd on autopilot, walking down the line at the buffet until your plate is filled with all of the things you never actually let yourself eat anymore, and slip a twenty into the donation jar at the end of the table. The fried fish and steaming french fries had looked so good that you couldn't stop yourself.
But as you stand in the grass with your plate in your hand, it reminds you of something else. Nobody in Pigeon Creek likes you very much. Everyone you know is chatting and laughing and enjoying the good food. Yet you're still the outsider. Like you were before Jake became your best friend like you have been every minute of every day since you left town. Not a single person wants to meet your eyes. A part of you understands why. Jake was the golden boy of the town. Jake is still the town hero. You're just the girl who threw him away.
Of course, what you don't expect to see is Dorothy sitting at one of the tables with a baby in her lap. She's the only person who doesn't glare at you as you walk up.
"D'you mind if I sit here?" Gone is the confident Linley who took New York by storm. In her place is the four-year-old with a lisp who used to get pushed off of picnic tables because she was too different.
"Sure." You sit silently, gratefully, smiling at the chubby-cheeked baby in Dorothy's lap.
"I, um.." You're captivated by the shocks of tiny dark hair and big eyes and the way the little sweetheart is waving their fists around. "I didn't know you and Mickey had a baby."
"Aww, yeah. When you came around the bank the other day, there wasn't much time for us to catch up now, was there?" She hums to the baby for several long moments before turning all of her attention to you.
It occurs to you at that moment that maybe you were more than a little prejudiced yourself as a kid. You have more fun with Dorothy than you've had in years. Getting to eat good food and just be yourself probably helps, too. Every time you see her snuggle her daughter, it feels like your heart breaks a little more. You can't turn back time or change history. Seeing the baby squeal as a calf licks her hand makes you smile.
