A Girl by Any Other Name (41 page)

Ten-year-old Caleb Tanner wants nothing to do with Sylvie Cranston, the annoying weird girl who

moves next door to him and gets him in trouble for swearing. But at twelve, they become friends when

he teaches her how to hook a fishing line and she shows him the value of a selfless act. At fourteen, he

falls in love with her.

At sixteen, she dies.

Or so he’s told. But Cal never believes it. Sylvie has become part of his soul. He knows her like the

steady beating of his own heart. He’d know if she was dead. Cal looks for her, prays for her and

finally he just waits for her.

Nine years later, she walks into the community college English class Cal is teaching. Only this girl

claims her name is Sophie Becker and she doesn’t know him. Cal knows better. He’s determined to

get the girl he loves back—and protect her from the danger that took her away all those years ago.

Dedication

Dear fellow romance lover, thank you for choosing my book! I hope you enjoy Cal and Sylvie’s story

as much as I loved writing it.

There are many people whose support made this work possible.

Thank you to Totally Bound for believing in my work, and my diligent editor,

Eleanor Boyall.

Thank you to my loving family for all their support and living with all the sacrifices of having an

absentee member while I was focused on Cal and Sylvie’s world.

Thank you to Nicole, Roberta and Etheleen, my beta readers,

for your feedback and suggestions.

Thank you to all the readers who continue to support indie authors like myself and invest themselves

monetarily and emotionally in our work.

Keep reading and never stop looking for your happily ever after!

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks

mentioned in this work of fiction:

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn:
Mark Twain

Adventures of Tom Sawyer:
Mark Twain

American Pie
: Don McLean

American Express: American Express Company

Barbie: Mattel

Brown-Eyed Girl
: Van Morrison

Cadillac: General Motors LLC

Casino:
Universal Pictures

Chuck Taylor: Converse

Citibank: Citigroup, Inc

CliffsNotes: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Converse: Nike, Inc

Craftsman: Sears

Crazy Love
: Van Morrison

Doc Martens: R. Griggs Group Ltd

Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

Ford: Ford Motor Company

Forrest Gump:
Paramount Pictures

Frankenstein:
Mary Shelley

Glenlivet: Chivas Brothers Ltd

Glock: Glock GmbH

Goodfellas:
Warner Bros

Google: Google, Inc.

Home Depot: Homer TLC

iPod: Apple, Inc.

I Will Wait
: Mumford & Sons

Jack Daniels: Brown Forman Corporation

Jane Says
: Jane’s Addiction

Ken doll: Mattel Corporation

Laffy Taffy: Nestle

Mama Said Knock You Out
: LL Cool J

Mine Would Be You:
Blake Shelton

Moby Dick
: Herman Melville

Monk
: USA Network

Mrs Dalloway
: Virginia Woolf

Of Mice and Men:
John Steinbeck

Only the Good Die Young
: Billy Joel

Pride and Prejudice:
Jane Austen

Remington: RA Brands, LLC

Rolling Rock: Latrobe Brewing Company

Saks: Saks & Company

Save Me, San Francisco
: Train

Schwinn: Nautilus, Inc

Sherlock Holmes
: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Sister Golden Hair:
America

Snickers: Mars, Inc

SparkNotes: SparkNotes LLC

Suzuki: Suzuki Motor Corporation

Tabasco sauce: McIlhenny Company

The Gambler
: NBC

The Great Gatsby
: F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Mayor of Casterbridge
: Thomas Hardy

The Raven
: Edgar Allen Poe

The Weight
: The Band

Tombstone:
Bueno Vista Pictures

Transformers
: DreamWorks Pictures

Walk Away, Renee
: The Left Banke

Walkman: Sony

Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.

Who Says You Can’t Go Home
: Bon Jovi

Wikipedia: Wikimedia Foundation

Yamaha: Yamaha Corporation

Velcro: Velcro Industries BV

Chapter One

Excerpt from
Raven Girl

The worst part of being a kid was that you never knew how good you had it until it was too late.

Childhood was simple. My parents told me it was because I didn’t have bills to pay or mouths to

feed, but it was more than that. It was because nothing was planned. When you didn’t plan for it, you

didn’t worry about the consequences. They just happened naturally without the coercion, manipulation

or mindfuck games that came with becoming an adult.

I never planned for Sylvie Cranston to be my best friend. I never expected her to be the muse in

all my dreams, or the girl who later haunted my nightmares. I certainly never planned to fall in love

with her, but that was exactly what happened.

Everyone told me I needed to move on. That was like asking me to pierce my own flesh and

crush my empty, beating heart. They wanted me to toss it away and continue to breathe. How could a

man function without his heart?

Age 10

“Caleb, the neighbors are moving in. Come on, I need you to carry the casserole.” My mother’s

hurried voice echoed down the hall to my room.

I didn’t think that woman knew the term ‘lazy Sunday’. I had no desire to meet the new neighbors

let alone bring them a casserole. I wanted to get out of my Sunday suit and fish before it was time to

worry about Monday.

“Why can’t Mandy carry it?” I asked. My little sister and my momma were pretty much a

package deal. Wherever Amelia Tanner went, Amanda Tanner followed. Mandy was my momma’s

mini-me with long, curly red hair and dark green eyes that my father fondly referred to as sharply

sweet. They even had the same pattern of freckles across their noses. However, my momma was

elegant whereas my sister was as clumsy as a blind dog in a figurine factory.

“It’s way too heavy for her, and I’m not risking it. I worked too darn hard on it. Now get your

butt in gear and help me.”

I begrudgingly walked out of my room to the foyer where the two females in my life waited for

me impatiently. “Can I at least change first?”

My mother sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “They’re going to see you looking like a bum

every day this summer. At least make a good first impression. I hear they’re from up north, and we

want them to think of you as a perfect Southern gentleman, not the wild ruffian you are.” I shook my

head, but didn’t protest. You didn’t argue with my mother. Even a peaceful protest was out of the

question. “You know, there is no hospitality like the Southern kind, so let’s go show these folks how

lucky they are to be living here.”

I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was exactly what I wanted to do. She smiled at me, ruffling my

hair. “You never know, they might have a little boy your age.”

“Geez, Momma, you act like I’m five. I’m not a little boy and I don’t need a playmate.”

“You sure are throwing a temper tantrum like a little boy,” Amanda chimed in, who actually
was

five.

“You will always be my little boy. Now come on,” my mother stated.

I led the procession of Tanners, carrying the cheesy casserole dish that felt like it weighed at

least twenty pounds. We marched outside our little brick ranch, walking all the way out to the

sidewalk and crossing over the ten slabs of cement to the driveway of another almost identical brick

ranch. It was easier to cut across the grass, but I knew better. My momma would have a few remarks

if I dared cross the patch of grass between the houses. It was not proper. It was not neighborly. And

we had manners. This philosophy applied even though the other house had been vacant so long it was

more like weedy thistle than a real lawn. Still, my father mowed it down once a week for

appearances’ sake when he tended to our lawn. “Can’t let the neighborhood go downhill,” he’d say. I

knew with his promotion to sheriff, he would be working longer hours, and the chore would soon be

mine. At least I’d only have to mow our lawn.

I stepped aside so my mother could knock on the door. A moving van was in the driveway and

several men were unloading it. The whole thing was a little weird. No one ever moved to Prairie

Marsh, Texas. Sure, there were people who left to pursue life in other parts of the country, only to

return homesick or bitter from their experiences, but it was a strange occurrence to see a new family

here. We were a small town in the middle of nowhere, East Texas. Even at ten, I knew that much.

A tall dark-haired man in black trousers and a crisp white shirt answered the door. This was

strange too. People around here either wore Sunday clothes or regular clothes. This man was in semi-

Sunday clothes. If you were doing heavy lifting, you definitely wore jeans. I doubted he would fit in.

“Well, hello, we’re the Tanners, your neighbors next door. I’m Amelia. This is my son, Caleb,

but you can call him Cal. And this little princess is Amanda, but please call her Mandy.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Harry Cranston.” He shook my mother’s hand and smiled widely at

Amanda. I one-armed the casserole dish to shake his hand, happy he wasn’t ignoring me like most

adults. “Nice grip, son.”

We walked into the three-bedroom replica of our house I’d always known as Mrs Miller’s

place. Mrs Miller had died last year and her son had sold it, but that had been months ago. We’d

begun to think the new owners had changed their mind until my mother had spotted the moving van

this morning. The old house appeared new again. The oak floors were so shiny they looked wet, and

the furniture was brand new with the store tags still on it. The whole house smelled of fresh paint and

lemon juice. That would please my mother. She liked a clean house.

I held up the casserole and thankfully Mr Cranston took it from me before I dropped it. I had no

idea how my mother made that pan feel heavier than my dad’s old medicine ball in the garage, but she

did. My dad always said, “The heavier the casserole, the better it is.” If that was the case, I was

pretty sure my momma made the best casserole in the county.

“I hope you like this,” my mother said, pointing to the pan.

“It smells divine.”

Did he say
divine?

“My husband, John, would be here too, but he’s on duty today. He’s the sheriff.”

“I’ve heard. I’ll feel very safe living next to the sheriff.”

“We don’t want to intrude. We know y’all must be busy today.”

“It’s no interruption. The workers are still bringing in boxes.” Mr Cranston went to the kitchen

and set the pan down slowly, as if he was afraid it might break. “Thank you for this. It’s been so long

since we’ve had anything homemade.”

“Oh, your wife doesn’t cook?”

Mandy started snooping, picking up random items and turning them in chubby fingers. I grabbed

her arm before she could touch one of the walls and smudge her grimy fingerprints on it. The

‘princess’ had a problem keeping her hands to herself. I stood with her against a corner, hoping my

momma wouldn’t ask for a complete breakdown of the man’s dietary history.

“My wife passed away six months ago. It’s just Sylvie and me.”

Oh boy, this wasn’t good. My momma’s gossip senses were spinning. I knew she was already

lining up a number of churchgoing single ladies to set Mr Cranston up with when he was ready.

“I’m so sorry,” my mother cooed. I knew what that meant. I’d be bringing over a casserole to

this man every week.

“It’s been difficult on my daughter, but we’re adjusting.”

“I can’t even imagine. A girl needs her mother.”

“Can I offer you some coffee?” Mr Cranston said, gesturing to the round oak table by the kitchen.

“Maybe one cup if you’re sure.” My mother took a seat. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if I

could ask to leave. Unfortunately, Amelia Tanner had other plans for me. “How old is Sylvie?”

“She’s ten.”

Momma clapped her hands together, forming a huge grin. “Cal’s ten. That’s wonderful. They’ll

be in the same grade.”

Mr Cranston smiled, but it looked more like a grimace, as if it was painful to make the muscles

in his face work. “That’s great. She has trouble making friends. It’ll be nice that she’ll have someone

her own age next door.”

The last thing I wanted was to hang around some girl. Obviously, if she had issues making

friends, there was a reason for it. Sylvie Cranston was going to be as irritating as a pound of blood-

hungry mosquitoes trapped inside a camping tent.

“Where is your daughter?” my mother asked, adjusting a loose red curl from the heavy bun that

sat on the nape of her neck. My father said she looked like Reba McEntire, and my mother always