Something to Believe In

  Something To Believe In

  A Katie Parker Production: Act IV

  Jenny B. Jones

  Sweet Pea Productions

  Copyright © 2020 by Jenny B. Jones

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  * * *

  No part of this book maybe used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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

  Cover: Kristen Ingebretson

  * * *

  For information contact:

  [email protected]

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  Contents

  Letter To Reader

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Preview of Can’t Let You Go

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Jenny B. Jones

  Letter To Reader

  Dear Reader,

  Katie Parker, Mad Maxine, and I would like to welcome you back!

  Years ago when I released Can’t Let You Go, my follow up to book three, I got a lot of emails reminding me there was a huge gap of time between Katie in high school and Katie as a twenty-something. It took a long time, but I finally listened and did something about it.

  Something to Believe In follows Katie Parker to her first year of college. Can’t Let You Go came out nearly six years before this book. It established a reality that I tried to follow as closely as I could, but I had to finesse a few details. So if you find some things in this novel that don’t align with Can’t Let You Go, just smile and turn the page.

  Thank you for tolerating any inconsistencies and for inspiring me to return to Katie Parker’s story. I hadn’t realized I’d missed her, and it was good to be part of her world again.

  Happy reading to all you Fighting Chihuahuas!

  Jenny

  Chapter One

  I stand in the backyard at my post-graduation, end-of-summer party and watch one attendee cry in her cup of punch. “Oh, the good Lord giveth, and the good Lord taketh!” Rising sobs scare away a nearby flock of birds. “Why must he taketh?”

  My best friend Frances hands me a cookie. “And I thought I was having a hard time leaving for college.” She nods toward the ongoing meltdown. “She needs a big hug.”

  “She needs a big tranquilizer,” I say. “Grandmas are sensitive souls.”

  Maxine, the gentle soul in question, wipes her nose on her shirt, tosses back more punch, then launches into an old 80s song called, “I Can’t Live Without You.” She’s pretty talented at the air guitar when she’s upset.

  The moon hangs overhead, not quite full—kind of like me. Good things are coming as I head for college, but I already feel incomplete as I prepare to move away from all my old friends and family. Would it be weird to shove them all in my boxes packed for school and take them with me? Music plays from outdoor speakers, and in vain hope of keeping out the bugs, canopies cover tables laden with food. Stringed lights stretch and dip from tall posts staked in the yard, reminding me of a wedding reception. Classmates dance and laugh, and I wonder if they realize they’re in the middle of a future memory that selfies and videos will never adequately capture.

  This is our last get-together before we all begin our Life After In Between High Plans. Any moment, God’s big hand is gonna grab our cozy, magical, snow globe and give it a giant shake, dispersing us in all different directions.

  I just hope to land right-side up.

  My boyfriend, Tate, waves from the makeshift dance floor, which is just a circle of the yard where grass refuses to grow.

  “Your boy’s got moves.” Frances shrugs. “Not quality ones, but moves all the same. Are you ready to finally live in the same town as your boyfriend?”

  I bite into my chocolate chip cookie as I watch Maxine do some high kicks beside him. “Sure. What’s not to like about that?”

  The eyes behind her glasses study me. “I know you, Katie Parker Scott. You have your worried face on.”

  Look out. Tropical Storm Insecurity is about to make landfall. “It’s easy to date when you live two hours away and only see each other a few times a month. But what if we get to school, get to really know each other, and Tate realizes I’m not who he wants?”

  “He’d be a total moron not to fall for you even more,” Frances says. “My concern is that you realize Tate might not be who you want.”

  It goes unspoken, but I know what Frances is not saying. She thinks I’ve never gotten over Charlie Benson. Well, she’s wrong.

  Mostly.

  I wave back at Tate, who looks painfully miserable dancing, then scan the crowd, happy that everyone I invited showed up. The party was my parents’ idea, and they gave me carte blanche to invite the whole town. I settled on my fellow graduates from In Between High and some church friends. Going over the list of attendees was like reading a dictionary in life choices. I have friends going to the military, some getting jobs, a few apprenticeships, and lots going to college.

  Every college wanted Frances, and she became the grand prize in a tug-of-war between elite schools, but ultimately settled on M.I.T. In a few days she’ll fly away like a monarch butterfly to Massachusetts to join other members of her beautiful genius species.

  And me? NYU turned me down, as did most big-name schools with renowned theater programs, so I picked a smaller school that didn’t belly-laugh at my transcript. I’ll get my basics at Hendrix University, work on that GPA like it’s my job, build an acting resume Sutton Foster would be jealous of, then sit back and watch NYU beg for my transfer. (Or at least get passing grades and not achieve the Freshman 15 before fall break.)

  I impulsively hug my best friend. “You have to promise to FaceTime me every day.” Aside from my adopted grandmother, this girl has been the bestest friend I could ever ask for. When I first arrived in In Between a few years ago, a scared, bratty, dog-collar wearing foster kid, Frances saw something in me and held on, never letting me go no matter how hard I pushed. I’ll be forever grateful, and the thought of doing college without her by my side gives me panic attacks lately.

  “I’ll text and call so often it’ll be like we’re not apart.” Frances hugs me back. “Oh, look who’s here.”

  I follow the direction of her
gaze, and my heart constricts.

  Charlie Benson. My ex-boyfriend. Tall, tan, handsome, with the kindness of a Hallmark movie-hero, yet possessing the wit and smolder of a guy more likely seen on Netflix.

  “Full ride at Chicago U, business major, a Pi Kappa Alpha pledge, and supremely hot.” My best friend pins me with a thoughtful frown. “And maybe the reason you’ve kept Tate at a wee bit of a distance this summer?”

  I ignore this. “I need to go play host and mingle.”

  “Sure,” she calls. “Walk away when the conversation gets tough.”

  “I have queso to stir, and that chip bowl isn’t gonna refill itself!”

  Ten minutes later, after canvasing the yard and making sure everyone’s having fun, I wander toward the food tent. My parents have done most of the work, but frequent checks on the snacks gives me something to do. Something to keep my mind off the fact that my life is once again about to drastically change. Just when I’d completely wrapped myself in the security blanket that was life here with the Scott family in In Between, high school abruptly ends, and I’m tossed into fledgling adulthood.

  I pick up a spoon next to a warm slow cooker and stir the cheese dip. This stuff is liquid gold and a party requirement.

  “Are you avoiding me, Katie?”

  I return the spoon to the table, then turn and regard my boyfriend Tate with a smile. “No.”

  He gives my long strawberry-blonde hair a tug. “You’ve spent maybe five minutes with me tonight.”

  “I’m sorry. The job of a hostess is never done.”

  Tate breathes in the night air and loudly exhales. “You’ve checked on the dip ten times in the last hour.”

  “When it comes to snacks, I don’t take quality control lightly.”

  His smile fades. “I’m sorry for the stuff I said yesterday. We should probably talk about that fight.”

  “Let’s not.” One of the chip bowls is down at least two inches, and I refill it like the crisis it is. “We both have a lot going on and probably aren’t our calmest selves right now.” We both leave for college next Tuesday, both of us attending Hendrix. Though the school is only an hour away, it’s still another residence in a lifetime of moves, and I feel like I’m clutching my newfound grip on stability with buttery hands. “That conversation’s over. I’m sorry I was snippy. And you’re forgiven.”

  “But, obviously, you’re still mad.”

  “No. Not at all.” I reach for a pair of tongs and point them right at him. “Just because you suggested I get a therapy dog to take with me to college? No insult taken at all.”

  Tate holds his hands up in surrender and bites back a smile. “You have been on edge lately.”

  “Who isn’t?” I fling an arm toward the crush of people. “All our lives are about to change. Nothing will stay the same.” Am I the only one waking up to this idea at two in the morning?

  “I’ve tried to get you to talk about everything you’re worried about.”

  “Every time I do, you bring up future us.”

  His jaw tightens. “That’s pretty important.”

  “You act like we’re on the verge of this couple metamorphosis. Of all the things that change, you and I don’t have to be one of them. Are you planning on becoming someone else at Hendrix?”

  “No,” he says. “But lots of high school relationships fall apart at college.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “It’s what I’m trying to avoid.” Tate rubs the back of his sunburned neck, right where the edges of his blond hair stops. “We’ve talked about this.”

  “Yeah, and every time it’s ended in an argument.”

  He steps closer, nudging his shoulder to mine. “You gotta admit, it’s been a rough summer.”

  That, it has. And a busy one. We’ve barely seen each other, and when we did, things were oddly strained.

  Tate was gone through most of June and July for mission work with his dad. I had a job, participated in an elite theater program, helped at our family’s performing art center, and went on my first vacation when the Scotts took me and the entire family to Montana. We stayed on a dude ranch near their biological daughter Amy.

  Amy’s a long story I won’t get into, but she’s working hard to get her life straight and reconnecting with her parents. I also won’t get into the details of Maxine on a horse named Wild Louie. Let’s just say my grandma is a big fan of chaps, but Wild Louie didn’t appreciate the rhinestone studs she added to the leather. Louie was bothered by the gems digging into his skin, and Maxine was more than bothered when he tossed her in the river.

  “I said I’m completely committed to us,” I remind him. “I meant it.”

  “All I wanted to do was talk about the realities of seeing each other every day. You’re the one who got all bent out of shape.” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the table, his eyes steady on mine. “If you wanted space, you’d tell me, right?” His attention gravitates to something behind me, and when I turn around, I see Charlie laughing with Frances.

  “Will you stop mentioning space?” We’ve been together over two years, and though Tate is a dream in so many ways, our relationship hasn’t been without its ups and downs. He lives hours away, so we’ve done the long-distance thing as best we can. Now we’ll be in the same town and on the same campus. Apparently, Tate worries it’s too much for me.

  I empty a bag of Fritos into a bowl that needs no additional attention. “I don’t understand why we’re talking about this again.”

  “The last few days, you’ve avoided my calls and ignored most of my texts. Is this how it’s gonna be—our college relationship?”

  “No.” I reach for his hand. “I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Then let me in and tell me about it.”

  A thousand thoughts flood my brain like a Niagara Falls of Anxiety. “I…I’m just overwhelmed with all the packing.”

  “Packing. Hmm.” Tate chews on his bottom lip as he pulls out his phone and checks a text. “Crap.” He holds up his screen like a visual aid for show-and-tell. “Another example of our bad timing. I promised I’d pick up my sisters from the airport.”

  “Then you’d better go.” I rise on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.

  He brushes his lips across mine. “Katie, being with each other every day is new terrain for both of us. We’ll figure it out.”

  Let’s be clear: I have nothing figured out right now. “We’ll handle it like champs.” I pat his solid chest. “Drive safe.”

  I watch him walk away as Maxine approaches, blotting a tissue to her eyes. “Holy smokes, this party is a downer.”

  “I just saw you dancing in the middle of no less than 50 people.”

  “But did anyone applaud my jackhammers or baby spins? No, they did not.” She turns and regards her rear. “At least not ’til I split my pants.”

  “Also pretty sure you were crowd-surfing.”

  “We all grieve differently, Katie.” Maxine jerks her head toward the fence gate. “Speaking of dark moods, I saw your fellow take off. Did you two just break up? Tell me now, is it splitsville?”

  “Of course not.” I open another bag of M&Ms and pour them into a glass bowl. “We’re not breaking up.”

  “Shoot.” She rolls her blue eyes. “I owe Frances twenty bucks.”

  “Will you two stop placing wagers on my love life?”

  “Ah, well. I’m sure you and your Tater Tot will be fine. True love can overcome anything.” Maxine smiles as Charlie walks by. “At least that’s what we’re hoping.”

  Chapter Two

  I somehow thought this day would be different.

  I thought I’d feel older. Smarter. Like I was standing on top of a skyscraper, beholding a view of the entire world as it lies in wait just for me.

  Instead, I’ve never felt smaller or more numbingly uncertain. Not coincidentally, I’ve also never felt more in need of ice cream with triple sprinkles.

  According to the calendar and our tru
ck packed to the seams, it’s my college move-in day.

  I know I have so much to be grateful for. College hadn’t been in the realm of possibility for most of my life. I was born to a mom who parented with less frequency than a snowstorm in Houston. Add to that, a lengthy run in the foster care system and enough drama to give those Real Housewives something to really talk about, the odds of my attending college had been a statistical improbability.

  Then James and Millie Scott became my foster parents, and the GPS of my life did a hard reboot with one life-saving recalculation.

  “Here we are!” James pulls his truck into a parking lot before Conway Hall dorm. It’s the newest dorm on the campus of Hendrix University and pretty much like living in a penthouse suite. Basically, I won the dorm lottery. I have one roommate, Hadley, who I’ve corresponded with all summer, and we have exactly one hundred things in common. We each have our separate bedrooms, plus a kitchenette with granite and gleaming mini appliances, a furnished living room with a couch custom-built for those college naps, funky wallpaper in our adorable bathroom, hardwood floors, and Wi-Fi strong enough to get a signal to the moon.

  Millie turns around in her seat and pushes her sunglasses on top of her blonde curly head. “You ready, sweetie?”