Ginny: The Resilience of Ginny
Ginny’s journey has been one of resilience, heartbreak, and unyielding determination.
After surviving a long and arduous path that tested every ounce of her resolve, she arrives in the enchanting city of Savannah—a place brimming with history, beauty, and hidden challenges.
But the city is not just a backdrop; it is a test of her spirit. Ginny must learn to navigate the uncertainty of building a life from scratch—finding work, securing a home, and daring to believe she belongs in a world that often feels both exhilarating and overwhelming.
Haunted by the shadows of her past yet driven by a yearning to belong, Ginny faces her greatest challenge: forging genuine connections in a place where hope and heartbreak walk hand in hand. Will she find the strength to rise above her solitude and embrace the promise of a new beginning, or will the ghosts of yesterday pull her back into despair?
Savannah holds her future—but only Ginny can decide whether to claim it.
Excerpt
Taken from Chapter One:
Chapter One
“You lied! You lied to me!” I yelled at him. My whole body was tight as a knot, and I was trembling. I didn’t want to hear any more words from Jerry, ‘cause there wasn’t any he could say.
“Ginny… Ginny, I swear―.”
“No! Don’t you even swear. You said you’d never take another drink, leastwise get drunk. Now, here I am, stuck in the woods with you, and you can hardly stand.”
Jerry stood, one hand braced on an oak sapling, the other at his side, looking down as I yelled. I feared he wasn’t listening, just as when we had this same talk earlier. Only one day into our travels, things were already going sideways.
After saying our goodbyes to Lizzy, her ma and pa, Jerry and I rode east toward Savannah, staying off the road as much as possible, in case anyone came looking. This meant going would be slow, but we figured it to be okay since we didn’t want to tire our horse and had no need to hurry anyway. We had our whole lives ahead of us now.
Along the way, we talked some, although I can’t say we rightly did any planning, though we should have, I suppose. I did let Jerry know my conditions for him coming along. Being finally free of his ma’s mistreating me, I wanted him to know I wouldn’t put up with any more abuse. That meant he would treat me right or go his own way. And there’d be no hanky-panky or drinking. I told him he wasn’t the same when he drank, and he acted like his pa. I let him know I was letting Jerry come along, but not any Gerald Junior.
He gave me a playful “yes, ma’am” whilst I talked, and it worried me he was taking it lightly. He even took to putting his hand on mine that I had around his waist. While ordinarily, I might have welcomed his touch, I found myself pulling away and holding to the saddle instead.
It was slow going, and we figured to have traveled twelve or so miles that first day, with us riding double. We followed the road through the wood line with the intent of staying out of sight. While folk wouldn’t likely be looking for me, Nettie might send someone out searching for her boy, Jerry.
Having not gotten much sleep the night before, I was dead tired and was relieved when Jerry suggested we camp. There was likely another hour of sun left, and we might have made another few miles, but it just wasn’t in me.
We chose a location near where the road forked, and we could see what looked like a little settlement of a few houses nearby. I was so tired that as soon as we got a small fire going and I had eaten a biscuit and ham, I made a pallet with my blanket and lay down. I could hear Jerry talking and making plans, but I just wasn’t into listening right then. I wanted to sleep.
I do rightly remember him saying, just as the sun was starting to set, that he intended to go to the settlement. He said he was hopeful they had a general store and wanted to see if they had some coffee. He’d gotten into the habit of having coffee in the morning, he told me. That was the last thing I heard him muttering before I fell asleep.
I don’t know how long it had been, but I’d been sleeping hard. Some sound, at least I think it was a sound, woke me. It was as dark as a fox’s den when I managed to open my eyes. I could only make out a star or two between the tree branches overhead. Our little fire was now reduced to a few glowing embers.
I was cold, horribly cold. Sitting up, I called Jerry’s name, just above a whisper. Pulling the blanket tighter, I called again, a little louder.
I could see where his bed was intended to be, and in the darkness, I could make out his blanket still rolled up. He wasn’t there. A chill ran through me that wasn’t from the cold.
Crawling on my hands with my blanket across my back, I put my face close to the embers where the fire had been. Blowing gently across the coals, I began bringing them to life, to which I fed some dry pine straw. They quickly took, and I added more until I had a good-sized fire.
After Gram and Pap had died, I’ve spent these past four years mostly to myself and have become accustomed to my company. Why was it that I now felt so alone? Not just scared, but alone. Looking around as far as my fire would give me light, my eyes searched for signs of Jerry.
The horse was gone, but his pack was still here. I thought about looking through his things, mostly to see if his money was there, but I thought better of it. I wouldn’t want him poking through my things, so I wasn’t going to do it either.
I set about getting myself sufficiently warm and took a long drink of water. From the light of the fire, I gathered some more wood, enough to carry me through the night, and stacked it within reach.
Sleep was now gone. I couldn’t close my eyes or even lie down, despite my wishing to. I found myself crossing my legs by the fire with the blanket on my shoulders and waiting out the night.
I tried to plan and think ahead, but I couldn’t. Every sound in the woods caused my head to turn, and my eyes strained at the darkness. One would think the woods would be quiet at night, but if a body listens, it is far from it. Night creatures are all about doing what they do, hunting and such. At least it was cold enough, I didn’t have to worry much about snakes or other crawlies coming out. But I was mindful to keep an ear out for wild hogs and, even worse..., people.
I was wishing for a gun or a good knife. My first opportunity I would see to getting a gun. I did find myself a good stout stick of about six feet among the firewood I’d gathered. I took my time and burned a point on it, making myself a spear. I’d seen Pap do the same once, burning a point on a pole so he could push it into hard ground.
I don’t know how long I sat there, gazing into the fire and thinking to myself, but I finally felt my eyes growing heavy again. Curling myself up, I put my backside toward the fire and held tight to my spear, promising only to close my eyes for a minute or two.
My breath left me, and I was on my feet before I even knew it. Whatever it was, it was coming straight at me, and it had no mind to be quiet about it. I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I stood with the stick of a spear in my hand. Straining my eyes to see into the darkness, I heard it coming closer but could see nothing.
My mind told me to run, but bless me, my feet just wouldn’t listen. Sucking in a deep breath, I held it and waited. I waited until I saw the horse break through the brush and into the light of the fire. It was Jerry, slack-mouthed and red-faced drunk.
I said no more to him, given he’d hardly remember it with his head being sloshed as it was. Jerry bedded down on one side of the fire, I on the other. I could hear him muttering a few words that I paid no mind. Very soon, his muttering was replaced by heavy snoring. I have to admit, although I was as mad as could be, I was glad he was back.
I was surprised to find he had coffee, and I made a pot come daylight. I did so more for me than for him. I’m not much for coffee, but as cold as the morning was, I was grateful to have something warm to drink.
I was sipping on a cup of it when I heard him begin to stir. From my side-eye, I watched him sit up and sway some until he got his sways under control. I could only hope he felt as bad as he looked.
Jerry pulled himself to his feet and took a long drink of water before stumbling to the coffee pot. For the longest time, he sat by the fire, holding the cup and his tongue. Finally, his words came to him. “Ginny… I am so sorry. I know I made a mistake.”
I heard his words and pondered them for a few minutes before responding.
“Weren’t no mistake, Jerry,” I said softly. That caused him to look at me, and I could tell my words confused him. “A mistake is an accident. You lied to me when you promised you’d not take a drink. Lying is not a mistake. Lying is a choice.”