Lavender Beach (29 page)

Caleb looked contrite. “I’ll go apologize. But we need to bring this thing with Eleanor front and center and deal with it,” he suggested as he disappeared toward the kitchen.

“Eleanor called me, too,” Drea said quietly.

“Did you take the call? Because Caleb and I have been ignoring them.” Cooper noticed his sister wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Drea, did you talk to her?”

Drea frowned into her wine glass. “She called me about a week ago at the shop.”

“And you talked to her?” Cooper barked.

“There’s no need to be upset with me. I spoke with her for maybe ten minutes. I was polite but distant. I didn’t really know what to say to her anyway. She was too pushy so I just mostly listened.”

Caleb came back in and glared at his sister. “But we all agreed that day at the courthouse after Eleanor pled guilty that we wouldn’t have anything more to do with her. We took an oath, the three of us.”

Drea glared right back, first at Caleb, then Cooper. “That’s the point I tried to make earlier about Tucker and his father. We don’t get to pick our family, now do we? I can’t exactly pass judgment on Tucker’s dad when my own mother is in prison for killing our father. It doesn’t work for me that way. I wasn’t the one who got in touch with her. She called me. I picked up the phone. I was cordial and that was it. There’s no need to act like I betrayed my vow that day in Santa Cruz.”

“Has she called back?” Cooper asked.

“A couple of times, but there were other calls, times I caught the number that popped up and let it go to voicemail. Now did I make my point about Tucker or not? Because he should be given a chance like…” Drea glanced at Eastlyn. “Just like giving Eastlyn a chance at a new start, in a new town. Eastlyn’s had problems but I don’t see anyone passing judgment on her.”

Across the room Eastlyn nodded. “Drea has a point. Tucker deserves a chance. He shouldn’t be lumped into the same category as his father. Dislike him if and when he exhibits those ‘asshole’ character flaws that made his dad the talk of the town. But until then, Tucker should be on equal footing with everyone else.”

“Fair enough,” Caleb said, announcing it was time to eat. “But, I for one, am not taking Eleanor’s calls. I have nothing to say to the woman.”

Just thinking about actually speaking to her on the phone or by any other method made Cooper lose his appetite for whatever Shelby had fixed. “That makes two of us.”

As they made their way into the dining room, Cooper went on to recommend what Eastlyn had suggested. “We could always try to force her to stop calling us through legal channels. Kinsey could handle that for us.”

Caleb held up his beer. “Let’s give it a shot. I vote we talk to Kinsey and let her loose on Eleanor and see what results we get.”

Cooper looked around the table. “If it’s unanimous, then I’ll set up the appointment.”

Later after dinner,
Eastlyn walked out onto the terrace to get fresh air. The garden setting provided a backdrop of Grecian walkways lit up in twinkling lights. She spotted Shelby sitting on one of the benches surrounded by flowing vines of purple clematis. The look on her face told Eastlyn she’d been crying.

“Has it always been like this?” Eastlyn asked.

Shelby smiled and dabbed at her eyes. “Not always. I try to tell myself that you don’t take in three damaged children suffering from what could only be described as post traumatic stress and think you can bake cookies and make everything all right overnight.”

“Doesn’t stop a person who cares deeply from trying.”

“No, it didn’t stop me from trying or Landon for that matter. I hear Drea talk about guilt over her relationship with Zach and it concerns me. Landon and I have so much guilt where Eleanor is concerned. We knew she had major problems. But we kept hoping those issues would go away. I guess you must think that sounds like we were pretty naïve to think that way. But when you’re so close to a situation and caught up in all the drama, you reach a point that you just want it all to go away. So you ignore a few things and hope for the best.”

“You and Landon couldn’t possibly have predicted Eleanor would take a gun and murder two people.” 

Shelby looked at her with sad eyes. “You’re wrong about that. You’d think differently if you’d ever met Eleanor. She’s exactly where she needs to be.”

Eighteen

S
ince the Memorial Day weekend, Cooper and Eastlyn had spent every night together. They either bunked at her little bungalow or his place.

It might’ve taken a considerable amount of trust on both sides to get to that point, but once they had, they seemed determine to bust down all barriers.

During that time they mostly stayed bunched between the sheets, especially on weekends. They’d listened to Rachmaninoff in front of the Kiva fireplace, or strutted around the room to Chuck Berry’s rocking guitar, or stretched out on the sofa to unwind to the music of Tchaikovsky.

On weekdays they’d lounge in bed until the very last second before having to jump up and start their workday.

Eastlyn had never thought she could ever be as happy as she was at this point in her life. If anyone had suggested such a thing six months earlier, she would’ve probably hit that person with a brick. Of course, her frame of mind had been in a much darker place back then.

Cooper had his own dark demons to deal with from childhood in the form of Eleanor. He hoped sitting down with Kinsey could remedy that. Although the strategy might fall short, it at least gave him the feeling he’d taken steps to make Eleanor stop. Proactive seemed a better approach than putting up with endless calls for the next twenty years.

They both found living in a small town had a surprising list of things to do as a couple. After work and on weekends they could go to any number of events.

June meant movie nights in the park. The first Thursday night, they’d taken a pass on
The Penguins of Madagascar
. But at some point they’d set aside time to see the summer’s other offerings like
Guardians of the Galaxy
and
Ghostbusters
.

It was all about priorities. And right now the number one thing was committing to spending time with one another, getting to know each other better, and developing a trusting rapport.

But near the middle of June Eastlyn broke from that. At Cooper’s urging she decided to take a Sunday afternoon and seek out the AA meeting at the Community Church. If there was a problem brewing she wanted to head it off.

According to Cord, the group used one of the Sunday school classrooms for their weekly get-together.

The simple building, a whitewashed stone and wood structure, might’ve been any little church somewhere in small town USA. It had ornate stained glass windows front and sides. The largest window was above the front door and depicted Jesus with his arms outstretched reaching out to his flock. At the very top, where the roof formed an “A” shape, there was a white wooden cross. A sign out front noted how many people had been in attendance for the morning services.

Running five minutes late, Eastlyn scooted through the wooden double doors as quickly as her leg allowed, past the empty auditorium, and into the hallway in the back that led to the classrooms.

She found the one room where she heard mumbled conversations coming from inside and opened the door. Among the meager attendees her eyes landed on four familiar faces—seven in all, not counting her.

Cord looked up from his stance at the podium, nodded toward her with a brief grin of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the other six people in the audience.

“You already know my name’s Cord and I’m an alcoholic. This is the Sunday afternoon meeting of our united group effort to beat alcohol and/or drug addiction and stay clean and sober. I’d like to welcome our newest visitor who just came in.”

Without waiting for Eastlyn to reply, he went on, “If you want, it’s okay by us if you take a seat for now and introduce yourself at the very end of the meeting. In a town this size, we all know each other anyway so anonymity is pretty much out the window. But I remind everyone that what we say here, stays here, no exceptions.”

Eastlyn found a chair and slid in next to Margie Rosterman, who sat next to Max, the cook. In front of them sat Pete Alden, a man she’d met at the Fanning Rescue Center. She was also surprised to see the former veterinarian, Bran Sullivan. That left two men in their early forties who weren’t at all familiar to her.

They all listened as Cord continued talking, reciting his way through the twelve steps. She wasn’t sure if they did this each time they met or if it was for her benefit. Either way, she was a quick study and took mental notes. Cord’s version was a condensed form of what she’d already found on the Internet.

Cord finished his turn with his summation, putting his own spin on the refrain. “Alcoholism and drug addiction are progressive illnesses. There are no cures. Abstinence is the only thing that works for me. Each day I wake up, it’s up to me to decide that I have to take responsibility for not taking a drink. I’ve been sober three years and six months now. So I guess that’s it for me today.”

From that point on, Eastlyn watched as the attendees took turns introducing themselves and explaining what their particular problem had been.

Margie and Max were former addicts. Bran, like her, had found himself addicted to prescription painkillers after a back injury. During the exchange, she learned the names of the two men, Archer and Greg. Both guys gave practically an identical speech. Each man had gone through bad marriages that had turned into messy divorces. They’d used alcohol as their crutch to get through the stressful times.

When it was her turn to speak all eyes fell on her. She picked up the chorus everyone else had used. “Hi, I’m Eastlyn and I have a tendency to abuse pills, mostly Vicodin, but if I could talk a doctor into prescribing OxyContin I’d settle for that. For the past couple of years, I always found an excuse and a clever way to get more pills. Lately, I’m in a good place but…there are some days I feel that same old urge wanting to creep in, mostly during a stressful day when I have trouble with a task due to limited mobility, that sort of thing. The thing is I don’t want to slide back into where I was before. I’ve been off the pills for four months, ten days and I don’t want to mess up my life anymore than I already have.”

“Who’s your sponsor?” Pete asked.

She cut her eyes toward Cord. “He is.”

“That’s fine,” Margie said. “But Cord’s a busy man. You should know you can call any of us in this room, day or night, and we’ll be there for you.”

“Thanks for that. Let’s hope I’m able to stay on the straight and narrow without resorting to making phone calls in the middle of the night.”

The eight of them managed to talk for a while and wrap up the meeting in under two hours. 

Outside in the parking lot she walked to her Bronco and spotted Brent Cody parked in the spot next to hers, leaning up against his Tahoe.

Hope for her friend bubbled up in her throat. “Did you find Durke?”

Brent shook his head. “No word yet from anyone. Do you know where our town cemetery is?”

She gave him an odd look. “Uh, yeah. Eternal Gardens, north of town, can’t miss it heading toward Promise Cove on the right.”

“Good. When you get a minute, meet me there.”

“Why?”

“There’s something I need to run by you.”

Before she had time to reply, Brent had scuttled back into his truck.

“I have something to do first,” she said, walking up to the car window. “It might be another hour.”

“Take your time. But stay clear of the police station. Do we understand each other?”

Eastlyn had her suspicions. “Sure. We’re meeting someplace out of town where we won’t readily be seen together.”

“That’s right. Here’s my phone number. Text me when you’re ready to head out and I’ll meet you there.”