Over the years he’d started to drift away—his fault. They were an enclosed family unit, and as much as they cared about him, he felt he didn’t belong. As a foster kid, he’d changed homes and schools as often as he changed his shirts. He was used to being on the outside and didn’t really know how to get any closer. But now, he was starting to realize that by staying away to give them their privacy, he hadn’t been much of a friend.
He knew something was wrong. Brian had begged off on this trip to the carnival, claiming he had to work late. He’d seen the strain in Allison’s eyes when she’d heard Brian’s excuse, and he’d seen the disappointment in Cameron’s face when his father said he wasn’t coming.
Now Reid glanced down at the little boy who was clinging to the railing so hard his knuckles were turning white. Reid was a poor substitute for Brian, but he could try. Reid covered Cameron’s hands with his. “Don’t worry, buddy, everything is okay.”
“It’s too high up here.” Cameron’s voice wavered. “It’s scary.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Reid smiled at Allison.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “It’s been a rough week.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I was going to ask you the same question. Why are you here, Reid?”
“To see my friends,” he prevaricated.
She shook her head. “You haven’t been in touch in months. I think you want something. Why don’t you just ask?”
“You know me too well.” He took a breath. “I’m doing a story on counterfeit drugs being sold to local hospitals.”
Her eyes widened. “At Glen Oak Memorial?” she asked. The hospital where she worked as a nurse.
“It’s one of three I’m investigating. You haven’t heard anything?”
“A few rumors, nothing specific.”
“I need someone on the inside to help me.”
“And that’s me,” she said with an understanding nod. “Now I get it.”
“If it puts you in an awkward position…”
“It will.” She met his gaze. “But I’ll do it for you.”
“You should think about it,” he said quickly, already having second thoughts about involving her. But he’d been running into roadblock after roadblock, and people were dying because they weren’t getting the right strength of medication thanks to watered-down doses and pure placebos. He had some evidence, but he needed more. He wanted to get it before someone else did, and he was so close.
The Ferris wheel came to a halt, and they stepped out. Cameron ran over to join a group of friends while Allison and Reid stopped a few feet away.
“I don’t need to think about it.” Allison put her hand on his arm. “I trust you, Reid. I know this is important or you wouldn’t ask me. I’m glad you finally asked me for something. Sometimes it’s difficult to be the one who always takes.”
“That doesn’t describe you,” he said, surprised by her words.
“It does with you. You give so much to me and Brian and Cameron, but you never let us give anything back. You’re in our life, but you don’t let us into yours. We care about you. But you always keep us at a distance.”
“I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
“Because you’ve been doing it your entire life. You learned how to walk away before people walked away from you. I get that. But we’re not going anywhere, so you better get
that,
too. Since you’ve given me a chance to be in your life, I’m going to take it. And you’ll just say thank you. It’s good to learn how to receive.”
He grinned. “Fine. I’ll let you buy me an ice cream, too.”
“Hey, don’t get greedy,” she said with a laugh.
Reid was relieved that they were back on an even keel. He’d never meant to hurt her by keeping her at a distance. “Since we’re sharing, are you and Brian okay?”
A shadow passed through her eyes. “We will be.”
“Now who’s being vague?”
“We’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get that ice cream.”
Reid opened his eyes, unable to bear seeing her image in his mind, hearing the sound of her voice in
his head. He shouldn’t have let her into his life. And she shouldn’t have trusted him. If he could relive one moment in his life, it would be that one. Because that’s when it had started, and if it had never started, it never would have ended so terribly.
Turning away from the window, he picked up his wallet and grabbed his room key. He needed to get away from the memories. The problem was, no matter where he ran, they seemed to find him.
The idea had been brewing ever since she’d come down the mountain, but as Charlotte walked into her mother’s house, she wondered if she was completely out of her mind. If she was, her mother would certainly say so. Monica Adams was not one to mince words, especially with her ever-disappointing middle child.
As Charlotte made her way through the house she was puzzled to see a stack of empty boxes in the hallway. Had her mother finally decided it was time to go through her father’s things? In the three and a half months since her father had passed away, her mother hadn’t moved a thing. His clothes still hung in the bedroom closet, his magazines lined the coffee table. Even his keys still rested on the side table from the last time he’d entered the house. It was almost spooky, but Charlotte had given up trying to convince her mother to make changes. Actually, she’d given up trying to make her mother do anything a
long time ago, which was why her new idea was incredibly foolish. But she’d give it a shot, because she was desperate.
The house was quiet, nothing like it had been when her father was alive. Growing up, Charlotte had always come home to a house filled with the smell of dinner cooking in the oven, the sound of conversation in the kitchen, and the nightly news on in the den where her father caught up on the events of the day. Her brother, Jamie, was usually running some automated car down the hardwood floor in the hall, and her sister, Doreen, was almost always on the phone. Sometimes the house had been filled with people from the church: bible groups, the ladies’ auxiliary, or people just wanting to speak to her father. Their house had been the center of the action.
Now it felt as if she were living in an old theater, with only the ghostly sounds of the past echoing through the quiet rooms. Everything had changed, and yet in some ways it hadn’t changed at all. Her relationship with her mother was as rocky as ever—maybe even more so without any buffers between them.
Charlotte found her mother sitting on the back porch staring out at the night. A sweater hung loosely over her shoulders. Monica Adams had lost at least ten pounds in the past few months and her posture, normally upright and ready to do battle, was defeated. The warrior had lost her biggest battle. She’d lost her husband.
As Charlotte paused in the doorway, she thought
again how wrong it was for her mother to be sitting on the wicker loveseat all alone. For as long as she could remember, her parents had retired to the deck every night after dinner. On warm summer evenings she’d heard their hushed voices late into the night, the occasional giggle, the sudden silence when she’d imagined them sharing a kiss. There had never been any doubt in her mind that her parents loved each other madly.
In many ways her parents had lived in a world separate from their children. They’d had a flock to tend; her father as the minister, her mother as the minister’s wife who supported him and the community in every possible way. Their children were supposed to fit in wherever they could, and always represent the family with honor and integrity. Doreen and Jamie had done their part. She was the only one who had screwed up, who had marred the perfect family picture her mother had strived to create from the first minute of her marriage. But her mother had painted over her mistakes as if they’d never occurred, as if it were all just a bad dream, never to be talked about again.
“Don’t hover, Charlotte,” her mother said abruptly.
Charlotte started. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re late.”
“I had a patient to deal with.”
“You sound like your father.” Monica finally turned her head to look at her. “But he always called to let me know he’d be late so I wouldn’t worry.”
Charlotte accepted the criticism without com
ment. She walked onto the porch and took a seat in the chair next to her mother. This was not how she’d hoped the conversation would go, but it was pointless to wait for a better time. “I need a favor, Mother.”
Monica raised a surprised eyebrow. “From me?”
“Yes. I don’t know if you heard about the girl who jumped off the pier last night, but—”
“Of course I heard, Charlotte. She’s pregnant and no one knows who the father of her child is, although there is certainly a great deal of speculation going on about errant husbands. I had three calls before lunchtime.”
“Right.” Charlotte should have anticipated that her mother’s network of friends would have filled her in. Gossip had always run rampant in Angel’s Bay.
“So what do you need from me?” Monica asked.
“Annie—that’s the girl’s name—is eighteen years old. She has nowhere to go, and I have to release her from the hospital tomorrow.” Charlotte took a deep breath. “I’d like to bring her here.”
Her mother arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “You want me to take in this girl?”
“It’s not as if you haven’t helped people before.”
Her mother frowned, and her lips tightened. “Those days are gone, Charlotte. They ended when your father died.”
“She’s a girl in trouble. She doesn’t have anyone to help her. I just need a room to put her in temporarily. I’ll accept all responsibility for her; you won’t have to do a thing.”
“You accept responsibility? That would be a first.”
Charlotte felt her temper flare, but she knew there was nothing to gain by arguing with her mother over the past. Since her father’s death, she’d become even more of a whipping post for her mother. She hoped that eventually her mother would ease up, that the grief would lessen, and they’d find some way to communicate with each other, because right now they were all they had.
“It will just be for a few days,” Charlotte continued, ignoring her mother’s comment, “until I can find a more permanent solution for Annie.”
“I can’t help you.”
“You can—you just won’t,” Charlotte said in frustration.
“No, I can’t.” Monica picked up a letter from her lap and handed it to Charlotte.
“What’s this?” Charlotte asked, skimming quickly.
“It’s an eviction notice. The church says I have to be out of this house in thirty days.”
“What? That’s crazy,” Charlotte said, shocked by the news.
“No, it’s just true.”
The letter, while worded far more diplomatically, did indeed request that they vacate the property. “You’ve lived in this house for thirty-four years,” Charlotte said. “It’s your home.”
“Technically, it’s not. It belongs to the church. It’s the home for the Angel’s Bay minister and his family, and the minister is no longer here.” Monica drew in a tremulous breath. “I have to find somewhere else
to live. Somewhere else—I can’t imagine where.” She shook her head, staring out at the darkness. “It would have been easier if I had died first. Then everything would have gone on the way it was supposed to.”
Charlotte had no idea how to respond to her mother’s statement. She’d never been able to hold a conversation with her mother, nor had she ever been privy to her mother’s deepest thoughts. But one thing she did know for certain was that leaving this house would be incredibly difficult for Monica Adams. Her whole life was in these walls.
“There has to be a way for you to stay here,” Charlotte said.
“There isn’t. Reverend McConnell, who has been filling in from the church in Montgomery, is weary of making the trek here every week, and he was only intended to be a temporary replacement. The new minister starts this Sunday, and he will be officially moving in at the end of the month. Apparently he became available quite suddenly, and the church decided to hire him and put him up in an apartment in town until I can move out.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry.”
“Are you? You always hated this house.”
“That’s not true.”
“You couldn’t wait to leave it.”
“All children want to leave home—that’s the way it is.” Charlotte was glossing over a painful period in her life but she didn’t see the point of having that conversation now, or perhaps ever. Some things were best left in the past.
Monica drilled her with a sharp look. “You think I don’t know how I disappointed you?”
“I was the one who disappointed you,” Charlotte countered.
“Well, that’s true. You did disappoint me. You still do. And the sad thing is, you don’t even know why.”
“Oh, I know why.” But even as she said the words, Charlotte saw some odd emotion flit through her mother’s eyes.
Did
she know why? Suddenly she wasn’t certain.
Monica stood up, walked to the back door, then paused. “That girl has nowhere else to go?”
“No.”
“All right. You can bring her here for a week or so. I know your father wouldn’t have wanted me to turn her away, even during this painful time in my own life.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said quietly. “But Mom—what are you going to do about the house?”
“I suppose I’ll find somewhere else to live.”
“I can’t imagine you not living here.”
“Neither can I, Charlotte. But then I couldn’t imagine living without your father, and here I am. By the way, the new minister is your friend, Andrew Schilling.”
Charlotte’s heart stopped. Andrew Schilling was back in Angel’s Bay? Her former boyfriend was going to be the new minister? She hadn’t seen Andrew in thirteen years, and had hoped never to see him again.
“I guess Gwen finally won,” Monica said, referring to a long-running competition she’d had with her friend Gwen Schilling over their children and everything else in their lives. “She always thought her kids were better than mine. She always wanted what I had, including this house, my husband—”
“What are you talking about?” Charlotte interrupted. “She didn’t want Dad.”
“Yes, she did. Gwen and your father dated before we married, but he picked me. He picked
me,
” her mother said fiercely. “He loved me, only me.”
“Of course he did. No one could ever doubt that.” She’d had no idea that the basis of her mother’s rivalry with Gwen Schilling was her father.
“I did everything for your father. I lived my whole life for him,” her mother added with a confused shake of her head. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. But it didn’t matter, because her mother had already gone inside.
Strands of white lights and hanging lanterns lit up the picnic area of the carnival as night descended in Angel’s Bay. A barbershop quartet had been entertaining them the past few minutes; next up was the middle school choral group. The festival was certainly a family affair. Jenna and Lexie were sitting with Kimmy’s family: her mother, Robin, her father, Steve, and baby brother, Jonathan, who was almost two.
Robin Cooper was a short, curly-haired brunette, who looked more than a little tired. She was a stay-at-home mom. Steve worked as a lawyer doing estate planning and family trusts. According to Robin, Steve spent long hours at the office, and this was the first time in a long time they’d been out together as a family. Steve was currently standing ten feet away, talking to two other men, and had been in that conversation for the past hour. Robin seemed put-out, especially since she’d been wrestling with a squirmy toddler for the past thirty minutes.
“Can we get a balloon animal?” Lexie asked, pointing to the man making elephants out of balloons at the next table.
“Sure,” Jenna said, as Lexie and Kimmy got up from the table.
“Take your brother with you,” Robin told Kimmy. “Hold tight to his hand.”
“He won’t stay,” Kimmy complained.
“Well, I’m here if you have a problem.” Robin sighed as Kimmy took Jonathan to the next picnic table. “Thank God, two minutes of relief. You must think I’m a terrible mother.”
“More like an exhausted one,” Jenna said gently.
“That’s kind of you. Steve always tells me that his mother raised five children without breaking a sweat. She also cooked four-course dinners every night, cleaned the house, sewed their clothes, and basically performed all superhuman tasks.”
“Sounds like a tough act to follow.”
“She’s a lovely woman,” Robin said without much
conviction. She gave Jenna a halfhearted smile. “I do mean that. It’s just that I’m tired of being compared to her. What was your mother-in-law like?”
“Nothing like that, thank goodness.”
“You were lucky. Well, I guess you weren’t lucky,” she stuttered. “Sorry, I don’t know if you want to talk about him or not—your husband, I mean.”
“I really don’t,” Jenna said. “No offense. It’s just painful.”
“Sure, of course. I understand.”
As Robin fell silent, Jenna noticed a man sitting alone at a nearby table, looking their way. He wore jeans and a blue T-shirt, and a tattoo peeked out from under his sleeve. He frowned when he caught her staring back, then stood abruptly and walked away. Jenna didn’t like men who disappeared on eye contact. “Who’s that?”
“Who?” Robin asked.
“That man over by the popcorn machine, in the T-shirt,” she said.
“Oh, that’s Shane Murray. He’s a local fisherman.”
“I’ve never seen him around.”
“He’s a loner. Not much for social gatherings. My husband says he’s a cool guy. With that body, half the single women in town are in love with him. He’s often a Monday night hot topic.”
“A what?” Jenna asked in confusion.
“At quilting night,” Robin explained with a laugh. “He’s a popular topic, except when his grandmother, Fiona, or his sister Kara is listening in. You know Kara, don’t you?”
“Yes, she rented my house to me. I didn’t realize he was one of the Murrays.”
“There are a lot of them; it’s hard to keep track. His brother Michael runs the Irish pub. Patrick doesn’t live here anymore. Then there’s Kara and Dee. Dee works with her father, Finn, running a charter boat service.” Robin paused. “You should come to quilting night. You’ll meet people, have fun. I’m sure this Monday night everyone will be talking about that girl, Annie, and her baby—and who the father might be.” Robin’s gaze traveled to her husband again.
Was Robin worried about Steve? It was obvious there was some tension in their marriage. “I’m sure the father is a teenage boy,” she said, hoping to reassure Robin. “She’s very young.”
“I’m not sure that matters when a pretty young girl is willing and available. My father cheated on my mother more than once,” Robin added bitterly. “I guess that makes me worry that my husband could cheat on me. Not that I think it’s him. My God, of course I don’t. Forget I ever said that. It’s just that things have been kind of off lately between us,” Robin continued, obviously needing to vent. “Ever since I had Jonathan, I haven’t been all that interested in—you know—sex.” She blushed furiously. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you must think I’m crazy.”