A Sweethaven Summer (17 page)

“Want some lemonade?” Lila held up her cooler and Mark took it from her.

“Thanks.” He took a long drink. Lila giggled and flirted. Both of the boys seemed taken with her. Who wouldn’t be?

“You guys busy later? We’re going over to Jane’s.” Lila shot her a look.

“Lila.” Jane’s parents wouldn’t let her have boys over and Lila knew it.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Mark flashed a smile at Lila and then turned to Jane. “Haven’t been there all summer.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure Jane would love to have you over.” She winked at Jane. “Jane, what’s wrong? You’re all red. Too much sun, maybe?” Lila giggled and turned her attention back to the boys.

The sound of a splash caught Jane off guard.

They all turned and saw that Suzanne had jumped in the lake, halting the conversation and saving Jane from more embarrassment. “Come on in, guys, the water’s great.” Suzanne swam away from the dock, and within seconds all of the attention had shifted from Jane to the water.

The others joined Suzanne, but at the thought of jumping in the water, Jane’s stomach tensed. Ever since a wave pulled her under two summers ago, she’d stayed on dry ground.

Jane forced a smile. “I’m going to go home. I think I have to babysit today.” She didn’t wait for them to try and stop her. Instead, she gathered her things and started down the length of the dock, squinting in the bright summer sun.

Tears poured down her cheeks. She dug in her bag for a pair of sunglasses and prayed they would hide the pain she felt at her own inferiority.

Now, standing in the old cottage, Jane begged her mind to stop dredging up old memories. The therapist had said she had control over her thoughts, that she should “take every one captive.” It sounded like nonsense to her. She felt helpless to stop the ping-ponging of painful memories. This was why she needed to go back home—to get out of Sweethaven.

She thought about how her life had turned out, how her husband had been exactly what she’d spent those lonely nights praying for. Everything hadn’t gone south, so why did she find it so difficult to focus on the good things?

She wrapped her arms around her body and attempted to comfort herself as best she could.

Sweethaven might be a magical place, but for Jane that magic had died six years ago… . And it had tainted everything she thought she knew about the little town she used to love so much.

Adele picked up the crumb cake and walked out the front door. Her second delivery of the day. The sweets were a good excuse to check in on people, but Luke had accused her of snooping, and now she felt self-conscious about it. Did it show she cared or make her look nosy? The truth was somewhere in the middle.

Adele waved at Ida and Jack Sanderson walking their Yorkie down the middle of the road.

“You two are putting the rest of us to shame with all this walkin’!”

“We’re like kids again, we’re so healthy!” Ida grinned. “You should come with us some time.”

“The only exercise I’m getting is from walking from the fridge to the stove.” She patted her backside. “It shows too!”

They laughed and waved, then continued up the hill while Adele hustled in the other direction, toward Main. She turned on Juniper Drive and walked down into a cul-de-sac where a semi-circle of shingled cottages stood, Reverend Carter’s home on the corner. The bushes in front of the cottage needed some attention, and the oversized terra-cotta planters on the porch were now containers of dirt. Adele made a mental note to come back and plant something in them. Even the tiniest bit of color could brighten things up.

Judging by the appearance of the house, things needed to be brightened.

She knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. She knocked again. Still nothing.

Finally, she walked around the side of the house. The back yard faced the woods at the top of the Dunes. Perhaps Reverend Carter had decided to take in the lovely scenery from his three-season room. She rounded the corner and saw a tall Adirondack chair at the center of the back yard. Reverend Carter sat in the chair, staring into the woods, a mug in his hand. Suzanne’s funeral had set him back, but he hadn’t been himself for months now.

“Reverend?” Adele stepped toward him. He sat stock still. A flash of panic swelled inside her. “Michael?”

Finally, he looked at her with empty eyes. “Adele,” he said, his voice raspy, almost a whisper. “I wish God would just take me.” Reverend Carter turned his gaze back to the woods.

Adele set the cake down on the ground and knelt beside him. She’d watched his mistakes tear him apart—a man who knew the Lord so well—and she’d always wondered why he didn’t accept God’s forgiveness. Why did he choose to punish himself when he knew better than anyone that God’s grace is more than sufficient?

She laid a hand over his. “How long have you been out here?”

“Since yesterday.”

“Since you saw Campbell?”

He nodded.

“How about we go inside? You must be hungry.”

“I’m fine, Adele. Don’t worry yourself about me.”

“We need to talk.”

Like a child, the man stood and did as he was told. She took the empty mug and followed him through the back door. Once inside, she saw the magnitude of his pain. Garbage littered the kitchen counters. Dirty plates and silverware were piled high in the sink.
Judging by the odor, the garbage hadn’t been taken out for days. Probably since he heard about Suzanne’s death.

“I made you crumb cake. Me-maw’s recipe. You know how good it is.” She watched as he stood, almost in a daze, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I think maybe a shower. I’ll go shower. I’ll be fine. You go.” He waved her off and vanished up the stairs.

This was worse than she thought.

She rolled up her sleeves and got to work. It hadn’t been too many months since the last time she paid him this kind of visit. After Suzanne left her house, she came to see her old friend. Found him in a similar state. He hadn’t been taking care of himself for a while now.

She washed dishes, took trash to the garage, and put away everything she could in the cupboards. As she worked, she prayed for her friend. In the years since he lost his wife, she’d watched out for him now and then. If she didn’t, the pastor would live off frozen dinners. She cared about him, and she knew God wouldn’t want him to beat himself up like this.

By the time she’d finished, Rev. Michael Carter had returned, showered and clean, but the water couldn’t wash away the sadness that filled his face.

Years of remorse had broken his spirit.

“You didn’t have to clean up in here, Adele. I’ll get it together eventually.” He avoided her eyes as he glanced around at the now clean kitchen.

“Don’t be silly. That’s what friends are for. Nothin’ wrong with gettin’ a little help now and then.” She cut a slice of cake and set it in front of him. “I made some coffee.” She poured a mug, hoping it would rouse him from his trance-like state.

“Thanks, Adele.” She knew his appreciation wasn’t relegated to a slice of cake and a cup of coffee, but she simply smiled.

Silence fell between them, and Adele suddenly didn’t feel right about telling him to go to Campbell and make things right. She’d planned to tell him to stop beating himself up for a twenty-five-year-old mistake, but he almost seemed too fragile to hear it.

“What’s she like?”

His question caught her off guard. Her face must’ve shown it.

“She’s a pretty thing. Doesn’t look exactly like Suzanne, but still stunning, don’t you think?”

A glimmer of something flashed in his eye—hope? nostalgia? pride?

“I do. My son does too, I think.” Adele took another bite. “I imagine she could have her pick of young men.”

He didn’t respond.

“She might need a little guidance, though. From a wise old man like yourself.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Adele.”

“What?” Adele knew she didn’t feign innocence very well, but she tried.

“You think this will be an easy fix, like the end of a Hallmark movie, but people aren’t as forgiving in real life as the movies paint them out to be. She will be hurt when she finds out what we did. There’s no ‘happily ever after’ here.” He pushed his plate away.

“She’s a lot like Suzanne.” Sadness filled the room at the mention of her name. Adele reached in her purse and pulled out a small slip of paper. She slid it across the table. “You can do what you want with this, but I thought you should have it.”

“What is it?”

“Her contact information.”

He stared at the paper, unmoving.

“She’s a good kid, huh?”

“A great kid.” Adele spent the next several minutes telling him her impressions of Suzanne’s daughter. His eyes lit as he listened. “She strikes me as the kind of person with a great capacity for forgiveness.”

His face fell. “Some things don’t deserve to be forgiven. I know you understand that, Adele.”

She looked away.

“It’s your choice, Michael. You can wallow in your own self-pity like you’ve been doin’ for the past Lord knows how long, or you can hand it over to that God who you claim to know so well. He doesn’t want you to carry this burden anymore. His yoke is easy and all that jazz.” She stared at him. “At least that’s what my pastor used to say.”

Michael smiled. “Leave it to you to throw my own sermons back in my face.”

“Call her.” Adele stood and covered the cake. “That’s yours.” She nodded at the cake. “Make me proud and eat it all.”

She turned to leave.

“Adele?” The Reverend’s voice stopped her. “What if she doesn’t want to know me?”

She shook her head. “She does. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. Just reach out to her. Take a chance.”

For hours, Campbell walked up and down the beach, sat on the park bench and watched seagulls, studied the lighthouse from every angle. The sunset came and went, and still she sat, questions tumbling around in her head like clothes in a dryer.

She dialed Information.

“City and state?”

She searched her brain. She had no idea if the man lived in Sweethaven or Harbortown or Timbuktu. “Um. Sweethaven, Michigan?” It was worth a shot. “Could I have the number for Tony Angelotti?”

“I’m not showing a listing for an Angelotti in Sweethaven.”

“Could you try Harbortown?”

“Nothing, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“All right, thank you.” Campbell hung up, frustrated.

Was she willing to risk more hurt—more pain—if it would lead her to her father?

She got back into her car and drove aimlessly. When she’d woven her way back to Main Street, she glanced at the clock. The time had flown. It was already 10 p.m. She hadn’t even told Adele where she was going; could she even think about going back there? She certainly wouldn’t win any etiquette awards with her poor manners lately. The old-fashioned street lights cast golden hues
across Elm Street, and Campbell decided if Adele’s house had a light on, she’d knock. If not… . She hadn’t quite thought that far ahead yet.

Campbell parked across the street from Adele’s cottage, which was dark except for the flickering blue light of a television in the front room. She supposed that counted as a light on. Maybe Adele liked to stay up late watching old movies. Like Mom.

Quietly, she got out of the car. Only one way to find out.

She crept up the stairs and listened at the door. Before she could knock, the porch light came on, and she jumped like a burglar caught with a fistful of jewels. The lock clicked. Too late to run away now.

The door opened, and Luke stood on the other side.

Did he live here? He hadn’t stayed there the night before.

Strange how his lazy smile comforted her.

“Hey.” He pushed open the screen door.

“I’m sorry to show up here so late.”

“Don’t be silly, come in.” He held the door open with his backside and she passed by him, then stopped in the quiet entryway of Adele’s house. “We were wondering when you’d be back.”

Campbell glanced at him and wondered if he’d been waiting up for her, hopeful she’d return. She quickly pushed the thought aside. It had been inconsiderate of her not to call Adele. She’d been so confused by what she’d discovered, but that was no excuse to be rude.

“What are you doing here?” She wondered if he shouldn’t be the one asking her that question. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“I came over for dinner and I guess I’m the last to leave. The TV’s out at my place.” He shrugged. “Mom’s old. She goes to bed early.”

She smiled. “I’m gonna tell her you said so.”

A soft silence fell between then. She noticed it lacked the awkwardness of forced conversation.

“Come in, sit down.” He must’ve sensed her insecurity.

She’d reached a crossroads and now she had a choice. She could keep probing—keep searching for answers. Or she could leave and continue to live in ignorant bliss. There was something to be said for make believe.

He walked into the living room, clearly expecting her to follow. “Come on, you’d really be helping me out with the old lady.”

“I
am
tired. Maybe I could just sit down for a while.” She followed him into the living room.

“Do you want something to drink?” Luke had turned off the TV and now folded an old afghan that had been strewn across the couch.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” All day without eating, and she still had no appetite. Campbell sat in the oversized chair and watched him stick the blanket in a basket behind the couch. “Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?”

“I might’ve dozed off a little.” Luke sat down in the recliner.

“Do you sleep here a lot?” He’d mentioned his own place, but now she wondered if he was too embarrassed to tell her he lived with his mother.

“No, I don’t live here.” He laughed, as if he’d read her mind. “Mom asked me to come to an estate sale with her tomorrow morning. You know she has an antique store on the edge of town?”

“She mentioned it, yeah.”

“She buys these crazy heavy pieces and then doesn’t have any way to get them home. That’s where I come in.” He grinned.

“So you’re the muscle of the operation.”