A Sweethaven Summer (27 page)

She exhaled, hoping to dispel the nerves.

Deb poked her head in the room. “You have a visitor.”

She stepped aside and Luke’s tall silhouette appeared in the doorway, a large bouquet of tulips in his hand.

She smiled.

“I wanted to congratulate you.” He offered the flowers.

She took them and inhaled, their fragrance reminding her of her mom. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a warm hug, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel uncomfortable being this close to another person. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him closer.

She rested her head on his chest, the tulips tickling her nose.

“I have to admit, I already looked at your pictures.”

She pulled back and gasped. “Cheater!”

“I couldn’t resist.” His lazy grin teased her. “You’re incredible. I especially liked the shot of that good-looking guy on the train.”

“Russ?” Campbell grinned.

“The
other
good-looking guy.”

“I figured you’d like that one.” She looked away. “And I’m not incredible. My mom was incredible.”

“She was, but Campbell, you are an artist. Your photos are amazing.” He wove a hand around the back of her neck and let it rest there. When their eyes met, she fought the urge to look away.

Her face heated and her heart raced. She’d been here before—why did she still get so nervous?

One look at him answered that question. Big eyes intent on her. Perfect lips. Disheveled hair. No, she’d never been
here
before.

“Luke, I’m going back—”

But he didn’t let her finish. He closed the space between them, leaning in to her and pulling her body against his. His lips grazed hers, soft and tender, void of the rush of expectant schoolboys. Their eyes met, the closeness between them taking her breath away. When his lips found hers again, the blood rushed to her face and she parted her mouth to receive his kiss. Longer this time. She tingled all over.

He pulled back and looked at her again. “You were saying?”

“Nothing.”

“All right, your public is waiting.” He smiled.

“I’m nervous. What if they hate it?”

“Not a chance.”

She took another glance at the mirror. “Oh, great, now I need lipstick.” She flashed him a grin and reapplied her Brown Sugar #5.

He shrugged. “No apology here.”

“Campbell, you ready?” Deb had returned. “People are starting to arrive.”

I hope you’re watching, Mom
.

In the gallery, waiters in white shirts and black ties served
appetizers on silver trays. The artwork had all been hung to perfection, the ideal combination of paintings and photographs.

“I’m going to go get us something to drink,” Luke said. “You okay?”

She begged her pulse to slow down and nodded.

The door opened, and Jane entered with Graham at her side. Dressed in a black pantsuit and holding her husband’s arm, she had a unique glow about her.

Campbell excused herself and waved to Jane.

“This is so exciting,” Jane beamed.

Campbell stopped for a moment and soaked in Jane’s joy. Aside from her mom, there had never been anyone to share her victories. She’d expected to live this one out on her own, but here she was, surrounded by new friends who felt more like family—all willing to celebrate the realization of her dream. She hoped she could make it through the rest of the night without crying.

Nerves danced in her belly.

The door opened and Adele’s boisterous voice rang out over the crowd. “Well, bless my soul.” Campbell turned, but as soon as she saw Adele, disappointment filled her chest. She’d half expected her grandfather to join Luke’s mom—though she’d given him no reason to make an appearance. Did she want him there?

Campbell’s heart raced at the realization. She might never find out who her father was, but she had a grandfather—living and breathing—and only a few blocks away.

“Jane, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Sure, hon.”

Campbell turned off her brain so she wouldn’t lose her nerve and escaped out the back, hopped in her car, and drove down Main Street to Elm. She turned left on Juniper Drive, pulled in front of her grandfather’s cottage, and turned off the ignition.

One deep breath and she found an ounce of courage hidden behind a gallon of fear. “I can do this,” she said.

She walked to the door and knocked, holding her chin high.

When she heard someone on the other side of the door, the tips of her fingers went numb. For a brief moment she wanted to hide, but when she saw her grandfather’s face, the nerves settled a bit. He was just a man—a broken man, in fact.

He didn’t hide the surprise on his face.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Campbell said. “I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine. Would you like to come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks.”

She stood in the entryway and glanced into the living room. Above the mantel was a row of framed pictures, all of her mom.

“We’re having an art show tonight,” she said without looking at him. “I came to ask if you wanted to come.”

She met his eyes, which were wet with fresh pain.

“It’s Mom’s art,” she continued. “And my photographs.”

“I read about it in the paper,” he said. “I thought about coming, but I didn’t want to upset you. It’s not really my place.”

She nodded. “I want you to see how amazing she was.”

“I already know how amazing she was,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’d love to come. Just let me get cleaned up and I’ll meet you there in a bit.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “If you’re sure.”

“We can go together.”

Campbell returned to the gallery with her grandfather at her side, praying no one noticed she’d gone. She walked in, and Luke rushed up to her.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Just had to take care of something.” She glanced at her grandfather and smiled.

“I cannot believe my eyes, Campbell Carter.” Adele pulled her into a tight hug. “This is quite something.
You
are quite something. Your mama would be so proud.”

“Thank you, Adele. For everything.”

Adele glanced at Campbell and her grandfather and shot her an approving look.

“This is quite a turnout,” her grandfather said. “I’m going to go get us something to drink.”

Campbell nodded and scanned the room. He was right. The crowd that had gathered surprised her. In this small town, all these people had come out to support her—and her mom—and the idea of it humbled her. And she had the people who stood closest to her to thank for that. They’d been vigilant about spreading the word.

After about twenty minutes, Campbell glanced at the door. Her grandfather stood by himself, looking as out of place as a cowboy at a ball.

She shuffled her way through the crowd until she finally reached him.

He handed her a glass of punch. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked busy over there.”

“Thank you. And thanks for coming.”

He looked around the room at the art hanging on the wall. His eyes settled on one Mom had painted of the cottage on Juniper Drive. His cottage. “It’s beautiful. I always knew she had a gift.”

“She did.”

“And she passed it on to you.” A smile wrinkled the skin around his eyes. She’d never noticed it before, but Mom had his eyes.

She
had his eyes.

The pinch of grief stung. She missed her mom.

“I’m sorry, Campbell,” her grandfather said. “I just wanted to say that. It’s important that you know how sorry I am.”

Campbell took a moment to study his eyes. She saw a sincerity there that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before.

“Maybe we could go for coffee sometime?” She scanned the room briefly before turning back to him.

He held her gaze, surprise on his face. “I’d like that.”

“Can you wait here for one second?” She went behind the counter and found a small stack of letters, many of them unopened, tied together with a satin ribbon. She returned and handed them to her grandfather. “I wanted you to have these.”

“What’s this?” He held them in his frail hands and studied them.

“Letters my mom wrote to you and my grandmother. They were all returned unopened, but I found them in her things. I thought you should have them.”

He gasped. “She wrote to us?” Suddenly, the letters became even more valuable.

She’d suspected it was her grandmother who had kept the rift between them all those years. Sorrow welled within at the wasted relationship—what they could’ve had if only they’d found a way to see eye to eye. To forgive. To move on.

“I thought you might like to read them.”

“Yes. Very much. Thank you for these, Campbell, but after everything we said to your mom, after the way we made her feel, I don’t feel like I deserve these.”

“She wanted you to have them.” Campbell watched as he examined the envelopes in his hand. “For the record, Reverend, I do forgive you.”

As she spoke the words, a weight lifted off her shoulders and she began to wonder if it was entirely true. If it wasn’t, she wanted it to be. She wanted to learn how to forgive him—and maybe put an end to the pain they’d both been feeling all these years.

“I can’t promise we’re going to be close. You might not even like me, but I’ve decided not to hold a grudge.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for showing me grace when I don’t deserve it.”

“None of us deserve it. We’re all just a bunch of mistakes with feet anyway.” She glanced up and saw Adele moving toward them.

He laughed out loud and seconds later Adele was at his side. “Well, my land, I haven’t seen you laugh in years. Campbell, I do believe you’ve bewitched this man.”

The two of them walked away, and Campbell watched as her grandfather showed the stack of letters to Adele. The older woman turned back and looked at Campbell. They exchanged a knowing smile, and she knew she’d done the right thing.

In front of her, the painting of the dock caught her eye. Now that she’d been there, the painting easily transported her to that place.
She could almost feel the warm sun on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and was drinking it in when someone walked up behind her. She opened her eyes, expecting Luke, but instead she found a stranger at her side.

He stood at least a foot taller than her and didn’t make eye contact. Instead, he stared at the painting, then finally glanced at her. He cleared his throat and loosened his tie. He looked like a model from an Eddie Bauer catalog. Rugged and handsome. She smiled at him and then caught Deb’s eye, who was approaching as she made her rounds around the gallery.

“Are you the artist?” he asked Campbell.

“I’m a photographer. My mother painted these.”

“Can I buy this piece?” he asked. The man studied it, his eyes scurrying across the canvas. “I know this place.”

“Deb? Looks like you might have a customer,” Campbell said. It had always been Mom’s dream to sell her artwork, and after carefully marking three of the paintings Not For Sale, Campbell decided she would part with the rest for her mom. She glanced at the painting again and realized it wouldn’t be easy.

Deb took her glasses off, letting them hang on a chain around her neck, and held out her hand. “Sir, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, I’d like to buy this one, but…I think I’m here to see you.” He looked at Campbell.

“Are you from the press?” Deb asked.

The man shifted.

“Did you need to interview Campbell? I’m sure she’s got a few minutes for the press. Who’d you say you were with?”

He glanced at Deb and then at Campbell, a confused expression on his face. “Actually, I’m not with the press.”

Deb frowned. “Oh.” She peeled a Sold sticker from her sheet and
placed it next to the frame. “It will be available to pick up after the show.”

“Thank you.”

Deb smiled, and then she was pulled away to restock the cheese tray.

“So what did you need to see me for?” Campbell didn’t understand. If he wasn’t a reporter, why did he need to talk to her?

“Can we maybe go outside?” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and for a moment looked like a schoolboy at detention.

“Okay.” Campbell followed him outside, where he sat on the bench in front of the gallery. She sat at the other end of the bench and stared at the gazebo one block over, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“You have your mom’s eyes,” he finally said.

She looked at him.

“But you have my nose.”

Campbell’s jaw went slack.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds but it felt like much longer. Across the street, she spotted Lila, carrying an oversized purse and heading their way. She waved.

Campbell barely lifted her hand and waved back, drawing the man’s attention across the street.

“Oh no,” he said.

Lila crossed the street and stared at the man as she approached. “What are you doing here?”

“You two know each other?” Campbell looked at the man, who wore a sheepish expression.

“
You
two know each other?” Lila said with raised eyebrows. In the uncomfortable silence, she looked back and forth between them. “Tom, what’s going on? I’ve been trying to reach you since I got here.”

Campbell stood, feeling suddenly awkward and altogether horrified. “I’ve got to get back inside. It was nice to meet you…Tom.” She forced a smile, but now he was looking the other way. She saw but didn’t feel her feet moving toward the gallery. She prayed they didn’t buckle under the weight of her horror.

Her mind rewound to the moment she’d first noticed Lila’s husband standing next to her and replayed the entire scene.

She glanced back at the two of them, still sitting on the bench, and her thoughts raced through the possibilities.

If she’d understood correctly, things were about to go terribly wrong.

And it was all her fault.

Lila sat next to her husband on the bench, several feet between them.