Kaleidoscope Summer (Samantha's Story) (35 page)

“
S
he
smiled,
and said something about me living next door to her.
I can still hear the
sound of her laughter as
she scooted over
,
telling me, ‘Have a seat
,
delinquent.’
”

“
W
e could banter back and forth for hours.
We were
connected
in a way…
I still don’t fully understand
. I was never happier
.”

The visible pain in his eyes prompted me
to ask
the obvious question
.
“Sounds like the
beginning of a love story. Why didn’t the two of you end up together?”

“Mostly
John
. H
e
didn’t want
me
anywhere near his daughter
. If you’ve learned
anything about
Serenity
Cove—there
are no secrets. They’re
blown up and exaggerated
while being passed
around
. It’s true I’d been in a couple of scrapes—no
thing serious. My parents sent
me here because they had decided
to end their marriage.
They
chose not
to
tell my aunt, so
I became the culprit
.”
W
e
stood and
tra
ipsed throug
h the sand a ways, and
I
guided him
toward a
big
rock
s
imilar to Maggie’s dreaming boulder
.
Lip-reading while walking never worked well.

We each scooted
onto the hard surface
. “D
id you
sneak around to see each other
?
”
I shifted
to see
his face
better.

He tossed
a
s
tone the way one would skip rocks across the surfa
ce of a lake—only it sunk
beneath the wave
s
. “Some
. Still,
s
he f
aced her father’s
consequences far too often
.
John
loved her—it’s too bad he didn’t know he
r.
She dreamed of b
eing an author
. I loved to listen
to her read
the
stories
s
he’d written.
She talked about the
characters as if they were re
al f
riends
of hers.
I believed in her. I believed in her dreams. I wish I’d believed in us.”

Unchecked tears escaped down my face
. He handed me a napkin
from his pocket. “Sorry, it’s
the only thing I have.”

“I
haven’t co
me across
any of her stories in the bookshop or the
apartment.”

“Elizabeth would’ve saved them—
according to Anne, Elizabeth
was
n’t a stranger to
writing.” He took another crumpled napkin
from his poc
ket and turned away
.

We slid off the rock
. Holding
our shoes
,
we waded
along the water’s edge, allowing it to wash
over
our feet. We walked a ways and
returned to the weathered bench we’d sat on earlier.
I focus
ed on Roger
,
waiting for him to speak
.

“I pray
Anne
forgives me for what I’m about to say.
I should have told you the other day, although I don’t have any concrete evidence. I
thought
at the time
and
still do
—your father is Daniel Cunning
ham. He and his mother lived in one of the big houses
on
the ridge with his grandparents, where the wealthier families lived.
”

My stomach lurched as though
I’d been punched
.
I reminded myself to breathe.
“Why do you think he’s my father?”

“A couple of comments
Anne
let slip. When I pressed,
she
clam
m
ed up
.
”

“Do you know if he or his family still live here?”

“Daniel and I were never friends, but I hea
rd his grandparents had retired here
.” He worked his toes into the sand.
“W
e were in high school—I have no idea where he lives now.”

We
trudged through the sand and
st
rolled down the boardwalk with the intent of getting an ice cream
. After a few moments
,
he
stopped and faced me
. “Anne
occupied a place
in my heart from the day I me
t her. I married a woman I
deeply
cared for
, but
she never replaced
my first love.
When I
visit
ed
Anne
at her bookshop
,
the instant
I saw her it became obvious
nothing had changed.
” Sadness
shadowed
h
is
eyes
. “
For one incredible week
,
we were inseparable. I told
Anne
I wanted to
make some changes
so we could be together. She said no. Carla and I had two children and
Anne
refused to take their father
from them. S
he never answered
my letters, and I never
saw her
again
.
With everything in
me,
I wish I’d straightened out my life and returned—we belonged together.
Don’t get me wrong—I
love my childre
n
. They’re
adults now and I couldn’t be prouder of them.
”

“Are you still with Carla?”

“We went our separate ways after
Anne
’s death.
When Anne
died, she took my hopes and dreams with her
.” He paused
.
“
I wish I was your father.”

“Me
,
too.
Through you,
I’ve come to love her
—this
woman who carried me. Before today
,
Anne
was
simply
the woman who
’d given
birth to me. You’ve made her real
.”

Ice cream forgotten, w
e said our goodbyes
as he left to catch his flight.
I had a feeli
ng he’d return
.
Serenity
Cove carried th
e core of more than his memories—a part of him lay
in the cemetery.

His parting words of advice
burned in my heart
. “When you find the right person—hold on.”
T
he free spirit Roger said
Anne
possessed
intrigued me.
Had I inherited her same freedom of spirit?
Suddenly
,
I wanted
to welcome
it—
use it to do more than catch the wind.
Roger’s speculations intensified my longing to know more.
W
as
Daniel Cunningham my birth father?
Again, returning
to the one place I felt held the ans
wers—my grandparents.
I had to find a way to reach them.
And in some off
beat way, I knew Anne would want me to
.

Chapter
T
wenty-eight

T
he night
sh
ift thrust me safely
into my
comfort zone
,
and
I was glad to
be
back
. I had
n’t miss
ed
the
uncanny feelings that blew
in out of nowhere,
like tonight. The ones that made me feel something was
off
-
kilter
.
I made a run by
Rubi’s. W
ith a steamy
cup burning against my fin
gers, I hustled
to the patrol car.
I’d only taken a swallow or two before
Hank called. “
Logan here.
W
hat’s up
?”
I listened and then told
him to call
Alec
for back
-up
. I
tossed
the coffee out the window
.
I gunned
the patrol car and sped
to the new gas statio
n/market w
here
a robbery
was
in progress.

Alec
squealed
in from the other side of the lot and stopped beside me
.
No
cars
were
at the pumps—
a good thing.
We both used our cars for shields and met at the back of mine.

“
I’m going in. Cover me.” I
ducked around the patrol
car. Too many large wi
ndows in the front
, so
I eased around
back, to try for
the employee entrance.
Before I made it to the door,
two men wea
ring ski masks rushed
out
with guns f
anning the air. “Police. Freeze.”
An exchange of
fire
, and
pain exploded through my body
, as though a
demolition ball had
swung and
smashed into me.

Alec
rushed to me.
“Boss, stay down. T
he medics
are on the way
.”

“
I
heard multiple shots fire
d.”
I fought for
breath.
“V
ictims inside.
” My voice weakened
.

“
We’re on it
. T
he perp
s
won’t get far.
You hit
one of them
.
”

Sirens filled the air
.
One of the
EMTs knelt beside me
,
wearing a bright yellow jacket
that I knew said SCFD
across the back. He
ripped my pants from the bottom up to my thi
gh. “I’d say the bullet’s still in there. What’s this blood on your shirt?” The medic’s face blurred. I felt myself fading and struggled to remain conscious.

Chapter Twent
y
-nine

T
he vintage
hourglass
Anne
d
isplayed in the b
ookshop gives
m
e a feeling of nostalgia. Turning it and watching
the sand pour through—it seems as though
each grain
really does
repres
ents
a
day in our lives
.
What were Anne’s
thought
s as
she watched it?
Had she
ponder
ed
the passage of time,
or considered the
possibility that hers might
end
too soon?
~
Journal entry

Goldie nudged me awake. My cell
phone
lit up with a text from Maggie.
“
Meet me out front. Now
.”
D
azed
,
I
read
the time—
2
:38
. I stumbled
out of bed,
dressed a
nd made it outside
as Maggie
squealed to a stop.
My imagination going
wild wi
th visions
of
what
might have
happened.