Lost Melody (13 page)

Nana hurried down the hall and gathered Jill in a hug. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Jill breathed in the familiar scent of Estée Lauder. Tears prickled in her eyes. “I can’t blame him. It sounds crazy.” She raised her head and sniffled. “I guess I just hoped he’d support me even if he doesn’t believe me.”

“That’s a reasonable expectation.” Loyalty and sympathy in equal measures shone in Nana’s eyes. “I think tomorrow I’ll go have a talk with him.”

An image flashed into Jill’s mind of Nana marching into Greg’s office with the ferocity of a lion, complete with a mane of red hair. Teresa, fierce protector of Greg’s schedule, would be no match for Nana. The idea made Jill’s lips twitch in spite of the heaviness in her heart.

She straightened. “Please don’t. This is something I need to do myself. If I can’t convince Greg that I’m not insane, how in the world can I expect anyone else in the Cove to believe me?”

A proud smile curved Nana’s lips. “That’s my girl.” She patted Jill’s arm. “Go finish cleaning the paintbrushes. Supper will be ready in a few minutes.”

Jill headed for the living room. She really ought to call Greg and ask him to come back, but the idea of facing more of his disbelief tonight was overwhelming. She’d apologize tomorrow, on the drive to his parents’ house.

Wednesday, November 30

Long stretches of awkward silence dominated the ninety-minute drive to the orchard. Jill watched through the passenger window as the sun set over kilometers of undulating ridges and fertile valleys. When Greg had arrived to pick her up, she’d apologized for snapping, but his skepticism hung between them like morning fog hovering over the harbor.

When they passed the last small village before the turnoff to Bradford Orchards, he broke a silence that had brooded for the past thirty minutes.

“I just don’t see why you have to keep pushing.” He kept his eyes fixed ahead, where twin beams from the car’s headlights carved through the darkness that had fully descended outside. “You’ve delivered your warning. You even got a front page article in the newspaper.”

Jill winced at the unmistakable frustration in his voice. Guilt stabbed at her, but she refused to accept it. It wasn’t her fault the newspaper buried the story of his tourism plan.

“Only a handful of people are taking my dream seriously. That article made me sound like a lunatic.”

“And planting a bunch of yard signs all over the Cove doesn’t?”

She clenched her jaws to keep from firing back a response. The last thing she wanted to do was fight with Greg again.

After a short silence, he spoke in a calm tone. “Look, I’m trying to understand your viewpoint. I know those letters from your father struck a chord. But it’s like Rowe said last night —”

Jill’s head whipped toward him. “You talked to Rowena Mitchell about me?”

“Well, uh.” Words stumbled uncertainly out of his mouth. “She asked why I looked upset. I happened to mention we’d had a disagreement. She offered a sympathetic ear, that’s all.”

Fury buzzed in her brain as the scene unfolded in her imagination. He made up an excuse to escape his crazy fiancée and ran straight into the arms of that oh-so-sympathetic flirt. “I’ll just bet she did.”

A large sign situated on the side of the road announced the entrance to Bradford Orchards. The car slowed as they approached the turnoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Greg asked as he guided the car onto the long, narrow driveway that carved the orchard into two sections.

Jill studied his face. When the car straightened, he looked away from the road, directly into her eyes. She saw no secrets there, no sign of hidden feelings for the pretty café owner. Was it possible Greg hadn’t picked up on the blatant flirting? Her sudden rush of jealousy calmed to a manageable level.

“I don’t appreciate you going to Rowena for advice about me. She’s after you, Greg. She’s going to try to make me look bad.”

“What?” The surprise on his face could not be feigned. He shook his head. “No. You’re way off base.”

“She flirts outrageously with you.”

“She flirts with everybody.” He dismissed that with a shrug. “It’s her personality. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

He faced forward as the car approached the house. Jill watched his profile while he shifted into Park and turned off the ignition. The car’s engine fell silent. He appeared entirely unaware of Rowena’s designs, which served to douse the remnants of her jealousy. That didn’t change the fact that he’d left Jill’s house last night and ran straight to Rowena to talk about it, but at least he wasn’t harboring feelings for the woman.

She wasn’t through discussing Rowena with him, not by a long shot, but now wasn’t the time. The curtains in the front room parted, and Greg’s mother peered out. A nervous tickle erupted in Jill’s stomach. The time had come to answer the question that had worried her all day. Had news of her performance at Greg’s meeting last night reached his parents?

It had.

Faye was as warm and friendly as always, and put Jill to work carrying steaming dishes from the kitchen to the dining room the minute they arrived. Jill found it easy to relax in her company, her worries slipping away as her future mother-in-law kept a pleasant chatter flowing throughout the meal. Across from Jill, Greg joined in the conversation and, at his mother’s urging, described his marriage proposal in the restaurant. Harold, whom Jill had never found to be overly chatty, sat at the
head of the table and devoured the delicious roast beef in near silence. He answered his wife’s occasional questions with singleword answers.

His silence became worrisome as the meal progressed. He usually talked more than this. And why wouldn’t he make eye contact with her? With rising discomfort, Jill picked at the last half of her dinner, her insides churning into knots while Greg and his mother discussed the latest escapades of the grandchildren in California.

When the supper dishes had been cleared and they each had a thick slice of warm apple pie in front of them, Greg’s father broke his moody silence.

“So, would someone like to tell me just what in the dickens went on at that meeting Monday night?”

The food turned to cement in Jill’s stomach. From the disapproving glance he threw in her direction, she had no doubts he wasn’t asking for a simple recap of Greg’s presentation.

“Harold.” Faye’s voice, though low, held a weighty warning.

“Don’t
Harold
me. If she’s going to be our daughter-in-law, I refuse to tiptoe around her.” He glared across the table at his wife, but softened his gaze considerably before he turned toward Jill. “I read the article on the Internet. Were you having some sort of delusional episode or something?”

Heat flared into Jill’s face.

“Dad, Jill’s not delusional.” Greg caught her eye across the table. If his smile was tentative, at least he’d jumped to her defense.

She set her fork down and faced Harold. “The article outlined the essentials. What it didn’t mention is the fact that the dream kept returning, over and over, and every time I knew I had to warn people.” Her gaze flickered to Greg’s for an instant. “I admit my timing was atrocious, but I had to do something.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “When my father was alive, he had dreams like this, too.”

Harold stabbed at his pie and speared a gooey apple. “I don’t care what your father did. We don’t act like this in the Bradford family.”

Jill’s spine stiffened. Was he saying she wasn’t good enough to be a Bradford?

Greg opened his mouth, but before he could speak his mother stood. Her chair legs scooted across the hardwood floor with a jarring scrape.

“Jill, let’s you and I go look at the living room, shall we? I want to talk to you about the decorations for the wedding. We’ll finish our pie later.”

An overwhelming desire to escape seized Jill. She stood almost as abruptly as Faye, and followed her out of the room.

Greg tried to catch Jill’s eye as she left the dining room, but her stony stare did not turn his way. Red splotches covered the smooth skin of her neck, and her face glowed like an ember. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to his father.

“That was unnecessary, Dad.”

Dad looked momentarily startled. Greg was not in the habit of scolding his father. Nevertheless, he refused to look away from the stern stare aimed his way. That stare had never failed to evoke instant obedience when he was a boy.

After a couple of seconds, Dad’s forehead dipped once. “I could have approached the subject more diplomatically. Your mother warned me not to cause a ruckus. I’ll apologize to Jill. But I’m concerned about the damage this has done to your campaign.”

The idea had certainly occurred to Greg during the long hours of the past two nights. He pushed the half-eaten pie away and leaned back in his chair. “The meeting went well up until that point. I’ve had a lot of positive feedback, and gained some important supporters. I think I handled myself okay.”

“I’m sure you did, but Seaside Cove is a small town. Everybody knows you two are a couple. There’s sure to be some fallout if your fiancée is running around screaming that the sky is falling.” His gaze became piercing. “Remember what’s at stake here.”

Greg didn’t need the reminder. His future was at stake, all the plans he and Dad had talked about for most of his life. This election to the Halifax Regional Council was the first step in a political career that could potentially take him all the way to Ottawa.

He forced a calm smile. “If damage has been done, it’s done. The only thing I can do about it now is move forward.”

And try to keep Jill and Ruth from plastering yard signs all over town.

Dad leaned toward Greg and lowered his voice. “Son, are you sure she’s mentally stable?”

The same thought had occurred to Greg Monday night, but he would not admit that to his father. He forced a laugh. “Yes, Dad, I’m sure. Recovering from that accident last year has taken a toll. And she’s been under a tremendous amount of stress recently.”

Dad shot a glance in the direction of the living room. “But if her father had similar delusions” — he held up a hand to forestall Greg’s correction —”I mean dreams, then maybe you should think twice about having children with her.”

The comment produced a genuine laugh from Greg. “That’s ridiculous. All anyone has to do is talk with her to see she’s perfectly sane. She feels strongly about this dream thing.”

His father straightened in the chair, his eyes narrowed. “You almost sound like you believe she’s had some sort of prophetic vision.”

Now it was Greg’s turn to lower his voice. “No, I don’t. I think there’s a logical explanation, like long-buried memories that are resurfacing and post-traumatic stress from her accident. But the important thing is that Jill believes it. She’s acting out of a genuine desire to save people, because she couldn’t save anyone last year.”

As he articulated the reason, it made even more sense. That’s exactly what was going on here. Jill was the most loving, softhearted person in the world, which was one of the attributes that attracted him to her four years ago. He’d been looking at this all wrong, thinking she was acting out of character. In fact, it was her loving nature that lay at the root of the whole thing.

“Hmmm.” Unconvinced, Dad’s lips pressed together into a tight line. “Well, whatever is happening, it’s got to stop before she does any more damage to your campaign. Nobody’s going to vote for a man who’s married to a raving lunatic.” He leaned forward again and held Greg’s gaze. “You’ve got to get this under control, son. Get a grip on it.”

He knew his father was right, but the memory of all those yard signs covering every square inch of Ruth’s living room made him squirm in his seat. Before long they would be all over town. He’d already tried to reason with Jill, and look what happened. What more could he do to convince her to abandon this crazy scheme?

Next Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough. When Tuesday came and went without a disaster, maybe they could put this mess behind them and get things back to normal.

“Now, if you aren’t fond of the candles, we can certainly get rid of them. In fact, we can redo the whole thing.” Faye stepped back from the fireplace and tapped her fingertips on her lips as she examined the mantle. “Pink poinsettias might add a touch of wedding color.”

Jill made an effort to forget her irritation with Harold and focus on the lovely Christmas decorations that covered the living room. An eight-foot tree dominated one corner, swathed from tip to trunk in gauzy gold and brilliant red. A mountain of gold and white-wrapped packages piled beneath pushed against the lowest branches. Every surface around the room bore evidence of Faye’s love for elegant Christmas decorations, from tiered crystal tea-light holders to an exquisitely carved ivory nativity set. But the fireplace dominated the room, the mantle resplendent with bushy garland, gold and red candles, and tiny white lights that twinkled like stars at midnight.

“I love it.” Jill turned in a slow circle, taking in the entire room. “It’s perfect just the way it is.”

Creases appeared in Faye’s brow. “You’re not just saying that? Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I want this day to be special for you.”

“No, really. It’s gorgeous. I can see myself walking through there in Mom’s wedding dress, carrying a bouquet of red roses.” She pointed toward the arched entry from the hallway, around which draped more garland studded with clusters of red berries. “Don’t change a thing.”