Suddenly One Summer (5 page)

“It’s a story quilt,” Kara explained. “Most of the squares are made from the clothes of the loved ones who survived the wreck, or the clothes of some of those who died and washed ashore. For instance, that white square in the center was made from a baby’s bonnet.”

“A baby?” Jenna echoed. “I thought there were only men and sailors on the ship, fortune hunters from San Francisco.”

“No, there were families, too, women and children. A baby was supposedly found on the shore the morning after the wreck, wearing a white dress and bonnet. She was only a few weeks old. She’d probably been born just before the ship set sail out of San Francisco. The town kept waiting for someone to claim her, but it quickly became apparent that
she was the sole survivor of her family, so she became everyone’s child. Rosalyn Murray took her in and raised her with her own kids. They gave her the name Gabriella after the ship.”

“And Rosalyn Murray is one of your ancestors?”

Kara nodded. “That’s right. My grandmother, Fiona, is descended from Sean Murray, one of Rosalyn’s sons. He was a year or two older than Gabriella, many, many generations back, of course. Rosalyn Murray is the one who organized the making of the first quilt. It was a way for the town to heal, to honor the living and the dead. She put the baby bonnet in the center of the quilt, because the baby was the symbol of a new beginning, and the bonnet was a tribute to her lost parents.”

“The thread design in the square looks like a wing of some sort.”

“An angel’s wing,” Kara said with a smile.

Jenna should have guessed that. There were various forms of angels all over the quilt, but as she studied the wing design, something niggled at the back of her mind. She’d seen that marking before.

Her gaze flew to Lexie. The little girl was wearing ankle socks and tennis shoes, but Jenna knew that on the side of her left foot was a birthmark in the exact same shape. Jenna’s heart began to beat a little faster. It was a coincidence. It had to be. Or was it? All of a sudden, the steps that had led them to this place, this moment, seemed to make sense in a way they never had before.

“Are you okay, Jenna?” Kara asked.

“What?” Jenna said, her mind racing.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“No, I’m fine. I was just thinking about something else.” She was thinking about the manila envelope that she’d opened two months earlier, finding in it the directions to Angel’s Bay and the name of the person who would help them get here. She’d never questioned any of it. Her only focus had been to get Lexie to safety, and she’d relied on strangers to make that happen.

“They say that the baby, Gabriella, had a birth-mark in the shape of an angel’s wing—she was saved by the angels, and that was the angel’s kiss,” Kara added. “But if you stay in this town long enough, you’ll see that just about everything unexplained is attributed to angels.” She paused, giving Jenna a thoughtful look. “Some people think you’re an angel because you saved that girl last night.”

Jenna laughed. “I’m definitely not an angel.”

“Maybe not, but you still did something very brave. I don’t think I would have done it. I would have called 9-1-1, but I wouldn’t have jumped in the water.”

“You’re pregnant. You have a baby to think about.”

“You had your daughter to think about.”

“Like I said, I didn’t even think. If I had, I probably wouldn’t have jumped.” She paused. “Well, I’d better go. I have an errand to run before Lexie’s class gets out.” The desire to go home and look through the manila envelope one more time was overwhelm
ing. Maybe there was something she’d missed in it, something important.

“See you later,” Kara called out.

Jenna gave her a wave as she hurried out of the shop. Unfortunately, when she reached the sidewalk she found Reid Tanner barring her way.

He gave her a wary smile and held up his hands. “I come unarmed. No camera.”

“Are you following me?” Suddenly she wondered if Reid Tanner really was a reporter. Maybe he was a detective sent to find her by Brad. He seemed much more interested in her than in the article he was supposedly writing.

“If I’d been following you, you would have seen me on your way over here. You were looking over your shoulder every five minutes.”

“And how would you know that if you weren’t following me?” Maybe it was
his
gaze she’d felt earlier.

“I was getting off Henry Milton’s boat,” he explained. “I had a good view of Ocean Avenue and I saw you and Lexie walking over here. Where are you off to now?”

“Nowhere—I’m just waiting for my daughter.” She certainly couldn’t leave Lexie at the shop now, not when she was so unsure about him.

“Want to get a cup of coffee? Dina’s Café is just across the street.”

She would come under more speculation from the locals there—not to mention that having an in-depth conversation with a reporter was at the bottom of her list. “No.”

“No? That’s it?” A smile played at the corner of his lips. “Ouch.”

“Look, I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in talking to you. So why do you keep asking?”

“A better question would be, why are you afraid of me?” His gaze bored into hers.

Would he ask her that if he were working for Brad? Maybe, if he didn’t want her to know why he was really here.

“I think our deal was two questions, and you reached your limit,” she said.

“Let’s make a new deal.”

His intense gaze made her warm, and she really looked at him for the first time. He was tall, six feet plus with broad shoulders. He wore faded jeans and a black knit sweater that was pushed up to the elbows. There was a shadow of beard along his jawline, and his wavy dark brown hair reached down to his collar. His nose was slightly crooked, as if he’d taken a punch or two, and his skin was tan, as if he spent time in the sun. There was arrogance in his stance and an “I don’t give a shit” attitude in the set of his mouth, but his brown eyes were filled with shadows. Whoever he was, he had something to hide—which didn’t surprise her. Lately, she’d begun to think that everyone had a hidden agenda.

“Are you really a reporter?” she asked abruptly.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who’d be interested in writing about angels.”

“I cover what the magazine tells me to cover,” he said with a shrug. “It’s all about the money.”

“Really? You don’t care about what you write?”

“Not anymore.” There was a hard, bitter note in his voice.

“Why is that?”

“Long story.”

A story she found herself wanting to hear…but the last thing she needed was to get more involved with this man. He could keep his secrets, and she would keep hers. “I should go back inside.”

“Jenna, wait.” He put a hand on her wrist.

Heat ran through her like a wildfire, burning her, shocking her, and she jerked her arm away. His gaze narrowed, and she knew she’d overreacted. But there was something about this man that unnerved her, something about him that made her want to flee as fast as she could. Even though she’d told him she was afraid of him, it wasn’t fear of physical violence. It was something more intangible, something more dangerously attractive.

“I might be able to help you,” Reid said, his gaze fixed on her face.

She tried to clear her expression, worried that she was giving away too much. “I don’t need your help.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive. And I am not your story, not your puzzle to solve.”

“I keep telling myself that, but I find you incredibly—intriguing.”

A nervous flutter rippled through her stomach. She hadn’t been the focus of a man’s intense interest in a long time, and she didn’t quite know how to
handle it. “I have to go.” She turned, reaching for the door of the quilt shop.

“Jenna.” He called her back again.

“What?”

“If you wanted to stay hidden, you never should have jumped into the bay to save that girl. That was a mistake.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I didn’t have a choice.”

She let herself into the shop, her heart racing. Reid Tanner saw too much. He was intelligent, perceptive—sexy—God! The last thing she needed was an unexpected attraction to a total stranger. The man could be dangerous to her on so many levels. She took a quick look out the window, wondering what his next move would be. Would he come into the shop? Would he wait for her to come out? Or was she making his interest in her bigger than it was?

Reid had his back to her. As she watched, he pulled out his phone and punched in a number, then walked away. Who was he talking to? Could it possibly be Brad?

Her heart thumped against her chest. She didn’t want to believe that Reid was setting her up, but she knew nothing about him. And his last comment about her making a mistake—had he been trying to tell her something?

She had to make sure that he was who he said he was. If he really worked for
Spotlight Magazine,
someone should be able to confirm that.

Since Lexie was still involved in her class, Jenna
slipped back out of the store. Reid had disappeared. She walked across the street to the local newsstand and perused the magazines. She’d been so caught up in her own private hell the last few months, she’d barely paid attention to the world news.

She found
Spotlight Magazine
on the second shelf. It was a glossy magazine, its headlines teasing celebrity babies, divorces, affairs, UFO sightings in New Mexico, a pregnant man in Ohio, and a female psychic claiming she knew where twenty-three bodies were buried. Reid Tanner was an intelligent and sharp man. What was he doing writing for a sensational tabloid? It seemed off—wrong.

Opening to the first page, she ran her finger down the list of editors. Reid’s name wasn’t there. She flipped through the magazine but didn’t see his name on any of the articles. She took the magazine to the counter, paid for it, and then walked back across the street. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching her, then she pulled out her phone and dialed the main office number for
Spotlight.

When the operator answered, she asked to speak to Reid Tanner. The woman hesitated for a second, then said, “Hold on.” A moment later she came back on the line. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a record of Mr. Tanner. He might be one of our freelancers. I can have one of the editors call you back if you’d like.”

“No, thanks.” Jenna’s hand shook as she closed the phone. Was Reid a freelance reporter? Or did he
have another reason for being in Angel’s Bay, a reason that had to do with her? Even if he wasn’t working for Brad, his curiosity about her could be very dangerous. If he asked questions of the wrong person, or if—God forbid—he went to the police, she’d be in even more danger than she already was.

Joe Silveira sat back in his desk chair, the springs squeaking under his weight. The Angel’s Bay Police Department was housed in a two-story, one-hundred-year-old building that had more character than modern conveniences, but Joe liked being tied to the past, liked sitting in the same chair that so many men before him had used. Part of the reason he’d moved to the small town was to feel a sense of connection to the community he served. Unfortunately that community was on hold at the moment, and his personal life was taking center stage.

Checking his watch, he adjusted the phone at his ear as he half-listened to his wife’s latest real estate deal. If there was one thing Rachel did better than anyone else, it was talk. He’d known that from the first moment he’d met her during their sophomore year in high school. He’d fallen in love with her before he knew her last name. She was everything he wanted, a raven-haired beauty with perfect skin and
a dazzling smile, who was not only beautiful, but kind, compassionate, and at the time perfect. She lived in a two-story house with a front porch swing. Her father was a well-known doctor, and her mother was a housewife who volunteered at the school and organized fund-raisers. Rachel had a life completely different from his own.

Half Mexican, half Irish, he’d grown up one of six kids in a chaotic working class family on the turbulent streets of Los Angeles. His mother had worked as a waitress, his father as a supermarket manager. They’d wanted him to go college, become a lawyer, a doctor, or an engineer. And he’d tried to go that route. He’d graduated with a degree in political science and had been accepted to law school, but deep down he’d always known that he really wanted to be a police officer. That was probably the first crack in his relationship with Rachel. She’d been disappointed when he dropped out of law school; she’d envisioned living in a house like the one she’d grown up in. But she’d come around and supported him when he entered the police academy.

Over the years, things had slowly changed between them. He worked long hours and what he saw on the streets spilled over into their relationship. Rachel started to make plans that didn’t include him. She had friends he didn’t know. She spent time at her parents’ tennis club and seemed to be more interested in working on her serve than on getting pregnant. When it was time to get a house, he’d wanted to buy a small place they could afford. Rachel had
talked him into accepting a big house near the club as a gift from her parents.

To this day, he didn’t know why the house bothered him so much. It had been an incredibly generous gift and he adored Rachel’s parents, who’d welcomed him into their family with open arms. But the house hadn’t felt right, and the extra rooms had only seemed to provide more space in which he and Rachel could grow apart: a distance that had deepened to a critical point when he’d decided to quit his job and move up the coast, hours away from their life, their friends, and their families.

“Joe, are you listening?” Rachel demanded, interrupting his thoughts. “You never listen to me anymore.”

Maybe because what she talked about now bored him out of his mind. But that wasn’t being fair to her. No doubt he’d bored her more than a few times with cop talk. Actually, that wasn’t true. One of her biggest complaints was that he didn’t share his job with her. She didn’t understand that he had to compartmentalize his life or he’d never survive.

“Joe,” she repeated with irritation in her voice.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m a little distracted.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“It’s going to be a busy weekend up here. We have a lot of tourists in town for the summer festival, not to mention fanatical angel seekers camping out on the cliffs. Last night we had an attempted suicide off the pier.”

Rachel sighed. “Wow, tourists, angel seekers, and a jumper—sounds like a hotbed for police activity.”

When had she become so sarcastic? Ignoring her comment, he asked, “When are you coming home?”

A heavy silence followed his question, and he knew the answer before she gave it. Ever since she’d gotten her real estate license three years ago, she’d become consumed with her career and the next big deal that was always just around the corner.

“I can’t make it up there this weekend, Joe. I have to cover an open house on Sunday.”

“Rachel—you promised you’d start tying things up in L.A. We need to be together.”

“I know that, but it’s busy here, too. And I’m making a lot of money right now, money for us, for our future. I’m making more than you. It would really be better if you just quit that job and came home. I ran into Mitchell the other night. He said the department would take you back in a second.”

“That’s not what I want and my home, our home, is here.”

“What if I need you to come back for me?” she asked.

“What if I need you here?” he countered. “This is a good town, with great people, and there’s plenty of real estate to sell up and down this coast.”

“You’re wasted there, Joe. You’re too good, too smart, to be a small town chief. I know you needed a break, and maybe going back to the department isn’t a good idea. But there are cities closer to my business than Angel’s Bay.”

“This isn’t a break for me. It’s where I want to be.” He’d known that the second he’d walked into the small two-bedroom house his Uncle Carlos had
left him. For the first time, he’d felt like he belonged somewhere. He’d told Rachel that more times than he could count, but it never seemed to sink in. She didn’t understand how he could want to live in an isolated town that was miles away from everything familiar.

“It’s where you want to be right now,” Rachel said. “But that will change. I know you, Joe. You crave excitement, danger. You can’t bury that side of yourself, no matter how hard you try. You’re going to want more.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I think if you gave Angel’s Bay a chance, you’d really like it here. This place is beautiful. It’s a great community in which to raise a family. We can make this work.”

“I want to make it work, Joe,” she said, her voice softening. “I do. I just don’t know how right now.”

“I don’t, either,” he admitted. “But I know we can’t do it if we’re apart. I’d really like it if you could get up here for at least part of the weekend. A lot of people have been asking about you. They want to meet you. I’ve received a dozen invitations to dinner that I’ve been stalling on. If you give this place a chance, I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll try. But I have to go now. I’ll speak to you later.”

He heard the click before he had a chance to say good-bye, to tell her he loved her. There had been fewer and fewer of those moments since they’d moved to Angel’s Bay. Actually, he’d really been the one to move. Rachel had only spent a half dozen nights
or so in their home overlooking the ocean. Perhaps he needed to consider the fact that one of them was going to have to give in, and it might have to be him.

He looked up as a tentative knock came at his door. “Come in.” He was surprised when Charlotte Adams walked in, and a little rattled as well. He was attracted to the beautiful doctor with the honey gold hair, intriguing light blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin. It was an attraction he was hoping would go away. He certainly didn’t intend to do anything about it; he was married to Rachel. And despite their problems, he intended to stay that way.

“Sorry to bother you,” Charlotte began, “but I’m concerned about Annie. Have you gotten any more information on her family situation?”

“Have a seat.” He waved her toward the chair by his desk and picked up the fax he’d received a few minutes earlier. “Annie’s father is Carl Dupont. He’s an ex-marine, did a couple of tours in Afghanistan, had half his hand blown off in an ambush, and is on permanent disability.”

“That’s horrible,” Charlotte said, compassion filling her eyes.

“I was about to head up the mountain to speak to him. I have a new address for him, at least it’s the one where his disability checks have been going.”

“I’d like to go with you,” Charlotte said.

He was taken aback by her request. “I don’t think so.”

She straightened in her chair, and he saw a look of stubborn purpose enter her eyes.

“I’m concerned about my patient’s well-being,” she said briskly.

“This is police business, Dr. Adams.”

“It’s also my business as her doctor. I want to see where she’s been living, and if the conditions will be good for her and her baby to return there.”

“It’s not up to you where she goes when she leaves the hospital. Annie is eighteen. She doesn’t have to go back if she doesn’t want to.”

“She’s also pregnant, with barely enough income to buy food, and how long her employment will last, considering her suicide attempt and her pregnancy, is anyone’s guess. She will need help. She may not have any other alternative but to return home.”

“Do you always get this involved with your patients?” he asked curiously.

“Annie might legally be an adult, but she is also a young girl who is so scared of something or someone that she tried to kill herself and her baby. The more I know about her background, the more I’ll be able to help her.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Charlotte sighed. “No, I don’t always get this involved, but Annie is different.”

“How so?”

She hesitated and then shrugged. “Her case just means something to me. So can I go with you to meet her father?”

Joe knew it was a bad idea for a lot of reasons, but somehow he heard himself say yes, and Char
lotte’s answering smile made him want to say yes to anything else she asked of him. Shoving that idea out of his head, he got up from his chair and waved her toward the door. “Let’s go. I need to get back before the festival starts.”

Charlotte followed him out to his squad car. She buckled her seat belt while he turned the key in the ignition, acutely aware of how close she was sitting to him. He cleared his throat and told himself to get a grip. This was business, not personal.

“Thanks for this,” Charlotte said. “I know it’s not protocol.”

“I appreciate your concern for your patient,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes. He had a lot of things he wanted to say, wanted to ask her, but every question seemed to lead down the dangerous path of getting to know her better.

“You know, I haven’t met your wife yet,” Charlotte said, breaking the silence between them.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Rachel has been in and out of town. She’s still wrapping up our life in Los Angeles.”

“You must miss her.”

“I do,” he said quickly and emphatically.

“How long have you been married?”

“Nine years, but we’ve been together since we were fifteen.”

“High school sweethearts?” Charlotte asked. “That’s amazing. You must know each other so well.”

“I thought we did.” As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. “I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough.” He paused. “What about you?”

“I’m not married, if that’s what you’re asking. I left this town when I was eighteen to go to college, and then it was on to medical school, internship, and residency. Suddenly, I realized it had been thirteen years since I’d been home for more than a weekend or two.” She took a breath. “It’s both familiar and strange to be back here now.”

“I understand your father was the local minister for what—thirty years?”

“Thirty-four. He died in February.”

“Right. I heard that. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that why you came back?”

“Yes, though I didn’t make it in time. I was planning to move down the following weekend, and he took a turn for the worse. He passed on before I got here.” She gazed out the window. “We never had that last conversation, never said good-bye, but maybe it was better that way. Some things are better left unsaid.”

He was curious about what those things were, but decided not to ask. “I’m sure your mother must appreciate having you around.”

His words brought a rueful smile to her lips. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m her least favorite child, but unfortunately for her, I’m the only one available. My older sister, Doreen, and her husband just moved to San Francisco, and my younger brother, Jamie,
is in the army in the Middle East, so there’s no one around but me.”

“I can’t imagine you being anyone’s least favorite.”

Her smile broadened. “That’s nice of you to say, but you don’t know me very well.”

“I know you’re a good doctor, and a very caring, involved one. I’m sure your mother must be proud.”

“You’d think, but we have a complicated relationship.” Charlotte paused for a moment. “My family always had high expectations. My father was the spiritual guide for many people. My mother was his more-than-able partner, who supported him and the congregation in every possible way. I was the preacher’s kid, and I was supposed to follow along, be above reproach, but I did some things I shouldn’t have when I was a teenager. I let my mother down. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me.”

“Isn’t forgiveness what your father preached?”

“My father, yes. My mother, not so much.” Charlotte picked at a piece of lint on her skirt. “I wasn’t close to my father. My mother always stood between us. She wasn’t the kind of parent who said, ‘Wait until your father gets home.’ She was his protector. She kept all the problems away from him. She wanted him to be focused on her and the church—in that order, I think, although she pretended otherwise. She loved him fiercely, but that fierceness made her do some things that were…”

“Unforgivable?” Joe queried.

She gave him a quick look. “What have you heard?”

“What do you mean?” he returned.

She stared at him for a long moment. “Nothing. Anyway, it’s all in the past. I’m here now, although I’m not sure how long I’ll stay. Some days, I think my mother would be happier to see me go. Then I talk to my sister, who convinces me that my mother needs someone here, that she’s not as strong as she pretends to be, because she not only lost my dad, but her beloved son is in a war zone. I guess that someone has to be me.”

It bothered Joe to think that Charlotte might move. He liked seeing her about town, eating waffles at the counter of Dina’s Café, picking up a newspaper at the newsstand, running along the waterfront in the early evening just before sunset. He suddenly realized just how often he looked for her when he was out. That had to stop.