A Newport Sunrise

by Cindy Caldwell

  A Newport Sunrise

  Cindy Caldwell

  Copyright © 2020 by Cindy Caldwell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Also by Cindy Caldwell

  One

  Mornings like this had a way of seeping right into Jen's soul. The ocean breeze —with a little chill as summer was long past —swept past her, and her toes dug in the sand on her way to the water.

  Daisy, her puppy, led the way. The tug on the leash spurred them both on, and Jen let her mind wander as the salt spray of the waves cooled her cheeks. Daisy was content to splash while Jen sat on the sand, hugging her knees and thinking over how much her life had changed in the past months.

  Even now, she sometimes couldn't believe how lucky she was. She'd fought long and hard to be here —watching the colors change over the ocean as the sun rose, something she could now do every day. Even the water changed color as the sun rose, or set.

  It wasn't every day she was this grateful to watch the sunrise. She'd never been much of a morning person, but Daisy had changed all that. A dog panting in her face at the first hint of light wasn't something she'd been able to ignore, so these days she saw more sunrises than she slept through.

  She glanced up the beach toward Joe's house. Her stomach fluttered as she saw him walking toward her with a big smile, and she was reminded of one of the best parts of getting up this early —meeting him on the beach.

  His dog, Boris, headed straight for Daisy as Jen gratefully accepted the to-go cup of coffee Joe held out to her.

  "I was hoping you'd bring this. Your mom makes the best," Jen said as she inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee.

  Joe sat down beside her in the sand and nodded. "I hate to admit that you may be right. But don't tell her. It'll go to her head."

  Jen laughed, knowing that wasn't true. Mrs. Russo was good at everything in the kitchen, but wasn't the least bit vain about it. It was just a fact. Her Italian food was the foundation of their gondola business in the harbor —people came as much for the food as the ride.

  "How's my favorite gondolier?" Jen asked, picturing him in his red and white striped shirt, black pants and straw hat. It always made her smile.

  Joe rubbed his biceps. "I'm getting a little old for the actual work. Happy to run the books while Ma does the food, but this old body isn't cut out for paddling people around all night. Good thing I only have to when one of the younger guys calls in sick. Last night's trip was a proposal, and I didn't want to cancel. Wouldn't want anybody to miss out on eternal happiness or anything."

  Jen blew on her coffee and took a sip. "What a romantic you are. That's very sweet."

  "Gotta support people being happy," he said. "I was sorry to cancel dinner last night, though."

  "I'm sorry, too. I missed you, but happy to sacrifice in the name of love."

  And not for the first time, Jen realized that she meant it —she really had missed him. It wasn't just that she was alone. She'd spent lots of time alone, and it didn't bother her. No, she had to admit that she really missed his company. At least admit it to herself. And if she was able to admit it to herself, it was probably time to admit it to her best friends, Faith and Carrie.

  "I guess I won't see you tonight, either, since it's Friday night happy hour with the girls."

  "Right," Jen said softly. She was excited to see Faith and Carrie later that evening, as usual, for their weekly ritual but also had that tug in her heart, sorry she wouldn't be seeing Joe, too. It was only a vaguely familiar feeling —one she hadn't felt for many, many years. Her husband had been gone for so long that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

  But it was becoming more clear by the day. She thanked her lucky stars that they'd been able to rekindle the friendship they'd fostered so long ago, when they were younger.

  "What've you got going today?" he asked as they sipped their coffee and the dogs bounded through the waves. They didn't seem to notice at all that the water had also gotten cooler along with the breeze.

  "I've spent most of the week going through more of Nana's things."

  "I hope it's nothing like my dad's room. I'm not going to finish with that before the end of the year."

  Jen laughed and knew he was right. She'd been in that room, and it was filled floor-to-ceiling with knick-knacks, some of which were pretty valuable. But it took a lot of time to find out what was what.

  "No, this is more normal stuff. Some cookbooks, more clothes. It's fun to see what's in there, but I don't expect anything too unusual."

  Joe stood and reached his hand out for Jen, helping her up.

  "Never know," he said. "Sounds fun. Wish I could join you, but it's end of month for the business, and I've got to work on the books."

  Jen nodded and called for Daisy. "Come on up to the house before you go. I've got some leftovers for you from last night."

  Joe's eyes lit up. "Wow, thanks. That's nice of you after I stood you up."

  Jen headed up toward the house and smiled. "I think we're beyond that, aren't we? I didn't feel stood up. I knew we'd have another opportunity."

  Joe tugged on Jen's elbow and stopped her, turning her toward him. The sun was up over the horizon now, and the sun sparkled on the waves in the crisp autumn breeze.

  "I'm glad you know that. That we'll have another opportunity."

  Jen looked into his eyes, and her stomach fluttered again. "I do. And it makes me happy."

  "Me, too," he said as he leaned forward, softly resting his lips on hers.

  She closed her eyes and relished the feeling —one more thing that she hadn't felt in many, many years. And had forgotten how much she enjoyed.

  When he pulled away, she sighed and glanced at the sand before she looked up into his eyes once more.

  "That was nice," she said.

  He nodded and smiled wide. "It was."

  Joe held his arm out and she looped her arm through his. They walked quietly up to the house, and she couldn't think of a single thing to say —she just felt comfortable and happy.

  They reached the house, and she squeezed his arm after he let them both in the gate. The dogs set to rolling on the small patch of grass, and Jen grabbed the leftovers from the refrigerator.

  She handed him the bag and he raised his eyebrows.

  "I missed homemade enchiladas?"

  She smiled and nodded. "They'll be just as good for you and your mom tonight."

  "The company won't be as good, that's for sure." He smiled and planted a kiss on her cheek. He called for Boris and looked around the garden. He picked up some roof shingles
and said, "I'm only an accountant, but I'm pretty sure roof shingles are supposed to stay on the roof."

  "Oh, man. They must have blown off last night in the wind," Jen said as she took them from him and looked up. Sure enough, there were a few empty spots over the awning.

  "Guess I'll be looking for a contractor. That's not something I want to head into winter with."

  Joe nodded. "I could patch it, but you should definitely get a roofer out to see how bad it is."

  "Oh, thanks. I really appreciate it. I'll start looking around for somebody. Come for dinner tomorrow? Faith will be here, and we could invite Carrie and Dirk."

  "Sounds great," he said. He lifted the bag of leftovers and backed out the gate. "I'm a lucky man."

  Jen watched him head up the boardwalk. He turned around and waved before he turned the corner toward his house, and Jen knew she was a lucky woman, too.

  Two

  It seemed a normal end to a normal kindergarten school day when, suddenly, everything in Faith's world stopped.

  "No, Jason, don't," she'd cried, to no avail. Time slowed as the five-year-old picked up the hamster cage, his ear-to-ear grin full of excitement.

  And somehow, in her teacher's heart with decades of experience, she knew what was going to happen next.

  He turned toward her and began to run, almost immediately tripping over his own feet.

  The hamster cage flew through the air and she ran toward it, doing her best imitation of a wide receiver in a life or death football game.

  Her breath whooshed as she landed on her back, the intact hamster cage thudding on her chest. She blinked several times, amazed that the only damage was having the breath knocked out of her.

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Donovan. I didn't mean to —"

  Faith waved him off with a thin smile, and as soon as she caught her breath and could speak, she said, "It's okay, Jason. But remember, we are not supposed to pick up the hamster cage."

  It was a hard and fast rule in her kindergarten classroom —but one that was broken almost daily. She couldn't count the times she'd had to get a new cage this school year, and it was still not even Thanksgiving. Not to mention that she'd become a pro at chasing down the darn thing when it was either let out or escaped.

  Jason had recovered more quickly than Faith had herself.

  "Mrs. Donovan, can I take the hamster home for the weekend?"

  Not a week went by without one of Faith's kindergarten students asking to take the hamster home, or the basil plants, or the goldfish. She'd always said no, but now as she peered into the cage at the hamster, who was staring back at her and wiggling its whiskers, she was sorely tempted to break her own rule.

  Faith ignored the creaking in her knees as she knelt down in front of the cute little boy.

  "Jason, we've talked about this, and I have to say no. I really appreciate you wanting to help, but he’s used to being here in the classroom."

  "I'll take really good care of Jack. I promise. My mom said she would help me."

  Faith looked up to see his mother's smiling, hopeful face in the doorway, and she returned the friendly wave. "I know she would, Jason. But you know we need to keep him here. He's too little for a sleepover."

  His crestfallen face tugged at her heart, but after several decades of experience with this, she knew the odds of getting any of the pets —or plants —back intact was slim to zero. As evidenced by her very recent experience of the poor hamster flying through the air.

  The next few minutes were like a tornado as the students ended yet another week in her classroom. It was getting close to Thanksgiving vacation so the energy level was a little frenetic. Only a few more weeks and they'd all have a break. And she knew she needed one.

  She gathered up her things in the quiet room, and sat down behind her desk. The squeaking of her old chair didn't deter Faith from leaning back anyway after the last kindergartner closed the door behind him at the end of her Friday. The loud, familiar squeak somehow soothed her as she rocked back and forth. She wondered how many times that day she'd been able to sneak a moment in it while her charges were occupied —not many. She rubbed her closed eyes and took a deep breath.

  Friday. At least it was Friday. And she couldn't wait to be on the deck at the beach house with Jen and Carrie. She was amazed she hadn't missed even one, in all these weeks that she'd been teaching school during the week and traveling to the beach on the weekends.

  But the cost had been a little higher than she'd envisioned. She got up with the sunrise and rarely hit the hay before midnight, falling into her comfy bed completely exhausted. Between her job as a kindergarten teacher, her other job at the boutique on the weekends, her pillow-design hobby and all the prep work that went along with teaching, the only thing she'd had to cut time from was sleep. And she was feeling it.

  Her daughter, Maggy, called to check on her most every night, and Faith looked forward to that —mostly. The last time they'd talked, though, Faith wondered if maybe it was better if they didn't talk so frequently.

  "Mom, you sound tired."

  Faith had mustered her best, lightest laugh. "I'm fine, honey. Just a lot to do, with school and the boutique."

  Maggy had paused for a moment, and Faith gripped her phone a little tighter.

  "Just so you aren't burning the candle at both ends. You know it's not good for you to be stressed."

  Well, there it was. Her daughter was worried...again. Whenever Faith got even close to doing too much, it brought back memories for Maggy. No matter how much Faith had tried over the years to allay her fears, they never stayed gone for long.

  But there wasn't much she could do about it now, except say what she always said.

  "I'm fine, honey. You don't need to worry about me."

  All of that had been long ago, and Faith had learned a lot about keeping things on an even keel for herself. But if she was honest, these last long weeks had made her wonder what had happened to all her stamina.

  Like she'd said to Maggy, though, she was fine, and just needed to keep swimming and keep her head above water. At least for another school year. Maybe two.

  Besides, worrying was her job and shouldn't be her daughter's. And she was a pro at it. She'd been born a worrier, and so she had decades of practice. She had it down to a science, from worrying about her students after they'd gone home to poring over her meager budget. And of course, worrying about Maggy. She'd always considered it part of her job —as a teacher, as a mom, as a friend and, previously, as a wife.

  Lord knew her ex-husband had given her plenty to worry about. At least that part was in the past now.

  The last thing Maggy had said, "You need to have some fun. Promise me," had made Faith laugh outright. The only fun she allowed herself to have was the weekends at the beach house. At least she had that —and Carrie and Jen.

  She rolled her heavy shoulders a few times, ignoring the crackling, then filled her tote bag with the things she'd need over the weekend. Thankfully, she'd been teaching kindergarten for enough years that she'd honed her lesson plans and didn't need to do much with those except tweak them for the different personalities in her classroom. And there sure were a lot of personalities. She smiled at the thought of Quinn, who refused to wear anything but dresses and seemed undaunted by the skinned knees that her attire allowed during recess when she also refused to let the boys keep her from a good game of dodge ball.

  She chuckled at the thought of Thomas and his future best friend, Alex, who'd held hands on their way in the door on the first day of school after they'd only just met. Now fast friends, they'd somehow decided to become "class helpers," strongly encouraging the others to fall in line and follow the rules. She was grateful for all the different personalities, both the easy ones and the challenging ones.

  But as they were home with their parents for the weekend, she'd do her best to fully immerse herself in the soothing sound of the waves and the warm breeze on her cheeks at the beach with her best friends. At least until she had to go
work at the boutique the next day.

  The phone on her desk buzzed, and since the class was empty, she put the intercom on speaker.

  "Faith here," she said, wondering why there were still people in the office. Usually the entire place cleared out pretty quickly on a Friday afternoon —she joked, but sometimes it felt like the grown-ups running for their lives.

  "Hi, Faith, it's Amy. I know it's Friday, and it's been a long week. Thought maybe you'd forgotten about the retirement briefing in the teachers’ lounge."

  Faith closed her eyes, and her forehead dropped into her hand. "Oh, gosh, I did. Thanks, Amy. I'll be right there."

  She clicked off the intercom and thanked her lucky stars that Amy was one of the best principals she'd ever worked with. She was thoughtful like that —reminding people about things that would help them. Retirement was still a ways off for her, but it never hurt to get as much information as possible.

  She grabbed her tote bag and took a glance around the room. Jack had enough food and water for the weekend, but she leaned over the cage anyway and blew him a kiss.

  "I'll be back before you know it, little guy," she said before she clicked off the lights, locked the door and headed to the teacher's lounge.

  Three

  "You look tired," Amy said when Faith rushed into the lounge and took a seat in the back.

  "Thanks," Faith said with a laugh. Her principal had never been one to pull punches, but that one stung a bit. Faith knew she'd been running at a pretty fast clip for weeks, but she still had her head above water.