“You don’t.”
“I do, but I don’t know how I’d pay for one anyway.”
He whispered, so Bell didn’t hear, “Your mother is dead.”
“No.”
“The RCMP were there to notify her next of kin, at her brother’s house. That’s why they were at Bruce’s.”
“They weren’t coming to arrest me? Or extradite me?”
“No.” He sat down across from me and stroked my foot as he stared at me with sad eyes.
I put my face in my hands. “What is happening? Why do they think my mother is dead?”
Sawyer had a piece of paper in his hands, folded in half. He stretched his arm out, handing it to me, but I wouldn’t touch it. I wasn’t accepting anything.
“There was a bus crash,” he said. “In Colorado. Four people died, including the driver. Your mother was one of the passengers. They think she died instantly, upon impact.”
I pulled my foot away, sickened by someone touching me while I heard this.
“It might not be her,” I said. “They can’t know for sure.”
“Yes, they can. It was her, Aubrey.”
I stared over his head, at a scratch on the white wall. How could she die when I still hated her so much?
“She had this note in her pocket,” he said. “Not this actual paper. This is a fax, of course, but I’m sure they can send you the real note if you want.”
“I don’t want to read it.”
“Of course you don’t. But you have to.”
From the other room, Bell laughed at something on her TV. How was I going to tell her?
He opened the note and put it on my lap, the printed side toward me.
It was in my mother’s handwriting, which looked so much like mine, I thought for a minute maybe it was my own letter, one of the hundreds I’d written to her but torn up. But it wasn’t.
Dear Aubrey and Annabell:
I’m so sorry that I had to go away.
I think about that day all the time. I tried to forget by drinking, but there was never enough in the bottle. I’ve been clean for the last six months, and I want to make amends to you both, but I don’t think I’m ready.
I should pay for what I’ve done, but I’m not ready for that either.
Derek was not a good man, and I shouldn’t have put you two in that home with him.
I came home that day and found him with my best friend, Angel. They were just having a drink together, and she said she came over looking for me, but I knew it wasn’t true. I could see the lies on their faces.
After she left, me and Derek got into a few. He made me so mad. I think he wanted me to hurt him. That’s no excuse, and I feel terrible for what I’ve done, but it happened in about a minute and then it was too late to take it back.
Bell, you were sleeping in your bed, and I kissed you goodbye before I left. Your eyelashes fluttered in your sleep, but you didn’t see me go.
Aubrey, you had been at school, and I passed the bus on my way out of town. I saw you sitting near the back, your nose in a book. You didn’t see me, but I waved. I’m sorry.
Aubrey, I knew that you would take care of your sister better than I ever could.
I think you both have been better off without me. That’s what I have to believe so I can sleep at night.
You are in my heart and I will always love you both.
Deenah, your mother.
***
Chapter Twenty-Nine
DECEMBER
In this part of the country, December is dark and wet. There’s very little snow to reflect the light during the day, so that makes it feel gloomy. At least the grass is green and lush from the rain.
In November, we had barely finished with the funeral arrangements for my mother and started the process of getting legal custody of Bell, when my landlord decided to kick me out.
This time, though, we didn’t have to run like rats in the light.
Sawyer found a place for the three of us, and as soon as I walked in, I knew it was home.
There was a window over the kitchen sink, and fluffy birds and squirrels in the back yard, waging war over the birdseed.
It’s a little house on a quiet street. Nothing fancy, but still better than my dreams.
Natalie and Dave sold their house, and they found a place just a few blocks over from where we live. I’m so relieved that Taylor won’t be changing schools and leaving Bell. Those two are great for each other, not to mention what an amazing friend Natalie has become to me. She says she has a new perspective on life now that she has a friend who isn’t so materialistic. She says strawberries taste better, even those pale ones you get in the dead of winter.
Natalie makes me laugh.
Lots of things make me laugh nowadays.
Grandpa Jack is doing well on his current medication. He’s got a dark sense of humor, and makes jokes about not buying green bananas, but I think he’s going to see Bell grow up and graduate.
My grandmother had a difficult time with my mother’s death. Even though they’d not spoke for over twenty years, it was tough. We talk about her regularly, so I guess she’s alive in our thoughts. Between the two of us, we both knew my mother her whole life, yet it seems like she lived two separate lives, because our versions of her are so different. When she talks about things my mother did as a teenager, I imagine her as more like me, just a young girl who fell for the wrong guy, like how I fell for Damion.
About a month after my mother passed, I was looking through my jewelry box and found a beaded bracelet she bought me at a carnival. And I actually got a good feeling from the memory. The anger is gone. If that’s as good as it gets, that’s fine by me.
She’d probably be happy to see how well Bell is doing, and how big she’s getting. She’ll be taller than a sunflower soon.
She’s not too old to make forts in the living room, though.
Natalie gave us some of their furniture when they downsized, and now I have a cream sofa that I have to worry about keeping clean.
We still have our thrift-store sofa downstairs, and I swear it’s more comfortable.
The ceiling is low in the basement, especially since Sawyer added that foam that looks like egg cartons, to make it better for band practice.
He’s still working at his father’s shop, where they make custom mill-work for fancy houses. They do everything from cabinets to tables and chairs to custom shelving, like those bookcases with the glass doors on them.
It’s the kind of work where he’s usually done at five o’clock and home by five-thirty.
He’s home just in time that we can eat dinner before Bell gets cranky.
Sawyer is still making his art, but he’s not taking commissions anymore. He just paints or draws what he feels like making, and if someone likes what he’s made, he’ll sell it or give it to them.
I’m the one who uses his paintbrushes the most. He got me started with a few pointers, and now I’m painting things. Just silly stuff, like flowers and fruit, but it’s fun. There’s no purpose to what I paint, no agenda, but it makes me happy. I can understand why there’s such a thing as art therapy.
On Wednesday nights plus weekends, Sawyer turns into a rock star. Now he’s the bass player in his friends’ band, and the other guy is the spare. Sawyer sings backup on a few songs, and he’s so cute when he’s concentrating. He says he only forgets lyrics when I’m down there watching, but I’ve heard him forget plenty of times when I’m upstairs.
The first time he told me he loved me was right after we’d been to the RCMP detachment for me to make my sworn statement about what I’d seen in the trailer. I’d gotten a deal that they wouldn’t press charges against me for my role in attempting to destroy evidence, as well as taking my sister over the border, but I still worried they’d haul me away on some technicality.
We’d sat in this awful room that reeked of disinfectant, and by comparison, giving my statement hadn’t been that terrible. Not compared to the waiting.
&n
bsp; It had been four years since Derek was killed, and imagining the sight of the body still shook me, but I could also look at it in a new way, like a picture that I was outside of. Detached. In a good way.
We walked out, and the sky was already getting dark, plus it was drizzling rain.
There was a Tim Horton’s across the street, and Sawyer made a joke about cops and donuts.
“I could go for a donut,” I said.
“You have the best ideas.”
Bell was with her grandparents, and we had the rest of the evening free, so we crossed the road and got our sugar fix.
Sawyer pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me.
As I opened the little box, he said, “Aubrey, I love you.”
Without hesitation, I said, “I love you, too. What’s this?”
He laughed. “That was easy. I wish I’d said it to you sooner.”
I pulled the ring out of the box, admiring the heart and the gemstones.
“It’s just a little token,” he said.
“Nobody’s ever given me a ring before.”
“That explains why you look so confused.” He took it from me and tried it on my fingers until we found one it fit. “I wanted to give this to you at the barbecue, but then you stole my car.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
His green eyes sparkled at me. “I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.”
I glanced over my shoulder, back to where we’d just come from.
The ordeal was nearly over. Bell’s father, Terry, said he wasn’t going to contest my application to adopt Bell, but he did want to see her some time, when she was ready.
I still hadn’t explained to her about her mother, and I planned to wait until she was at least twelve. Natalie was going to put me in contact with a family counselor who could help me sort things out.
But for now, things were good. I had to keep reminding myself.
The shining ring on my finger would certainly go a long way to helping me remember.
We drove back to the house, and enjoyed some time together, just the two of us.
We made love in our shared bed, and as we held each other afterward, he traced his fingers all over my body, asking me, “Here? How about here?”
I’d wanted to surprise him, but I didn’t like keeping anything from him, even something so small.
“Here,” I said, pointing to the inside of my hip bone. “But can you make the frog look happier in the drawing?”
“Anything for you, my love,” he said, and he kissed me on the inside of my hip bone, and then all over.
We didn’t get out of bed for hours, and our lovemaking was all the sweeter with a ring on my finger.
Sawyer said it was just a little token, but it was more than that.
I didn’t just have a ring with a heart on it. I had someone who loved me, and wanted me to know it. I had family and friends, and just like my finger had a band of gold around it, I felt like I had an aura of love and support around me.
And that wasn’t just a little token. It was everything.
MIMI STRONG writes funny, sexy books.
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One Sweet Summer
A Mermaid Isle Romance
By Cali MacKay
One Sweet Summer
A Mermaid Isle Romance
Copyright © 2013 by Cali MacKay
Published by Cali MacKay
http://calimackay.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The story contained within is the work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2013, edition 1.0
ISBN: 978-1-940041-13-1
*** This book is dedicated to Joe, Maeve and Amelia, and to my critique partners, fellow authors, and dedicated readers who are always so willing to go out of their way to help make my books a success.***
Chapter One
Riley fought to take a breath, the news hitting her like a sucker punch to the gut, her world crumbling out from under her. “You can’t sell the inn. It’s the heart of the island. It’s my home.”
She knew business had slowed with the downturn in the economy, but they’d managed to stay profitable, even if the numbers were down. She’d hosted conferences and booked more weddings, kept the numbers up for the artist retreats, and even held treasure hunts for the legendary Mermaid Isle pirate treasure. They’d all busted their butts to make sure the inn stayed afloat. It was just a rough patch they’d need to ride out, but they’d been through worse and managed to pull through.
“Riley, you’ve done an amazing job running the place, and it’s because of you that we’ve managed to hold on as long as we have. But the roof will need to be replaced in the next year or two, and the entire place needs to be updated. We just don’t have the money to keep up with everything that’s needed, and the truth is, we’re getting old. We want to retire while we’re still young enough to enjoy it.” Jack reached over and took Ava’s hand, giving her a smile. Married forty years and still in love like they were teenagers.
She could only be so lucky to find love like that someday.
Ava’s easy smile could normally part the grayest clouds, yet today, it did little to take the edge off Riley’s nerves. “We weren’t looking to sell just yet, but we got an offer out of the blue. We couldn’t refuse, Riley, but we negotiated your position into the sale, so you’ll have nothing to worry about. You have the option to continue working at the Siren Song Inn or you can take the generous severance package they’re offering. We’re hoping you’ll stay, though. It’ll be easier for us to leave the place if we know you’ll still be here to take care of it.”
At least she could still stay if she wanted to. Not that it would be the same with Jack and Ava gone and new owners at the helm. They’d want to change it. Turn it into another cookie-cutter hotel. Gone would be her artist’s collective and the herbalist conference. And who knew what they’d do with the century-old cottages.
Maybe if it was an individual or a couple rather than some corporation. They might stand a chance then. “Who’s bought the Siren?”
As if reading her thoughts, Jack frowned. “Holt Enterprises. They’re big, but promised to let you take the lead on the changes they’ll be making.”
Yeah…and dreams were made of cotton candy and gumdrops. She bit back a groan, not wanting to make this anymore difficult on Jack and Ava than it already was. “Where will you go?” Now that she’d made Mermaid Isle her home, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
“Honey, another Maine winter will do us in.” Jack sat back and laughed. “I want sun and warm waters. Sandy beaches that I can walk on without getting swept out to sea. Drinks I can sip out of a coconut or pineapple and are loaded up with rum.”
Riley wanted to protest that they could have those things here, but knew it wasn’t the same. And Jack was right—the winters could be harsh this far north, even if they were still in the southern part of Maine.
“Might do a bit of traveling before we settle down.” Ava looked at her, her motherly concern still worrying her brown eyes. “But we’ll come back during the summers. And we’ll stay in touch. We’ll only be a phone call or email away—not to mention all the current technology. What’s it called? Swipe?”
That made Riley laugh. “The world must be coming to an end then, if I’m going to finally get you two to go online and actually answer emails.”
&n
bsp; “You’ll manage just fine, my dear.” Ava got to her feet and Jack followed suit. “If anything, you might finally get the funds to do all those things you’ve been wanting to do here at the Siren. Change is good.”
“When? When will the sale be finalized?” Riley’s breath hitched as she waited for an answer. She’d come here every summer as a child, worked at the inn during her vacations once she’d turned eighteen, and then full-time straight out of college. It was where she’d grown up, where she’d fallen in love for the first time. It was all she knew, all she loved—and she’d given it her all.
“In two weeks. And don’t worry—we’ll tell the others.” Ava gave her a big hug. “Just remember, this will always be the Siren Song Inn. As long as you’re here, the heart of it will never change.”
“I hope you’re right.” She couldn’t bear to think of the Siren changing so much it no longer felt like home.
Riley waited for Jack and Ava to leave her office and then collapsed into her chair, tears stinging her eyes as she tried to swallow down the golf ball-sized lump in her throat. She knew they’d been looking to retire, but she hadn’t expected them to sell the place. Not that she held it against them—all their money was tied up in the inn, and they’d never be able to retire without freeing up those funds.
She thought of what the Siren meant to so many people. Cultivated over the years to be an artist’s retreat, there was a long list of people who came year after year to meet with other like-minded folks, and be inspired by the rugged natural beauty and colorful town.
Unlike other places that catered only to the rich and well off, Mermaid Isle was more approachable and far more unique than any other resort town Riley had ever been to, especially given its long history. Legend had it that thieves and pirates had stashed their plunder in one of the many caves that could be found on the island, and later, it was settled by a small group of women who’d come north to escape the witch trials that reached far past Salem. Add to that the commune that blossomed in the sixties and the artisans that flocked to it in the last few decades, and it would be impossible to duplicate the character of the island and its people.
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