by JoAnn Durgin
Charlie darted another glance Clinton’s way. “He’s missed you more than you know.”
Kicking up sand, she nodded. “I know, although sometimes he has an odd way of showing it.” Following Charlie’s gaze, she couldn’t stop her grin. “At the moment, I’m hoping it wasn’t a major mistake leaving Jackson alone with him. That could spell trouble.”
“You know your dad. Clinton’s not always big on showing his emotions, but it doesn’t mean they’re not there. Just means they’re below the surface.” He smiled as Clinton gestured with his hands and Jackson’s laugh carried on the wind. “He held out hope you’d come home sooner or later, and I can see you’re already doing him a world of good. If I know him like I think I do, he’s singing your praises to the doctor.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured. “I’m worried about him. He won’t let anyone else take care of him. Either that or he runs them all off with his ill manners and sour attitude.”
Charlie’s dark eyes met hers. “I think he did that on purpose, too, as a way to get you back here. And here you are.”
“We both need closure, Charlie. Until we know once and for all what happened, neither one of us will be completely free.” She lifted her shoulders. “Problem is, I don’t have the first idea where or how to look for answers.”
“Free in what way?” Charlie tilted his head, watching her closely.
She had a feeling he already knew but wanted to hear it from her. “I need to find that peace that passes all understanding the Lord promises.”
Charlie’s face brightened and a grin stretched his mouth wide. “You’ve finally met Jesus, have you, child?” When she nodded, he opened his arms and gathered her close in a bear hug, dislodging her hat and knocking it to the sand. She felt the low rumble of his rich chuckle. “Praise God. I’ve been praying a long time. And my Marcela’s surely rejoicing in Heaven with this news.” He kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair. “And God bless that angel out there somewhere who led you to our precious Savior.”
How she loved this man. “I’ve missed you so much, Charlie.” Leaning her head on his massive chest, Serenity blew out a long breath. “Thanks for praying for me even when I didn’t know I needed it.”
“That’s one of the best things about praying for your loved ones, honey.” Charlie lifted her chin with a gentle hand. “It’s a privilege and an honor. We have a great and merciful Father who graces us with exactly what we need, including bringing special people in our lives. When I lost my Marcela, the Lord knows I wanted to die in her place, but God showed me how blessed I was to have her in my life, no matter for how long. Now, your dad? Well, he’s stuck between the knowing and the not knowing, and that’s a mighty tough place to live.” Charlie’s dark, expressive eyes were full. “Mark my words, the Almighty’s working miracles in your life, and you need to be open to embracing them.”
“The Lord’s working miracles in my life, Charlie? That’s really what you believe?”
“Sure as I know you’re standing here with me on this beach. Joy follows suffering, and I want to be here when you find your joy, your peace.” Lifting his face to the sky, Charlie raised his arms. “And, oh, what a day of rejoicing that will be!”
He’d loved and lost…and survived, just as she had. She knew Charlie thought of Liam, the same as she did. In his all-too-brief day of life, Liam had settled in her soul. In their well-meaning way, people told her she’d marry again one day and have more children. But “more” was only a number, a word that couldn’t mean the same thing. Although precious, no child could take the place of, or replace, her son.
Swallowing her tears, Serenity nodded. “I hope you’re right, Charlie.” Looking out over the distant horizon, she pushed aside long strands of her hair from her cheeks and her long, white cotton skirt swirled around her ankles. “I need to find out if Mama’s still breathing somewhere on this planet. I want to know more about how and why Danny was murdered.” Retrieving her hat, she turned back to him. “I need to find out what really happened the day Liam died. You’re right about the not knowing part. It’s what makes it so difficult to sleep and truly rest, you know?”
Love for her was etched into Charlie’s weathered but still handsome face, nearly stealing her breath. A face filled with incredible hope and steadfast faith. “I’m here to help, if you need me, and I’ll keep on praying.” His gaze strayed over her shoulder. “I think there might be another reason you were meant to come home now, too.”
Serenity shook her head with a small smile. “Did you not hear what I said before?”
Taking her by the elbow, Charlie walked beside her. “I did, but the Lord also knows what you need. Look to Him and you’ll find your answers, child. All of them.” Putting his arm around her, Charlie squeezed her shoulder. “And cliché or not, I’m gonna pray they’ll finally set you free.”
~CHAPTER 8~
Late on Tuesday morning, Serenity sensed movement outside the picture window of her outer office. She smiled when she spied Jackson, half-hidden behind a tall, robust potted plant. Returning her attention to the message she was writing to her assistant, Kelsie, she tried to focus.
Jackson opened the glass front door a minute later and strolled inside. “Greetings, my lovely decorator. Where should I put my office-warming gift for Inner Serenity? Great name for your business, by the way. Clever.” Surveying the small office, he nodded as if in approval. The sleeves of his pale yellow cotton shirt were rolled to his elbows, and he wore it open and loose over a white T-shirt. Well-worn jeans, no socks and tennis shoes completed today’s version of dressed-down casual. No man wore it better.
“Thanks.” Scribbling the rest of the message to Kelsie, Serenity stuck the bright pink note on the computer screen. “What a beautiful plant. It’ll definitely liven up the place. How about putting it next to the chair and table?” She pointed to the side wall. “I think it’d look great over there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Following her suggestion, Jackson lowered it to the floor.
She could tell he hadn’t bought the plant in the anemic floral department at McHenry’s. Sure enough, a glance at the familiar logo on the tag told her it came from Lefevre’s Nursery the next town over, known across the region for their award-winning arrangements.
“Why didn’t you tell me you might need some help unpacking boxes?”
“What little Croisette Shores seagull told you I might need help?” No doubt Charlie had something to do with it.
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I saw a notice in the Croisette Shores Daily News.” Amusement surfaced in Jackson’s dark eyes.
“I certainly hope not, but I’m pretty sure I can’t afford your rates. If you insist on sticking around, fair warning, I will put you to work.”
“I’m sure we can come to terms,” Jackson said as a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Oh, wait a sec.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Sorry it’s not in pristine condition, but here’s your signed contract. You’ll notice I added an addendum at the bottom since you’ve agreed to help with the playground. By the way, have I told you how happy I am about that?”
“I think you just did.” Unfolding the paper, Serenity glanced at the bottom where he’d handwritten—scrawled, really—but she could still read the words, “Secondary project: Beacham Street Playground.” He’d listed more than generous terms of payment and signed it.
“Thank you,” she said, putting it on Kelsie’s desk. “I’ll sign it before you leave and give you a copy. I feel silly asking you to sign a contract, but...” She’d probably negate the bottom portion of the contract at some point, anyway. In good conscience, how could she accept payment for help with a project meant to benefit her old neighborhood?
“No need to feel silly,” he said. “I completely understand. Business is business.” He cocked his head to one side and peeked around the corner into her office. “Is that Mozart coming from what I assume is your office?”
&nbs
p; “Why, yes, it is. Name the symphony and I’ll give you a gift.”
“Haven’t a clue, but come on, you’ve got to give me some credit for the recognition factor.”
“You’re right. Let me go get your gift.”
“Seriously? I thought you were joking. Should I close my eyes?”
“If you want. And, for the record, it’s Mozart’s Symphony Number Five in G Minor, a must for all Mozart lovers.”
“I like it,” Jackson called after her when she walked into her office. “This part’s light and fun. Makes me feel like we should be in a ballroom and dancing the pirouette or whatever they danced back then.”
Smiling, Serenity grabbed the bag Deidre had dropped off earlier that morning. Jackson stood in the middle of the outer office, eyes closed, a goofy grin on his face. Pulling out the stuffed giraffe, she held it up. “Okay. You can open your eyes now.”
He laughed as he took the giraffe from her. “This is great! Thanks. My patients will love this little guy. What shall we call him?”
“Why don’t you let your patient who likes giraffes name him? And you can thank my friend, Deidre. She ran to the toy store yesterday and picked him up.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. “You want to go with me sometime to get more animals to populate my small zoo? After all, we can’t leave...the giraffe-with-no-name all by his lonesome for long.”
“As long as you’re not like Noah and need two of every kind,” she teased.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Jackson’s smile was irresistible, and she needed to be strong and not surrender to her inclination to spend a lot of time with him even though he was her client. Especially because he was her client. Then again, if Jackson needed her help, who was she to resist?
“Let me check my schedule,” she said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Great. Now, time to put me to work. Where shall I start?” Jackson rubbed his hands together. He motioned to the boxes lined up in front of Kelsie’s desk and arched a brow. “Want me to open some of those?”
“It’s not like I have a U-Haul to unload,” she said. “It’s only a few boxes of things Dad’s kept at the house. He figured whatever’s in these boxes will give my office character and infuse it with my personality...or something like that.” She stopped when she realized she was rambling. “I’ll start on this one.” She motioned for him to open another one. Sliding scissors down the middle seam and opening the flaps of a cardboard box, Serenity pulled out bubble wrap and newspaper filler and tossed them to the floor.
Turning a smaller box around to read the label, Jackson raised a brow. “Princess Serenity Keepsakes?”
Her gaze dropped to the box. “Dad used to call me that.”
“Have you been holding out on me?” Jackson’s eyes widened. “You’re one of those long-lost French royals, aren’t you?”
She waved her hand as if in dismissal. “Thou shalt not mock Her Royal Highness lest thou risk being separated from one’s head.” Rolling her eyes, she smirked. “Wow. I make a terrible royal.”
Jackson laughed. “Don’t most dads call their little girl princess?”
Serenity tried not to stare as he removed his shirt. The T-shirt beneath it was form fitting and showed off his muscles to full advantage. Why am I thinking such things? “I wouldn’t know, but sand castles are involved in my story. Might as well go ahead and open it.” She averted her gaze and nodded to the box at his feet.
“I have no idea what’s in them,” she said. “Dad made me promise not to look until I brought them here.” She blew out a breath, wondering if she should open the boxes in private. “It could be fun, but it could also prove a nightmare of untold proportions. Anything you open is at your own risk, and you might be the one needing a shrink.”
Jackson chuckled and tugged a pocket knife from his jeans, hesitating with it poised in mid-air. “I’ll take my chances. If it’s too personal, I won’t intrude. Say the word.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, motioning for him to continue. As she unpacked desk supplies from her box, she kept one eye on him as he split the small box down the middle in one swift motion. That one contained knick-knacks but she paused a couple of minutes later when she saw him open a wide, flat box marked Fragile. Handle with care.
When Jackson removed the bubble wrap, unearthing the treasure beneath it, her breath caught in her throat. She remembered the day that photograph was taken. A framed, medium-sized black and white photograph, it depicted her mother blowing a dandelion toward the five-year-old version of herself. Elise’s long, blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Joy was written in every nuance of her face, mirrored by Serenity’s expression as she reached toward the sky. She loved the crispness of the image. The eye was drawn to the subject without the distraction of color. The photographer had captured a spontaneous, whimsical and tender mother-daughter moment. She remembered the day like it was yesterday.
Oh, Mama, where are you?
Taking the photo from him, Serenity moved one hand over her heart. The reality of how much she’d missed her mother was as sharp as a physical pain. “I haven’t seen this in a long time. It used to hang in my parents’ bedroom and I always loved it.” Her father did, too, but it must have been too much for him to face it on a daily basis.
“You look a lot like her.” Jackson glanced up at her. “She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. She is—was.” She caught his compliment but ignored it, not sure how to respond. “Mama won a few beauty pageants when she was a teenager before she decided it was more cool to be anti-establishment.”
Jackson turned the frame over, inspecting the back. “Elise and Serenity. No year listed, but I’d guess you were about six or seven?”
“Five, actually.” She ran one finger across the glass. “She always spoke in a firm voice, but beneath it all, she was very loving. Her skin was soft and smooth and smelled like honeysuckle. Sorry, you probably don’t care about things like that.”
“Sure I do. You care about them, so that makes it important. Where do you want to hang it?”
Shaking her head, a pervasive sadness settled inside her. “I don’t. I know it’s not the mature thing, but I can’t, Jackson. Seeing this only reminds me how much I miss her. My memories can’t bring Mama back from...wherever she is, and I’m not sure I could face this every day. It’d probably be counterproductive.” It was the first time she’d admitted to anyone else the very real possibility that her mother might be dead.
“If you want to share more about her, I’m willing to listen,” Jackson said.
“You don’t always have to play the psychologist role, you know.”
It was his turn to ignore her comment. “I’ll put it over here for now.” He propped the framed photograph against the wall. Picking up the pocket knife, he opened another box as she sorted through small containers of more miscellaneous desk supplies. When he asked her where to put certain items, she pointed to her office or Kelsie’s desk.
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Finally, she blew out a breath. “Okay, here’s something for you. Mama loved pears.” She hated using past tense, but it was becoming more natural. Pushing the thought aside, she focused on Jackson.
His lips twisted in a grin. “Pears? You mean like the fruit?”
That made her smile. “No, like the basketball team. Yes, like the fruit. They were on her apron, bordering our dishes, painted on the drinking glasses, the clock... Everywhere you looked, there they were. Happy little pears with smiley faces, dancing pears, you name it.” Raising her hands, Serenity danced her fingers through the air. “They were ridiculous but still kind of cute. She limited them to the kitchen, thank goodness. I think Mama knew Dad would overrule them anywhere else in the house. Even though he’d never admit it, I think Dad found them sort of endearing, too.”
“Well, everyone needs a...hobby.” Jackson’s grin deepened, and the hint of his charming dimple made its appearance. “Tell me now, do yo
u share a similar fruit obsession?”
“No,” she said with a return grin, “believe it or not, that’s one area of my psyche that’s remained remarkably sane.”
“Now see? You’ve got to stop saying things like that.” Jackson surprised her with the sudden firmness in his tone. “You’re more well-adjusted than most people I know, Serenity. Trust me on that one.”
Dropping to the floor, he patted the carpet beside him. “Come and sit with me. If you have time, I’d like to hear more.”
She eyed him for a long moment. Revealing more of her life would strengthen the bond already developing between them. Surely Jackson must know that. It’s the way it always worked. Problem was, could she tell him about Mama without everything spilling over?
“I don’t bite. Promise.”
“Jackson, I…”
~CHAPTER 9~
I have no willpower whatsoever.
Serenity sat facing Jackson, both cross-legged on the floor of Inner Serenity. “Mama was eccentric, but that was part of her innate charm.”
“Exhibit A, a predilection for anything pear-related,” he said, chuckling when he caught her glance. “Sorry. Zipping my lips. I’m all ears. Speak to me.”
“When all the other moms showed up at school in their normal mom clothes, Mama breezed in with her long, flowing broomstick skirt, halter top, flip flops and long, dangly earrings. She didn’t wear much makeup, but she liked to wear lipstick so shiny you could see your reflection in it. Mama refused to wear a jacket in the colder months. The thing is, she rarely got sick or caught a cold. Said it had something to do with the immunity she’d built up working in the hospital.”
“What else?” Jackson leaned his chin on his hand, elbow resting on one knee. He appeared genuinely interested in hearing her memories. Serenity hoped he’d return the favor sometime and tell her about his family. Other than that he was from the Chicago area and raised in a privileged family, she didn’t know much.