Suddenly One Summer

by Barbara Freethy

  Kimmy was Lexie’s new best friend and while Jenna had met Kimmy’s mother, Robin Cooper, they’d exchanged little more than casual conversation outside the school. She knew that sitting down to dinner with Kimmy’s family would mean questions. She only hoped both she and Lexie could keep the answers straight. “All right, but you need to remember our rules, okay?”

  “I remember,” Lexie grumbled. “But—”

  “But what?” Jenna asked. “There are no exceptions, Lex.”

  “Don’t you think Daddy misses me? Don’t you think he’s lonely without me?”

  Jenna stopped abruptly at Lexie’s words. She pulled Lexie to one side and squatted down to look her straight in the eye. “Your daddy is sick, honey. He needs to be by himself right now, so he can get better. That’s why we can’t call him or tell him where we are. It’s important that you remember that—that you continue to play our game.”

  Lexie’s lips turned down in a sulky frown. “But—”

  “There aren’t any but’s,” Jenna said, cutting her off. “No exceptions.”

  “What if he needs me to get better?”

  “I know you want to help him, but your father has to do this on his own.”

  “What if the bad guy hurts Daddy?”

  Jenna drew in a deep breath. She didn’t know what Lexie remembered about the days before their flight, or if what she remembered had anything to do with what really happened. Lexie seemed to mix bits and pieces of fantasy in with reality. Jenna supposed that was normal, but she really had no idea. She knew Lexie needed counseling, but that was a risk she couldn’t take right now.

  “Your father will be fine,” she said, “but you have to promise me that you’ll stick to our story. It’s really important.”

  Lexie slowly nodded, the rebellious light fading from her eyes. “But do you think Daddy misses me?”

  “I know he does,” Jenna said, hoping that was the right thing to say.

  Lexie smiled again. “I think he does, too. Look, there’s Kimmy!” Lexie pointed down the street to where Kimmy and her mother were entering the Angel’s Heart Quilt Shop, then tugged on Jenna’s hand. “Come on. I don’t want to be late on the first day of class.”

  The night before, Jenna had succumbed to Lexie’s incessant pleading and agreed to take her to the children’s beginning quilt class. It had become evident since they’d moved to Angel’s Bay that while fishing and tourism were important to the town’s economy, quilting was its soul.

  Since learning to quilt was the first thing Lexie had shown any real interest in since moving to Angel’s Bay, besides the angels, Jenna hated to say no. Lexie needed a creative outlet for the turmoil she’d gone through, and perhaps this was it.

  The quilt shop was located in a big converted barn on Ocean Avenue. Every Monday night, dozens of women gathered on the second floor of the shop for community quilting night. In addition to making quilts for new brides and new babies, the Angel’s Bay quilts were also sold worldwide, and business was thriving. Jenna had been invited to take one of the adult classes but had managed to beg off. She’d managed to avoid even stepping into the quilt shop until now, knowing that getting any more integrated into the community would mean answering more questions, and it was difficult to keep the facts and the fiction straight in her mind.

  “Do you think I can make a quilt for my bed today?” Lexie asked as they approached the store.

  “I think it will take a few classes before you can make a quilt.” Jenna cast a quick look over her shoulder, unable to shake her uneasy feeling.

  “You’re hurting my hand,” Lexie complained.

  She eased her grip. “Sorry, honey.” She glanced down at Lexie and saw the worry flash in her eyes. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.” She said the words firmly as much to reassure herself as Lexie. She let go of Lexie’s hand and opened the door to the shop.

  The first floor was filled with colorful bolts of fabric, pattern books, an array of sewing machines, and assorted threads, measuring tapes, appliqué materials, and embroidery hoops. The walls were covered with beautiful quilts, including one that was preserved in a glass case on the sidewall.

  As Jenna had expected, the shop was crowded with women and children, some shopping, some chatting by the coffeepot, and others sitting on comfy couches working on needlepoint squares. A crowd was gathered upstairs in the loft, where much of the community quilting was done and where the adult classes were held. At the back of the shop were two long tables where children were picking out fabrics they would use for their first quilt project.

  Lexie saw Kimmy and immediately headed in that direction. Jenna followed more slowly, realizing with every step that she was fast becoming the center of attention. She smiled nervously at some familiar faces. She’d met a few of the moms while taking Lexie back and forth to school, the library, and the playground, but she’d never had more than a brief conversation with any of them. She suspected that most of the moms either thought she was a snob or very shy. In truth, she hadn’t kept her distance just because she was afraid of their questions, but because she really didn’t know what to say to them. This world that she and Lexie had landed in was completely different from the world they’d left.

  “Here’s the heroine now,” said Kara Lynch, a pretty dark redhead in her early thirties with friendly brown eyes, a blooming smile, and a ready laugh. Kara’s grandmother, Fiona Murray, owned the quilt shop. Kara also worked in the local real estate office and had rented Jenna her house, making her one of the few women in town that Jenna had gotten to know a little bit. Kara was married to Colin Lynch, an officer in the police department, and they were expecting their first child in the fall.

  Next to Kara was Theresa Monroe, who was married to Angel Bay’s mayor, Robert Monroe. Theresa was a sleek blonde whose hair was cut very short and on the diagonal. She wore a beautifully tailored black dress and looked as out of place as Jenna felt.

  “Hello,” Jenna said, greeting them both.

  “Do you know Theresa?” Kara asked.

  “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Jenna replied. “I’m Jenna Davies.”

  “Theresa Monroe. It’s lovely to meet you.” Theresa offered Jenna a brief handshake, her eyes cool. “My husband told me about your incredible rescue last night. We’re all very impressed by your courage.”

  “It was nothing,” Jenna said, feeling uncomfortable under their curious scrutiny.

  “I can’t believe you jumped into the water like that,” Kara said. “Weren’t you scared?”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn’t have time to think. Have you heard how the girl is?” Jenna had been wondering about the young woman all day.

  “Colin says she’s going to be fine,” Kara replied. “She’s pregnant, you know.”

  “I—I didn’t,” Jenna said, surprised. “She seemed so young.”

  “Old enough, I guess. But the big question on everyone’s mind is—who’s the father?” Kara’s gaze swung from Jenna to Theresa.

  “Probably some teenage boy,” Theresa muttered.

  “You never know,” Kara said. “It could be anyone in town, even one of the married men.”

  “Well, I really don’t have time to gossip about it,” Theresa said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I just dropped in to pick up some thread for my mother. It was a pleasure, Jenna. I hope to see you again soon.”

  “Well, that was interesting,” Kara said as Theresa left the store.

  “What?”

  “Theresa said she came here for thread, but she didn’t buy any. I suspect she came for information.” Kara cast a quick look over one shoulder, as if she didn’t want to be caught gossiping, although from what Jenna could see all the women in the shop were whispering to each other. “The girl you rescued works for Myra’s Cleaning Service,” Kara continued. “They clean most of the big houses in town, including the mayor’s. Word is there are some wives who are mighty concerned that the cleaning service was doing a little
more than cleaning at their homes, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh.” Jenna didn’t quite know how to respond. She’d never had a lot of girlfriends growing up, and while she appreciated being the recipient rather than the target of gossip, she was also caught a little off guard.

  “Theresa’s husband, the mayor, is a big flirt. Good looking man, too. Not that I’m saying anything, but Theresa sure left in a hurry when the conversation turned to that girl.”

  “The mayor is in his forties. The girl is a teenager,” Jenna protested.

  “And your point is?” Kara asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Jenna sighed. “Right.”

  “Thank goodness Colin and I can’t afford a cleaning service,” Kara added with a little laugh. She put a hand on her bulging belly. “The baby is kicking up a storm today.”

  “When are you due?”

  “September. I’m hoping for a girl.” Kara gave a guilty smile. “I shouldn’t say that, because I really just want a healthy baby, but I’ve always been a girly girl. I don’t think I’d know what to do with a boy.”

  “Are you going to find out the sex ahead of time?”

  “Colin doesn’t want to. He wants it to be a surprise at the end. I said it could be a surprise now, but he’s a stubborn Irishman. There’s no changing his mind once he’s made it up. He’s a good guy, and he’ll make a great father. It took us four and a half years to get pregnant. I didn’t think it would ever happen. This baby is such a blessing. Sorry for running on and on—I’m just so happy, I feel like I’m bursting with it sometimes.”

  Jenna smiled. It was impossible not to. There was so much joy in Kara’s eyes, it was contagious.

  “So can I help with you anything?” Kara asked. “Do you want to sign up for a class, pick out some fabrics, check out our latest sewing machines? I have to ask, because I’m working right now for my grandmother. She had to step out for a few minutes, and she hates it when customers don’t get personal service.”

  “I’m just dropping off Lexie for her class. I don’t need anything.”

  “You should take one of the adult classes. Since you play the piano I’m sure you’re good with your hands, and you might enjoy quilting. It’s creative, therapeutic, fun, and practical. The nights can get cold around here, especially in the winter. Quilts come in very handy.”

  “I don’t even know how to sew a seam.” Nor could she possibly take on one more challenge in her life.

  “It’s easy to learn. Believe me, if you stay in Angel’s Bay, you’ll soon find yourself picking out fabrics and patterns. Quilting is a big part of life around here. It’s who we are and who we’ll always be. That’s what my grandmother says, anyway. She believes that the traditions passed from one generation to the next keep us connected to each other in a world that’s getting bigger and faster and more chaotic. I think she’s right.”

  “I do, too.” Jenna knew all too well how fragile connections could be, how easily one could be cut off from the rest of the world. “Did your grandmother teach you to quilt?”

  “Before I was in kindergarten. My earliest memories are of picking out fabrics with her, listening to her tell me the story of the town, the Murray family, all the generations of women who quilted before me. My mother really doesn’t care for quilting, but she was forced into it when she married a Murray. It’s a family tradition that started when the town was born. Have you heard the story?”

  “Some of it, but I don’t want to keep you from your other customers.”

  Kara gave a casual wave. “Everyone seems happy enough. You’ve heard about the shipwreck, right? Well, after the survivors made it to shore, one of the first things the women did was make a quilt to honor those who had died. Each square was made by one of the survivors and tells their story. For the men who didn’t have wives or mothers, one of the women interviewed them and made their square based on the information they gave.” Kara tipped her head toward the wall. “That’s the original quilt there.”

  Jenna followed Kara’s gaze to the large glass case on the nearby wall. She moved across the aisle to take a better look. She’d never grown up with quilts—her parents’ house had been one of elegance and sophistication. The furniture and décor had been a mix of black and white, with very little color anywhere. And what color there was had disappeared after her mother died, when her father wiped away all traces of the past.

  She’d always thought of quilts as homespun art: simple blocks, triangles, squares, patterns. But the Angel’s Bay quilt was a complicated pattern of symbols as well as a mix of fabrics and textures.

  “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 overwhelming. 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.”