Suddenly One Summer

by Barbara Freethy

  “Where are you going?” the woman next to him asked. “I thought we were getting acquainted.”

  He didn’t reply; he had one goal and one goal only. Someone blocked his way. He shoved the person aside, intent on getting to the other end of the bar. He sensed Allison was slipping away.

  “Hey, watch it,” a man protested.

  “Get out of my way,” Reid said abruptly.

  “You need to learn some manners,” the man replied, the strong scent of whiskey coming from his mouth.

  Reid tried to step past him, but the man grabbed his arm. Reid pulled away and stumbled into someone else. That guy shoved him back, and suddenly fists were flying. Reid took a shot to the face and felt blood spurt from his nose.

  “Fuck,” he roared, swinging back in retaliation. All the pain of the last year surged to the surface, begging to be released. It felt good to hit someone, to hit something, to let the anger out. He wasn’t just fighting to get across the room anymore; he was fighting to get his life back. And it felt damn good.

  Joe Silveira looked at the bloodied, bruised faces of the three men who sat in lockup. Two of his officers, Colin Lynch and Henry Markham, had broken up the fight and brought the men back to the station. Joe had let them stew in the cell for the past hour, but he felt like getting home now. As bar fights went, this one had been pretty tame. It had been broken up almost as soon as it started, with minimal damage to the bar.

  He recognized the Harlan brothers, Roger and Bill. They ran the hardware store in town. The third was a stranger, a reporter by the name of Reid Tanner, apparently in town to report on the angels.

  Joe didn’t usually handle the Friday night bar fights. He left that for his officers, but he’d sent Colin and Henry home. The men had wives, families, and he didn’t. At least no one who was here, which was why he’d decided to work late. The loneliness of his life was beginning to get to him. He liked his house, the town, and his job, but there was a big hole in the personal department. He missed Rachel. He missed sleeping with her, talking to her, even listening to her chatter about her damn job. But he was here and she wasn’t, and he didn’t know when that would change.

  “Chief, it was his fault,” Roger Harlan said, pointing to Tanner. “He hit me first.”

  The reporter didn’t bother to argue, but then he hadn’t had much to say for himself since he’d been brought in.

  “That’s right, and he damn near knocked me over,” Bill slurred, backing up his brother.

  “You got anything to say?” Joe asked Reid.

  “Nope.”

  “Great.” He considered his options. The Harlan brothers had been drinking heavily since their mother had passed on a month earlier. He suspected they’d probably started the fight, since Roger had a short fuse, especially after some drinks. “One of you elbowed my officer in the face,” he stated. “Assaulting a police officer is a serious crime.”

  Roger frowned. “That was an accident. I wouldn’t hit Colin on purpose; he’s like a brother. I grew up with him. You know that.”

  Joe did know that. He also knew that Colin wasn’t interested in pressing charges against a long-time fishing buddy, nor did any of the men seem inclined to press charges against one another, which made his job a lot easier.

  “All right,” he said. “Here’s the deal. You’ll all pay for the damages to Murray’s. And on Sunday, the beach patrol could use some volunteers to clean up after the festival breaks down. I’ll expect to see the three of you out there.”

  The men all gave a nod.

  “Good. Now if any of you so much as spit in the street, I’ll haul your asses back in here on all sorts of charges.” He opened the door. “Roger, Bill, your wives are waiting out front. Go home and stay out of trouble.”

  The Harlan brothers left. As Reid Tanner got up, Joe stepped in front of him. “Why don’t you hang on a sec?”

  Reid gave him a hard look. “Special treatment for the out-of-towners, Chief?”

  “Just thought we’d have a little conversation,” Joe said. “What’s a former hotshot reporter for the Washington D.C. Journal doing here in Angel’s Bay?”

  “You did your homework.”

  “I like to know who’s in town. You seem to have a reputation for stirring up trouble. The last story you wrote got you fired.”

  “Actually, I quit. And I’m not looking for trouble, just for angels—like everyone else.”

  “Did you see any at Murray’s Bar?”

  “Nope. Just a fucking ghost,” Reid replied sharply, anger still simmering in his eyes.

  “Tequila will do that to you.”

  “You’re probably right about that. Can I go?”

  “In a minute. What have you discovered about the angel video?”

  Reid frowned. “Not a hell of a lot. Why?”

  “I’ve been wondering what’s going on down at the cliff myself. I’ve had officers patrolling the area to see if anyone is attempting to deface the front of the cliff, but no one has seen a thing. Yet every day there appears to be some new mark, usually seen after the fog lifts. I can’t imagine how anyone could get up or down that cliff in the foggy darkness, but I have no other explanation.”

  “Neither do I, Chief.”

  “But you’ll let me know if you get one. Before I read about it in your magazine.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “If it’s not the work of angels, I’ll certainly let you know.”

  “Do you need a ride to your hotel?” Joe wasn’t normally in the habit of offering rides to people he’d locked up, but it might be a good idea to keep an eye on Tanner. It struck him as wrong that a reporter of Reid’s caliber would be working on a piece about angels. It made him think the man had another reason for being in town.

  “I’d rather walk,” Reid said.

  “Think you can make it back without getting into any more fights?”

  “I didn’t start the last one.”

  “But you didn’t turn away.” Joe gave Reid a speculative look. “Sometimes it feels good to fight back, doesn’t it?”

  “What would you know about that, Chief?”

  “More than I can say. You might want to put some ice on your face. You’re going to have a hell of a shiner in the morning. I’m betting it’s not your first.”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  “Don’t make me sorry I let you go with just a warning,” Joe said as Reid headed out the door.

  After Reid left, Joe walked back to his office and shut down his computer. He turned off the lights, closed up the office, said good-bye to the night dispatcher, then headed for home. He wasn’t looking forward to his cold house or his empty bed, but maybe he was finally tired enough now to sleep. For a married man, he spent a hell of a lot of nights alone.

  TEN

  Kara watched her husband sleep. She didn’t like the look of the small bruise under his eye. Fortunately for the Harlan brothers, Colin was an easygoing guy who didn’t feel like bringing old friends up on assault charges. Kara didn’t feel nearly so charitable; she hated it when Colin got hurt. Actually, she hated whenever he had to do anything remotely dangerous. Thankfully, Angel’s Bay was a peaceful town, but deep in her heart she was terrified far more than she should be every time her husband left the house.

  It had gotten worse since she’d become pregnant; she kept thinking of all the things that could go wrong. What if the fight Colin had broken up had turned deadly? What if someone had pulled out a knife or a gun? What would she have done if something had happened to him? She couldn’t bear the thought. She put her hand on his arm, reassured by the solid muscle. She knew that Colin was more than capable of taking care of himself. And he’d taken great care of her for most of her life. He had a heart as big as the ocean, with so much love inside, and he’d always wanted to give that love to her, even when she hadn’t wanted to take it.

  She slipped out of bed, threw on her robe, and left the room. It was four o’clock in the morning, but she felt too keyed up to slee
p. Moving down the hall, she opened the door to the baby’s room. Colin had put up new wallpaper last weekend, with balloons and circus animals, but no clowns, because she’d always thought they were more scary than funny.

  She smiled as she crossed the room to look at the crib her mother had given her. Most of the Murray children had slept in that crib, including her older brothers, Shane and Patrick, her younger sister, Dee, and her younger brother, Michael. The idea that her baby would be sleeping there, too, seemed exactly right. The Murrays had always been about family, which was why they’d taken in the baby, Gabriella, so long ago.

  She hadn’t thought about their history in ages, but talking to Jenna had reminded her of the deep connection she had to the place where she’d lived her entire life and planned to stay forever. Thank goodness Colin felt the same way. His childhood had been far rockier than hers. His parents had split when he was young. His father had moved to San Diego, and Colin had spent many summers going back and forth between his mom and dad. Then both of his parents had remarried and started other families, and Colin had gotten lost in the shuffle. But he’d always been welcome at her house, always been welcome in her heart. And now they would have a baby to share their love.

  They’d wanted a baby forever, and she’d almost lost hope. The rockiest part of their marriage had been the year before the pregnancy test had come back positive. For months, the struggle to conceive had put tension between them, and for a while she’d wondered if she’d lose Colin over it. But as her grandmother had told her more than once, she had to keep the faith that things would work out, and they had.

  She touched the mobile that hung over the crib, watching the tiny angels swing back and forth. It was a gift from one of her grandmother’s friends, and soon her baby would have an Angel’s Bay quilt made by all the women in town with love and care. She couldn’t wait to see what they came up with.

  “Hey, what are you doing in here?” Colin asked from the doorway. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at her in concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not really. I just feel a little—off.” Her body had been tight all day, and now her abdomen felt crampy. A wave of terror followed that thought, and she quickly put her hand to her stomach.

  Colin was at her side in a second. “Is it the baby?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  He led her over to the rocking chair and she sat down. He knelt by her side. “I’ll call the doctor.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Wait. It’s gone.” She let out a breath, feeling the discomfort subside. “Probably just gas.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I think I should take you to the hospital, or at least call Charlotte.”

  “But—” She started to protest but Colin was already gone. A second later, she heard him on the phone. He came back and handed her the receiver.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” she said. “I told Colin not to call you.”

  “It’s okay. Tell me what happened,” Charlotte said in a sleepy voice.

  “Nothing, really. I just felt a little cramp for a minute, but it’s gone now.”

  “Any bleeding?”

  “I don’t think so. Should I be worried? I’m not going to lose the baby, am I?” She couldn’t bear to think of losing the baby now. But even as the thought passed through her head, she felt the baby kick, as if to reassure her. She put a hand to her abdomen and let out a breath. “I feel the baby moving.”

  “That’s a very good sign, Kara. What I would suggest is that you get back in bed and try to sleep. Call me in the morning, or before that if you have any other problems.”

  “Thanks. Sorry again, Charlotte,” she added, and hung up.

  Colin was already on his knees in front of her, his hand on her stomach, his green eyes relieved. “Thank God.”

  She put her hand over his. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No more middle of the night trips without me by your side, okay?”

  “I just came down the hall. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Next time wake me up. I don’t care how tired you think I am,” he added, knowing what she’d been about to say. “There is nothing more important to me than you and our child.”

  “I feel the same way about you, Colin.” Her eyes blurred with unexpected tears, and she gave a little sniff and a sheepish smile. “Hormones.”

  “Yeah? So what’s my excuse?” he said gruffly, as he took her by the hand and led her back to bed.

  It was barely dawn when Annie Dupont got out of bed and walked over to the hospital window. Her room faced a grove of redwood trees. Through the early morning light, she could make out the tops of some of the buildings in town. To the east were the mountains—the mountains where her father lived, where she’d spent her whole life.

  She wished she had a room facing the ocean, so she could watch for the angels. She knew they existed; one had rescued her from the icy cold water of the bay. Everyone had told her that the woman who saved her wasn’t an angel, just a good Samaritan, but she’d heard the angel voices telling her where to swim. She’d seen more than one hand reaching out for her, bringing her back to the surface when she thought she might drown. And when she’d looked into the angel’s eyes, she was sure she’d seen her mother’s face looking back at her.

  Her mother had believed in angels. She supposed her father did, too, although his religious beliefs focused more on the fires of hell and Satan trying to possess human souls. Her mother had once told her that her father hadn’t always been crazy and obsessed, that he’d been gentle and kind, a good man. But when he’d come back from tours of duty with the army, he’d changed. He’d seen his friends die and had almost lost his own life. After that he became cold, withdrawn, paranoid. That was the father she knew, the one who wore fatigues and patrolled whatever shack they were living in as if it were a palace filled with gold. He carried his guns wherever he went, and sometimes in the middle of the night he would wake her and her mother up, make them leave, go farther up the mountain where no one could find them.

  They’d lived off the land, mostly. Her mother had occasionally gone into town to pick up sewing jobs. And for a while she’d been allowed to go to school, until her father got worse, then it was homeschool. After her mother died, it was no schooling. Her only relief had come when her father let her take a job with Myra’s Cleaning Service. He’d allowed her to go down the mountain on an old motorbike as long as she was home each day before dark and promised never to speak to anyone in town.

  But she’d longed for human contact, and on the days she’d come to town, she’d lingered as long as possible.

  Then she’d met him—her baby’s father, a man who had made her feel like she belonged in the real world, not her father’s world. But she couldn’t tell him about the baby. She’d already ruined her own life; she couldn’t ruin his.

  When her father had found her throwing up one morning, he’d guessed instantly that she was pregnant. He’d told her that it was the devil’s work, that she had a demon child growing inside of her and that she must go and ask for forgiveness, and if she was worthy, maybe—just maybe—the angels would save her.

  And they had.

  Or maybe she’d just gotten lucky.

  She knew she’d done a really stupid thing, but the last few days with her father taunting her incessantly, she’d gone a little crazy. Now she knew she couldn’t go back up the mountain. She had to find somewhere else to live. Not just for herself, but for her baby. But where would she go? She had no money and her job didn’t pay much—if Myra would even let her keep it now. What kind of a life could she possibly give a child when she wasn’t sure she could take care of herself?

  As she stared out the window, she wondered if the angels had made a mistake.

  Jenna had always been a morning person. She loved the quiet of the early day, the sound of the town waking up, the smell of coffee, the storekeepers opening their d
oors, moving displays of fresh fruit out onto the sidewalk, the rustle of newspapers being opened, the smells of the fish coming back on the boats from the early morning runs. The summer sun was already heating up the air. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  Normally, after dropping Lexie at the library for Saturday morning children’s hour, she got coffee and sat down to read the local paper. But this morning she had other things on her mind, namely Reid Tanner.

  She’d spent a sleepless night wondering what he would do. Would he go to the police, turn her in as a possible kidnapper? Would he start digging into her life on his own? Or miracle of miracles, would he let it go? Somehow she doubted Reid had ever let anything go in his life.

  Her breath caught in her chest as a police car turned the corner and came toward her, cruising slowly. Was he looking for her? The car came to a halt next to her. The window was rolled down; then she heard Colin Lynch’s voice.

  “Morning, Jenna,” he said. “You’re out early.”

  Her heart was beating a mile a minute, but Colin just seemed to be making conversation. “You, too,” she said lightly. “Don’t they ever give you a day off? You were working last night, weren’t you?”

  “It’s a busy weekend. Too many people drinking way too much.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Have a good day now.”

  She let out a sigh of relief as he drove on. Maybe Reid hadn’t told anyone her secret. She had to find out for sure. It was probably a mistake to go to see him, but not knowing was making her crazy, so she turned the corner at the next street and headed to the Seagull Inn.

  Reid took a minute to answer her knock, and when he opened the door he looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a slightly wrinkled maroon T-shirt. His hair was curly and completely wild, but it wasn’t his hair that made Jenna’s jaw drop—it was the black eye and the bruises on his face.