Suddenly One Summer

by Barbara Freethy

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Is that it?”

  “I have a few more questions for you.”

  “Of course you do,” she said with a sigh.

  “Where does your father think you are? Rehab?”

  A gleam of disappointment flashed in her eyes. “My father knows I don’t do drugs. He thinks I’m resting at a resort in the Caribbean. A friend of mine has a house on Antigua.”

  Her answer reminded him that they came from very different worlds. “A male friend?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is that important?”

  “Just wondering why you didn’t call anyone to help you. A beautiful, celebrated pianist, and you don’t have a boyfriend?”

  “I never had time for serious relationships. The piano came first.” She ran her hand through the sand, letting the grains fall through her fingers. “Music was my sole purpose and reason for being, from the time I was three years old until two months ago.”

  “You said you had a career crisis. What happened?”

  “I collapsed on the stage. I don’t know why. Exhaustion, depression, anxiety, panic…Pick one or all of the above. I wasn’t sleeping well or eating right. I was on a grueling tour, different cities across Europe every other week. The pressure had been building for years; the endless quest for perfection, the constant falling short. I was never as good as I was supposed to be. The performances took a lot out of me. I felt tremendous anxiety every time I went onstage. Finally I snapped. I took the coward’s way out. I collapsed so I wouldn’t have to tell my father I was done.”

  He was impressed with her self-analysis, but also reminded of how much she expected of herself. “Is that the only reason you didn’t walk away—fear of how your father would react?”

  “No. There was also the music. I love it. It sweeps me away, transports me to another place. It’s a release, a joy. It’s who I am. Unfortunately, the flip side of the music is the business: the pressures of performance, and the criticism of the critics, the conductors, the audience, and my father. I needed a rest, but there was never time to take one. My father insisted that I had to keep going while I was popular, that I couldn’t let people forget me, that if I didn’t tour, if I didn’t stay up with the best, I’d be done. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I was an extension of his success. He made me.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Reid argued. “You made yourself.”

  “He was my teacher.”

  “You were the one who played the notes. That was your accomplishment.”

  “In my head I know that, but it’s far more complicated where my heart is concerned,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “After my mother died, my father was the only parent I had. He saw my mother in me, and I felt her presence when I played. Her voice ran through me. If I didn’t play, I thought I’d lose that connection with her. Then I’d lose him. I’d be alone.” She turned to stare at the bonfire, the light of the flames dancing off her face. “The really sad thing is that I was never afraid I’d lose Kelly. I took her presence for granted, assuming she’d always be there. I was so wrong. So wrong about a lot of things.”

  Reid had to fight the urge to put his arms around her. He knew what it felt like to be alone, really alone. He’d spent years trying to be part of families that didn’t want him. In the end, it had been easier to stay separate, to stop risking disappointment. But Jenna had known love, and she still had two important people in her life. “You’ll see your father again. He might be angry, but I’m betting he’ll be back in your life. And you have Lexie, too.”

  “You’re right. You’re also too easy to talk to,” she said with a regretful smile. “For the last two months, I’ve kept everyone at arm’s length. Then you show up, and I spill my guts.”

  He smiled back at her. “I’m a good listener. Your father had to have heard that your sister was murdered. Did he go to the funeral? Did he get in touch with you? Even if the press thought you were in rehab, he knew that wasn’t the case.”

  “I called my father from a pay phone the day after Kelly was killed. He’d already heard the news, but couldn’t get out of his commitments to attend the funeral. He wanted me to go to the service and represent the family, and to keep him advised of any developments in the search for her killer. At first I wasn’t going to call him, but I worried that if I dropped completely out of sight, he might start looking for me, so I left him a few messages, calling at times I knew he wouldn’t be available. I used pay phones so no one could trace the calls.”

  Reid shook his head in disgust. “Your father sounds like a complete ass. His daughter was murdered. How could he not fly home and get justice for her? How could he not be concerned about his granddaughter?”

  Jenna frowned. “My father let Kelly go a long time ago. She had no musical talent, so she was left behind with nannies or housekeepers while he took me around the world. He didn’t even go to Kelly’s wedding. He’s seen Lexie maybe twice in her life.”

  “He really is an ass.”

  “He’s a sophisticated, intelligent, accomplished man, but you’re right: he’s also an ass. Where Kelly was concerned, I wasn’t much better. I let her go, too. It sounds crazy, because I had so much more than she did, but I was jealous of her. She was free of my father. She didn’t have his expectations hanging over her head. She didn’t have to constantly try to please him; she could do whatever she wanted. I’m sure Kelly saw it differently. She must have felt abandoned by both of us.”

  Jenna looked at him with guilt in her eyes. “You don’t know how much I regret the distance between my sister and me. If I had been paying attention to Kelly, I might have seen that she was in trouble. Maybe she would have come to me earlier, when I could have done something to help her. Maybe, maybe, maybe,” she said, her voice rising with each frustrated word. “I wish I could go back in time to change things.”

  Reid knew that feeling all too well. “You’re doing something now. You’re protecting Lexie. You’ve given up your life to do that.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot. You’re that little girl’s salvation.”

  “I hope so. I want to give Lexie the life that Kelly wanted her to have, but I know I’ll be a poor replacement. I’m not her mother. And I know what it feels like to lose a mother. I wasn’t much older than Lexie when my mom died.”

  “How did she die?” Reid asked.

  “A car accident. She was supposed to play at our church on Christmas Eve—she was a pianist, too.

  On the way, her car hit an icy patch and flipped over. She was killed instantly.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve lost two people in a second. Twice I didn’t say good-bye. I don’t want to take anyone else for granted.”

  Reid stared at the bonfire. He knew exactly what she meant. But what the hell were good-byes worth, anyway? What mattered was what came before the end. He didn’t regret not saying good-bye to Allison. He regretted involving her in his life.

  “Do you mind if we change the subject?” Jenna asked.

  “Definitely not,” he said, relieved.

  “How is your article coming? Have you started to believe in angels yet?”

  “I have not been converted, no.”

  “You’re a tough nut to crack.”

  “I’m a realist. You’re not going to tell me you believe there are angels flying around the cliffs, are you?”

  “It’s an intriguing thought.”

  He shook his head. “The angel video could have been easily constructed with special effects available on any personal computer. The markings on the cliff could be the result of the tides, the winds, natural erosion.”

  She tilted her head, a quizzical look in her eyes. “Is that what you’re going to write in your article?”

  He smiled. “Hell, no. Erosion doesn’t sell magazines. I’m going to relate all the wonderful tales I’ve heard about miracle experiences, and let people think what they want.”

  “Even though you don’t believe?”
<
br />   He shrugged. “I’m reporting what people tell me. I’m not their judge and jury.”

  “My mother used to say that you can’t find hope if you’re not looking up. Maybe that’s why everyone’s gaze is on the sky.” Jenna stretched out to rest on her elbows, her head tilted upward. “It’s a beautiful night. Try it, Reid.”

  “I’ve seen the sky before.”

  “Not this night’s sky, not with me. Come on. What do you have to lose?”

  He hesitated one more second, and then followed suit, stretching out on the blanket. He’d lost hope and faith and all that other shit a long time ago. It was true that he’d spent most of the past eleven months looking down, but he didn’t think gazing at the sky would change his attitude. He had to admit he was surprised by the multitude of stars, though, more than he could ever remember seeing.

  He’d grown up in a big city where skyscrapers and city lights drowned out the stars. He liked the energy, the rush, the adrenaline of the busy streets. But there were downsides to that, too. In Angel’s Bay people knew one another. They cared about their neighbors. They had hope, he realized. And just as Jenna had predicted, he was starting to feel that hope seep into his bones.

  “Kelly used to know the constellations,” Jenna said. “I can never remember what they are. That group of stars looks like a lion, don’t you think?”

  “I think you see whatever you need to see,” Reid replied, surprising himself with the same words that had once come out of Henry’s mouth. If he didn’t get out of Angel’s Bay soon, he had a feeling he’d lose all sense of reason.

  “I need to see Kelly’s face,” Jenna continued, the sad note back in her voice. “I need to know I’m doing what she wanted.”

  His hand slid across the blanket, covering hers. “You are, Jenna, and you already know that. You don’t need an angel to tell you. You don’t need me to tell you.”

  “Thanks anyway,” she said quietly.

  “You’re welcome.” With his fingers intertwined with hers, he felt connected again—to the world, to his life, and most importantly, to her. The connection scared the hell out of him.

  He pulled his hand away from hers and sat up just as Lexie and her friend came racing over to them. Lexie’s face was lit up like a Christmas tree. She had sand clinging to her cheeks and probably in her hair, but there was a simple joy in her eyes. Jenna had given Lexie this moment, this feeling of being safe and protected. Reid hoped she could see that.

  “We’re going to make s’mores,” Lexie said excitedly.

  “What’s that?” Jenna asked.

  “You don’t know?” the little girl with Lexie asked, clearly astonished. “You take two graham crackers and put a piece of chocolate in the middle and then a melted marshmallow. It’s really good.”

  “Do you want one?” Lexie asked.

  “I don’t think—” Jenna began.

  “She’d love one,” Reid said. “And so would I. Come on, Jenna.” He pulled her to her feet.

  “I really don’t think I want one,” she said to him. “It sounds disgusting.”

  “Trust me: you do, and it’s not.” He led her over to the picnic table where the s’mores were under construction. Lexie and her friend were already busy making their own.

  “It looks messy,” Jenna said, with a wrinkle of her nose.

  “Messy can be good.” He picked up two graham crackers and handed them to her. Then he grabbed a piece of chocolate and slid a half-melted marshmallow off a stick. “You put the chocolate down, then the marshmallow over that,” he instructed. “Now bite.”

  She gave him a doubtful look but took a bite. He watched the look of delight come over her face, and felt more proud and pleased than he had in a long time. “Well?”

  “Excellent,” she said with surprise, her mouth full of marshmallow. “This is fantastic!”

  “Told you.”

  “I can’t believe I never had one of these. And I can’t imagine how many calories are in this.”

  “Don’t imagine. Just enjoy.” He leaned over and took a bite.

  “Hey, get your own,” she complained.

  “You wouldn’t have even tried this if I hadn’t dragged you over here. Now you don’t want to share?”

  “No, but thank you for bringing me over here. Now get your own,” she told him with a laugh. She popped the rest of the cracker into her mouth.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” He grabbed her finger and licked off the remaining chocolate. Her eyes darkened with desire, and his heart thumped against his rib cage.

  Jenna jerked her hand away, grabbed a napkin off the table, and wiped off her hands. Whatever she’d been feeling for the brief second that had passed between them, she’d shut it down.

  He followed her across the beach. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she told him as she sat down with an angry flounce. “Anyone could have seen you.”

  “So what?” he asked, sitting next to her.

  “So I don’t need the attention.”

  “No one was watching.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said, her gaze sweeping the beach. “I always feel like someone is watching.”

  “That’s your fear talking. But even if someone saw us, what’s the crime? You’re living as a widow. I’m a single guy. We can share a kiss. We can share whatever we want.”

  “No, we can’t. You’re leaving in a day or two, and I’m on the run with a small child. I’m not in a position to get involved with anyone, even if you wanted that, which I’m sure you don’t. This isn’t the time to start anything, even anything casual.”

  “Who says it would be casual?” he challenged, not sure why he threw the words out. But they were on the table, and he couldn’t take them back.

  “Because you’re not a serious relationship kind of guy, and I’m not a one-night-stand kind of woman.”

  He would have liked to argue that she had him wrong, but unfortunately she was on the money where his relationships were concerned. For the past year he had steered clear of anything longer than one night. If he were honest, he would admit that had been the case for most of his life. He didn’t know how to stay. His years in foster care had taught him to leave before someone left him. He’d never been able to trust that a relationship would work any other way. So he didn’t put himself in that position. He didn’t put his heart on the line.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Jenna prodded.

  “I’ve spent most of my life pursuing my career.”

  “Your career as a freelance tabloid reporter?” she asked with a disbelieving raise of her eyebrow.

  “I’ve worked a few other places.”

  “Like…”

  He sighed. “The New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, and most recently The Washington D.C. Journal.”

  “Very impressive. So why the fall?”

  “Who said it was a fall? Maybe I just wanted a change.”

  “And maybe I’m not a fool. Come on, Reid. I know there’s something going on with you. Your intensity, your personality, your drive—it doesn’t add up to your current job.” She looked long and hard at him. “I get the feeling that you’re running away from something, too.”

  “I’m just here doing my job.”

  “No. I may have been a little self-involved in the past, too caught up in my own problems to consider what other people were going through, but that changed when I grabbed Lexie and ran. I can’t afford not to notice what’s going on with other people now. So talk to me, Reid. Tell me your story.”

  He didn’t know how to answer that question. He certainly didn’t feel like confessing his sins to Jenna. Fortunately he was saved by Lexie’s reappearance. The kid had chocolate smeared across her mouth, but she was holding something out in her hand. It looked like a pebble, but then he saw blood. He tensed, until he heard Lexie say, “My tooth came out! Look.”

  “Wow,” Jenna said. “I guess it got stuck in the s’mores.” She took the tooth out of Lexie’s palm. “Why don’t I
hang on to this for you?”

  “Do you think the tooth fairy will be able to find me?” Lexie asked, worry in her eyes. “What if she can’t?”

  “The tooth fairy can find anyone.” Jenna pulled a tissue out of her purse and wrapped up the tooth, then applied another tissue to Lexie’s face. “Trust me, she’ll come when you’re fast asleep in dreamland.”

  “Do you think so, too?” Lexie asked Reid.

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  Lexie gave him a thoughtful look, as if she were judging the truthfulness of his answer. “Okay. I’m going to watch the fireworks with Kimmy’s family, all right? They have a better spot.” Lexie pointed across the beach. Kimmy’s mother gave a wave in return.

  “Fine, but stay right there. I mean it, Lexie—no running off to look for angels,” Jenna warned.

  “I won’t. I promise.” Lexie took off at a dead run.

  “She’s a bundle of energy,” Jenna said to Reid. “Kelly was like that, too. Thank God that tooth came out. I was terribly afraid I would have to pull it, and while there are some parts of motherhood I’m able to handle, yanking out loose baby teeth is not my idea of fun.” She paused, giving a shake of her head. “But we were talking about how you went from the Journal to Spotlight Magazine.”

  “It doesn’t matter how, because I’m here now. And I’m not looking back; I’m not looking forward. I’m just concentrating on the present.”

  Jenna started as a testing sky rocket lit up the night. She turned her head and the moonlight caught the stark beauty of her face. Reid drew in a quick breath. Her dark hair flowed loosely about her shoulders, and he was tempted to pull her hair to one side and kiss the curve of her neck.

  “I guess the fireworks are starting,” Jenna said as the crowd began to murmur with excitement.

  “I think they already started—for me, anyway,” he murmured.

  She turned her head and met his gaze. “Reid. Don’t.”

  Fireworks rattled the sky, a shower of red, gold, blue sparkles lighting the air, shimmering to the ground. They were nowhere near as spectacular as the fireworks going off in his head.