The Passions of Chelsea Kane

by Barbara Delinsky

  But had Judd? He was living where he had lived as a kid and was working for the same company. Granted, he had made improvements in the house, and his position in the company was second only to its owner. Granted, his aptitude for playing with computers put extra money in his bank account. But, damn it, that bank account was in Jamieson’s bank, just as it had been years before. There were times when he feared it would be there until the day he died.

  He had wanted something better than Leo had had. He had wanted something different. Yet here he was, all spiffed up for the Fourth like every other Notcher, waiting for the start of the parade.

  Out of habit, he headed for the bakery. He and his father had always watched the parade from the shade of the birch trees on its sidewalk. So had the Stebbens, the Hewitts, the Ridgethorns, and the Fricks. Likewise, there were families who, without fail, sat at the post office, or the historical society, or the bank.

  Tradition had a hold even on as innocent a thing as that.

  The Farrs, the Jamiesons, and the Plums, whose houses stood three in a row, parallel to the base of the green, watched the proceedings from their shaded front lawns. Those who weren’t in the parade were already there—women of the older generation, a mixed group of Judd’s contemporaries, an assortment of grandchildren spilling over from lawn chairs to the grass. Intermarriage had blurred the lines among the three families, as reflected in the haphazard way they congregated. Farr siblings mingled with Plum in-laws, who mixed with Jamieson nieces, nephews, and cousins.

  Only two were together consistently, mother and daughter, Margaret Plum and Donna Farr.

  Margaret’s Oliver was in the parade, while Donna’s Matthew stood at the far edge of the group beside his brother and sister-in-law.

  Judd didn’t like Matthew. He had known Donna since grade school and remembered when she’d lost her hearing. If for no other reason than that, he would have paired her with someone kinder. It amazed him that Oliver could have been so blind in pushing the two together, but then Oliver had never been known for compassion where his daughters were concerned. He had wanted sons. Having failed in that, he’d been bent on marrying off one of his daughters to a Jamieson or a Farr. Name meant as much to him as tradition.

  Feeling a sudden urge to thumb his nose at both, Judd nodded his greeting to the friends stationed under the birches in front of the bakery—Buck was the one to greet each with a sniff, the politician with four legs and a tail—and walked right on past. Crossing the green, he climbed the steps of the library and leaned against the top stoop. The view here was better, he decided. He needed the change.

  The parade started with the flare of trumpets and drums that signaled the traditional march of the regional high school band. It was followed, also traditionally, by the three selectmen of Norwich Notch, propped high on the backseat of Emery Farr’s 1961 Olds convertible.

  The selectmen waved. The Notchers cheered and waved back.

  From his new perspective, Judd took fresh notice of the townsfolk. He had known many of them all his life. Some had weathered the years better than others, both physically and economically, but none looked down at the heels. As a group they were actually fresh-scrubbed, though that would change as the day wore on. It was only nine o’clock. By noon, when the sun was high and hot, there would be untucked shirts, bare feet, mustard stains, grape mustaches, and freckled noses.

  There was something charming about that, he supposed. Something healthy. Something consistent. Something normal.

  There was also something confining, something that made him want to throw back his head and scream in frustration every once in a while. “Good things come to those who wait,” Leo had always said, but Judd wasn’t sure he believed it. His life had stalled. He wanted it moving again. He wanted to know that twenty years down the road he wouldn’t be standing at the same spot, watching the same parade, wondering if that was all there was to life.

  Not everything in the Notch was stalled. Infants had become toddlers since the last Fourth of July, toddlers had become little kids, little kids had become big kids. Some of those big kids were members of the star Little League team now marching past with huge grins on their faces, large wads of bubble gum in their mouths, and cockiness in their eyes.

  Judd had been cocky like that once when he’d been just about their age. He’d been on a winning Little League team. He’d even been the one to smack in the run that had put them over the top in the final game of the year. Leo had been ecstatic. Strong and powerful then, he had hoisted Judd onto his shoulders and, surrounded by shrieking teammates, paraded him around the field.

  Those had been nice times, when a home run meant happiness. He wished things were as simple now.

  He whistled loudly to Buck, who was making a pest of himself among the decorated bicycles and doll carriages that paraded by en route to the judging at the school. Some were ingenious, clearly the work of parents rather than kids, but Judd didn’t begrudge that. Contests were big business in towns like Norwich Notch, where entertainment was in short supply. Hell, there were mothers who planned their year from one Halloween costume to the next.

  Not that he had personal experience with that. His mother had left when he’d been four. Leo had been the one to dress him up for the few Halloweens he’d celebrated, and though Leo’s heart had been in the right place, the costumes had been lame. By the time he was eight, Judd had found other things to do on Halloween night.

  Buck joined him on the library stoop in time to see the contestants in the Miss Norwich Notch beauty contest, perched on a fire engine, looking lovely as ever. They also looked younger than ever, though Judd assumed that was a product of his own age.

  Junior Jamieson’s daughter would win. A Jamieson always won. Even now the family was whooping it up as the engine purred past.

  Then his eye caught a patch of color, way down on the other side of the green. Chelsea Kane, dressed in red, was leaning against a railing on the porch of the inn. She was holding a straw hat much like those sold at Farr’s. In her hand, complementing her clothes, it looked decidedly stylish.

  Judd wondered why she wasn’t watching the goings-on with the Farrs, Jamiesons, and Plums. By rights she was a VIP in town.

  But she was alone.

  He wondered what she thought of the parade. Janine would have thought it hokey as hell. She wouldn’t have stuck around long. But Chelsea didn’t look as if she were going anywhere. She had her arm around a support column, as though it were her dearest friend. And maybe it was. She said she’d suffered recent personal losses. Judd wondered about those. He tried to make out her expression, but she was too far away. All he could see was that she was alone—and that she was one striking lady. Janine had been striking, but in a deliberate sort of way. Chelsea was almost inadvertently so, which made her all the more appealing.

  Poor Sara. She had called from Adams Falls several nights before to ask why he hadn’t been around. He had pleaded overwork, but the fact was that since he’d first set eyes on Chelsea Kane, the thought of sweet Sara left him limp.

  Chelsea Kane made him hard, fast. No matter how often he told himself that she was trouble, all he had to do was think of touching her and his blood grew hot. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she had been disinterested. But she felt it, too. He could see it in her eyes, could hear it in her voice, a tiny catch in her breath when they were close. A chemical attraction definitely existed between them.

  From her post on the porch she looked his way, and his heart began to thud. Oh, yes, she saw him—and she wasn’t looking away any more than he was. No matter that the Norwich Notch Square Dancers were dancing their merry way around the green on the back of a flatbed truck, or that the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts were scuffling over who was supposed to be in front of whom, or that Farmer Galante was making a spectacle of himself herding a frightened family of sheep down the street. Chelsea was far more interesting to look at.

  Her money was allowing him finally to do things with Plum Granite, but he
suspected she would be the death of him yet.

  DONNA HANDED OUT YET ANOTHER BOX LUNCH, GAVE CHANGE for yet another five-dollar bill, and wished that she had never offered to help Margaret. Every year she wished it, yet every year she was back. The Fourth of July wouldn’t be the Fourth of July without the box lunch sale at the school, and Margaret, who organized it year after year, needed her help.

  She couldn’t complain about the setting. In the old days the sale had taken place in the parking lot, often beneath a baking sun. Then the Norwich Notch Beautification Committee had taken upon itself to clean up the shady meadow behind the school. Dead trees had been removed, live ones pruned, wildflower beds transferred to border spots to allow more open space. There was a small playing field, with bleachers for the hordes of parents who came to watch, and there was Tiny Town, a playground made all of wood with towers, tunnels, bridges, and dozens of other places to climb and crawl. Even now children swarmed over it.

  Donna smiled a hello to some friends, gave them box lunches, took their money. Margaret was doing the same beside her, as were four others down the row. All were Margaret’s friends and fellow members of the Norwich Notch Historical Society, which was another of her mother’s passions. Historical Society, Quilters Guild, church—Donna often wondered where Margaret found the time and energy to do all she did. Years ago she had done nothing but sit home and brood. With age she was increasingly on the go.

  Of course, she didn’t work as Donna did, and she didn’t have children at home. Donna suspected that her activities were as much an escape from Oliver as anything else. He was getting older, slowing down, yielding more and more of the daily operation of Plum Granite to Judd. With Chelsea doing her part, there would be even less for Oliver to do.

  The more time he spent at home, the more Margaret was gone.

  It was sad, Donna thought. For all his name and position and power, he was a lonely old man.

  But she couldn’t blame Margaret. Oliver might be treating her gently, even with kid gloves, but for years his tongue had cut sharply. Margaret had enough anger in her to outlive him and then some.

  Donna wondered if she would end up that way herself. She and Matthew shared so little. If there had been love once, it was long gone. But divorce among the founding families was unheard of. And then there was Joshie.

  She caught sight of his blond head on the approach. He had three friends in tow, one of whom was Amy Summers. Her father, Neil, was the local doctor. Donna had been to him. He was gentle and understanding. He was also divorced, which meant that Amy spent the better part of her winters with her mother in Washington and had a sophistication, even at twelve, that Norwich Notch children lacked. On the one hand, that made Donna nervous. Joshie was her little boy; she didn’t want him growing up. On the other hand, she wanted him to experience more of the world than she had. Amy was a fine way to start. Apparently Joshie thought so, too, if the color on his cheeks and the faint swagger in his step meant anything.

  “Hey, Mom,” he signed, “can we have lunch?”

  She held out her hand, palm up, and waited with a knowing smile on her face. Joshie had money. She had slipped it to him that morning. The rule was that he had to budget his way through the day. Given that half the cost of each lunch went toward a series of summer concerts on the green, she planned to stick to her guns.

  He made token noise for the sake of his friends, but within minutes all four had shelled up the cash, and Donna felt no guilt. They all came from comfortable homes. Some of the other children buying lunches weren’t as lucky. In more than one case, she had given more change than was due, stuffing the folded bills in the child’s pocket with no one the wiser.

  She could do that, she decided. It was a crime that Nolan would never chide her for. She stole a look at him. He was propped against the trash bin several yards away, just where he’d been for the past half hour. He was on duty, as always, and looked handsome, she thought. She wished he wore shorts like most of the other men. He had nice legs.

  When he winked at her, she blushed and pulled her attention back to the lunch table just as a family of stragglers arrived. She took care of them, then caught Nolan’s eye again. He hadn’t budged, and though he surveyed the meadow every so often lest someone accuse him of shirking his responsibility, for the most part he was looking at her. She didn’t mind. Matthew was nowhere to be seen. It was nice to know someone cared.

  She motioned him over and held out one of the few remaining lunches, but he shook his head.

  “Later,” he said, and added quietly, “You look pretty.”

  “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  “I like your hair.”

  She had it gathered behind one ear much as Chelsea had done that first day. Matthew had taken one look as he’d stalked through the kitchen that morning and told her to put it back up or she’d be frizzy and hot. She had actually gone upstairs and lifted her brush, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, whether out of satisfaction at what she saw or annoyance with Matthew, she hadn’t touched a hair. Now she was glad. If there were curls and added warmth to live with, Nolan’s appreciation made them worth every degree.

  Glancing past Donna, he nodded to Margaret. “Fine job you and the ladies have done here, Miz Plum. It looks like most everyone’s fed. Think you could spare Donna for a bit? I need her help with something.”

  Donna eyed him curiously.

  With a light touch to her elbow, he started to guide her off, only to stop, reach into his pocket for money, and put it on the table in exchange for a lunch. Taking her elbow again, he led her across the meadow to the far side of the playground. There, sitting alone at the base of a tree, where Donna hadn’t been able to see her, was Chelsea. Despite the red of her outfit, which Donna loved, she looked pensive, even sad, as she watched the children play.

  She was startled when they came up, as though her mind had been miles away, but she quickly smiled.

  Nolan set the lunch on the ground before her. “You haven’t eaten,” he scolded, hitching his chin toward Donna, “and neither has she. I would have taken two, but then people would have thought they were for Donna and me. Once rumors like that get started, they can be wicked to kill.” Wearing the sweetest look, he said to Donna, “You’ve earned a break. Please eat?”

  Donna didn’t know whether to be disappointed that he wasn’t eating with her himself or grateful that he’d led her to Chelsea. She did know that he was a special man, although she’d known that for some time.

  In answer to his question, she let her eyes ask one of Chelsea, who promptly moved aside her straw hat and said, “Please. I’d love the company.” She looked totally sincere.

  “Thank you,” Donna signed to Nolan.

  “You’re welcome,” he signed back, then said to Chelsea, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” With a small salute to her and a gentle touch to Donna’s back, he did just that.

  “What a nice man,” Chelsea said, patting the ground beside her. She waited until Donna had settled facing her to say, “I love your hair. You should wear it that way all the time. It makes you look very young.”

  “Thank you,” Donna signed.

  “You’re welcome,” Chelsea signed back, looking so pleased with herself that Donna rolled her eyes.

  “Well, I’d know more if you’d teach me more,” Chelsea teased. “Admit it. I’m a quick study.”

  “I admit it,” Donna signed along with a nod that gave Chelsea the gist of the sign. Whenever they talked, Chelsea asked for more signs, and although she was worlds away from fluency, the fact that she tried meant the world to Donna.

  She made the sign for lunch and pointed to the box. After opening it, she unwrapped the sandwich inside and gave half to Chelsea. “Chicken salad,” she signed, then finger-spelled, “Okay?”

  “Okay,” Chelsea signed back, but the bite she took of the sandwich was little more than a nibble.

  Donna wondered if she was all right. She looked cheery enough in red. But the look on
her face when she’d been sitting alone hadn’t been cheery at all.

  “You don’t look like you’re into the spirit of this,” Donna signed, without thinking beyond expressing concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “You lost me,” Chelsea said with a smile. “Say it out loud.”

  Donna felt a familiar frustration. She hated her voice. It was flat, grossly nasal, and either too loud or too soft. She made a grating gesture by her ear.

  “It does not sound terrible,” Chelsea protested. “I can understand every word you say.”

  Donna touched her cheeks and made a face.

  “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed. Not with me. Come on, Donna. Tell me what you were thinking.”

  Donna gave in, as much because she wanted to believe what Chelsea said as because she was concerned.

  “I was thinking that you looked sad before. I wondered why.”

  Chelsea looked sheepish. After a minute she said, “Just feeling lonely, I guess. Sometimes, the more people there are around, the worse it is.” She put her head back against the tree. “It’s the idle time that does it. The price for laziness is self-pity.” She pointed to a large group nearby. “I’d like to be in the middle of a big family like that one over there.”

  Donna shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. That’s Stokey French. He has three wives.”

  Chelsea laughed. “He can’t have three wives. You must mean lovers.”

  “Live-in lovers,” Donna signed, knowing Chelsea would understand.

  “Three? Really? How many kids?”

  Donna held up nine fingers.

  “Wow. Potent guy. And all three women live with him? What is it, something like a commune?”

  “More like a den of iniquity,” Donna said, and Chelsea laughed again as she looked at the group.