A Sweethaven Summer

by Courtney Walsh

  “But I’ll take that too.” He grabbed her other hand.

  With her hand in his, she walked out of the café, aware of the many pairs of eyes that watched them go.

  “There’ll be talk.” He pushed the door open.

  “They’ll get the wrong idea.” From the sidewalk, she glanced in the window. Four older women sat at a table watching them. When their eyes met Campbell’s they quickly turned away.

  Luke’s eyes stayed intently on her. “What would be the wrong idea?”

  She shrugged. They took a few steps down the block, out of sight of the nosy Sweethaven clan. “You know, that you’re off the market. Then you might lose business.”

  “That would be pretty terrible.”

  “I’m sorry I misunderstood back there.” Campbell stared down the street.

  “Don’t be.” He stopped walking and looked at her. “Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, so let’s do something fun.”

  “Like what?”

  “You have your camera?”

  She lifted the oversized bag that hung on her shoulder and patted it with her other hand. “Always.”

  “Good. I promised to take you on a tour of Sweethaven, and I’m starting with the place I think you’ll like the best.”

  “Okay—” She hesitated. It seemed unreal that only an hour ago she’d been ready to hit the road.

  He turned to face her, took both her hands in his. His face grew serious, and she felt her eyes widen. Her stomach fluttered at his touch.

  “I don’t want to pretend like all of this stuff is just going to go away, but maybe it’ll help to get it off your mind for a while. Is that okay?”

  Her pulse quickened. She hated that she liked him so much, so soon. He seemed to understand her already, even better than she understood herself.

  She finally nodded. Then, gently, he pulled her close, wrapped his strong arms around her, and held her head to his chest. As she listened to his heart beat in her ear, he smoothed her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head.

  He didn’t say anymore, but his touch spoke loud and clear. You’re going to be okay.

  When she pulled back and saw that her tears had moistened his gray T-shirt, she knew all attempts to hold back her tears had failed.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped her face dry.

  “Don’t be. I can handle a few tears.” He let go of one of her hands and kept the other one firmly wrapped in his. As they walked, she started to feel the ball of stress in her stomach slowly unravel. Like a soothing balm, the beauty of Sweethaven spoke to her soul. It medicated her, took the sting out.

  As they passed Sweets of Sweethaven, the smell of donuts wafted onto the street. “We’re stopping here, right? Is this the place you thought I’d love?” She inhaled the delicious aroma of the old-fashioned bakery.

  He shook his head. “We’ll stop there later. There’s somewhere else I want you to see.”

  They passed a small hardware store and finally stopped in front of the Sweethaven Gallery.

  She’d visited many art galleries in Chicago and didn’t expect much from one nestled in this tiny beach town in Michigan. She realized as she peeked through the door that her elitist attitude had been unjustified.

  Four small awnings topped the vertical windows of the second floor. A wider, matching awning hung above the oversized front window. The brick building had a solid, old feel to it, confirmed by the 1854 date embedded in the masonry near the front door.

  “I think you’ll like it in here.” Luke led her inside.

  An older woman with reading glasses propped on her nose and a paintbrush in her mouth sat at an easel behind a long counter. Engrossed in her work, she didn’t look up as they entered, reminding Campbell of Mom’s concentration when she worked.

  “Deb?” Luke walked toward the long wooden counter.

  The woman startled and looked in their direction. “Luke.” She set her brush down and walked around the counter to greet him. She pulled him into a quick hug and then turned her attention to Campbell. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Campbell Carter,” Luke said. “You remember her mom, Suzanne?”

  Deb let out a high-pitched “Ohhhh,” and clasped her hands in front of her face. “I do remember Suzanne. She was one of my best students. How is she?”

  Campbell fidgeted with the bag on her shoulder, unsure of how to break the news. “Actually, she passed away a few days ago.”

  Deb’s face filled with horror. “What?” She shook her head. “She was only, what? Forty-one? Forty-two?”

  Campbell nodded. “Forty-two.”

  “What happened?”

  “She had cancer.”

  Luke shifted.

  Deb took her glasses off and wiped a tear from her cheek. “That’s just so unfair.”

  “Campbell’s a photographer. I thought you might show her around the gallery.”

  The woman regained her composure and put an arm around Campbell. “A photographer? So you inherited your mother’s artistic genes?” She squeezed her tighter. “She loved to spend time here during the summers. Such a shame when she stopped coming to Sweethaven. My whole world got a little darker.”

  “I’m sorry.” Campbell felt solely responsible for the darkness in this stranger’s world.

  “Don’t be silly. She went off and got a real life. Good for her. I would’ve loved to see her before she passed away, though.”

  “Deb, do you happen to know if she had a boyfriend the last summer she was here? I know she took an art class at the community college, but the teacher had no records. I thought maybe someone she met there?”

  Deb scrunched her forehead. “Do you mean Jared Kimball?”

  “Jared Kimball?”

  “He’s still in the area. In fact, he has a piece in the studio right now.” Deb walked over and stood in front of a dark painting.

  “What is it?”

  Deb tilted her head. “I’m not sure. He was always a troubled boy. A local. Suzanne must’ve felt sorry for him. She kind of took him under her wing.”

  Campbell shot Luke a look. His eyes widened, and she knew they were thinking the same thing.

  “Deb, do you think they could’ve been dating? Secretly, maybe?”

  Deb frowned. “I suppose it’s possible. Lots of girls fall for the dark, brooding artist type. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m looking for my father.”

  Deb sighed an “Ohhh.”

  “How old was she when she and this Jared person hung out?”

  “Gosh, I’m not sure. Fifteen, sixteen maybe?” Deb took her glasses off and let them fall on a chain around her neck.

  “Not seventeen?”

  She frowned. “Could’ve been, I suppose. You could always look him up. He lives over on Petunia Place.”

  Campbell’s stomach lurched. Did she have the courage to approach another stranger and ask if he was her dad? “Maybe. Thanks.”

  “But Campbell, if you decide to do that, make sure you take Luke with you.” Deb walked toward the front of the gallery.

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, Jared was a troubled kid. He never really found his way. He’s a talented artist, but he’s had a few run-ins with the law. I just wouldn’t want you to approach him on your own.”

  Great. So the only lead Deb had for her was an emotionally unstable criminal?

  Campbell looked away.

  “I’m sorry.” She squeezed Campbell’s hand.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m ready for the grand tour.”

  Deb walked Campbell back to the front door and turned her around. “To get the full effect, we have to start at the beginning. Notice the floors? Those are all original. The building was built in 1854. I wanted to take it back to that time with our renovations.”

  “It’s really beautiful,” Campbell said.

  “It is, isn’t it? I love the tin ceilings.”

  Campbell looked up. Exposed pipes matched the high white tin ceilings. Lig
ht burst through the front windows. They passed a baby grand piano, and she perused the art on the long white wall. Piece by piece, she soaked it in, let it feed her creative soul.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve been in a gallery,” she said. “My mom and I used to go all the time.”

  “These are mostly local artists, like Jared, but we have a few from Chicago and around the country. I’ve been thinking about adding more photography in here. You should bring in your portfolio.” Deb stopped in front of a small painting of a ballerina.

  “Really?”

  “I’d love to see it.”

  Campbell smiled. She knew the gallery was small, and Sweethaven wasn’t Chicago or New York, but it also wasn’t The Buzz. It was real art. If she hung there, it’d validate her talent. It was a start anyway.

  “I’ll bring it by.” Campbell was already running through photos suitable for her portfolio.

  “The sooner, the better. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to keep this place open.” Deb walked to the next painting and stared at it.

  Campbell frowned and looked at Luke. He leaned against the counter but offered no explanation.

  “What do you mean?” Campbell asked.

  “I’m too old to keep doing this. I love this gallery, but do you know I have never been to Italy? Life is too short not to take breaks every now and then.” She looked at the painting in front of her and sighed. “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”

  “Why don’t you hang your mom’s paintings in here?” Luke’s voice filled the cavernous space.

  “Your mom still painted?” Deb turned to her with a smile. “I would love to see.”

  Luke walked toward them. “Better yet,” he said, “why don’t you take pictures of the things she painted and you could hang them side by side? Like a mother-daughter art show.” He held his chin up, looking pleased with his own brilliance. “She has canvases of all the places her mom loved here in Sweethaven.”

  Campbell smiled. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “It’s a brilliant idea.” Deb beamed. “It may be the last show I do; let’s make it a good one. A tribute to Sweethaven. When could we do it? Too bad we didn’t have it ready for the Blossom Fest this weekend. We get so many out of towners.”

  Luke’s raised eyebrows challenged Campbell from across the room.

  “Could we open it in a few days? The festival is all week, right?” Campbell asked.

  Deb shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  Campbell fished her camera from her bag and shot a couple of pictures of Deb’s glowing face. “I’ve gotta run. I’ve got pictures to take.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Campbell

  The streets of Sweethaven shone with new promise as Campbell set out to capture the charm in pixels and prints. Before she started, she needed to look at Mom’s canvases again. Thank goodness she had brought them with her.

  Luke drove her to Adele’s house and helped as she lugged the oversized trunk out of the backseat of the car.

  “How’d you even get this in here?” Luke set the trunk on the patch of grass next to her parking spot.

  “I’m a lot stronger than I look.” Campbell grinned.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She popped the trunk open and started pulling the canvases out, propping them against the car. One by one, she showed them to Luke, and when he recognized the spot, she wrote it down on her list.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind showing me these places?” Campbell asked.

  “You’ll never get this done on your own—not in two days,” he said.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Are you kidding? Gets me out of the café. Better views. I love this stuff.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth.

  “What? I’m serious. If I didn’t, I’d draw you a map.”

  She laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “Campbell, what’s this?” Luke pulled at a corner of the inside of the trunk’s lid, where the covering had peeled away.

  Campbell moved in closer. “Looks like the backing on the lid is loose.” She picked at it with her finger.

  “Looks intentional.”

  She pulled at it for a few more seconds, then stuck her fingers inside.

  “Wait.” He tipped the trunk on its side, careful not to let its contents spill onto the street. As he did, something brushed across her fingers.

  “There’s something in there.” Campbell wiggled her fingers until finally she grabbed hold of something solid underneath the lid. Carefully, she worked it out, pulling it through the opening she’d created.

  “What is it?” Luke righted the trunk and sat down on the curb next to her.

  Campbell ran her hand across the front of a sealed envelope. “It’s a letter. To my grandparents. From my mom.” She looked at him. “Returned to sender.” The stamp on the front of the envelope told her the letter hadn’t been delivered. Her grandparents had sent it back. Unread.

  “Are you going to open it?”

  She handed it to Luke. “You do it.”

  “What? No. It’s personal.”

  “Right. So, maybe I should just leave it alone.” Campbell set the letter inside the trunk.

  Luke stared at her for a few seconds and then pulled at the hole in the cover.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m wondering if there’s anything else in there.”

  Campbell watched as he made the hole larger. “We could cut it.”

  But even as she was getting the words out, he pulled the cover off and exposed the trunk’s secret underbelly. A stack of letters, identical to the one they’d already found, fell into the base of the trunk alongside something else—a small stack of scrapbook pages. Pages her mom had kept hidden.

  She picked one up and studied it. A photo of the Sweethaven Dock adorned the left center of the page. Underneath, her mom had painted a design, and beside it, she’d written a long journal entry.

  Mom’s handwriting hadn’t changed over all these years. It read:

  Strange thing happened last night. Fought with Cathy—as usual. Dad’s getting more and more upset that I refuse to call her Mom anymore. She thought I was sleeping, but I left. Like in a movie, I climbed out the window and shimmied down a tree. Didn’t even know I could do that. Cut my thigh in the process.

  I wish I could’ve taken a picture of the sky. Pitch black. No moon. Stars dancing like crystals playing with the sunlight. In seconds, I forgot why I was angry in the first place.

  I went to the dock and put my feet in the lake. The water was cool and it felt good on my toes. I lay down on the dock and found the Pleiades, Orion, and Cassiopeia. I didn’t even hear him behind me. He asked if he could sit with me. Said he had a lot on his mind. I never really paid attention to him before. I mean, we’re friends, sure, but not really. He’s preoccupied. This is our last year before we’re officially grown-ups.

  We didn’t talk at first. Just stared at the sky. He found the Milky Way. How’d I miss it? He asked me what I was doing out there so late at night and I told him. I told him the truth. Even my friends don’t know how bad things are at home, but I spilled it all. Maybe it felt safer since it was so dark. I’m going back tonight. I’m embarrassed to say it, but I hope he’s there again.

  Campbell’s heart threatened to pound straight through her chest. She stared at the page, reading the last paragraph two, three times.

  Had the answers been with her the whole time?

  She flipped through the pages quickly, scanning the journaling for any mention of a name, but there was none. Only “he” and “him” over and over again. Her mom had been purposely vague, but why? Could it be Jared Kimball?

  “If your dad had a troubled past, I can see why your mom would’ve kept it a secret if she had something going with him. Her parents wouldn’t have approved.”

  “I need to think about this.” Campbell had trie
d to imagine introducing herself to Jared Kimball, but in her mind she always stumbled over the part where she asked if he had a relationship with her mom. Did she even have the courage to keep pursuing this?

  “You can’t quit now. It’s what you came here for. If you go back home now and you don’t find out, you’ll always wonder.”

  Campbell looked away.

  “Look, we’ll just close it up.” He shut the lid of the trunk. “We’ll go shoot pictures and you can come back to this whenever you decide it’s time. But just think about it, okay?”

  She nodded.

  He opened the passenger door to the truck and motioned for her to get in. They drove downtown, and he parked outside the Sweethaven Train Station.

  “Um, I don’t think a train is going to work for this trip,” she said.

  “Have a little faith, will ya?” He turned the engine off, jumped down, and walked over to her side of the truck.

  She watched him, unmoving.

  He opened her door. “Seriously, it’ll be fine,” he said. “Come on.”

  “You do know I have a deadline now, right? And it won’t be daylight forever?”

  “Come on, trust me.”

  She took his offered hand and stepped onto solid ground. When he didn’t loosen his grip, she felt that flutter back in her stomach.

  “You sure you wouldn’t rather read those letters?” He prodded now. Perhaps he was more curious than she was.

  “I’m positive. Stop asking me.” She smiled, and they crossed the wide sidewalk in front of a yellow wooden building with hunter-green trim.

  “Wait, I’ve seen this before.” The building reminded her of a photo she’d seen in the scrapbook of her mother and her three friends peeking out the back of an electric trolley.

  They crossed the tracks and walked up to a window that had been cut out of the side of the building. Behind a counter sat a man, reading a newspaper and chewing on a toothpick.

  “Hey Russ,” Luke said as they approached.

  The man didn’t respond.

  She glanced at Luke, who seemed unfazed by the lack of interest.

  “Hey, we were hoping you could take us for a ride. A couple stops so my friend here can take some photos. It would only take about an hour.”