He was so optimistic.
Russ shuffled his papers as he tried to turn the pages, but he still didn’t respond.
“Free coffee for a week,” Luke offered.
That warranted a sideways glance, first at Luke and then at Campbell. Russ’s brow furrowed, and his eyes turned to slits as he sized her up. “Two weeks.”
“Ten days.”
“Deal.” He closed the paper and folded it in half twice. “Who’s your friend?”
“Campbell Carter.”
“Related to the Reverend?”
The question caught her off-guard. Until that week she hadn’t been related to anybody but her mother.
“Suzanne was her mother,” Luke said.
“Was?” Russ tossed the toothpick from side to side with his tongue.
“She passed away just a few days ago,” Campbell said.
He frowned. “Shame. I always liked that one. Used to let her ride around for free.”
Why did fond memories of her mother nick her heart like a too-sharp razor on loose skin?
“We’re in kind of a rush,” Luke said.
“Don’t start bossing me around, Mr. Coffee.” Russ lifted the counter and locked the door. “I’ll get there when I get there.” Judging by his slow movements, it might take awhile.
Luke tossed Campbell a look that told her their banter was playful, and she followed them down the platform to where an electric trolley was parked.
“I took your mom and her friends on our very first ride.” Russ stepped into the trolley and sat behind the wheel. “The trolley hasn’t been here forever, but the day it opened, those girls hopped on board, all four of them with their own camera. You’d have thought they were the tourists.”
“They were good friends, weren’t they?” Campbell had never had those kinds of friends. Her friends had been fair-weather. She brushed the thought away.
She snapped a picture of her view from inside the trolley, Russ’s profile off to the left, his worn wrinkles deep and telling. She imagined it in black and white.
Luke showed her the places her mother had painted, and she photographed those, but as she worked, a different idea welled inside her. She had her own story to tell through images: the story of Sweethaven through the eyes of a stranger. A tiny seed of excitement had burrowed down deep inside her and now twisted and turned and begged to be watered. The creativity seed.
She couldn’t ignore it. Her hair blew away from her face as they rode down Main Street.
“Just tell me when you see something you want to look at.” Luke draped his arm on the back of the wooden bench where they sat in the rear of the trolley.
The same two old men she’d seen together once before sat on a park bench at the corner of two downtown streets. The trolley moved slowly enough now that she could raise the camera and zoom in to capture the smiles of the two old codgers. Click. They spotted her and one of them waved. Another click.
Luke waved back. “That’s Charlie and Dale. They’re both widowers. Both been coming to Sweethaven since they were kids. They retired up here. When the weather gets nice, they spend all day on that bench. Notice they’ve got their sack lunches and a big thermos of coffee.”
She focused the camera again, zooming in on wrinkled hands wrapped around a thermos lid of a steaming drink. Click.
From behind the camera she waved as they passed by, and the men laughed. “Make us famous,” one of them shouted.
“That was Charlie,” Luke said.
As they rode along, she clicked off a few shots of the entire downtown area through the open window at the back of the train.
She could almost picture her mom, Jane, Lila, and Meghan riding bikes down the brick road to the candy store to fill a bag with jelly beans and then dashing off to the soda fountain for root beer floats. Her mother had walked these streets.
For that matter, so had her father.
Her thoughts turned to the hidden scrapbook layouts she’d found. The words on the page told of the beginning of a crush, or at least an infatuation. Who was the boy who stole her heart? A dark art student? A gangly admirer? What if the pages placed her no closer to the truth?
An even scarier thought popped into her head: what if they did?
THIRTY
Jane
Jane watched Lila pull out of the driveway and disappear down Lilac Lane. She’d been asked to locate Mark Davis—a task that wouldn’t be difficult but seemed completely ridiculous.
Off the hook for dinner, she walked out back, wondering if she should think about planting some flowers this year. Mom had always kept up on the flowers. Their yard had exploded with color every year. Now it looked dry and empty.
Who was she kidding? She didn’t need to landscape the yard of a house she had no intention of revisiting. Her conversation with Lila left her analyzing her own heart. She’d made peace with God, but she still carried a grudge against Meghan. The thought shamed her. Logic told her it wasn’t her friend’s fault, but blaming Meghan meant not shouldering all the blame herself.
Because trying to carry that burden had nearly killed her.
Graham tossed a ball to Sam in the back yard. Sam whipped it back and pelted his dad in the leg.
“Good aim, buddy. Next time, maybe not so hard.” Graham threw it back.
Jane sat in a lawn chair and watched for a few minutes, thankful the trees obstructed the view of the lake.
“All right, let’s take a break, Samster,” Graham said.
“Okay, I’m going to play my DSi.” Sam ran toward the house.
“Half an hour, buddy,” Jane called after him.
Graham settled into the chair next to her and stared until he had her attention.
“What?” She knew the look on his face meant trouble.
“I didn’t say anything.” He took her hand. “How are you doing?”
She sighed. “I feel like this trip has set me back months. I was doing so well.”
“No, you just stopped thinking about it all the time,” Graham said. “And now, it’s smacking you in the face.”
“Punching me in the gut is more like it.”
He stayed quiet.
“Lila thinks she found Campbell’s father.”
“Really?”
“I don’t buy it, but she’s convinced. She wants me to find out if this guy’s family still owns the house down the street.”
“Why you?”
“Because our families were friends.”
“And why would it be such a secret if it was this guy?”
“Because I had a huge crush on him.” Jane giggled. She looked at Graham. “He was so dreamy.”
“I don’t want you talking to this guy,” Graham joked.
“I just think Lila’s got the wrong person.”
“You have another idea?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.” She paused. “We may never know now.”
“True.”
Empty flowerpots flanked the back door. “I know we’re not coming back here, but do you think I should plant some flowers in the yard?”
He looked at her. “Why couldn’t we come back?”
She shook her head.
“The kids love it. Emily and Jenna could use a little small-town life. Maybe a couple of weeks this summer would do us all some good.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Graham. Forget I said anything.”
“Just think about it. I believe it’s good for us.” He took her hand. “All of us.”
But thinking about it meant thinking about the lake. And thinking about the lake meant thinking about Alex. And thinking about Alex meant being in pain.
And that’s why she hadn’t wanted to come back here in the first place.
* * * * *
Campbell
Against Deb’s better judgment, Campbell had looked up Jared Kimball in the Sweethaven phone book and now pulled into what appeared to be his driveway. The GPS had led her to a gravel road on the outsk
irts of town. When the voice told her to turn right, she nearly missed the turn for all the overgrown brush that covered the driveway.
The car bounced down the gravel drive until she turned a corner and a tiny white house came into view. Outside sat a late-nineties–style Nissan with rust above the tires. Campbell took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down.
The curtains on the second floor moved, and a yellow-headed little girl appeared between the two sheers. When she met Campbell’s eyes, surprise crossed the little girl’s face and she disappeared back behind the curtains.
Campbell walked up to the house and knocked deliberately on the door, wondering if there were any more children hiding inside.
And then she wondered if they were her half-siblings. She’d always imagined having a sister.
The sound of the door jolted her back to reality, and Campbell waited for Jared Kimball to appear, but when it popped open, a tired-looking woman stood there, scowling at her.
“Can I help you?” She bounced a curly-headed baby on her hip.
“I’m looking for Jared Kimball.”
Her expression changed, and she looked Campbell up and down. “Has he gotten to you too?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Where’d he pick you up, the bar downtown? Or are you the girl from the smoke shop?”
“No, I’ve never met Mr. Kimball.” Campbell wrung her clammy hands.
“Obviously not.” The woman laughed. “If you had, you wouldn’t be calling him ‘mister.’ ”
“I just wanted a moment of his time. Is he here?”
The baby fussed, and the woman hollered inside. “Libby, get down here.”
The little girl Campbell had spotted in the window appeared in the entryway, and the woman handed her the baby. “Take your brother into the kitchen.”
The little girl could barely manage the weight of the baby, but she hobbled away, leaving the two women alone on the front step.
“I haven’t seen Jared in…oh, probably ten days now. Said he was going out for some smokes and he still isn’t back. I guess he drove down to Florida to get his cigarettes or something.”
Campbell nodded. “I understand.”
“What do you want him for?” She squinted, still seeming suspicious of Campbell.
Campbell knew telling this woman her real reason for coming was out of the question, so she searched her mind for another explanation. “It’s nothing, really. I heard he might’ve known my mom—a long time ago. They were art students together.”
“Yeah, Jared always said he was an artist.”
“Well, I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No bother. You want me to give him a message—if he comes back?”
Campbell opened her mouth to respond but quickly thought better of it. She shook her head. “No, that’s okay, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Campbell got back in her car and stared at the run-down house. The little girl reappeared in the window and stared at her like a prisoner craving the sunlight. Campbell waved at her, but the girl disappeared without returning the gesture.
She started the car and drove back toward town. Perhaps it was better not to find out if Jared Kimball was her father.
THIRTY-ONE
Lila
Lila sat in one of the overly soft armchairs in front of the faux fireplace at the Main Street Café. She clutched her Chanel bag and watched the door. She’d asked Campbell to meet her there, but she hadn’t said why.
“Couldn’t we just talk tonight at dinner?” Campbell had asked.
“I think it would be better if we spoke in private.” Her cryptic response must’ve piqued the girl’s curiosity.
Unfortunately, the only information Jane had found in the past two hours was that the Davis family still owned the cottage down the street and that Mark was expected in town for the Blossom Festival.
This revealed nothing about his relationship with Suzanne. It was all just a hunch.
“You shouldn’t tell her until we know something,” Jane said on the phone.
“She has a right to know it’s a possibility. I would want to know,” Lila said. “We told her we’d tell her if we thought of anyone.”
“And if it’s not him?”
“Face the facts—she kept the secret for a reason.”
Jane’s heavy sigh told her she didn’t buy it, but Lila didn’t feel like forcing the issue. All she could do was present Campbell with the facts. She could do what she wanted with the information.
The bell over the door rang as Campbell walked in. Luke followed behind her the same way boys used to follow Suzanne. Mama said ordinary boys wanted someone approachable and average—someone who didn’t challenge them. “But you don’t want an ordinary boy, Lila. You deserve someone special.”
Lila shoved the memory aside and waved in Campbell’s direction.
Campbell walked toward the armchairs while Luke spoke with one of the girls behind the counter.
“Lila, what is it?” She sat down and stared—her eyes wide and expectant. Second thoughts rushed to Lila’s mind.
“It’s…”
“My father? What’d you find out?”
Lila never empathized with the women in Macon. She purposely kept her distance from them. But the women here pulled her in, and she genuinely cared what happened to them and how they felt. Campbell’s heart lay on the line here, and she knew she could snap it in two if she weren’t careful.
“It’s just a hunch.” Lila proceeded with caution. “It could be nothing.”
Who was she kidding? All the qualifiers in the world wouldn’t keep Campbell from getting her hopes up. She’d spent her whole life without a daddy.
“I thought of someone who was around a lot that summer. He still owns a house here. In fact, Jane found out he’s going to be here this weekend.”
Campbell’s face went pale.
This was a mistake. Lila should’ve listened to Jane and dug around a little more before telling Campbell anything.
“It may be nothing, but I thought we should check it out. I can find out for you if you want me to.”
Campbell stared at her. “I’ve got a few leads I’m looking into too. I’d love to hear what you found.”
Lila took the scrapbook page from her purse and showed Campbell the confession. “His name was Mark Davis. He was Jane’s neighbor, and she had a huge crush on him for a few summers in a row, really until she met Graham. Your mom would’ve never done anything to hurt Jane, but—”
“It does look like Mom’s handwriting,” she said.
Lila leaned back in the chair. “I know this is hard for you so take your time with it. I was thinking Jane and I could get in touch with him if you’d prefer. We can let you know if there’s anything to it.”
“So is there anything besides this confession to make you think it was this Mark guy? Did my mom spend any time with him?”
“We all did,” Lila said. “Jane knew him best, but boys were naturally drawn to your mom. I don’t think she meant for it to happen, but if it did, I can see why she’d want to keep it a secret.”
“Because of Jane.”
Lila nodded and ran a hand through her hair as she looked around the café. Being back in Sweethaven unearthed every regret she’d worked hard to bury. She’d convinced herself those three girls meant nothing to her. It’d made it easier to walk away, but it wasn’t easy, and she had suffered for it. She’d masked her loneliness and covered it with pride.
Had Suzanne suffered for it too?
“If he’s coming this weekend, could you point him out to me?” Campbell asked.
“Sure, and I’ll see what else we can dig up.” Lila leaned forward. “I hope it was okay for me to tell you—even though it’s not certain.”
“Of course. I’m glad you did. I was starting to get discouraged.” Campbell picked her bag up off the floor and then turned back to Lila. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Lila smiled and watched as
Campbell walked toward where Luke stood waiting for her. He leaned against the counter nonchalantly, but Lila could see plain as day that he’d fallen for this girl—hard.
He had that look in his eyes, the same look she’d seen in Graham’s eyes. Concern. Worry. Love. Had Tom ever looked at her that way?
She pulled her cell phone out and tried to reach him one more time. Still no answer.
This time, she decided to leave a message. “Tom, Suzanne died. She was gone before she could make it here. I’d really like to talk to you.”
As she spoke, her mind wandered. Maybe he was at the attorney’s office, working out the details of their divorce.
“Could you possibly call me back?” Anger wound its way around her heart.
Or maybe one of the flight attendants had caught his eye. She slammed the phone shut without saying good-bye and forced the thoughts away.
THIRTY-TWO
Campbell
Luke waited for her by the counter, anticipation in his eyes. “Well?”
“She thinks she figured out who my father is.”
“Really? That’s great.” His smile faded as he read her expression. “Why aren’t you smiling?”
“Just nerves.” She forced a smile. She hadn’t told Lila about Jared. Maybe a part of her was too afraid to find out the truth.
“What if he didn’t know you were his?” Luke asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“You mean, like, my mom never told him?”
He shrugged. “Could’ve been. If it was that big a secret. There’s got to be a reason she kept it to herself. Maybe she didn’t even tell the guy.”
“I guess.” She almost hoped that was the case.
“Who’d she say it was?”
“Some guy named Mark Davis.”
“Dr. Davis? Really?”
“You know him?” A twinge of hope flickered in her mind, but she forced it away. She could not get excited about a maybe. All the childhood fantasies of fathers she never had rolled into one giant ball of humiliation and taunted her.
“Sure. He’s here every summer. A lot. He’s a big-shot cardiologist or something.”
“He’s coming this weekend for the Blossom Festival.”
“He’s a good guy. Has three kids, I think.”
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