A Sweethaven Summer

by Courtney Walsh

  The bell over the door rang, grabbing Dr. Davis’s attention. His face lit, and Campbell turned to see a petite blond woman wearing black capris and a black and white striped shirt. A small, curly-headed girl who appeared to be about six or seven held her hand.

  She probably built sand castles with Dr. Davis in the summer and snowmen in the winter.

  “Daddy!” The little girl ran over to him, and he picked her up and squeezed her tight.

  Awkwardness descended on Campbell, and she wished she’d never sat down next to him.

  His wife stood at his side, her eyes darting from her husband to Campbell.

  “Melissa, this is Campbell Carter. Campbell, my wife, Melissa.”

  Campbell shook the woman’s hand and prayed for an easy escape. Whatever Dr. Davis had remembered, she wasn’t going to find out now.

  “Nice to meet you, Campbell,” Melissa said.

  “Campbell’s mom grew up here. I knew her way back when.”

  “Oh? Is your mom here now?” Melissa’s smile warmed, and she seemed to relax a little.

  “No, she died,” Campbell said. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Davis.”

  “Anytime. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  She nodded, gave another glance at his daughter, and then left the café, determined to give up looking for her father once and for all.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Jane

  Jane awoke early, and the bright spring sun drew her out of bed. Her mental checklist skittered through her mind as she dressed. Orchard. Vineyard. Craft Sale at the Commons. Campbell’s art show. Suzanne’s memorial. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Wet eyes stared back at her. She dreaded the moment she officially said good-bye to her old friend.

  She hurried into her warm-up pants and a sweatshirt and jotted a quick note for Graham. Carrot cake is yours for the taking. Went for a walk. Back soon. —J

  Before she left, she checked on her sleeping kids. The girls would sleep till noon if she let them. She wouldn’t.

  She stepped out the door and inhaled the morning air, and despite all her trying, she couldn’t help but replay the horror of the day Alex had died. Behind their cottage, the dune peaked and then sloped down on the other side, leading to the lake. The climb had always been part of the fun for Alex.

  She reached the top and stood, the cottage on one side, the lake on the other.

  “Come on, Mom!” His voice rang in her memory.

  She could hear the words, carried on the wind, and they echoed through the air in the very place they had originally been spoken.

  She took a couple steps toward the lake but stopped. Could she do this? Alone?

  Words from long ago sprang to mind. I will never leave you or forsake you.

  God’s promises. Do not fear, for I am with you. She wasn’t alone. She’d known that since she was a girl, and God had proven it time and time again.

  But this was different. This pain didn’t compare to any she’d ever felt. God couldn’t take this pain away.

  Slowly, cautiously, she put one foot in front of the other.

  “Mom! Come on!” Alex’s voice, so clear in her memory, drew her onward. She looked up and in the distance, by the lake, she could see him, running along the water. He darted out to meet the waves as they rushed to the shore.

  “Alex?” she whispered.

  She picked up speed, stumbling down the side of the sandy dune. Her eyes focused on Alex as his screams of excitement filled the early morning air.

  “Alex?” Her voice grew louder.

  At the bottom of the dune, she planted her feet firmly on the beach.

  “Alex, stop! Get out of the water!” She rushed forward, catching a glimpse of his smiling face. He turned to her, his hair wet, and waved. In front of her, the lake crashed, tumultuous and unpredictable.

  “Come on, Mom!” He jumped as the waves hit him in the chest.

  Jane tried to run through the thick sand, but its resistance slowed her down. Every time the water splashed above his neck, panic rose up and she called out to him. Every time, he emerged, joy on his face, waving and calling to her.

  Farther and farther into the lake he moved, but he still bobbed up for air, smiling and laughing.

  “Alex, come back!” As she reached the edge of the water her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind raced. Where had he gone? He’d come up every time. And then he didn’t.

  He was gone.

  He disappeared, leaving her bewildered, wet and alone on the shore.

  “Alex, I’m so sorry.” She fell to her knees.

  She’d blamed Meg and God and even Alex all these years, but she knew it was the blame she carried for herself that ate her up inside.

  “I’m so sorry.” The sobs overtook her then, pulled up the grief she’d buried, and laid it out in the open where it ached and writhed and tore her apart.

  The sun shone in the distance, casting a pink glow through the clouds, and she imagined God had given her a glimpse of what Alex was doing right at that moment. Laughing, splashing, playing.

  As the tears fell, she allowed herself to feel the pain she’d pushed away all these years. She didn’t hide from it or mask it with food or pretend to be fine. For once, she felt it, and she acknowledged the anger that taunted. Deep, unabashed sorrow gripped her gut and tied it in a knot.

  Collapsed in a heap on the beach, she finally found the courage to say the one thing she hadn’t been able to say since they put her son in the ground six years ago.

  “Good-bye, Alex.”

  A strong hand wrapped around her shoulder, and she didn’t even have to look up to know Graham had found her. In her time of utter sorrow, he came to her aid, sat down beside her, and held her while she cried.

  “It wasn’t your fault, honey,” he said. “You couldn’t have saved him.”

  Jane sank into Graham’s arms. She stared out over the water and something inside her shifted. Something had changed. The still water now stretched in front of her, glassy and serene like a painting. Alex forgave her. Graham forgave her. God forgave her.

  All that was left was for her to forgive herself.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Campbell

  The morning of the art show, nerves flickered in Campbell’s stomach like jolts of electricity. She sat on the bleachers at the Blossom Fest charity softball tournament, but as much as she wanted to watch Luke play, her mind wandered.

  Afterwards, she met up with him near the dugout, praying he didn’t ask her what she thought of the game.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  She smiled, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “How about the parade? You still wanna go?” He took his baseball cap off and put it on backwards.

  Campbell ran her hand through her hair and forced herself to nod.

  He frowned. “You don’t want to go?”

  “No, I do, I’m just so nervous about the show tonight.” She’d gotten everything done, but the thought of actually opening the gallery doors made her insides a jumbled mess.

  “The parade will be the perfect distraction,” he said. “And the carnival down by the lake. After the show tonight, we might even catch the fireworks.”

  She nodded. Judging by the look on his face, though, he didn’t buy it.

  The crowd had started to disperse, most of them on foot. A vendor stood at the corner selling corn on the cob smothered in a buttery concoction.

  “No pressure. We can go eat or…” He studied her face. “I can leave you alone?”

  She scrunched her face. “I’m sorry. I’m no fun today.”

  “I’m just trying to gauge your mood. I haven’t got them all figured out yet.”

  Campbell laughed. They walked past a huge float, covered with flowers. “Wow, I haven’t seen a real float in a long time.”

  Luke waved to a woman sitting on top of it. “It’s tradition here. You’ll see lots of them. They line up around t
his block and then the parade goes all the way down Main Street and around. It’s quite a spectacle.”

  “So you’re saying I should go?”

  “Absolutely.” He took her hand in his and led her through the crowd. As they reached the Main Street Café, he waved to Delcy, who sat next to two empty lawn chairs.

  “Guess you were counting on my coming, huh?” Campbell looked up at him.

  “Wishful thinking.” He grinned, and they sat down among the employees from the café. The sounds of a marching band warming up carried across the street. Something about the rat-a-tat of the snare drum and the cacophony of warm-up scales brought an air of excitement.

  Across the street, tourists and locals gathered in lawn chairs and on blankets to watch the parade. Children sat on the curb, buckets in hand, anxious for the candy that would be thrown their way.

  A man burst through the door of the tiny tavern on the corner across the street. He stumbled to the ground and struggled to right himself.

  “Not again. Looks like Kimball’s up to his old tricks.” An older man sitting behind them stared at the intoxicated man.

  Kimball? As in Jared Kimball?

  “It’s barely two o’clock in the afternoon. Doesn’t he know the streets are filled with children?” the woman next to him responded.

  Campbell stared at the man. Unkempt and seemingly disoriented, he fell into the crowd. Another man attempted to help him up, but Jared shoved the guy away. The do-gooder’s hands went up in surrender, and Jared stared at him, pushing into him with his shoulder as he passed.

  Campbell watched as Jared Kimball disappeared down the street, and her thoughts turned to the small kids she’d seen at his house. If he was her father, perhaps she didn’t want to know.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when a teenage girl thrust a flier in her face. “Come out to the Sweethaven Art Gallery tonight,” she said. “The new exhibit opens at seven. It’s called ‘Treasures of Sweethaven.’ ” The girl’s braces caught the sun as she grinned and moved on to the next person.

  Campbell glanced down at the flier and saw one of Mom’s paintings beside a photograph she’d taken. “How in the world did Deb get these done so fast?” she wondered aloud.

  “Yeah, Luke, how did Deb get these done so fast?” Delcy grinned at him, and Luke looked away.

  “She might’ve had a little help.” He bumped into Campbell with his shoulder. “They turned out well.”

  She stared at him.

  “What?” He feigned innocence.

  “You did this?”

  He shrugged. “I might’ve had something to do with it.”

  She studied the flier more closely. All the details were included, and judging by the design, they’d been done by a professional and printed in full color. She watched as the girl handed one to everyone in the crowd. How much had those fliers cost him?

  “Luke, thank you,” she said. “No one’s ever…” She stopped. “Just thanks.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Her stomach flip-flopped as she wondered if he might kiss her right there, but a young guy who worked at the café walked up and punched him in the arm.

  Campbell looked away, back toward where Jared Kimball had disappeared into the crowd.

  Would she ever find out the truth? Would she ever get the answers she came here for?

  She glanced at Luke.

  Or had she been drawn to Sweethaven for another reason entirely?

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Campbell

  In the back room of the Sweethaven Gallery, Campbell stared at her reflection in a hand-painted mirror. Her sleeveless black dress, cinched at the waist, hung to her knees and showed off her favorite feature—her shoulders. She fixed the clasp of her necklace, which had squirmed around to the front, and ran her hands through her hair.

  She exhaled, hoping to dispel the nerves.

  Deb poked her head in the room. “You have a visitor.”

  She stepped aside and Luke’s tall silhouette appeared in the doorway, a large bouquet of tulips in his hand.

  She smiled.

  “I wanted to congratulate you.” He offered the flowers.

  She took them and inhaled, their fragrance reminding her of her mom. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a warm hug, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel uncomfortable being this close to another person. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him closer.

  She rested her head on his chest, the tulips tickling her nose.

  “I have to admit, I already looked at your pictures.”

  She pulled back and gasped. “Cheater!”

  “I couldn’t resist.” His lazy grin teased her. “You’re incredible. I especially liked the shot of that good-looking guy on the train.”

  “Russ?” Campbell grinned.

  “The other good-looking guy.”

  “I figured you’d like that one.” She looked away. “And I’m not incredible. My mom was incredible.”

  “She was, but Campbell, you are an artist. Your photos are amazing.” He wove a hand around the back of her neck and let it rest there. When their eyes met, she fought the urge to look away.

  Her face heated and her heart raced. She’d been here before—why did she still get so nervous?

  One look at him answered that question. Big eyes intent on her. Perfect lips. Disheveled hair. No, she’d never been here before.

  “Luke, I’m going back—”

  But he didn’t let her finish. He closed the space between them, leaning in to her and pulling her body against his. His lips grazed hers, soft and tender, void of the rush of expectant schoolboys. Their eyes met, the closeness between them taking her breath away. When his lips found hers again, the blood rushed to her face and she parted her mouth to receive his kiss. Longer this time. She tingled all over.

  He pulled back and looked at her again. “You were saying?”

  “Nothing.”

  “All right, your public is waiting.” He smiled.

  “I’m nervous. What if they hate it?”

  “Not a chance.”

  She took another glance at the mirror. “Oh, great, now I need lipstick.” She flashed him a grin and reapplied her Brown Sugar #5.

  He shrugged. “No apology here.”

  “Campbell, you ready?” Deb had returned. “People are starting to arrive.”

  I hope you’re watching, Mom.

  In the gallery, waiters in white shirts and black ties served appetizers on silver trays. The artwork had all been hung to perfection, the ideal combination of paintings and photographs.

  “I’m going to go get us something to drink,” Luke said. “You okay?”

  She begged her pulse to slow down and nodded.

  The door opened, and Jane entered with Graham at her side. Dressed in a black pantsuit and holding her husband’s arm, she had a unique glow about her.

  Campbell excused herself and waved to Jane.

  “This is so exciting,” Jane beamed.

  Campbell stopped for a moment and soaked in Jane’s joy. Aside from her mom, there had never been anyone to share her victories. She’d expected to live this one out on her own, but here she was, surrounded by new friends who felt more like family—all willing to celebrate the realization of her dream. She hoped she could make it through the rest of the night without crying.

  Nerves danced in her belly.

  The door opened and Adele’s boisterous voice rang out over the crowd. “Well, bless my soul.” Campbell turned, but as soon as she saw Adele, disappointment filled her chest. She’d half expected her grandfather to join Luke’s mom—though she’d given him no reason to make an appearance. Did she want him there?

  Campbell’s heart raced at the realization. She might never find out who her father was, but she had a grandfather—living and breathing—and only a few blocks away.

  “Jane, if you’ll excuse me.”

 
“Sure, hon.”

  Campbell turned off her brain so she wouldn’t lose her nerve and escaped out the back, hopped in her car, and drove down Main Street to Elm. She turned left on Juniper Drive, pulled in front of her grandfather’s cottage, and turned off the ignition.

  One deep breath and she found an ounce of courage hidden behind a gallon of fear. “I can do this,” she said.

  She walked to the door and knocked, holding her chin high.

  When she heard someone on the other side of the door, the tips of her fingers went numb. For a brief moment she wanted to hide, but when she saw her grandfather’s face, the nerves settled a bit. He was just a man—a broken man, in fact.

  He didn’t hide the surprise on his face.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Campbell said. “I know it’s late.”

  “It’s fine. Would you like to come in?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks.”

  She stood in the entryway and glanced into the living room. Above the mantel was a row of framed pictures, all of her mom.

  “We’re having an art show tonight,” she said without looking at him. “I came to ask if you wanted to come.”

  She met his eyes, which were wet with fresh pain.

  “It’s Mom’s art,” she continued. “And my photographs.”

  “I read about it in the paper,” he said. “I thought about coming, but I didn’t want to upset you. It’s not really my place.”

  She nodded. “I want you to see how amazing she was.”

  “I already know how amazing she was,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’d love to come. Just let me get cleaned up and I’ll meet you there in a bit.”

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “If you’re sure.”

  “We can go together.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Campbell

  Campbell returned to the gallery with her grandfather at her side, praying no one noticed she’d gone. She walked in, and Luke rushed up to her.