And it all unraveled when the phone rang late on that rainy Saturday afternoon in March.
“Mrs. Campbell?”
“Yes,” Paige answered cautiously.
“This is Sergeant Mark Evans of the Colonie Police Department.”
Paige’s heart skipped a beat. “What happened?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“There’s been an accident.”
Paige swallowed, her mouth going dry. “How bad?”
“Pretty bad, ma’am. Your husband and daughter have been taken to the Albany Medical Center.”
“And?”
“Witnesses said an SUV ran the red light and T-boned your husband’s car.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any other information.”
“Thank you. I’ll—I’ll go there right now.”
“Good luck, ma’am.”
Paige hung up the phone and looked around their orderly home. A batch of towels tumbled in the dryer and she wondered if she ought to fold them and put them away before—
Then she caught herself. What in God’s name was she thinking when Alex and Chrissy were hurt—and badly, too, if she’d understood what the officer’s tone conveyed.
Paige grabbed her coat and purse and headed out the door.
The gray sky was beginning to darken on that first day of spring as Paige drove a little too fast to the hospital, hoping she wouldn’t grab the attention of a traffic cop. She parked and practically ran toward the Emergency Room, bursting through the automatic doors into the ER’s lobby. A line snaked in front of the receptionist’s desk and she was sure she would jump out of her skin during the five-minute wait for her turn.
“My husband and daughter were in a car accident. The police called me.”
“Name?”
“Campbell. My husband’s name is Alexander. My daughter is Christina.”
The receptionist’s eyes darted back to her computer screen. “Mr. Campbell is in unit three.”
“And my daughter?”
The receptionist glanced at her screen again. “You need to speak to Dr. Sharma. I’ll put in a call.”
Panic filled every molecule of Paige’s body. Why wasn’t Chrissy assigned an emergency cubicle—they’d been brought in together?
“Please follow me,” the receptionist said, raised the counter on hinges that kept those in the lobby at bay, and led Paige to a small room. “Dr. Sharma will be right with you.” She gave a half-hearted smile, left the room, and closed the door.
The cell-like room was no more than five steps across. Painted a soft blue, it contained a loveseat and a couple of chairs. The prints on the wall were of pansies. Summer flowers.
Paige couldn’t stand to sit and paced the room. She knew—she already knew what this Dr. Sharma was going to say, but she wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe the worst. Not until she saw for herself, until she could touch—kiss—her sweet baby girl. Still, she made no move to leave the room.
Paige only had time to pace three or four circuits before the handle rattled and the door opened. A young dark-skinned man entered.
“Mrs. Campbell?” he asked, with only the hint of an accent. “I’m Dr. Sharma, the resident on duty. Won’t you please sit?” he said, indicating the loveseat.
Paige sat, holding the straps of her purse in a death grip. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” she asked, her voice sounding stronger than her spirit.
Sharma nodded sadly. “Your daughter was alive when they brought her in, but she sustained massive blood loss. Her injuries were too great for us to help her.”
“Did she suffer?” Paige asked, her voice shaky.
Sharma shook his head. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Paige swallowed hard and nodded, determined not to give into the emotions she held back by a dam of resolve. “And my husband?”
“Mr. Campbell suffered a broken collar bone, a fractured tibia, as well as multiple contusions. He should recover without lasting aftereffects.”
“Does he know about our daughter?”
Sharma shook his head.
Again, Paige nodded. She was beginning to feel like a bobble head. “Can I see Chrissy?”
“I would advise you not to at this time,” Sharma said firmly.
What did that mean? Were her injuries so horrific that seeing them might scar Paige for the rest of her life? Did she really want to see her perfect child in that condition or remember her beautiful face as she was?
Good Lord—was this really happening? How could this happen to her—to her family?
“However,” Sharma continued, “your husband is conscious. He has asked for you several times.”
Again Paige swallowed hard. She let out a long, unsteady breath. “Okay.” She rose to her feet.
Sharma opened the door and she followed him to a curtained unit. He paused. “Please let any of our staff know if you or Mr. Campbell needs anything,” he said kindly.
“Thank you.”
He gave her a sad smile, and left her.
Paige let out another long breath, steeling herself before she faced Alex … before she had to shatter his world, like hers had been shattered.
Pulling the curtain aside, Paige entered the cubicle. Alex lay propped up in the hospital bed, covered in white blankets, with an IV bag hanging above him and a heart monitor beeping quietly—reassuringly—behind him. His eyes were closed—his face bruised, brush-burned, and swollen. Her heart lurched and she had to swallow several times before she could make herself step forward. She reached over the bed rail and clasped Alex’s hand in her own. His skin felt cold to the touch, but he was alive, she reminded herself, and rubbed her thumb over the top of his hand.
Alex’s eyes fluttered open. “Paige?”
“I’m here,” she said, her voice not much above a whisper.
“Chrissy. What happened to Chrissy?” he asked frantically. “Nobody will talk to me.”
“Tell me what happened,” Paige said, her words calm—patient—not what she was feeling at all.
Alex seemed to deflate. “We’d taken a detour. Chrissy wanted to see the new housing development near the mall. She wanted me to drive through the streets so she could get an idea of the layout. I told her we should wait until they update the aerial view from Google Maps, but you know Chrissy. She whined and looked at me with those big blue eyes and the next thing I knew we were driving up and down muddy tracks while she made notes.”
Just as Paige had suspected.
“And then?”
“We were heading home. We got the green light when suddenly this big black SUV came barreling through the intersection and hit us. That’s all I remember until I woke up here a little while ago. Have you seen Chrissy?” he asked, his voice rising.
“No,” Paige managed. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Is she okay?”
“No, she’s not.” Could she be more blunt? Maybe she should wait to tell Alex. Was he going to require surgery for that broken leg? She didn’t even know.
“We’ve never kept secrets, Paige,” Alex reminded her.
Again, Paige swallowed, and bit her lip. “No, we never have.” She let out a long breath. “They tell me … they tell me she’s gone.”
“Gone?” Alex asked, disbelief coloring his tone.
Paige nodded, grinding her teeth so that she wouldn’t break down.
“She—she can’t ….” But Alex didn’t seem able to complete the sentence. His eyes squeezed shut and he began to tremble. Paige moved closer, until his head sagged against her and he began to cry—great heaving sobs. She’d only ever seen Alex cry one other time—in the delivery room when Chrissy was born. They’d both cried tears of joy, but now she seemed incapable of tears. All she could do was hold onto Alex and try to comfort him … because she knew that Chrissy’s death was something she would never, ever get over.
And she vowed that she would never, ever cry. She was too angry to cry. Angry at the stupid driver of
the SUV. Angry at fate. Angry at a God who would let that beautiful child with so much potential, such a beautiful spirit, to be taken from them.
In that moment Paige was forever changed. A coldness surrounded her heart. An icy prison so formidable that nothing could penetrate it. Not sorrow, not joy … not even love.
That was it. She would never allow herself to love anyone ever again.
Not.
Ever.
9
Alex awoke to the sound of muffled sobs, the bed shaking in the dark.
“Paige?” he called groggily, and reached across the expanse of mattress to gently touch her shoulder. He expected her to pull away, as she had so many times during the last year, but this time she rolled toward him, burying her face in his shoulder.
“I don’t want to die,” Paige wailed and started to cry even harder.
“Hey, hey,” Alex soothed, wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her forehead. “You’re not dying.”
“But I’d planned … after we got home … after you left me.”
Her words were like a knife in his soul.
“Oh, Paige,” Alex said sadly, but he couldn’t admit that that had indeed been his plan.
“I was angry with you because….” A sob kept Paige from continuing.
“Because I lived and she didn’t?”
She nodded. “At first I was glad I still had at least one of you, but as the months went by….”
She didn’t have to say it. Every day Alex questioned why he’d been spared but his daughter had died. Because the SUV that had crashed into them had hit the passenger side when running the light. Alex had never even seen it coming. Survivor’s guilt ate at him and it had taken more than a year for him to come to terms with the reality that fate had spared him. Perhaps there was a reason. To save Paige from the horrible depths of her grief.
“Chrissy’s dead!” Paige wailed. “She’s dead and I’ll never get over it. I’ll never be happy again.”
“You’re right,” he soothed, his voice ragged with emotion he’s tried for so long to stifle. “You will never get over Chrissy’s loss. Neither of us will. Neither will anyone who ever knew that golden girl. But you can be happy again. We can both be happy again, but only if we remember why we got together in the first place. Why we got married. Why we vowed to be together today, tomorrow, and always, always, always.”
Her sobs quieted and he could just see the glint of her damp eyes in the room’s scant light. “You remembered,” she said, her voice sounding small and subdued.
Alex smoothed her hair back away from her face. “You silly girl, I never forgot.”
And then they were hugging one another with an intensity they hadn’t mustered for many, many years. They kissed, and kissed again, and Alex was overcome with such a feeling of desire—of protection—for this beautiful, now fragile woman who’d taken herself out of his life—had given up on life. Was there a chance they could make it work once again?
If he did nothing else for the rest of his life, Alex knew he had to do everything in his power to try.
The drive back to Albany was quiet, but this time the atmosphere inside the van was devoid of tension and replaced with a sense of love, and finally … understanding. They’d made a joint decision to do everything they could to repair their shattered marriage.
Alex steered the van up the driveway of their house in Albany and cut the engine. “Home again, home again—”
“Jiggity-jig.” Paige finished the phrase without thinking. It had been something they’d said—and shared with their daughter—upon arriving home ever since Chrissy was a toddler. For a moment Paige thought she might cry, but then she managed a wan smile. Chrissy had loved the ritual. Just because she was gone didn’t mean they should abandon such rites. In fact, Paige felt determined to remember the best of their times with Chrissy, to honor them, instead of trying to eliminate all memory of them.
She cleared her throat. “I was thinking that since we had such a big breakfast that we might want to have a light supper.”
“Do we have anything in the fridge?”
“Everything we need to make waffles.”
Chrissy had loved waffles, and neither of them had eaten them since the day they’d lost their daughter. They hadn’t eaten any of her favorite foods. They hadn’t celebrated any occasions. They had mourned and forgotten how to live. It was time to start over. To finally heal.
“I think I’d like that.”
Again Paige smiled. “Me, too.”
The sky was gray and a cold wind blew off the ocean on a cold late afternoon in April a year later. Blythe walked the length of the B and B’s driveway to collect the day’s mail. When she got back inside she thought she might make a nice apple crisp for dessert. The spicy smell would fill the kitchen and it would make a nice treat for her guests if they came back from dinner with just a little room left in their stomachs.
The mailbox was filled with circulars, bills, and a small white envelope. She smiled at seeing the return address in the upper left-hand corner, but had decided to wait until she came back inside to the warmth of the inn to open it.
After hanging up her coat, she sorted through the mail, discarding the junk which would go to the recycle box, and setting the bills aside. Blythe headed for the inn’s reception area, which often doubled as her personal desk. Picking up a brass letter opener, she slit the small white envelope, removing its contents. Little yellow ducks swam across the blue background on the bottom of the delightful picture announcement.
Rub-a-dub-dub,
there’s a new baby
in the tub!
Ian Christopher Campbell
was born on
March 20th
7lbs 3oz ~ 20½ inches
to proud Parents
Alex & Paige
Blythe’s heart nearly melted as she studied the baby’s delighted smile. He looked like his daddy, but had his mommy’s eyes.
Martha strolled into the room. “M’row!”
Blythe looked up from the photo.
“What?”
“M’row!” Martha insisted, and walked in a circle.
“You want me to follow you?”
“M’row!”
“Oh, all right.” Blythe set the announcement down as the cat disappeared around the corner. She came out from behind the desk, and trailed after the feline. Martha sat in front of room six, her tail swishing. She mewed again. “What do you want to go in there for?” Blythe asked.
“M’row!” Martha insisted.
“Oh, all right,” Blythe said, taking out her master key. She unlocked the door and the cat marched in ahead of her, immediately jumping onto the bed.
Blythe had always loved this room and had enjoyed decorating it. But what always caught her attention was the vintage framed photo on the wall. This time she noticed it more because it was crooked. She crossed the room in seven steps and adjusted the ornate oval frame and smiled. It was uncanny how the couple in the sepia photo so strongly resembled one of the room’s former occupants.
None other than Alex and Paige Campbell.
About Lorraine Bartlett
The immensely popular Booktown Mystery series is what put Lorraine Bartlett’s pen name Lorna Barrett on the New York Times Bestseller list, but it’s her talent--whether writing as Lorna, or L.L. Bartlett, or Lorraine Bartlett -- that keeps her in the hearts of her readers. This multi-published, Agatha-nominated author pens the exciting Jeff Resnick Mysteries as well as the acclaimed Victoria Square Mystery series, the Tales of Telenia adventure-fantasy saga, and now the Lotus Bay Mysteries, and has many short stories and novellas to her name(s). Check out the descriptions and links to all her works, and sign up for her emailed newsletter here: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com
You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google+, Tumblr, and Goodreads.
If you enjoyed Sweet Dreams, please consider reviewing it on your favorite online review site. Thank you!
@llbartlettbooks
L.L.Bartlett.author
www.lorrainebartlett.com
Forever Bound — Shirley Hailstock
a Tale from Blythe Cove Manor
* * *
by
* * *
Shirley Hailstock
Copyright © 2015 by Shirley Hailstock.
All rights reserved.
Magic is about to get real at Blythe Cove Manor. But can it bring two very different souls together?
You never know what you'll find when you pull down a wall. But Eleanora Sloan was unprepared for the mahogany box and its unusual contents as she worked on her home in Tennessee. And she never thought it would lead her to Blythe Cove Manor on Martha's Vineyard.
Drew McAdams is practically a native to the island. Staying at his inherited summer home, he knows this season is different than any other he's ever experienced, especially after he encounters the Manor's newest resident. Ellie's touch is more than electric...it's life changing.
1
Eleanora Sloan looked up at Blythe Cove Manor and down at the creased copy of a two hundred year-old sketch in her hand. She did this twice before she was willing to believe the evidence in front of her eyes. Blythe Cove Manor, a quaint little B&B on Martha's Vineyard, and the house in the sketch were the same.
Fear lodged in her chest. She tried to calm herself down by cataloguing the differences between Blythe Cove Manor and the house in her sketch. The B&B had been well maintained. Her sketch was from a time when the Cove was smaller and the house had fewer additions. Wind, rain, erosion, and time had conspired to widen the gap between each side of the bluff until it grew to the gulf it was today.
Summer Magic Page 4