Diamond Lake Series: Complete Series (Bks 1-7) Boxset

by T. K. Chapin

  He raised a hand. “I understand, Charlotte. I was married too. You know that. No need to apologize.”

  “Thanks. It was pretty overwhelming, doing the yearly reading when I fell behind a couple of days. I remember that much.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. I’ve been there! I missed three days once because I was super busy with a work project and it was painful to catch back up. Overall, though, it’s great. I feel like God reveals new truths every time I read, even though I’ve been through it so many times now.”

  I nodded as my heart warmed with joy. To hear a man speak in a positive light about God and the Scriptures was a breath of fresh air. Even though Bradley read the Bible in a year with me, he didn’t care much about anything to do with God. Sure, he went to church, but he never had passion when it came to God. He always went through the motions, but he lacked the love. “I love how God can reveal new things to us each time we read His Word.”

  “It’s truly divine how He works,” Dylan replied.

  Our conversation was cut short when my back door flung open and Tristan began to holler out to me. “Mom! Emily locked herself in the bathroom and said she’s not opening the door. I’m supposed to go on a bike ride with Chrissy in a half hour!”

  Peering over my shoulder, I said, “Be there in a second, dear.” Connecting my eyes back with Dylan, we both shared a smile. “I’m beginning to think my girls just wait to interrupt our conversations.”

  He laughed. “Seems that way.” His eyes turned to my house. “Guess you’d better get back to saving the world?”

  “One meltdown at a time,” I responded with a grin. We parted ways.

  As I stepped onto the patio, I turned and looked back at Dylan. He was looking at me too. The feelings I was already beginning to feel for this guy were a bit unnerving. I needed to slow it down a tad, take a step back, and keep a good perspective. I didn’t know him very well, and he wasn’t married anymore—probably for a reason. I had more than myself to worry about. The last thing I needed in my life was another heartache and a broken dream. While taking it slower with my emotions was the right thing to do, my heart didn’t want to agree.

  Chapter 6

  While the water on the stove boiled, I could feel my anxiety doing the same inside of me. It wouldn’t be long before Dylan and Abby would be joining us for dinner. Staring at the clock on the stove as I waited for my water to boil, a welcomed distraction came in the form of a phone call from Edith.

  Picking up the phone, I turned around and stared through the doorway that led into the living room. “Hello?”

  “Charlotte. Tell me. What new information have you found out about the Atkins?”

  The water came to a boil just then, and I grabbed for the noodles on the counter. Emptying the bag into the pot, I replied, “Nothing. I’m off work today. Been spending time just relaxing at home with the girls.”

  “I see. I heard today that the Atkins are gutting the inside of The Newport Theater entirely! Word on the street says they’re repainting the walls and completely modernizing it inside. I’m so distraught!”

  “They’re going to paint over the Townson mural?” My eyebrows furrowed. “Jeez! That’s even low for them! It’s been a part of Newport forever!” My anger warmed as my noodles boiled on the stove.

  In a troubled and worried voice, Edith replied, “I know. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit, Charlotte.” She let out a sigh. “And I’m afraid they’ll have my family’s bell in no time! I’m so upset.”

  Sensing her hopelessness, I recalled what the Scriptures say about treasure. “Don’t let yourself forget that the treasures we store up in heaven no thieving Atkin can ever touch. I don’t know how much that helps . . .”

  “It does help, Charlotte. That’s why I like talking to you. You always have a way of helping my troubled soul find some comfort.”

  A single knock came from the front door and then it opened—it was Abby. Seeing her walk in, I wrapped up the call with Edith and called for Abby to come into the kitchen.

  As she walked in, she set a bottle of wine on the counter. Seeing the bottle irritated me a little as she knew I didn’t drink. Sensing my disdain for it, she glared at me and said, “Calm down, Sis. It’s not for you. It’s for me and Dylan.”

  “Whatever.” Returning to preparing dinner, I pulled the chicken from the crockpot and placed it on the counter. As I began to shred it for the chicken noodle soup, I heard one of the girls come down the stairs.

  “When’s dinner?” Bailey asked, coming into the kitchen.

  Glancing at her for a moment, I said, “Soon. I’m making it right now.”

  Another knock came from the door.

  Abby leapt up from her seat to go answer it. “That’s Dylan. I’ll get it.”

  Rolling my eyes as I finished shredding the chicken, I set it aside and pulled the noodles from the stove. Steam came up from the pot as I combined the chicken, noodles and broth together. Abby and Dylan walked into the kitchen together, and I noticed he had a silver tray with tin foil wrapped over the top.

  “I brought dessert.” He lifted it up slightly. “Can I put it in the fridge?”

  “I said you didn’t need to bring anything, ya goof! But yeah, go ahead,” I replied with a grin. Motioning with my head to the fridge, I continued, “You cook?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  He nodded as he got into the fridge. “Hardly. It’s banana cream pie. Pudding and graham crackers.”

  Abby interjected. “That’s cooking. And it’s awesome that you cook, Dylan.”

  If Abby kept it up this way and he actually believed what she said, he’d have a head the size of Texas before the night was over. Turning to Bailey, I said, “Go get your sisters. It’s time for dinner.”

  Heading into the living room to grab the leaf insert for the table, I heard Abby asking Dylan what he did for work. As I moved the couch to pull the insert out, the girls came down the stairs.

  “I’m pretty excited about it,” Dylan said in response to Abby as I walked back into the kitchen with the insert and the girls. He helped me set the insert and then made eye contact with me. “We need extra chairs?”

  “Patio chairs are fine. I’ll grab them.”

  “No. I’ll get ‘em,” he replied.

  “Thank you.”

  Dylan slipped out the back door to get chairs, shutting it behind him.

  Abby bumped my shoulder as I brought bowls of soup over to the table as the girls sat down. “Can you believe he bought The Newport Theater?”

  My face went flush and my heart began to pound. He’s an Atkin? Setting the bowls in my hands down, I returned to the counter and clutched it. Disbelief swarmed my thoughts. How I felt about Dylan and what I knew about him were contrary to what I knew about the Atkins. Trying to find the words to put together to tell Abby he was an Atkin was interrupted when the back door opened and Dylan came in with chairs. Watching him as he put the chairs in place around the table, my feelings fought each other. I liked him a lot, but his being an Atkin scared me beyond belief.

  “Do you want to take us on your cool boat?” Bailey asked Dylan as he sat down. I began to feel queasy as I realized my children were already becoming fond of him.

  “Honey. That’s too forward,” I said gently to her. Coming over to the table, I set her bowl down in front of her and one in front of Tristan.

  “No. No. It’s fine.” Dylan unfolded his napkin and set it in his lap. “I’d love to take you all boating sometime. It’d be fun.”

  I let out a nervous laugh as my feelings for Dylan collided with my hatred for the Atkins.

  “What’s so funny about that? Did I miss something?” Abby asked as she sat down next to Dylan at the table and looked at me inquisitively.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” My mind was racing a million miles a second. I needed to get this guy out of my life and I needed to tell Edith it was my neighbor that was the new Atkin cousin in town. My relationship with Edith and the Townsons stretched back into
my youth, but Dylan and I stretched back a singular day. But how could I? How could I peel away in the middle of dinner for a phone call? Or what about kicking him out? I couldn’t cause a scene like that in front of the girls. They’d think I was a lunatic, especially since they had no idea about my viewpoints on the Atkins family or what they did to the Townsons so many years ago. Sure, they had heard of the feud in school, but when they questioned me about it, I remained neutral and dismissive of the topic. While I did feel strongly about the Atkins, I never divulged my ill-willed feelings to my children. I felt that wouldn’t be right of me.

  Abby got up a few minutes into the meal and retrieved the wine from the counter, along with two wine glasses from the cupboard that had been given to Bradley and me as wedding gifts years ago. Coming back to her seat, she sat down and poured herself and Dylan a glass of wine. Knowing she shared the same feelings about the Atkins made it hard not to laugh in the moment as I watched her try to pursue him. In my mind, she could have him now. I couldn’t betray the Townsons like that. Dylan shook his head and pushed the wine glass away.

  “I don’t drink,” he replied.

  Making eye contact with Bailey across the table, I said, “Honey. Would you please bless the food?”

  “Yes, Mommy.” Bowing her head and folding her hands together, she prayed. “Dear God. Thank you for the food. Thank you for the day. Thank you for the cook. Thank you for Dylan being here. Thank you for Aunt Abby being here. Amen!”

  As dinner continued, I watched with worry as all my girls seemed to be fascinated with the stories Dylan told them. He told stories of far-off lands where princesses and knights lived and even a story about the spookiest hotel in a ghost town that he had visited in the middle of nowhere over in the Montana mountains. They liked him so much, and it pained me to watch it unfold.

  Trying to push off the fact that he was an Atkin, I kept up my act the best that I could until I slipped on a question that Bailey asked him.

  “Where’d you get that awesome gold nugget you showed us that was on the fireplace?”

  “I found it,” he responded.

  “Sure you didn’t steal it?” I asked snidely. The table fell so quiet in the moment following that, a mouse could have scurried across the floor and we would have heard the little footsteps it made. Awkward silence filled the room until it was about to burst.

  “Don’t be so rude to Dylan,” Abby responded, shaking her head as she looked over at Dylan with eyes of desire and touched his arm.

  “Oh for crying out loud, Abby!” I retorted with a laugh. “He’s an Atkin!”

  Abby’s eyebrows furrowed over at Dylan and she retracted her hand. Jumping up from my seat, I headed out to the back patio and slammed the door behind me in frustration with myself. Abby followed me outside.

  “How’d you find that out?” she pressed. “And why on earth did you not tell me?”

  “An Atkin purchased The Newport Theater. Edith told me that a while ago, and you said he bought it. I just put two and two together.”

  Pressing her hand against her forehead, she shook her head with a longing look back toward the door. “I was really beginning to like this one.”

  “You like every guy!” I snapped back. “Sorry. I’m just furious right now. I don’t date. You know that, and I truly liked him.” Walking past Abby to go back inside, she pressed my shoulder to stop me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  My eyes welled with tears as my throat felt as if it were closing. “It’s fine.” Placing my hand on the doorknob to open it, Abby grabbed my shoulder again.

  “What are you doing, Sis?”

  “I’m going to kick him out of my house. I was trying to avoid a scene, but a scene has been made now. Might as well finish it off before my daughters fall for him anymore.” Sidestepping from her hand, I continued inside. Looking straight at Dylan, our eyes met and I was about to yell, but stopped. Instead, I just stared at him.

  Dylan dipped his chin, wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. Dropping the napkin into his bowl, he looked at me. “Thank you for dinner.” Stepping away from the table, he headed toward the door and walked away without a word. As I shut the door behind him, I felt a bit of regret close with it.

  “Um . . . what was that?” Emily asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I replied as I came over and retrieved his bowl to put in the sink.

  She stood up. “What? You just kicked him out. I don’t understand what he did!”

  “I said don’t worry about it, Emily! I am your mother and I know what is best!” My voice was firm, which wasn’t normal, so she backed off. Taking her bowl to the sink, she dropped it in and went upstairs to her room. Bailey and Tristan followed suit.

  Abby took her bottle of wine and left, and I was alone at the kitchen table. Left to figure out what had just happened. Why did Dylan hide that fact? Was he trying to trick me into liking him? I could see the Atkins doing something like that, but Dylan? The woodcarving, God-fearing man? My eyes drifted over to the window that looked out into the darkness between our houses. Do I call and rat him out to Edith? Shaking my head, I pressed my hand against my forehead and mulled over the fact that he was an Atkin. What am I supposed to do now, God?

  Chapter 7

  Over the next three days of work, I tossed around the idea of calling Edith but never went through with it. Without a peep from Dylan next door and no real reason to tell her, I figured it wasn’t a big deal. One evening after work, while I was pulling into my driveway, I noticed a light flickered from the back of my house. Did my mother build a fire with the girls? Parking, I got out and ventured toward the back of my house. Rounding the corner, I smiled as I saw the fire roaring in the fireplace and my mother sitting with a cup of tea in her hands.

  “Wow. I gotta say I’m impressed, Mother.” I set my purse down on the seat of one of the patio chairs and approached my mother as she glanced back at me.

  “How was work?” she asked.

  “Good . . . Serenah came in for a pick up. I guess the inn is hopping pretty good this summer. She’s going to have their wedding in August. Right at the inn.”

  “Oh, that should be neat.”

  I was about to ask if Emily had come back from her friend’s house when the back door opened and she came outside. To my surprise, Dylan was right behind her. Taking a step back, I furrowed my eyebrows as I made eye contact with him. “What are you doing here?”

  Emily took a step toward me. “It’s fine, Mom. He helped build us a fire and—”

  I cut her off as I asked Dylan, “Could we talk?”

  Pursing his lips as he nodded, he joined me to step away from the patio and out of earshot of my mom and daughter.

  As we came out into the yard, I laid into him. “What are you trying to do, Dylan? This is my family!”

  “I just thought—”

  “Thought what? I kicked you out of my house! You thought it’d be fine to come around my house and my girls, and when I’m not around? Like you just need to avoid me?” My anger waxed hotter with every word. His true Atkins heritage was beginning to shine. “I don’t want you around here!”

  He stayed quiet and shook his head, trying to contain a smile.

  I smacked him. “What?”

  “This is all because I’m an Atkin?”

  “Yeah!” I snapped. “Edith Townson has been a very close family friend, and what your family—”

  He put a hand up. “Stop. I get it, Charlotte. What some distant relatives of mine supposedly did a long time ago somehow has something to do with me.” Shaking his head, he continued as he made eye contact with me. “You know, I thought you were different. But I guess you’re just like the rest of them—petty. I am sure God is pretty proud of you right now.” I could feel the disappointment as he looked into my eyes and then turned away to steal a glance at the patio before heading back to his house.

  Hating that he was right, I glared into the shifting darkness as he crossed over onto his property. L
etting out a sigh, I looked up and prayed for God to change my heart. God needed to take this over, but my emotional response system didn’t care about what I knew was right. There was a gnawing feeling inside of me that told me the Atkins were trouble. I turned and headed back around the patio.

  “How could you treat him like that, Mom?” Emily pressed as I came back up to where she and my mother were sitting.

  “You’re but a child, Emily. I don’t have to explain things to you.”

  She stood up and stormed inside, slamming the door behind her.

  My mother glanced over at me as I shook my head. “Why must you treat him so poorly, Charlotte?”

  “He’s an Atkin, Mom.”

  She slowly nodded and then turned her eyes to the crackling fire. “Emily’s friend stayed for a while earlier when she came over to drop her off. They were both swinging on the tire swing and it broke mid-swing. Dylan was outside working on his deck when it happened, and he rushed over . . . he fixed it for them.”

  “You asked him to do that?”

  My mother shook her head. “Of course not. He just did it, and then we got to talking. I invited him to stay for supper since he fixed the tire swing. Atkin or not, he’s a very nice man.”

  Shrugging, I let out a sigh. “Doesn’t really matter anymore.” My eyes wandered next door to his back porch light. “He probably hates me.”

  “Well, you kicked him off your property when you got home . . .”

  “I didn’t know the story.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t. Atkin, Townson dramas aside . . . do you like him?”

  I looked over at her as I felt tears well in my eyes. I nodded. “I do.”

  “Don’t lose sight of that truth.”

  A weird feeling settled over me. I felt wrong about not liking him based on his family name, but some part of me fought against that logic. The Atkins family had a long running history of wrongdoings and they were never good people. Dylan’s statement of me being like the rest of them pressed against my mind. Was he right? Was I wrong? Maybe it was my firsthand experience of dating an Atkin that kept a hold on me. I had dated one in high school. First, they sweet talk you. Then they make you feel special. Then they drop you off on highway 101 blindfolded and you have to walk ten miles back to town on the same night of your Commencement dance. Could Dylan really be different? And more importantly, was that a risk I was willing to take?