by Garcia, Rita
“Pretty intuitive. In essence, if you blended the three, Anne and the bookshop become one and the same.”
“I’m comfortable in her apartment—we have similar taste in furnishings. We wore the same size clothes.” Again, I stared at the waves. “Am I trying to identify with her? Something I never did with my adoptive mother, as much as I loved her.”
She placed her napkin over her half-eaten sandwich. “Relating to her is one way of learning more about yourself. In my opinion, it would be best to delay making any changes with the bookshop until you’re at peace with the idea of letting it go.”
“Maggie said much the same thing.” The letters were too much to get into. I placed my paper wrappings on the tray. “Okay if we stop for today?”
She nodded. “If we cover too much in one session, it weakens the take-away value.” She stood and mixed her trash with mine. “You’re making strides. A few more sessions and you’ll start sorting out your feelings and reach some conclusions.”
“I hope so. The confusion gets overwhelming.” I drove away, questioning her reassurance. Before learning about the adoption, I had felt at peace with my life. I wanted that again.
Chapter Twenty-four
I pushed through the side door of the police station and straight to the coffee room.
“Hey, Chief.” Hank sat, munching chips with a book opened in front of him.
“Won’t be much longer until classes start again.”
“Yep.” His smile widened. “Closer to being a cop.”
“Aren’t you working on a degree in criminal justice first?”
He nodded. “I’ve listened to your advice. I’m not taking any shortcuts. Going to be the best—like you.”
Brotherly pride filled my senses. “Good man. Calls on my desk?”
“Yes, sir.” I waited for his response and headed to my office.
I made it through most of my messages before being interrupted by a tap on my door. “Come in.”
“Hey, boss. I have the update on that Monroe fellow.” He handed me the report. “Tess Monroe does have a son named Roger. Not sure how you want to proceed.”
“Doesn’t qualify as police business. I’ll give her a call.” I kicked back in my chair and rested the heel of my boot on the edge of the desk. “Samantha went to see John—no luck.”
“What about Elizabeth? I don’t see her turning Samantha away. Problem is, how to get to her without going through John.” Alec started his infernal tapping.
“Not a good idea to go behind his back. There has to be a way to reach him.” I moved the mouse to start my computer. “Right now, I need to finish a couple of reports.”
“One other thing, boss. Lilyan’s services are Saturday.” His fingers paused.
“Maggie called. I told her I’d be attending with you, representing the department.” I put my feet on the floor and picked up my empty cup—I needed a refill. The clock on the wall caught my attention and I remembered I had an appointment. “Change of plans—I’ll be back in a while.”
“You want me to handle some of this paperwork for you?”
“I’ll be back later—it’s all yours.” I was meeting with a sign language teacher in Mariner Bay, checking into learning a few basic signs. Maybe surprise Sam at the perfect moment.
***
Saturday morning arrived with a drizzle in the air. I met Alec and Ted at the station. Nicole had elected to stay behind, to be on call. We drove to the Whispering Winds Cemetery and waited outside the chapel. Pastor Jim pulled us aside—he’d volunteered us to be pallbearers. I took a deep breath to control my irritation. “Let’s go.” I motioned to Alec and Ted. Our status in the town had not left us much choice—not without being rude.
Lilyan’s blue casket reminded me of the colors in her home. We lined up around it with three other men.
I felt a tap and glanced behind me. Lilyan’s Aunt Claire paused, patted my arm a couple of times and proceeded to the chapel, holding a tissue to her face. Had she bought into Lilyan’s delusions?
The director motioned to us, and we slowly carried the casket down the aisle to voices singing “Amazing Grace.” Lowering it to the draped stand, we took our seats, lined up shoulder to shoulder in the front row. Pastor Jim paid tribute to Lilyan. He honored her as a member of Serenity Cove Community Church. Her mental illness and criminal acts had been set aside. I supposed we all had things in our lives that would be best left unmentioned in the event of our death. After he finished, we moved the casket out of the chapel, through the grassy knoll to its final resting place, next to her mother’s gravesite.
Pastor Jim recited the Twenty-third Psalm and the choir sang “Ave Maria” a cappella as the few mourners filed around the casket, each placing a flower on top. Maggie and Sam stood to the side. Lilyan’s Aunt Claire limped toward them. Panicked, I sprinted to reach Sam. Claire got there first.
She glared into Sam’s face and raised her trembling voice. “You’ve some nerve showing up here. Lilyan told me how you had come between her and Logan and now she’s gone?” She shuffled away, placing a gloved hand to her ample hip.
Tears glistened in Sam’s eyes as I tried to comfort her. “Everyone’s gawking.” She shoved me away and rushed after Claire. Goldie and I followed on her heels.
Claire stopped near a tree and Sam went to her. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to cause you pain by being here today. I’ll leave.”
“My niece believed she had a future with Logan until you showed up.”
I stepped next to Sam, and Goldie squished between us. “I don’t intend any disrespect, Mrs. Simms. But Lilyan and I never even had dinner together.”
“It’s more that she wanted it so badly. Now Lilyan’s gone and there’s nothing I can do.” She covered her face with the tissue in her hand. Her husband put his arm around her.
“Mrs. Simms.” I rested my hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I have deep regrets that Lilyan found the need to take the path she did. If I can do anything, please let me know.”
“No, son. She’s finally at peace, for the first time since her father deserted her. She was only seven or eight, and she never got over his leaving. Her mother died in childbirth and her father couldn’t forgive Lilyan for being that child. Her Uncle Eli and I both tried to help her, and you know the rest.” Claire walked away, leaning on Eli’s arm. There was painful tiredness in her eyes, as though she’d shared all her heart she could part with.
Tears dampened Sam’s face. I eased my hand into hers. “I never knew about Lilyan’s family.”
“Me either—it took her dying for any of us to care enough to want to know.” Maggie wiped tears from her face. I hadn’t realized she had joined us until she spoke.
The three of us left the cemetery. The fact I hadn’t attended church for several years suddenly felt wrong. True enough—my childhood teachings had stuck with me, like a strong root system of a tree planted deep into the soil. Grandmother Delatorre once showed Maggie and me a lily. She told us God wanted us to have faith in Him, and like the lily, we should not worry about the future.
I shared her belief in God. But going to Sunday service that first week after she died, her vacant spot on the pew matched the emptiness inside me. Church wasn’t the same. I’d quietly left. Many friends reprimanded me—I suppose God wasn’t thrilled with me, either. I trusted He understood. But maybe it was time—time to warm the seat in Grandmother Delatorre’s pew.
Chapter Twenty-five
Life. It travels roads with twists fiction writers could never conjure up. Lilyan’s death has made me more determined to find answers. I realize that our time here is not only fragile—what we do matters. I want to move forward, but not without finding the real me first. I don’t like the feeling of being a nomad. ~ Journal entry
I sent Maggie a text, asking her to drop by the bookshop. Bending with the flow, like a sapling in the wind, wasn’t getting the job done. Goldie interrupted my thoughts, and I followed her, finding Maggie at the back door. “H
ow did you get here so fast?”
“Your text came through as I pulled in behind the shops.” A mischievous grin brightened her face.
“I need your help with selling the furniture in the apartment.”
Upstairs, Maggie raised her eyebrows as her eyes wandered over the contents of the front room. I hoped she’d reserve the doubt in her eyes. “My professional advice is to put the furniture in my shop and sell it on consignment. When furniture is included in a sale, you seldom receive full value.” Her expression looked as if her misgivings were about to be given a voice.
“I’ve allowed my emotions to do my thinking much too long. If Audra still wants this shop for a real estate office—it’s hers.” I drew in a deep breath. “If you can arrange to handle the furniture, I’d appreciate it.”
“I understand you feel you’ve been dragging your heels—don’t overcompensate.”
“Being here in Serenity Cove is like needing to unravel a seam and not being able to find the right thread to pull.” Goldie nudged me. I followed her to the door and opened it. “Logan.” I didn’t want or need another critic.
Maggie put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m off to check in with Linda. I’ll be back in a few.” Logan stepped back, allowing her to pass.
“What’s going on? You both look so serious.” His eyes roved around the room like Maggie’s had.
“I’m attempting to create some semblance of order.” If only my heart would stop reacting to this man, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. Wasn’t there a law against looking that good in Levi’s? If not—there should be. It didn’t help my confusion. “This store remaining a bookshop doesn’t seem probable.”
“We used to sit on the rug downstairs and listen to Miss Anne, as we called her back then. She could sure read a story. In summer, the children of the seasonal visitors joined us for story time.” Logan fingered the ends of my hair, the way he often did. “I’ll let you get back to it—I’ll drop by later.”
“Sounds good.” He gently grasped my arm. Chills slid down my spine. I wanted to feel the urgency of his kiss, but with a quick hug he left.
I watched out the apartment window as Logan drove away. It wasn’t the first time I had heard how Anne read to the children, but his comments propelled me down the stairs.
The now familiar area displayed several perfect kid-height bookshelves. Delightful jungle animals under swaying palm trees worked their way around the border of a hand-woven rug lying in the center of the space. In front of the carpet sat the chair. It must’ve been Anne’s chair, the one where she sat and read to the children. I knelt, rubbing the texture of the rug, wanting the memories it held to be mine. I wanted her to read to me. Goldie perked up her ears. I glanced up and Maggie had returned.
“Ah, the reading place?” She slipped down to the floor beside me. “Miss Anne and story time. Not a child around wanted to miss it. Even some of the parents leaned against the walls and listened while she read.”
“There must be a buyer interested in owning a bookshop, someone who’ll sit and share stories with the kids. I want Anne’s dream to live on.” A future and a hope. I wanted to believe—not quite.
Maggie stood. “Let’s go to Rubi’s. I’m famished.”
I welcomed the distraction. “I’m in.” I brushed the dust off my clothes and the three of us paraded out the front door and across the street.
We chose a booth along the side windows of the diner. Rubi’s daughter, Tiffani, had served our sandwiches as Logan and Alec arrived. We waved them over and they squeezed into the booth with us.
Tiffani brought over cold drinks for Logan and Alec. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’m good.” Logan nodded to Alec. “You?”
Alec picked up the chilled glass. “This will do it for me.”
“If you change your mind, give me a holler.” Tiffani smiled as she sashayed to another table.
“We saw you through the window.” Logan directed his comment to me. “Roger Monroe called. We’re meeting with him tomorrow afternoon. Thought you might want to be there.”
“Yes. Definitely. Think he has useful information?”
He shrugged. “Worth a try.” Logan toyed with the long-handled spoon in front of him. “I’m going to church with Maggie in the morning—you guys interested?”
Surprise beamed from Maggie’s opened-eyed expression. “Meet here for breakfast at eight?”
“Church still start at nine?” Logan grinned at his sister.
Maggie merely nodded, with a look of shock vivid on her face.
Excitement caressed my insides—I missed praise and worship. Although I couldn’t hear the music, I loved the feeling when people lifted their hands together in praise. Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-six
Several people craned their necks. If the sight of their police chief in church wasn’t enough to incite curiosity—I had a gorgeous woman on my arm.
We scooted into the pew Grandmother Delatorre used to claim each Sunday morning. Sam took her place between Maggie and me. Alec and his wife Peggy were on the other side of my sister. I shifted in my seat a couple of times.
“You okay?” Sam whispered.
I folded my hand around hers. “I’m good.”
When the choir broke into song, it brought memories of my grandparents—on both sides. Were they smiling down on this day? Strange how through pure stubbornness we get it wrong. I squeezed Sam’s hand—it felt good to be back.
After services, we hurried to Maggie’s house for the meeting with Roger Monroe. Gathered on the front porch, we watched for his arrival. Finally, a white rental car rolled to a stop in the driveway and I assumed it was Roger Monroe.
I walked down the wooden steps and extended my hand to him. “Thank you for meeting with us.” He towered over me a good three inches.
He grasped my hand with a firm grip. “Not sure I’ll be of much help.” I made introductions all around. Then noted his features, looking for any resemblance to Sam. Especially his eyes, were they the same blue as hers? They were brown.
Maggie filled a mug and placed it where Roger sat. He looked at Sam and smiled. “I see your mom in you. She was about your age the last time I saw her. I returned to Serenity Cove and found Anne had opened a bookshop. It made sense. She always carried books with her.
Samantha leaned forward. “Tell me about her.”
He stretched his legs out. “I was sixteen when my parents sent me here to live with my aunt. A better environment, so they claimed. My aunt’s property line connected to the land Anne’s parents owned.”
Alec stilled his fingers on his knee. “Do you still have family here?”
“My aunt’s granddaughter, Betsy, lives there now. I’m ashamed to say I’ve only met her once. I intend to see her while I’m here.”
Alec rubbed his palms on his jeans. “John says Betsy shops for him and Elizabeth—delivers their groceries to them.”
Roger frowned and shook his head. “I’m glad on Elizabeth’s behalf. John—not so much.”
“So when you met Anne you were a junior or senior in high school?” I continued to study him for any indication that he might be Sam’s father.
“I arrived in Serenity Cove a couple of months before our senior year. Like I said, we became good friends. That summer holds the best memories of my teenage years.” Roger hesitated briefly. “Anne’s parents thought we were together too much and headed for trouble. I’d be lying if I said the potential never existed, at least on my part. I was crazy about her.” He stopped making eye contact. Maybe, reliving the past more than talking to us. “I can still picture her. Free spirited, golden hair blowing in the sea breeze, her blue eyes always smiling.” He gazed at Sam. “You have her same hair, but your eyes are different. Hers were a softer blue.”
I decided to pull the conversation back on track. “I’m going to dive right in the deep end. What do you recall about her getting pregnant?”
He looked at Sam. “I a
ssume you’re trying to figure out who your father is? For the record, as teenagers, Anne and I never took our friendship to that level.”
“Did she tell you his name?” Hope shone in Sam’s face.
“No. Just said she hadn’t intended it to happen.” He raked his fingertips across his neck.
I studied his body language. “I take it you disliked her father?” Forthcoming as Roger had been, my gut said he wasn’t telling the whole story.
“He blamed Anne for what happened—refused to listen to her about wanting to keep her baby. Elizabeth tried to be supportive—John wouldn’t allow it.”
“He still refuses to acknowledge me.” Sam fidgeted with her napkin.
“Don’t confuse John’s opinion with Anne’s.” Roger focused totally on Sam. “For nine months Anne cherished you—it broke her heart to give you up.”
Sam remained silent—as though to calm the visible tears. After a moment, she asked the haunting question. “She never mentioned my father?”
He shook his head. “No. Wish I could help.” He straightened his shirt collar. “Anne possessed a brightness, and it attracted people to her. She never met a stranger—too trusting of people.”
I pressed again. “She never hinted at a name?” Was Anne forced, or worse? Unless there was proof, Sam didn’t need to hear speculations.
“No. We’d always talked and shared about our families, our hopes and dreams. When it came to the father of her baby—she shut me out. To be honest, I doubt she shared the details with anyone. If John found out the father’s name, I think she feared what he might do.”
Maggie picked up the carafe. “More coffee anyone?”
Roger declined. “If you’ll excuse me, I told Betsy I’d see her in time for an early supper.”
“We appreciate your willingness to talk to us.” I made a move to walk him to his car.