by Garcia, Rita
“Stay seated. I’ll see myself out.” He waved and trotted to his car.
Sam sipped from her mug and set it back on the table. “Is it possible no one knows?”
“Perhaps she confided in Elizabeth. After all, she’s her mother.” Maggie topped off their cups.
I tipped my chair back on two legs. “According to Roger, Anne feared what might happen.” Some secrets shouldn’t be tampered with—was this one of those.
Alec glanced at Sam. “Might be best to respect her wishes and leave it alone?”
“If she’d lived, she would’ve told me the whole story, including my birth father’s name. There’s a freedom to be gained—it’s intrinsic to the truth.” Sam stood and plunked her mug on the tray, sloshing some over the edge, as though ending her comment with an exclamation point.
For her sake, I hoped she was right. There could be more to this story than she was prepared for.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The web of deception grows vast and intricate. Lord, help me to have faith. Help me to trust you. Help me to believe. Why do answers keep eluding me? Father, like the children of Israel, who wandered in the desert for forty years. I keep circling the same crazy mountain. Please show the way. ~ Journal entry
The beach was busier than when I’d first arrived in Serenity Cove. Castles were erected on the sand, and windsurfers were bumping and jumping through the waves. In the distance, fishing boats were pulling up their nets.
A curative breeze swept across the sea, drawing me closer. I held on to Goldie’s leash and wove my way through the towels and mats. Finally, I hit a stretch where the crowds lessened. The sun felt wonderful, but questions never strayed far from my thoughts. Anne had become a person others respected, according to Logan, Maggie, and most anyone who knew her. Who was she, this young woman who had nourished and shielded me for nine months? Had adoption been her way of protecting me? I looked up and saw Roger strolling in my direction and felt God had heard me. My nanny would’ve called it a God-incident.
He came toward me, a tentative smile on his face. “Good morning.”
“Have time to chat?” I nodded toward a weatherworn bench facing the waves.
“Of course.” The breeze opened his windbreaker, revealing a man still fit for his age. He wasn’t old—fifty by my calculations.
We sat watching Goldie play in the sand and surf. Hesitant, I turned toward Roger. “Tell me more about Anne.” Long-legged sandpipers trotted along the shore, busily making their rounds.
“You want to ask me questions?” He reached down and picked up a stick and tossed it for Goldie before turning back toward me.
“Start at the beginning, the summer the two of you met?”
He stared at the water for a moment. “The day after moving to Serenity Cove, I walked for miles, concentrating on hating my parents for uprooting my life. I ended up at the cove. There she sat on a moss-covered log, the sun creating a halo on her hair. She gazed out at the sea as though her daydreams were taking her to faraway places.” He paused, seemingly lost in the past. “I fell in love with her then and there.”
I placed my hand on his to give him comfort. I wish he’d been the one—my father.
“Being a savvy teen—I said hi and called her Goldilocks. It’s odd how the dumb moments stick with you, even after all these years.” He shook his head, chuckled and picked up his story again.
“She smiled, and said something about me living next door to her. I can still hear the sound of her laughter as she scooted over, telling me, ‘Have a seat, delinquent.’”
“We could banter back and forth for hours. We were connected in a way…I still don’t fully understand. I was never happier.”
The visible pain in his eyes prompted me to ask the obvious question. “Sounds like the beginning of a love story. Why didn’t the two of you end up together?”
“Mostly John. He didn’t want me anywhere near his daughter. If you’ve learned anything about Serenity Cove—there are no secrets. They’re blown up and exaggerated while being passed around. It’s true I’d been in a couple of scrapes—nothing serious. My parents sent me here because they had decided to end their marriage. They chose not to tell my aunt, so I became the culprit.” We stood and traipsed through the sand a ways, and I guided him toward a big rock similar to Maggie’s dreaming boulder. Lip-reading while walking never worked well.
We each scooted onto the hard surface. “Did you sneak around to see each other?” I shifted to see his face better.
He tossed a stone the way one would skip rocks across the surface of a lake—only it sunk beneath the waves. “Some. Still, she faced her father’s consequences far too often. John loved her—it’s too bad he didn’t know her. She dreamed of being an author. I loved to listen to her read the stories she’d written. She talked about the characters as if they were real friends of hers. I believed in her. I believed in her dreams. I wish I’d believed in us.”
Unchecked tears escaped down my face. He handed me a napkin from his pocket. “Sorry, it’s the only thing I have.”
“I haven’t come across any of her stories in the bookshop or the apartment.”
“Elizabeth would’ve saved them—according to Anne, Elizabeth wasn’t a stranger to writing.” He took another crumpled napkin from his pocket and turned away.
We slid off the rock. Holding our shoes, we waded along the water’s edge, allowing it to wash over our feet. We walked a ways and returned to the weathered bench we’d sat on earlier. I focused on Roger, waiting for him to speak.
“I pray Anne forgives me for what I’m about to say. I should have told you the other day, although I don’t have any concrete evidence. I thought at the time and still do—your father is Daniel Cunningham. He and his mother lived in one of the big houses on the ridge with his grandparents, where the wealthier families lived.”
My stomach lurched as though I’d been punched. I reminded myself to breathe. “Why do you think he’s my father?”
“A couple of comments Anne let slip. When I pressed, she clammed up.”
“Do you know if he or his family still live here?”
“Daniel and I were never friends, but I heard his grandparents had retired here.” He worked his toes into the sand. “We were in high school—I have no idea where he lives now.”
We trudged through the sand and strolled down the boardwalk with the intent of getting an ice cream. After a few moments, he stopped and faced me. “Anne occupied a place in my heart from the day I met her. I married a woman I deeply cared for, but she never replaced my first love. When I visited Anne at her bookshop, the instant I saw her it became obvious nothing had changed.” Sadness shadowed his eyes. “For one incredible week, we were inseparable. I told Anne I wanted to make some changes so we could be together. She said no. Carla and I had two children and Anne refused to take their father from them. She never answered my letters, and I never saw her again. With everything in me, I wish I’d straightened out my life and returned—we belonged together. Don’t get me wrong—I love my children. They’re adults now and I couldn’t be prouder of them.”
“Are you still with Carla?”
“We went our separate ways after Anne’s death. When Anne died, she took my hopes and dreams with her.” He paused. “I wish I was your father.”
“Me, too. Through you, I’ve come to love her—this woman who carried me. Before today, Anne was simply the woman who’d given birth to me. You’ve made her real.”
Ice cream forgotten, we said our goodbyes as he left to catch his flight. I had a feeling he’d return. Serenity Cove carried the core of more than his memories—a part of him lay in the cemetery.
His parting words of advice burned in my heart. “When you find the right person—hold on.” The free spirit Roger said Anne possessed intrigued me. Had I inherited her same freedom of spirit? Suddenly, I wanted to welcome it—use it to do more than catch the wind. Roger’s speculations intensified my longing to know more. Was Daniel Cunni
ngham my birth father? Again, returning to the one place I felt held the answers—my grandparents. I had to find a way to reach them. And in some offbeat way, I knew Anne would want me to.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The night shift thrust me safely into my comfort zone, and I was glad to be back. I hadn’t missed the uncanny feelings that blew in out of nowhere, like tonight. The ones that made me feel something was off-kilter. I made a run by Rubi’s. With a steamy cup burning against my fingers, I hustled to the patrol car. I’d only taken a swallow or two before Hank called. “Logan here. What’s up?” I listened and then told him to call Alec for back-up. I tossed the coffee out the window. I gunned the patrol car and sped to the new gas station/market where a robbery was in progress.
Alec squealed in from the other side of the lot and stopped beside me. No cars were at the pumps—a good thing. We both used our cars for shields and met at the back of mine.
“I’m going in. Cover me.” I ducked around the patrol car. Too many large windows in the front, so I eased around back, to try for the employee entrance. Before I made it to the door, two men wearing ski masks rushed out with guns fanning the air. “Police. Freeze.” An exchange of fire, and pain exploded through my body, as though a demolition ball had swung and smashed into me.
Alec rushed to me. “Boss, stay down. The medics are on the way.”
“I heard multiple shots fired.” I fought for breath. “Victims inside.” My voice weakened.
“We’re on it. The perps won’t get far. You hit one of them.”
Sirens filled the air. One of the EMTs knelt beside me, wearing a bright yellow jacket that I knew said SCFD across the back. He ripped my pants from the bottom up to my thigh. “I’d say the bullet’s still in there. What’s this blood on your shirt?” The medic’s face blurred. I felt myself fading and struggled to remain conscious.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The vintage hourglass Anne displayed in the bookshop gives me a feeling of nostalgia. Turning it and watching the sand pour through—it seems as though each grain really does represents a day in our lives. What were Anne’s thoughts as she watched it? Had she pondered the passage of time, or considered the possibility that hers might end too soon? ~ Journal entry
Goldie nudged me awake. My cell phone lit up with a text from Maggie. “Meet me out front. Now.” Dazed, I read the time—2:38. I stumbled out of bed, dressed and made it outside as Maggie squealed to a stop. My imagination going wild with visions of what might have happened.
I tugged on my seatbelt as she pulled away from the curb. “What’s going on?”
“Logan’s been shot.” Unspoken fear filled her expression and sent chills skittering through my body. She took the next corner, barely keeping four tires on the ground.
My entire body had begun to shudder and shake, and my stomach was about to empty itself. Maggie made an abrupt stop at the hospital entrance and we darted inside.
Thelma halted her pacing as we entered the double glass doors and rushed toward us. “He’s in surgery. Evelyn and Doc are in with him.”
Maggie grabbed Thelma’s arm. “Where was he hit?”
“His leg and chest. They’re trying to stop the bleeding in the chest cavity.”
Maggie took over the pacing and Thelma sat on a cushioned chair. She motioned for Maggie to join us, and we all locked hands.
“Father, our brother needs you. He’s been wounded while protecting others. Guide the hands of Doc and Evelyn. Send your angels into the OR. In Jesus’ name, we pray.” Thelma finished praying. In unison, we whispered amen. Maggie paced the length of the room and back again, over and over.
A short while later, Alec came jogging in. “Any news?” he called from the doorway. Thelma brought him up to date as she had with us.
I patted the chair next to me, and Alec plopped into it. Weariness clouded his features like a veil. “Were you there when it happened?”
He nodded. “Logan was shot in an exchange of gunfire. After the medics arrived on the scene, he passed out. He lost a lot of blood.”
Thelma tugged her sweater around her shoulders. “How could this have happened in Serenity Cove?”
Alec shook his head. “Crime follows growth.”
Maggie sat on the other side of Alec and clenched her hands in her lap. “We’re getting one of those huge marts by the middle of this coming year. Some of the shop owners are worried they won’t be able to stay in business.”
“The summer visitors will still prefer the uniqueness of the shops on Main Street, won’t they?” I wanted Serenity Cove to remain unchanged. I made the mistake of putting the adoption, my grandparents, and Anne all ahead of Logan. Each time my heart reached out to him, I jerked away. Please, Father, give me another chance to get it right.
Doc stepped into the waiting area, and slumped into a seat. “The good news is that he’s stable.” Doc ran his hand across his face. “Evelyn and I will take turns being here round the clock. We found a bullet in his chest, within the lumen of the right lobe bronchus. We successfully removed it without complications. If it’d been lodged this much closer—” Doc spread his thumb and index finger, leaving only a minuscule gap. “We would’ve needed to airlift him to a larger facility. His leg will heal fine—might limp for a few weeks.”
Maggie visibly took a deep breath. “Can we see him?”
“It’s best if you go home. Get some rest and come back in a few hours. I’ll be here for the next four. Then Evelyn will take over.” He turned to Alec. “How are the others?”
“One DOA, the second airlifted to Mariner Bay. Multiple head and chest wounds.”
Doc ran his fingers through his scruffy beard and shook his head. “What’s happened to our town?” His question hung in the air as he left the waiting area.
Logan would want me to take care of Maggie. “Let’s go, Maggie.” I handed her a fresh tissue from my bag. The sun had come up—everything was always better in the light of day—or was that merely an illusion? I prayed for God to make it so.
At the apartment, Maggie stretched out on the sofa. “We have some crime in Serenity Cove, although more often when the summer residents and visitors are here. But people aren’t usually killed.” She repositioned the pillow under her head.
I cuddled with Goldie on the floor. “I wish Doc had let us see him.” The minutes had slowed to a crawl. I needed to see him. To touch him. To talk to him.
“That makes two of us. Can’t argue with Doc—I’ve tried.” She suddenly bounced back up. “I’ll make tea.”
I sat at the kitchen table. She put the kettle on and joined me while we waited for the steam to set off the whistle. “I ran into Roger on the shore. You should’ve heard the way he talked about Anne, his first and only real love.”
Maggie went to the stove and finished making tea. “Too bad she didn’t end up with him. Whoever this other person was, Anne was left to deal with the consequences.”
We settled on each end of the sofa. “I wanted to know my birth father’s name, and maybe even meet him. But now I don’t want anything to do with him. His irresponsibility impacted many lives—the aftershocks are still being felt.” I removed the three letters, the ones I had read, from the basket and handed them to Maggie. I also gave her the card Anne had never sent for my sixteenth birthday. “These are letters my mother wrote to Anne.”
Maggie read the card first. “Anne loved you so much.”
“I can’t help but grieve over the fact I never got to know her before she—”
“You would’ve adored her.” She read each of the letters. Creases formed on her forehead as though trying to comprehend an underlying meaning. “The way they’re worded sounds impersonal. But it seems like she wanted Anne to have a better life.”
“The money fit my mother’s character. It’s doubtful she told my father. He would’ve never agreed.” I caught myself chewing on my bottom lip, again. “This seems trivial with Logan in the hospital. When I think of what could’ve happened.”
Maggie closed her eyes. “When I heard Logan had been shot, it brought a fear out in me so strong I…I wasn’t sure I could go to the hospital. Pain gripped my insides and time reversed to the most horrific night of my life—the night my mom died. He’s my only family. What would I do if anything happened to my brother?” She let the words hang in the air for a moment. “It doesn’t change the struggles you’re working through.” Maggie, ever supporting the emotional needs of those around her, had thrown the light back on me.
With a tilt of my head, I shrugged. “Knowledge of the past is only important if it propels life forward. I don’t want to become so mired in the past the future dims in comparison.”
She looked at me, as though she had understood better than she wanted to. “I keep dragging the past into the present—not in a positive way.” She suddenly stood and pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’m going to check on Logan.”
I took our cups to the kitchen for a refill. Before I returned, she’d already ended the call.
“Any changes?”
“Thelma’s on duty. She says he’s resting and comfortable. We can see him in another two or three hours. I want to go now.”
“Let’s go. We can peek in for a moment.” I needed to see him. Please let him be all right. Remembering Roger’s parting words, my feelings for Logan flashed in my mind. Father, please give me the chance to hold on.
Chapter Thirty
I tried to see through the back of my eyelids. The pressure in my chest felt like a Mack truck had parked on it. I heard a beeping and footsteps rushed into the room. Man, what a vivid nightmare.
“How we doing this morning?”
I forced one eye half-open. “Evelyn?” What happened? I remembered shots fired and recalled my leg. A deep breath increased the pain, and my words were choppy. “What’s with this chest pain? What’s going on?”
Through blurred vision, I watched Evelyn inject something into the IV line. “You’ll feel better in a jiffy. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” Questions unanswered, she was gone.