by Garcia, Rita
I didn’t move. I wanted to hear what he had to say.
The weight of his body dropped back onto the rocker. “Once Anne bought the bookshop and moved out of this house, she moved out of our lives.” He sat quietly for a moment. “I loved my daughter. Elizabeth and I had saved money so Anne could go to college—she wanted to be a writer. I thought adoption would give her back her life. I was wrong, but I can’t go back—I can’t undo the past. And I don’t want Liz hurt again when this so-called granddaughter decides she doesn’t want anything to do with us, either. It would break Liz’s heart.” He paused and slid his hand across his eyes.
I kept my movements slow, lowering myself onto a chair. “What if Samantha doesn’t walk away?”
“Can’t go there. Any stress and Liz could have another stroke. You can’t even imagine what it’s like to get old and riddled with regrets—when all you ever wanted was to take care of your family. Anne never looked me in the eyes again after she walked away. I suppose in her own way she paid me back. I didn’t give her a say about the baby—she didn’t give me a say about this farm. I worked hard my whole life. Shouldn’t I have had a say?”
I leaned forward resting my arms on my knees. “What would you have done with your land?”
“Given it to Betsy. Her no-account father charges her rent to live in her grandmother’s house. Betsy has helped us like a daughter since Liz’s illness.” His voice softened.
“Do you want Samantha to give it to Betsy?”
“She isn’t going to give it up.”
I looked him in the eye and nodded. “Yeah. I think she will. John, all Samantha wants is a chance to get to know her grandparents.”
He looked tired and defeated. The years were visible on him. I’d never considered the past from his point of view. That he’d tried to protect his daughter, had done what he thought was best for his family. There is definitely a lesson in there someplace.
“I said more than I should’ve.” He used the arms of the chair to push himself up and shuffled into the house.
What had I done? I’d put myself in the position of being the one to deliver another blow to Sam—her grandfather hadn’t wanted her to inherit his property. Would she consider it an opportunity to reach out to John? Or would it be the final fury, sending her full-throttle back to Stone Valley?
Chapter Forty
The blazing inferno has left a husband and father in the hospital fighting for his life. If I open my heart to possibilities—am I willing to chance failure? To chance heartbreak? How do I let go of past hurts and believe in a future and a hope? ~ Journal entry
I wiggled into a little black number, the one I kept in the back of the closet for special occasions. I pulled my hair up into a clip, applied makeup and stroked on a mauve blush. I fluffed Goldie’s fur and we were out front waiting when Logan arrived.
He parked and hurried around to where I stood. “Well. Hello. Gorgeous.” I didn’t need to hear the tone of his voice—his eyes said it all. I had wowed him.
“Hi yourself.” I flashed him a seductive smile as I tried to modestly get myself into his truck—not an easy feat in a tight dress.
I didn’t miss his grin as he settled behind the wheel. “How was your day?” I tugged at the hem of my dress.
“On my way here, I dropped off a huge bag of dog food to Maggie. Wolf consumes more than she can tote into the house.”
“It’s a good thing he’s so loveable.”
“On the serious side, I had to deal with the Thompson boys. Luckily, Judge Donaldson has agreed to a closed session in his chambers. He’s going to meet with the parents ahead of time and come up with a plan. Looks like the boys will be working with the shop owners for a while—helping clean up.”
“It’s a good thing no one was killed. The impact on their lives would have been devastating.”
“The parents bear some responsibility, leaving fireworks in the garage. Awfully tempting for kids.” He turned the key and reached for my hand as he inched away from the curb. I took it as a sign he wanted to lighten the mood.
I enjoyed the scenic stretch of the old coastal road. And soon we pulled into the inn’s valet parking for the Chantilly Rose restaurant. Inside, a warm glow from the raised hearth filled the room. We were seated along the wall of glass, with a spectacular view of the roaring waves splashing on the rugged coastline below. The restaurant held a magic ambiance all its own.
Abby strolled to our table. Side slits on her red silk dress showed off her long, shapely legs. Her soft brown hair gently swayed as she walked. “Welcome.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Samantha, is this your first time to experience our main dining room?”
“Yes. It’s fabulous.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s good seeing both of you. Enjoy your dinner.” Abby had the same warmth she had created with the room’s decor. “Your waiter will be right over with menus.” She slipped Goldie a treat, the same homemade ones Julia kept on hand at the coffee shop.
We ordered and I gazed out at the water. “Stone Valley is more inland. We don’t have the luxury of restaurants with a view of the waves.” The vastness of the sea filled me with hope—a message I desperately needed.
He laid his arm on the table, playing with my fingertips. “Were you interested in working with deaf children because of your own hearing loss?”
“It was the catalyst, but I like to think it was much more. I was blessed with a lot of advantages. I was hearing until my mid-teens, so I already knew a world not defined by my deafness. That’s what I want for the deaf children at our center.”
Our appetizers were delivered. He dipped a fried zucchini stick into a small dish of tzatziki sauce. “Had you ever considered a different field?”
“Not seriously. My first degree was in business administration. Then I made a huge shift and went on to get my masters in special education. In all honesty, at the time the direction made sense. If I’d chosen a field based on heart wishes, my passion is painting. A day with my easel and paints is a day in heaven.”
“I learned something new about you. Didn’t know you painted.” His look made me feel as if I were the only person capable of such a feat.
“I’ve never spent enough time with it to see if I have real talent. I could also see myself writing a novel someday. Growing up, I spent more time with the stories and characters in my imagination than I did with actual people.”
“So why wouldn’t you want to reopen the bookshop yourself?”
“I love books, but I don’t think I’d like selling them. I keep hearing stories about Anne, how she interacted with the children and while I admire her for it—it’s not for me.” I glanced up at Logan, and flutters danced inside me, stirring feelings I didn’t even know I possessed. “Okay, it’s your turn. You mentioned you finished your law degree because your grandfather wanted you to. What would you have chosen?”
“Considering my choice to enter the police academy, this one is way out there.” He paused, looked out the window and turned back. “My maternal great-grandfather’s family owned large vineyards in Valle de Parras, the oldest wine-making region in Mexico. If I’d followed my dream, I would’ve been planting, building, and planning a vineyard right here in Serenity Cove.”
“What’s stopping you now? You own enough land to start a small vineyard.”
We were talking and laughing so much I was barely conscious of eating. It surprised me when suddenly our empty plates were being cleared away.
The waiter served us two of the inn’s signature lattes, Chantilly Rose. “Compliments of Abby,” he said. Lattes were one of my favorite things about coming to the inn. Julia ground her own beans and had perfected the art of brewing—but literally refused to serve designer coffees.
On our way out, we paused to thank Abby. “I’ll definitely be back for another latte—the vanilla cherry flavors melded beautifully.” Abby smiled with pride, as if I had complimented her child.
“We have a French Vanilla Almond, o
ne of my personal favorites.” She turned to Logan. “Don’t wait so long between visits. And be sure to bring this beautiful girl back with you.” To my surprise, she reached down and petted Goldie.
“I intend to.” He winked at me and grinned at Abby. He draped his arm across my shoulders as we left the restaurant. “Another member of Goldie’s fan club.”
I rolled my eyes. “I guess so.”
He adjusted his seatbelt. “Have you taken a drive up to the ridge?”
“Where Audra’s house is?”
“The old Donnelly house.” He nodded, and pulled out onto Shoreview Drive, quickly looping onto Ridgeline Road. The street curved and made a gradual climb. The valley lights sparkled, reminding me of the excitement of Christmas time.
He slowed and pointed toward a large rambling home. Chandeliers cast an elegant glow through the extensive windows. “There’s the Donnelly house, or I suppose it’s the Wheeler house now. The Donnelly’s were Audra’s great-grandparents. Audra’s father and grandmother lived with them for a while.” He continued, rounding another curve and we climbed higher still.
As I looked at the mini-mansion, Audra and her family filled my thoughts. “What is Audra’s maiden name?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged.
Logan pulled into a scenic viewpoint area, a breathtaking picture spread out before us. He shifted in his seat toward me. “I went to see John again.”
I braced myself for what he was about to tell me. “And?” I wished he had talked to me before going to see my grandparents again.
“I never considered any of this from John’s point of view. Anne getting pregnant and him insisting the baby—you—being put up for adoption.”
“No. I suppose I haven’t, either.” I stared at his lips intently, the cab lit only by the street lamps.
“John claims he wanted to help Anne get her life back. He’d tried to do what was best for Anne.”
Logan brushed his fingers through the ends of my hair and I pulled away. I needed to concentrate. “And did he explain his reasons for refusing to see me?” I wanted to understand this from John’s point, but it felt more like betraying Anne.
“He claims Anne turned her back on him, and he’s afraid you might do the same. The stress would be bad for Elizabeth’s health. He’s also upset because Anne didn’t consult him regarding the property where they live, who it should be left to.”
“It’s no surprise that he wouldn’t have chosen me to inherit any of the property—including the bookshop. But why should he? He disowned me as a granddaughter before I was born.” The words tasted bitter.
“He maintains he spent his life working hard and had a right to say who it went to. He claims Betsy has been like a daughter to them since Elizabeth’s stroke.”
“He wants Betsy to have it?” I shrugged—but inside the fumes were stifling. “It’s done. I’ll have the papers drawn up tomorrow. Is there more?” I clenched my fists. I wanted to throw the deed on John’s front porch. I wanted to scream at him for his brutality to Anne. I wanted him to understand how much his rejection hurt.
Logan laid his hand on mine. “Sam. You don’t have to give the property to Betsy.”
“It’s a great idea—giving the property to Betsy—I think she deserves it. I refuse to do it under the pretense John will change his mind about me.”
“It might be a start.” He paused. “Ready to head back?”
I reached for his hand. “I care for you, Logan. But I was wrong to think I could move forward without finishing what I came here to do.” He leaned back against his door and almost unable to breathe, I continued. “You’ve been there for me since the day I arrived, and I appreciate it—I really do. But you also have a tendency to try to fix my life, with no input from me.”
“What? I only wanted to clear the path for you.” His expression alternated between hurt and anger.
“I’m deaf, not helpless.”
“I don’t know what to say.” With a deep visible sigh, he repositioned himself in the seat and turned the key.
I folded my hands in my lap to keep from reaching for his. I wanted to feel the comfort of his touch—I couldn’t go there. I stared at the sea, the foam lit by the moonlight. With every ounce of strength, I reserved my tears. I’m sure my sigh was audible as Logan finally turned in to the alleyway.
He came around to my side as Goldie jumped to the ground. “I can’t leave things like this.”
I looked up at him, and my heart ached for the pain I saw in his eyes. If we had a chance of making it together, I had to find my own way first.
“I need time. Time to find who I am. Time to find a way to reach my grandparents. Time to breathe.” He widened his arms and I stepped into them. I laid my head against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat. I leaned back. “Can we be friends for now?” My heart cried for more—so much more.
He nodded. “And I’ll let you handle things with your grandfather.”
I reached up, brushed a kiss across his lips and went inside.
***
The next few days were spent clearing away ashes from the fire. The more I cleaned, the more the charcoal dust literally increased. In a pursuit of peace, I also spent time reading my Bible to prepare for my session with Dr. Ellie. I wanted to move forward—not reverse my progress because of my stubbornness. The morning of my appointment, I changed and headed out with Goldie.
I lifted the brass knocker circling through a lion’s mouth, and struck the metal plate. Dr. Ellie answered with Precious at her feet, the little cocker spaniel wagging its stubby tail with excitement. In answer, Goldie’s tail swished against my leg.
“Shall we try this again?” I smiled.
“It’s a blessing there wasn’t more damage from the fire.” Dr. Ellie held the door, allowing us room to step inside.
Precious planted her paws on my leg and I rubbed the soft spot behind her ears. Dr. Ellie grinned. “Precious. Down. She enjoys her play dates with Goldie.”
We went out on the deck so the dogs had room to romp. Dr. Ellie poured tea. After settling on a teak Adirondack chair, she led us in prayer. “Anything special you’d like to start with today?”
Rather than answering her, I removed Anne’s letter from my bag and offered it to her.
She slipped on her reading glasses that hung from a beaded chain around her neck, and perused the letter. Refolding the note, she dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “How did you feel after reading it?” Like many others, she must’ve loved Anne.
“The conversation I had with Roger, and now this letter, has helped me view Anne as a person. Now I think of her as a young girl whose life took a course she wasn’t prepared for. And from all I’ve learned, she didn’t have much support.”
“Did that change the way you feel about being given up for adoption?”
“Well, I’m thankful for the advantages I grew up with. Although there was a price—not knowing my birth mother. The things my aunt said to me the day I left Stone Valley mirrored my parent’s feelings—at least to some degree.
“I wasn’t allowed to go to my senior prom in high school—dating wasn’t even an option.” I shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “Some of the remarks I misunderstood until now. Being told I had to be extra careful because I might be more tempted than other girls.” Memories flooded to the surface. “According to my mother, she’d had a miscarriage before she met my father. But she didn’t want him to know. She said sometimes things happened in life and it didn’t make people bad. Maybe preparing me, knowing I would eventually find out about the adoption.” Dr. Ellie remained silent and it allowed me time to gather my thoughts.
“The comments hurt. It was impossible to measure up to their standards. I believed it was because of my deafness. Now I realize their words had nothing to do with my hearing loss. Sorry, I haven’t answered your question.”
“You’re on a good—”
“Please. I want to answer.” I interrupted her. “To be h
onest, I want to say Anne should have kept me no matter what. But if I’d been in her situation—I’d have made the same decision she did. Anne didn’t have a choice. Her father, John, still disavows me.”
“You’ve pieced together some significant insights.” Dr. Ellie leaned forward. I felt encouraged to continue.
“I want to stop searching, but I have this drive to find the truth.”
“You can’t heal from the past until you uncover the issues. God wants you to be emotionally healthy.” She ran her fingertips across her chin. “Let’s change directions for a minute. During your first session, you mentioned finding pieces of a puzzle. What pieces are you still searching for?”
“Missing pieces? I need—or want—to know about my birth father. However, the key piece would be to have John and Elizabeth accept me as their granddaughter. I think Elizabeth already does. John—I’m determined to find a way to reach him.”
“I’d like to see you write a letter to your birth father. See where it propels you, how you feel once you get started.”
We ended the meeting and walked along the shore with the dogs, stopping several times to chat. Our walks and visits were a great way to relax after the emotional intensity of our sessions.
“Gerald will be retiring at the end of this year. We’re planning to move here, and make the cottage our retirement home. We both enjoy our time in Serenity Cove—although Gerard is doing it more for me. I love it here.” Her words stirred a longing within me—I wanted that kind of connection with someone. No, not with someone—I wanted it with Logan. At the thought of his name, I closed my eyes and felt determination surge through me.
I left, ready for another round with John. But first I made a short detour to Taylor Jones’s office to pick up the letter that I’d asked him for.
Trepidation had my nerves in knots as I slowed to a stop in their driveway. I waited for John to come out and handle his dogs.
“You people don’t get the message. Do you?” John’s face turned an angry red.
“I have a letter for—” The envelope shook as I offered it to him.