If I Didn't Know Better

by Barbara Freethy

With the wine flowing and the colored markers sliding across many a page, conversation also picked up. Mia found out a lot of gossip about people she didn't know and heard many more stories about her aunt and a certain gentleman in Angel's Bay, a doctor at the clinic, who had been quite distraught by Carly's death. She could only imagine how many other broken hearts her aunt had left behind.

  As she watched the women at her table color in Carly's art sketches, she felt very close to her aunt, and she really hoped that Carly was an angel, that she was watching and smiling and appreciating that she'd left something behind for everyone to enjoy. This was what art was supposed to be, a way to creatively express emotions and thoughts and even burn off some stress at the same time. There was something quite cathartic about coloring between the intricate lines.

  She would turn these patterns into books the way Carly had wanted, Mia promised herself. Then women the world over could enjoy them as well.

  "I'm going to get more wine from the back room," Kara told her.

  "Do you want me to help you?"

  "It's not a two-person job, I'll be right back."

  As Kara got up, another woman slid into her chair. She appeared to be in her forties with short, curly brown hair that was tinged with gray at the temples and dark eyes.

  "I'm Rita Phelps," she said. "I'm an artist. I spent two weeks in your aunt's studio last summer. It was an amazing time for me."

  "That's wonderful."

  "Yes, I was able to free myself from the creative block I'd been struggling with. I was having a career and a personal crisis, having just gone through a bitter divorce. I really think I was emotionally frozen, but your aunt and the loan of her beautiful cottage changed everything for me."

  "I'm so glad. Did you leave a painting with my aunt when your stay was over?"

  "Yes, it was one of my best paintings I'd ever done. I didn't want to leave your aunt anything but my best."

  "I spoke to the Eckhart Gallery earlier today, and I'm thinking of putting together an exhibition of the paintings that were left to my aunt. Would you be all right with me showing your work?"

  "Kara mentioned something about that," Rita said slowly. "I don't want to say no, but I'm a little unsure. It would depend on the quality of the other paintings. A lot of the people who used the cottage were amateurs working through personal problems, but I was a professional then, and I still am. I sell my art. I take great pride in it. I don't know that I want to be part of a show that doesn't reflect my standards."

  "Well, I can tell you that most of the paintings are quite good, but I'd be happy to show you the entire group before they go up."

  "I would like that." Rita hesitated, looking suddenly nervous. "This is kind of awkward, but would you consider returning my painting? I could probably get some good money for it, and it was for your aunt, not really for anyone else."

  Mia had a feeling this was the real reason Rita was hesitant about the show. She wanted to sell her painting herself, not show it. She didn't quite know what to say. She hadn't expected any of the artists to ask for their work back. The art left to her aunt had been payment for a stay in the cottage.

  "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "My aunt left everything to my mother. It's not really up to me. I'd have to discuss it with her."

  "Would you do that? I'd appreciate it. I feel a little cheap for asking, but I'm an artist. It's not easy to make money on art."

  "I understand."

  Rita handed her a card. "Let me know as soon as you can."

  "Of course."

  She was relieved when Rita left and Kara returned.

  "Everything okay?" Kara asked, giving her a curious look.

  "My idea of exhibiting my aunt's collection of art is taking a few hits. Rita wants her painting back."

  Kara frowned. "That's just wrong. It doesn't belong to her anymore. She gave it to Carly to pay for the studio time."

  "I think that, too, but then maybe my aunt would want her to have her painting back. It's hard to know what to do. I wish she'd left instructions, but she didn't even have a will. She had a trust for the house and her bank accounts, but no other itemized list of what she wanted done."

  "She was probably too young to think she needed that. What are you going to do?"

  "I'll talk to my mom. She's the one who has to make the decision. I'm not going to worry about it tonight."

  "You shouldn't." Kara paused. "The coloring patterns are a huge hit. I have to say I didn't think it would be that much fun, but it is."

  "I agree. I'm going to find a way to make them into books."

  "We could sell the books here in the store. I think we'd sell a ton."

  "I'll look into how I can get them published. I think Aunt Carly would like me to finish them for her, although, I have to admit that my aunt was known for starting things and not finishing them. It used to drive my mother crazy. She liked to set goals and check items off a to-do list but Carly was always impulsively changing her mind."

  "Who are you like—your mom or Carly?"

  "I've been pretty good about staying on the right path, but I'm kind of in the mood for a detour."

  "Sometimes side trips are exciting," Kara said with a sparkle in her eye. "You never know who you'll meet—maybe a really hot, single guy with a super cute daughter who just happens to live next door."

  "Jeremy might be single, but I don't think he's available. He's caught up in a lot of emotional stuff right now."

  "That won't be forever."

  "I won't be here long enough to find out."

  "Unless you stay on the detour."

  "Unless I do that," she echoed, wondering if she could really not go back to the life she'd planned out for so many years.

  * * *

  A beer in his hand, his friends at his side, a loud bar with baseball games playing on three different screens, and Jeremy felt like his old self again.

  "See, this is good, right?" Kent asked, sliding onto the bar stool next to him.

  "It's not bad, I'll say that."

  "I'm glad you came. My friends are on their way. And Barton is coming, too, but who knows when he'll get here."

  "I saw him earlier. I'm sure he'll show up."

  "Did he talk to you about getting back to Delta?"

  "He knows that's a long shot. We didn't get into it."

  "I know your heart is in the Army, Jeremy, but think about all the positives this town has to offer."

  "Like my father?" he asked sarcastically.

  "Forget about him. You'd never see him anyway."

  "True."

  "This is a good place to raise kids. And you have friends here—good friends. If you don't want to work on the force, we'll find something else for you."

  "What else is there?" he asked with a shrug. "I'm a trained soldier. I don't know how to do anything else."

  "Which is why you should be a police officer. You can do that job, and so what if it's not as exciting as what you're used to. Haven't you had enough heart-pounding, near-death experiences to make you want a little peace?"

  "Some days I think so," he admitted. "But I'd miss the adrenaline rush."

  Kent nodded, understanding in his eyes. "It took me awhile to get past that."

  "How did you get past it?"

  "A lot of sleepless nights and some really bad art."

  "You should have called me."

  "And whined about the fact that I couldn't sleep? I don't think so. I'm not a pansy ass."

  "I wouldn't have thought that. You went through a lot, Kent. It's not at all surprising you'd have to deal with some fallout." Kent had been held hostage for twelve hours before they'd been able to rescue him, and Jeremy knew that he'd suffered a great deal during that time period. He still hated that it had taken them so long to get him out.

  "Well, it's over now. I've made peace with my past, and I like living here. I get enough excitement on the job to suit my adrenaline needs, and the rest of the time I sleep well."

  "Plus, there's a sexy
doctor who gets your motor running," Jeremy said with a laugh.

  "There is that," Kent agreed, clinking his glass to Jeremy's. "It's taken me over a year to get a date, though."

  "She's making you wait."

  "At first, she wouldn't date me because I was a patient, then I was too recent of a patient. Now, she's run out of excuses. I'm planning to see Eva this weekend."

  "You and a shrink—not a bad combination."

  Kent's face sobered. "I'm not sure about that. I wonder if part of Eva's resistance is based on what I talked to her about when I first came back here. It's not like we talk about what we've done with just anyone. I told her things I wouldn't tell a woman I wanted to date. Maybe it was too much, too heavy."

  "I guess you'll find out." He completely understood what Kent was saying. It wasn't just that what they did was classified; it was that it was too painful, too horrible, to share with a civilian. It was easier to compartmentalize, lock those memories away where no one needed to go. It was how they survived. But sometimes, as in Kent's situation, the memories had to be unlocked in order to get past them. He didn't plan on going down that path. "Let's talk about something else. Why don't you buy me another beer?"

  "You got it," Kent said, asking for another round from the bartender. "Speaking of beautiful women…"

  "Don't go there," he warned.

  "Mia is pretty, sexy and blonde, which means she fits all your requirements."

  "She's my neighbor and a friend."

  "Since when do you have friends who are that hot?"

  "Since now," he said. "And I do look for a few more traits in a woman than the superficial ones you just mentioned. But all that aside, let's not forget I have a daughter who is my constant chaperone."

  "So you're really not going to see what could happen with Mia?"

  "She's leaving in a few weeks. I'm probably going to do the same. What's the point?"

  "I don't know—how about a few weeks of great sex?"

  "Do I need to mention my chaperone again?"

  "That's what babysitters are for."

  "Maybe in another life, but not the one I currently have…"

  "You only get one life. You can't waste it. Seriously, Jeremy—"

  He put up a hand. "No more serious talk. You promised me fun. That's why I came."

  "Fine, sorry." He paused. "Here come the guys."

  Jeremy stood up as Kent got up to introduce him to Joe Silveira, chief of police and two other officers, Colin Lynch and Jason Marlowe.

  "We met earlier," Colin said, giving him a friendly grin. "At the music festival. That was fun, huh?"

  "Ashlyn had a good time with your daughters and your nieces," he admitted.

  "Let's grab a table," Kent said, and they headed across the room.

  "Kent tells me you're in Delta," Joe said.

  He sat down next to the chief. "I was. But I messed up my shoulder. My status is uncertain."

  "Kent speaks very highly of you. If you're looking to change jobs, I'd be interested in talking further. We have an opening coming up this fall."

  "I appreciate that. I'll definitely consider it."

  "I hope so. We could use someone like you."

  "Really? I never saw myself as a police officer."

  "You're protecting a community, making the world a safer place. Isn't that what you've been doing in the Army?"

  Joe had a point. "True."

  "Angel's Bay has a way of clearing out the cobwebs and showing you what you really want," the chief added. He smiled. "Damn, I'm starting to sound like my wife."

  "Charlotte was a good catch. I knew her growing up."

  "Believe me, I am very aware of how lucky I am to have her in my life. She's something special."

  "Hey, guys, a pool table opened up in the back," Jason said. "Let's go."

  He'd just gotten up to follow the others across the bar when Barton came through the front door. As always, he moved quickly, almost as if someone were after him. Jeremy understood that. Walking slow in the places they'd been living in was one of the most dangerous things you could do.

  "You made it," Barton said with an approving smile.

  "Kent got a table in the back."

  "Good, but do you have a second first?"

  "I don't want to talk about coming back to Delta. It's not the right time."

  "It's not about Delta. I've been approached by Jeff Kinsey to join his new private security firm."

  "Seriously?" He was surprised that Barton would consider joining a private military contractor. "You hate those guys."

  "Not Kinsey. He was a good soldier. I trust him to set up his company in the right way. Times are changing, Jeremy. We need more freedom to do what we need to do, and, frankly, I'd like more cash, too. We've risked our lives a thousand times, and what do we have to show for it?"

  "How about the people we saved? We didn't join the Army for the money."

  "No, we enlisted to get the hell out of here and see the world. Well, we did that. And maybe that was enough for the eighteen-year-old kid I was, but it's not enough now." He paused. "I want you to talk to Kinsey with me. He has offices in LA. At least drive down and hear what he has to say."

  "I'm not ready to make any career decisions."

  "You're not leaning toward staying here and working with Kent, are you?" he asked with a frown.

  "I just told you I'm not making any decisions right now. I had to get Ashlyn out of San Francisco, and Kent found me a rental, so I came. That's why I'm here. And I'm staying because right now it's good for Ashlyn to be in a safe environment."

  "Sure, this is a great town to spend the summer but not your life. There's a reason we all left, and your reason is still here."

  "My father wasn't the only reason I left town."

  "He was part of that decision."

  "Look, I'll consider your suggestion, but right now I just want to have a good time. Let's shoot some pool, drink some beer, and not think about tomorrow."

  "Now that sounds like the old Jeremy," Barton said with an approving nod.

  "For tonight anyway."

  Eleven

  Jeremy left Murray's a little after ten feeling pleasantly buzzed and happy he'd decided to leave his car at the house and take a cab to and from the bar. The taxi dropped him off in front of his house. He started to move toward the front door, then hesitated, seeing the light on in Mia's backyard. He'd told Mrs. Danbury he wouldn't be back for another hour, and she'd told him any time before midnight was good with her, so he had a little time to kill.

  He'd just check on Mia, he told himself. See how her night with the women went. Ashlyn would already be asleep. There was no reason not to stop by Mia's house.

  Well, there was a reason—he just chose not to listen to the warning voice in his head that told him he was playing with fire.

  When he walked into Mia's backyard, he was surprised to see her standing in the middle of the yard. She was facing the ocean, an easel set up before her, a set of paints on a stool next to her. She stroked her brush against the canvas as the dim light from the patio and the moonlight guided her way.

  God she was pretty, he thought, her floral sundress swirling around her legs, her blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders, her feet once again bare. The woman never seemed to have shoes on.

  A rush of longing ran through him as the breeze blew her dress around her body, showing off her curves. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, lay her down on the grass and make love to her in the moonlight.

  He couldn't do any of those things.

  Could he?

  She suddenly started, whirling around.

  "It's okay, it's just me," he said, moving out of the shadows.

  She put a hand to her heart. "Jeremy. You scared me."

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm painting."

  There was a look of joy and pride on her face that he didn't completely understand. "I can see that, but it's late, and it's kind of dark."

  "I know. I j
ust couldn't wait until the morning. The coloring book party inspired me. It brought back my love of creating art. When I came home, I felt restless. I needed to do something, so I decided to paint."

  He moved forward, seeing the splash of blues, the shadow of trees, and a bright moon on her canvas. She'd painted the scene in front of her and it wasn't bad. He could see where she was going with it. "I like it."

  "It's not very well done. I've gotten rusty. I haven't painted in years."

  "Then it's a good start."

  "It certainly felt good. As soon as I put the paintbrush against the canvas, I felt like something unlocked inside me. It was like I'd been a bird in a cage and suddenly someone opened the door and told me to fly. I was uncertain at first and then I decided to trust in my instincts, believe in myself."

  "And you flew," he said with a smile, seeing the happy glow in her eyes.

  "I love painting. I used to do this with my aunt when I came to visit in the summers. I have such wonderful memories of those days. But after the summer, I'd go home and go back to school and my parents would remind me that painting is a hobby, not a job, at least for most people. As I got older, I didn't have time to come here. It was all about college and grad school and finding that perfect job. Look how great that turned out."

  "Sometimes you have to get far enough down the road to know if you're lost."

  "That's true. I don't know what I'm going to do for a career, but there has to be some part of it that I love. I know it's unrealistic to think I'll love all of it, but there has to be something. My job can't just be about making a living."

  "That's a good goal. How was your party tonight?"

  "It was amazing. The coloring books were a huge hit. I had many great conversations with my aunt's friends, who all spoke so warmly of her. It was really touching. Kara and Charlotte and Lauren were super nice. They have such a great friendship. I feel like they'll be friends when they're in their nineties."

  "Well, they have a long way to go."

  "What about you? How was boys' night out?"

  "Maybe a little too much fun," he admitted. "It was good to shoot pool, drink beer, and just be around men. My house has been pretty girly lately."

  She laughed. "That's what happens when you're a single dad of a beautiful little girl. It was good you got out for a while. You have to take time for yourself."