Sweet Haven

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Mom,” Adeline said, interrupting the monologue, “Brenna is fine with walking into the church alone.”

  “She says she is,” Janelle replied. “But we both know how she is. She pretends things don’t bother her, but deep inside she’s very sensitive.”

  Adeline snorted. “She’s about as sensitive as a great white shark.”

  “Why in the world would you say something like that?”

  “Because it’s true. Brenna is a great person. She’s beautiful, caring, and fun, but she isn’t sensitive. Not about stuff like this.”

  “You’re wrong, and since Sinclair is here, I thought he could escort her to the church, walk her in, help her get settled. That way she won’t have to go alone.”

  “No,” Sinclair said, but not before Adeline’s face fell, the sparkle in her eyes dimming.

  “Pardon me?” Janelle said as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.

  “I said no. I’m not going to escort Brenna to the church. She can go with Willow and Ken if she’s worried about walking into the wedding alone. I’m thinking Adeline is probably right, though. I don’t think Brenna is going to have a problem walking into the church alone.”

  “That’s because you don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman, Sinclair,” Janelle said.

  “I know what it’s like to be a confident person, Janelle. Which Brenna is. I also know that if I had a choice between attending a social function alone or going with someone I barely knew, I’d go alone.”

  “I still think—”

  Brenna barreled out onto the porch, her skirt definitely too short for a wedding in a place like Benevolence, the pink fabric barely covering her upper thighs. She had legs that went on for miles. Her loose-fitting white sweater sagged off of one shoulder, and she tugged it back into place, the gesture unconsciously sexy.

  Yeah. She was beautiful.

  But Adeline . . .

  She was the real deal.

  “What’s going on out here?” Brenna demanded, whatever sensitivity Janelle thought she possessed well hidden. “Please tell me you are not begging Sinclair to take me to the wedding, Mother.”

  “I wasn’t begging.”

  “But you asked? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m sure that Dan wouldn’t want you to go alone.”

  “You know about this much about Dan.” She held her index finger and thumb so close together they almost touched.

  “He’s a wonderful man, Brenna, and he wants the best for you.”

  “I’m sure that the fact that he’s a surgeon makes you think he’s somehow immune to the problems that plague the rest of us.” Brenna nearly spit out the words. “But really, Mother, you know nothing. Can I take your car, Adeline?” she asked, whirling toward her sister.

  “Sure.” Adeline fished keys out of the small bag she was carrying. “But I’m going to need them to get back in my house.”

  “I’ll hitch a ride back here with Willow and Ken. Right now, I just can’t stomach anyone.” She stalked away, her stilettos sinking into the grass.

  “What,” Janelle asked, watching as Brenna marched up the sidewalk, “has gotten into her?”

  “Maybe she just wants to be left alone for a while,” Adeline responded. “Maybe she doesn’t want you hooking her up with someone the minute she boots . . .” She stopped, her cheeks going bright red.

  “What?” Janelle shot Adeline a hard look, her lips pinched, her brow furrowed

  “The minute Dan leaves town.”

  “You could be right.” Janelle nodded as if to reassure herself. “She probably thinks it would be unseemly to be seen walking into church with someone who isn’t her fiancé.”

  “Yeah. That’s what it is,” Adeline said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Is something bothering you, dear?” Janelle asked.

  “Mom, look at me.” Adeline lifted the hem of the dress, let it float back into place, touched the tip-top of her poufed hair. “Everything is bothering me.”

  “Well, get over it. For May’s sake. You wouldn’t want her to have to look at pictures of you scowling during the ceremony.”

  “Right. I wouldn’t want that,” Adeline muttered. “I’ll just head back inside and wait with the rest of the giant pumpkins.”

  She probably would have done exactly what she’d said, but Sinclair snagged the back of her dress. “You didn’t say hello,” he said.

  For about three seconds she just stood there, his hand on her dress, her back to him. Not one word. Not even any indication that she’d heard. Then she turned, slowly and carefully, as if she were afraid of making some terrible mistake.

  “Hello,” she said, her cheeks bright pink under even pinker blush. “And now that I’ve said it, I guess I can say good-bye.”

  “Don’t be rude, Adeline,” Janelle snapped, glancing at her watch and frowning. “Noah is going to be here any minute to pick me up. I’d better freshen up my makeup. See you at the wedding, Sinclair.”

  She didn’t say good-bye to her daughter.

  That was something Sinclair noticed.

  He also noticed that Adeline looked about as pissed as a person could be.

  “Our moods match,” he commented, and she met his eyes, no smile in them, no sparkle.

  “It’s been a hell of a day, Sinclair, and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

  “I can kind of see that.” He touched a tendril of hair that had somehow managed to escape the hair-sprayed do.

  “Can you?” She plucked at the huge ruffle that hung from her neckline. “Or are you being blinded by the neon brightness of my dress?”

  “If I were going to be blinded by anything, it would be your smile,” he said, linking his arm through hers and tugging her down the porch stairs. “Since you’re not smiling, I’m pretty sure I’m seeing what’s in front of me.”

  “A mess. This getup is downright embarrassing.”

  “Is May happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then be happy for her.” He opened the passenger-side door of the truck, lifted Adeline, and set her down on the seat.

  “What was that for?” She scowled, another strand of hair escaping.

  “My leg hurts, and I didn’t feel like chasing you down,” he responded. She sputtered something in reply, but he’d already closed the door.

  The evening looked the same as it had when he’d driven up to May’s, but it felt different when he got behind the wheel and started the truck’s engine. It felt better. It felt like maybe he could make it through without a ten-mile run or an adrenaline-burning workout. It felt like he was going to be okay, and that was something he needed on days like today when everything piled up in his mind and threatened to drag him back to the dark days after the explosion.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Randal Custard had a field day during the ceremony at Benevolence Baptist Church.

  Addie might have been facing the bride and groom, but she could hear the snap-snap-snap of the camera and the quiet swish of Randal’s pen scribbling on paper.

  There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she and her dress were going to be on the front page of the newspaper.

  She couldn’t make herself care.

  Not much anyway.

  The ceremony was beautiful. Despite the horrible color choices and the oversized ball gown that nearly drowned May’s diminutive frame, despite the organist who couldn’t seem to hit a right note and the people who whispered and giggled from their pews as the bride tripped down the aisle in sequins and beads and a beehive nearly as tall as she was, despite all the little things that weren’t quite right, the wedding was beautiful.

  It was obvious that May and Jim were in love. They stared into each other’s eyes as they promised to love each other until death parted them.

  The smile on May’s face when Jim slid a ring onto her finger? It was enough to make every minute of work on the wedding favors, all the late nights and the stress, worth it. It even made Addie
’s early-morning and late-night jogs to fit into the dress worth it.

  Is May happy? Sinclair had asked. Then be happy for her.

  The words rang through her head as May slid a ring on Jim’s finger, and she couldn’t help herself, she glanced Sinclair’s way. He sat between Janelle and Brenna, squeezed into one of the front pews. He wasn’t watching the couple. He was watching Addie. Not with the smirk she’d seen on Randal’s face when he was snapping pictures of her walking down the aisle. No, Sinclair had a soft smile that made her heart skip a beat.

  She wanted to run to him, and she wanted to run from him, and she wanted a million things she knew she shouldn’t.

  Because she’d been down that road before.

  She’d told Sinclair that, and she’d told herself that, but all the telling in the world didn’t change how she felt.

  The minister pronounced Jim and May husband and wife, and the couple kissed—a sweet and safe peck on the lips that made the guests and bridal party cheer.

  Addie cheered along with them. She followed the couple back up the aisle; she stood in the receiving line shaking hands and smiling at nearly five hundred people. She was going through the motions, still thinking about Sinclair’s smile and his words and the way it had felt to be in his arms.

  When the last guest disappeared into the reception area, she headed in the opposite direction. There was no organization to the reception. Just food and fun. That’s what May had said. Addie had already set up the favors, putting one on each of the paper placemats May had bought from the dollar store. Her job, she guessed, was done, and she doubted she’d be missed.

  She grabbed the orange handbag that May had insisted the bridesmaids carry, slipped out the back door of the church, and walked through the dark yard until she found the playground that had been installed long before Addie was born. Just a swing set, a slide, and monkey bars.

  She sat on one of the swings, cold wind gusting through the empty yard, music drifting from the building. She was a few hundred yards from dozens of people she knew and cared about, but she’d never felt so alone in her entire life.

  The church door opened, light splashing across the yard as someone walked outside.

  She knew who it was.

  She felt him like she felt the cold air and the soft breeze. He walked toward her, a slight hitch to his stride, settled onto the swing next to hers, and didn’t say a word.

  When he took off his suit jacket and dropped it around her shoulders, she wanted to cry from the beauty of that one simple gesture.

  “Do you have to be so perfect?” she murmured, her gaze on the dry ground beneath the swing.

  “I’m not even close to perfect, Adeline,” he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. “Do you hear the music?”

  She hadn’t really been listening, but now that he’d mentioned it, she did. “What a Wonderful World” drifted through the darkness.

  “We could go inside and dance,” he said. “Or we could dance in the moonlight.”

  “There is none tonight. The clouds are too thick,” she pointed out, and he chuckled, tugging her into his arms and starting a slow, easy waltz.

  Somehow her head found its way to his chest, and she was letting herself be swept along with the music and with the man. When his lips found hers, it was the most natural thing in the world, the most right thing, and she wanted to stay in that moment, dwell in that feeling forever.

  Her cell phone buzzed.

  She ignored it, because the song had changed to another slow, sweet oldie, and they were dancing again, swaying together, the darkness pressing them closer.

  When it buzzed again, Sinclair pulled back, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Maybe you should answer it,” he suggested, his voice husky.

  “It’s probably just my mother.”

  “Or your grandfather,” he responded, and she knew she couldn’t ignore a call from Byron. No matter how tempted she might be.

  She fished her phone from the handbag, glanced at the caller ID and was surprised to see her home number.

  “It must be Chase,” she said.

  “Is he still at the shop?” Sinclair asked, his hands sliding up her back and smoothing along her shoulders.

  “He’s home,” she responded, not even quite sure what they were talking about, because everything about Sinclair? It was everything she wanted, and that was the only thing in her head and her heart.

  “You should probably see what he wants,” he murmured. His fingers glided along her collarbone.

  For about six seconds, she couldn’t think. All she could do was feel those warm fingers against her cool skin, feel the flutter of a dozen butterflies in her stomach.

  “Addie?” he prodded, pulling a pin from her hair. A heavy strand fell over her shoulders. “Are you going to answer the phone?”

  “Yes. Right. I am.” She pressed the phone to her ear as he pulled out another pin. She probably should have told him to stop. She was already a mess. Her wild, curly hair newly freed from the beehive was going to be a nightmare to deal with, but . . . God! His fingers felt so good sliding through what had been a tight and painful hairstyle.

  “Hello?” she managed to say as she answered the phone.

  “Adeline!” Chase nearly shouted. “I need you to come home!”

  He sounded panicked and terrified, and every warm fuzzy feeling she had disappeared.

  “What’s going on? Fire? Robbery? Death?”

  “I can’t explain on the phone. I just need you to come.” He hung up, the quiet click followed by a silence so thick she could have choked on it.

  “What’s going on?” Sinclair asked as he pulled another pin from her hair. That must have been the one holding the horrible style in place, because suddenly hair was on her neck, in her face, on her shoulders.

  “I don’t know, but I need to find out.” She thrust his suit jacket into his hands. “If you see my mother, can you tell her I had to go home?”

  “It’s going to be kind of hard to see her when I’m with you.” He followed her around the side of the building.

  She dug in the handbag, realized she didn’t have her car keys. “I’ve got to find Brenna.”

  “Or we could go in my truck.” He snagged her hand and dragged her across the parking lot to his truck.

  It only took five minutes to get to the house.

  It seemed to take a lifetime.

  As soon as Sinclair pulled into the driveway, she was out of the truck, racing to the front door. Her ankle twisted thanks to shoes that were a half size too big and weighed down by the god-awful orange bows. She barely felt the pop and sting of it. She was too terrified of what she’d find on the other side of the door.

  It swung open before she reached it, and Chase was there, his face pale as paper, his hair standing up in a hundred different directions.

  “I don’t know what to do!” he shouted, grabbing her hand and clutching it like she was a lifeline that was going to keep him from going under.

  “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” She was doing everything in her power to keep the panic out of her voice. She didn’t smell smoke, didn’t see blood, couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

  “It’s Larkin,” he said, his voice so thick she thought he might have been crying. There were no tears in his eyes, though. No tears on his face. Just the kind of stark terror that made her heart shudder.

  “You’re going to have to be clearer, Chase. I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Upstairs,” he said, racing through the hall to the door that led to the attic stairwell. He took the steps two at a time, and she followed, the sound of Sinclair’s shoes tapping on the stairs behind her.

  She didn’t know what she was expecting—a scene out of a horror movie maybe? With blood and guts and demons rising from the floorboards.

  The room looked . . .

  Fine.

  Clean as a whistle. Nothing out of place.

  T
he bed was still in the center of the room, a floor lamp she’d given Chase sitting beside it, a book on the floor. A pink book that looked like it had a pony on the cover.

  She was so focused on that, so busy trying to figure out why an eighteen-year-old kid would be reading a book about ponies that she almost didn’t notice the lump in the middle of the bed.

  When she did, she blinked. Twice. The lump was still there, covered by blankets and hidden from view.

  “Girlfriend?” Sinclair asked, and she finally got it. Finally understood what she was seeing. A person. Lying under the covers.

  “God! No!” Chase muttered. “I don’t have time for that kind of crap.”

  He tugged back the blankets, revealing a girl who looked to be about ten. Dressed in pink jeans and a white sweatshirt, her feet bare, her toenails painted sparkly red, she didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes. Blond hair. Pale skin. Bright pink cheeks.

  “Larkin?” Chase said, his voice shaking. “Lark?”

  He touched the girl’s cheek, but she didn’t move, and Addie’s heart started pounding a slow, horrible beat. Was she dead?

  Sinclair walked to the bed, touched the girl’s forehead. “She’s burning up.”

  “She’s been sick for a couple of days. I gave her some Tylenol this morning, but when I tried to give her more this evening, she threw it up. Lark?” Chase tried again, shaking the girl’s shoulder gently. “Can you hear me?”

  She moaned.

  That had to be a good sign.

  Didn’t it?

  “I’ll get some cool cloths, and we’ll try the Tylenol again,” Addie said, sprinting from the room and down the stairs.

  She grabbed hand towels from the linen closet, doused them with lukewarm water, snagged the bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet, and raced back to the attic.

  Larkin was lying exactly where she’d been, limp in the middle of the bed, Chase hovering next to her, Sinclair a few feet away, talking on his phone.

  “Let’s cool her head first,” she suggested, doing what she’d seen a couple of friends do with their feverish kids. A cool cloth on the forehead. One on the back of the neck. She swiped another on Lark’s neck, and the girl opened her eyes.