Secrets at Sweetwater Cove

by Sally Roseveare

  “Think she recognizes you now?”

  “Naw, she’s back to her crazy old self, don’t remember nuthin’.”

  As Hessie’s guardian and beneficiary—thanks to a local banker who’d invested heavily in Sweetwater Cove—Jasper’s long-term plan had been to have Hessie admitted to a cheap nursing home, sell her house, keep out just enough to pay for Hessie’s keep, and invest the rest in high-interest bonds. He’d reap huge benefits after she died. But now he needed lots of cash. He’d had his eye on a 25-acre waterfront parcel that came on the market a month ago on nearby Leesville Lake. He didn’t have the funds to buy it, but if Hessie died and her house sold for the recently appraised value, then he could easily swing the deal. And when she died, he’d inherit her estate and the money from the large life insurance policy he’d talked her into taking out—with him as the beneficiary, of course. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get to it until she expired. This unexpected dilemma might just work to his advantage.

  “Take her over to the part of the mountain on one of the dirt roads, about a 20-minute drive from her house, and put her out. Wait until tonight, though. Make sure nobody sees you. If anybody finds her they’ll think she just wandered away and got lost. She has a history of wandering. I’ll have a good reason to put her in a nursing home. If nobody finds her, well, tough luck.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Luke guided his water taxi into a boat slip at Bridgewater Plaza, assisted the middle-aged couple from the boat, thanked them for their generous tip, and waved goodbye. Usually he enjoyed showing folks different waterfront developments around the lake, the cliffs, and some of the other attractions. This time was different. When he’d met them at Bridgewater four hours ago, he’d not been in the best mood. He was angry at himself for losing his cool earlier in the day and socking Win. Luke couldn’t get Carole’s reaction—or Win’s—out of his mind. Maybe Win’s right, he thought. Maybe my actions will drive Carole into his welcoming arms. I’m an idiot.

  Fifteen minutes later Luke stepped onto his own dock and secured the boat. He looked at his watch—4:15. Maybe Carole was home. Probably a good time to call, he figured. When he entered his office, he checked the messages on his answering machine, decided they could wait, and dashed upstairs to his apartment and picked up the phone. No answer at Carole’s office. He didn’t leave a message, nor did he call her cell. He needed to see her in person—without Win hanging all over her—and apologize, tell her he was sorry, that he loved her more than anything in the world. After showering, he splashed on the after shave Carole liked so much, put on a pair of slacks, a nice shirt and tie (he hated ties, but Carole liked them), and took a sports jacket out of the closet.

  “Look out, Carole. You’re not done with me yet.” Grabbing his car keys, Luke rushed out the door.

  Luke stopped at a flower shop and hurried inside. “Give me a dozen long-stemmed red roses, the finest you have,” he said.

  The lady behind the counter looked at the handsome young man, smiled knowingly, and soon handed Luke twelve velvety-soft red roses, their stems wrapped in green tissue paper. “Would you like a card with them?”

  “Good idea, thanks.” He took the small card she offered and quickly wrote “Carole, please forgive me. I’m sorry and I love you.”

  “Good luck,” she called after him as he hurried out the door.

  “Thanks.”

  Still at The View in the Sweetwater development, Carole showed Win the two-story condo with its three spacious bedrooms, each with private bath, and powder room. The kitchen and living room combination was to die for. She pointed out the gas fireplace flanked on each side by bookshelves, told him how nice it would be to cook in such an efficient kitchen. A screened porch, accessible from the great room and from the small office, overlooked the lake and offered an ever-changing view. How could he not like living here?

  “And Win, it comes completely furnished. What do you think?”

  Win didn’t answer her. He was still angry with himself for letting Aurora see him without his sunglasses. He’d recognized her the first time he saw her in Sweetwater Cove; he had seen her once before that. For some reason his instinct told him when their eyes met at the intersection that September day that she knew what he had done. How she knew, he didn’t have a clue. He hoped that today she hadn’t remembered their previous brief encounter.

  “Win, are you listening to me? I asked you what you thought. Do you want to make an offer?”

  Pushing his thoughts about Aurora out of his mind, he looked at Carole. “What?”

  “I asked if you want to make an offer. On the condo.”

  When he told her it wasn’t what he was looking for, Carole fought to control her temper. She’d shown him brand new houses, older homes, contemporary, traditional and eclectic homes, some fully furnished, most with large covered docks. A few even included the boat and jet ski. How could anyone who said price was no problem turn down every single house she’d shown him without even having to think about it?

  “I have shown you 27 fantastic properties, all on the water, each different in some way or another.” Carole sighed. “Have you seen a single thing that’s interested you at all?”

  “Yeah, I have. And it’s standing right in front of me.” He put his arms around her, pulled her close to him, kissed her.

  Carole pushed away from him.

  Win reached for her again. “Come on, Carole.”

  Carole sidestepped him, reached the door and hurried into the hall. She nearly bumped into Aurora’s Uncle Charlie.

  “Well hey, Carole. You don’t live here, do you?”

  “Hey, Uncle Charlie. No, I couldn’t afford this place. I was showing the condo to a client.”

  “Anthony, is that you?” Charlie asked when Win looked around the door.

  “Charlie, meet Winston Ford. Win, this is Judge Charlie Anderson. He’s Aurora’s uncle.”

  Charlie stared at Win. “Winston Ford, huh? You’re the spitting image of a man who’s been in my court. That man was charged with assault and grand theft, but the jury let him off. A mistake in my opinion.”

  Win smiled. “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. I’ve never been in a Lynchburg court—or any court, for that matter—never been charged with grand theft or assault, and my name’s always been Winston Ford. I’ve heard there’s a double for everybody somewhere. Would like to see this Anthony guy. Must be a handsome fellow.”

  “My mistake,” said Charlie, a frown on his face.

  Charlie and Carole talked for a couple of minutes. He told her about Dixie Lee who lived next door and how Hessie had disappeared. Win interrupted their conversation.

  “Sorry to have to leave, but Carole and I are going to dinner. Nice to have met you, Judge Anderson. Coming, Carole?”

  Carole said goodbye to Charlie and hurried to catch up with Win. “I’m not going to dinner with you. Why did you say that?”

  “You’re afraid to be alone with me.” Win grinned at her.

  “No, I’m not. I’m tired. Take me back to the office, please.”

  They rode in silence until they reached the real estate office.

  Win drove his Porsche into the parking lot and looked at Carole. “What can I say to convince you to eat dinner with me?” he asked.

  Carole gave him a tired smile. “Nothing. I told you that already. There’s nothing you can say that will tempt me, Win. I’m exhausted. I need some down time.”

  “I would love to be down with you.”

  “Don’t you even think about it. I’m serious. I’m so tired I’m not thinking straight. I just want to go to bed.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? I’d love—”

  “Don’t go there, Win.” Carole looked at him, put her hand on the door handle. It was locked. “Unlock the door, Win.”

  “What if I refuse?” Win leaned toward her, put his arm around her shoulders, caressed her neck. “I know you want me, Carole. Don’t play hard to get. And remember, Carole. I always win—one way or t
he other.”

  The first thing Luke saw when he drove into the parking lot was the black Porsche. He thought about leaving. He stopped, uncertain of what to do next. When he saw Carole slap Win hard across the face, he smiled and turned off the ignition. “Atta girl, Carole!” he wanted to yell, but he didn’t.

  Seconds later Carole stood beside the Porsche, Luke at her side. “Go somewhere and cool off, Win,” she said. “And take a cold shower.”

  “Yeah,” said Luke, grinning. The Porsche screeched across the parking lot and onto the road.

  Inside her apartment, Luke knelt on one knee and held the roses out to Carole. She took them and laughed. “You’ve already proposed, Luke, and I accepted.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m an idiot who doesn’t handle things right and I’m not sure you still mean it.”

  Carole knelt in front of him. “I said yes the first time, Luke. And yes, you’re an idiot sometimes. And yes, I still want to marry you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Monday, 4:45 p.m.

  Jill pushed the grocery cart through the produce aisle, dropped a bag of carrots, a pound of broccoli, and two sweet potatoes in the cart, and hurried to check out. She was thankful the lines were short. She felt nauseous, a little dizzy, too. Looking at all this food hadn’t helped. The morning sickness was much worse than she’d ever expected. She couldn’t understand why folks called it morning sickness. Hers lasted all day. She scrounged through her purse and pulled the last saltine cracker from a Ziploc bag. Her hand trembled as she gulped the cracker down in two bites. She hoped she wouldn’t throw up. She wanted to go home, crawl into bed near a bathroom and go to sleep. She wanted none of the healthy foods she’d dropped in her grocery cart, but she knew that the blessed baby she carried inside her needed wholesome nourishment. Surely this malady wouldn’t last much longer. She wondered how women who had multiple pregnancies coped. How could they allow themselves to get pregnant more than once when they knew how awful they’d feel?

  Jill remembered the day Poppa came home from the hospital with the newborn baby and told his other children that Momma had died in childbirth. For two days, 10-year-old Jill, the oldest child in the family, had resented the baby boy, wouldn’t look at him. After all, she’d reasoned, Momma would be alive if not for him.

  The night she heard the creak-creak-creak of the old rocking chair, she padded into the hall and peeped into Poppa’s bedroom. In the chair sat Poppa, tears streaming down his face, the baby snuggled lovingly in his arms. Jill ran into the room, hugged Poppa. He pulled her onto his lap, and the three of them rocked until Jill fell asleep. From that day on, Jill had loved the baby with all her heart, understood what a precious gift Momma had left them.

  And now she and Robert would have a baby all their own.

  Jill loaded the groceries in the car, started the engine, and drove to the traffic light. When the light turned green, she steered her sedan into the intersection. Seconds before a speeding car ran the stoplight and slammed into her front fender, she looked into the eyes of the driver and screamed. Her car careened into the air. Jill screamed again. Before she lost consciousness, she prayed for the life of her unborn baby.

  At 5:50, Aurora covered the chicken casserole with aluminum foil, put it in the oven, and set the timer for 40 minutes. Sam would be home at 6:30. When he walked through the front door, she’d remove the foil and cook the casserole 20 minutes longer. They’d have time to unwind with a glass of wine, catch up on each other’s day before sitting down to eat.

  Maybe Kurt was home. She reached for the telephone to call him at the same time the phone rang. Aurora jumped, answered it. She hardly recognized Robert Reeves’ distraught voice.

  “Aurora, Jill’s had an accident. A car ran a light, slammed into hers. They’re taking her to the Emergency Room in Roanoke right now. I arrived in Madrid on business 45 minutes ago. I’m boarding a private jet as we speak, but won’t arrive in Roanoke for hours.” His voice broke.

  “Do you want me to go to the hospital? I can be on the road in five minutes.”

  “Thanks, but my secretary in D.C. is already on the company jet. She should land soon. I’ve told her to call you as soon as she hears anything.” He sighed. “I just thought you’d want to hear it from me first, before you saw it on the news.”

  “Absolutely. Thank you, Robert. How is Jill? Do you know anything about her condition?”

  “I know she’s alive.” He swallowed a sob. “I’m scared, Aurora. So very scared.”

  “Sam and I will pray for her, Robert.”

  “Thank you. And please pray for the baby, too.”

  “You can count on that. Do you want me to get Little Guy and bring him to our house?”

  “Little Guy. I forgot all about him. That would be a tremendous help. Could you keep him until Jill’s home and doing well? You still have a key to the house, right?”

  “I do. And it will be a pleasure to have Little Guy with us again. You know we love him.”

  “Thanks for helping, Aurora. I’ll call you when I know something.”

  Aurora rummaged through the junk drawer in the kitchen for the key to Robert’s house. As she latched on to the key ring, her hand brushed against a familiar object—her Dad’s old Boy Scout knife. The Boy Scout motto “Be Prepared” rang through her head. Was her Dad trying to tell her she needed to be prepared, that she should carry the knife? She picked it up, stared at it. “Nah,” she said. She tossed it back in the drawer. King whined. Aurora looked at him, shrugged, picked up the knife and dropped it in her jeans pocket.

  “Satisfied?” King nudged her leg.

  The five-minute walk to Robert’s house helped drain some of Aurora’s tension. She relaxed, secure in the knowledge that Jill was in good hands, would receive excellent medical care. She said a silent prayer for Jill and the baby. For Robert, too.

  A high-pitched bark from inside the Reeves house answered King’s excited woofs. When Aurora opened the back door, Little Guy dashed out, ran around the walled flower bed, back to King, then to Aurora.

  “They should have named you Yo Yo! Stop jumping so I can love on you a little,” she said to the Jack Russell terrier. She collected Little Guy’s bag of dog food and food bowls. His dog bed could wait until later. The two canine buddies romped in the yard.

  Aurora looked around. Except for the October colors in the landscape, Robert’s five-acre lot and house looked the same as they had several months ago. Something’s different, though, she thought. She stood still a minute, then smiled. “Of course. There’s love here now. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. Lord, please don’t let their love be replaced with grief,” she said.

  She glimpsed a streak of red as Sam’s car drove up Spawning Run Road. If she didn’t hurry he’d be parked and inside the house before she made it home. Some folks thought her old-fashioned because Aurora liked to greet her husband with a smile and a kiss when he walked through the door. Of course, that wasn’t always possible, but today she could reach the house before Sam if she cut through the woods at a run. She had fond memories of her mother greeting her father that way for as long as she could remember. She wondered if that was why their marriage had been so successful.

  By the time Aurora had crossed the two acres separating her house and Robert’s, she was out of breath. She leaned over, breathed hard, and said a silent thanks to her dad for building his house on this side of his 21 acres. She walked through the side porch door the same time Sam entered the kitchen.

  “Aurora,” he hollered, “turn on the TV! I just heard on the car radio that there’s been a bad wreck at Westlake.”

  She picked up the remote, aimed it at the television. Sam put his arm around her, kissed her. “Don’t know any details or names yet,” he said.

  “Sam, I … “

  “There! I think the reporter’s talking about it now.” He perched on the love seat, stared at the screen.

  “Sam, I know what … “

  “Oh, geez! Would you
look at that car. It’s totaled. How could anyone survive that?”

  “Sam!” He looked at her. “That’s Jill’s car.”

  “What? What did you say?”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you. That’s Jill’s car. Robert called me a little while ago.” She moved over and sat beside him.

  “Oh, no. Is she …?”

  “She was alive and being transported to the hospital when Robert called.” She willed herself not to cry. “They don’t know about the baby.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  The timer went off in the kitchen. Aurora squeezed Sam’s hand, hurried to the stove and removed the casserole.

  “What should we do?” Sam asked from close behind her. “Should we go to the hospital?”

  Aurora pulled off the aluminum foil and put the casserole back in the oven. “I think we should eat first, then think this through. Robert said his secretary would call us when she knew more.” She set the timer for 20 minutes. “Little Guy’s dog bed is still at the house, so we’ll need to get that.”

  “Why don’t we get the prayer chain activated?” Sam suggested. “I’ll fetch Little Guy’s bed if you’ll start calling.”

  “Great idea. Prayer never hurts.” Aurora flipped to the list of committee chairs in the church directory and dialed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  7:30 p.m.

  Finally home from school, Kurt rinsed off his dinner plate and stuck it in the dishwasher. He’d just finished wolfing down the two hamburgers his mom had picked up for him at the drive-through on their way home. Earlier that day, she had called the school and told them not to let Kurt ride the bus home, that she would pick him up instead. He’d groaned when he’d read the message. Most times when she wanted to pick him up, it meant that she had someplace to take him—almost always somewhere Kurt didn’t want to go. Usually he didn’t mind too awful much, but he never let his mom know that. Today, though, he had really wanted to go straight home.

  “Hey, Kurt, how was your day?” his mom had asked when he opened the car door and climbed in the front seat at 3:10.