Epilogue
“Here, put the ham over here,” Patricia suggested, clearing a spot for the platter.
Blue swung between her and Brioney, bumping up against Brioney on purpose, she was pretty sure. He placed the platter where his mother indicated, then turned and wrapped his arm around Brioney, carrying her back a couple of steps.
It was three days after Christmas, and they were holding their belated celebration at the Ramseys’ house. Fitz, Jess and Brandon were there, along with two of Fitz’s friends, Ben Tschirhart and Daniel Balderrama, and some of Patricia and Roy’s guests. The house was loud and happy and beautiful, decorated from stem to stern for the holiday. Patricia had done most of the cooking, but Jess, Brioney and Joy had made casseroles, cookies and a Christmas tree cake.
The table was loaded and Patricia clapped her hands to get everyone in the mismatched chairs around the long table. Brioney sat between her daughter and Blue, and joined hands with them, smiling across the table at her sister as they bent their heads in prayer before the meal.
“So, Joy, how was Christmas at your dad’s?” Patricia asked as the food started to make its rounds.
Brioney’s stomach tightened, because since Jess had told Joy about Cameron’s reaction when he found out about her, Joy had been distant from her father. She’d lost some of the enthusiasm she’d had for the Christmas celebration with the whole family and had dragged her feet when Brioney urged her to pack. But she’d come home happy and jabbering about her cousins.
She was happy to tell her experiences to Patricia now, and Blue winked at Brioney as he passed the potatoes.
“It was so different, you know, because at home, we just open presents when we get up, but at Grandma’s, we had to do it at eight o’clock so we could go to church on time. And everyone had to open their present one at a time.” Joy looked at Patricia. “How do you do it?”
Since they’d planned to open presents after dinner, Brioney supposed it was a fair question.
“Well, usually the youngest one passes out all the gifts, until we all have a stack, and then we all tear in at the same time.”
Joy’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s how we do it, too. Well, usually it doesn’t take long because there are just five of us. And Grandma kind of got mad at me because I didn’t do it her way, but then it was okay. And then we got really dressed up and went to church, which was long, but they had all the good Christmas songs, and then we came home and ate, which was good because I was starving and my stomach was growling in church, which my dad thought was funny but my grandmother didn’t.”
“Sounds like your grandmother is a piece of work,” Fitz said, earning a glare from Brioney.
“She was happy to have us all there, though, and so was Dad, and that made me feel good. And they really liked their presents.”
Joy beamed at Patricia, who had helped Joy weave a table runner for her grandmother and had helped her crochet a scarf for her father. Brioney suspected that Patricia had done a lot of the work between Joy’s visits, or the presents would never have been done on time.
“Did you manage okay without your baby on Christmas?” Patricia asked Brioney.
Blue looped his arm around her chair. “We got through okay.”
Brioney blushed, remembering just how they’d gotten through, and sat forward to help herself to some salad.
After dinner, the family gathered around the enormous tree on the closed-in porch, and just as Patricia said, Joy passed out the presents to everyone. There were handmade gifts from the Ramseys and a scarf from Joy, so beautiful and soft with the angora yarn, a new outfit from Jess, earrings from Brandon, a new mixer from Fitz.
And nothing from Blue.
Brioney didn’t say anything, just scanned the room, looking for a gift that might have been misplaced, but seeing nothing that should have gone to her. She sat back and smiled at her daughter, but disappointment niggled at her. Not that she wanted a present from Blue, she just wanted to know what kind of present he would give her. This was their first Christmas, after all.
As Joy tore open a stack of books on sharks, and a stuffed shark, and what looked like a model of an anatomically correct shark, she knew he hadn’t forgotten. So what was going on?
She noticed he’d set the gift from her aside, as he opened presents from Brandon—surfboard wax—and tools from Fitz, and even a nice shirt from Jess. Finally he pulled it onto his lap and opened it. She sat on the edge of the couch as she watched him carefully peel back the paper. He turned the box over and opened it, then frowned at the brightly colored stack of T-shirts inside. She leaned forward to pull the top one out and turned it around.
A smile spread across his face. “That’s my boat.”
“I worked with Laura at the T-shirt shop. This isn’t exactly your boat, but as close as we could find. And we got your name put on it.” She ran her finger over the graphic, which read “Blue Skies.”
“They’re great, Bri, thank you.”
She exchanged a look with Patricia, who nodded toward the door at the end of the room. Brioney hadn’t wanted to bring Joy’s present today, because the shape gave it away. She stood and walked toward the door.
Blue appeared beside her suddenly. “Where you going?”
“Ah, I’m not done with Christmas.”
He stepped around her when she reached for the door. “You can’t go in there.”
“Why? Your mom said.”
He eased around her and opened the door. “Because your present is in there.” He stepped through the door and hesitated, frowning.
“What?” She walked through as well. He tried to stop her, but he was too distracted.
When she saw why, she laughed.
“This is Joy’s.” She tucked the smaller of the identically wrapped packages under her arm.
“And this,” He picked up the larger gift the same shape as Joy’s, “is yours.” He retrieved a smaller box nearby and followed her back to the tree.
Patricia was laughing as Brioney set Joy’s surfboard against the couch by her, the shape obvious through the wrapping paper. Blue passed the larger surfboard to her.
“Three guesses what this might be.”
Joy bounced off the couch and ripped into the gift, then turned and cocked her head. “A surfboard, Mom?”
“I thought I’d teach you to surf when it warms up.”
Her daughter looked skeptical and lifted the box Blue had set on the couch beside the surfboard. “What’s this? It’s heavy.”
Brioney had no idea, so she tore into it to reveal a wetsuit of her very own, a sleek black with pink and purple print on the sides.
“If it doesn’t fit, we can take it back,” he said, leaning back on the couch to watch her. “We have to go get Joy one now, anyway.”
She held it up to her. “I think it will be just fine.”
He nudged the surfboard. “Open it.”
She did want to see, and ripped it open to find a pink and purple striped one, to match her wetsuit.
“I figured I could see that one from a distance,” he said with a grin.
She dropped to her knees on the couch beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You shouldn’t have spent so much.”
“Doesn’t matter. Will you come surfing with me in the morning?”
“Every morning,” she promised, and kissed him in front of everyone.
About the Author
MJ Fredrick knows about chasing dreams. Twelve years after she completed her first novel, she signed her first publishing contract. Now she divides her days between teaching elementary music, and diving into her own writing—traveling everywhere in her mind, from Belize to Honduras to Africa to the past.
She’s a four-time Golden Heart Award finalist, and she won the 2009 Eppie Award with Hot Shot and the 2010 Eppie with Breaking Daylight. She was a 2012 Epic Award finalist with Don’t Look Back.
Connect with MJ online.
Website: http://mjfredrick.com
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p; Blog: http://mjfredrick.wordpress.com
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Facebook: http://on.fb.me/16D4kvK
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MJFredrick
Other Books By MJ Fredrick
The Off-Season series
Lost in a Boom Town series
Welcome to Bluestone series
The Promise of Paradise
by
Allie Boniface
Dedication
For all my writing friends, who've supported me through thick and thin in this unpredictable business of story-telling. Follow your dreams, believe that you can, and never stop re-inventing yourselves!
Chapter One
“Is this it?” Jen craned her neck and stared at the street sign.
Ashton wiped one damp palm on her thigh and tried to will away the knots in her stomach. “I don’t know.” She pulled her Volkswagen to the curb and dug in her pocket for the email print-out with directions. “Next right after the town green.” She looked across the street. Don’s Convenience Store waved a limp awning in the afternoon heat. “Across from Don's. Yeah, this is it. It’s gotta be.”
Already out of the car, Jen walked to the corner. Pulling her platinum blonde hair into a ponytail, she checked the crooked street sign and nodded at her best friend.
Ash made the turn and parked. “First house on the right,” she read aloud. “Number two.”
She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Deciding not to take the job at Deacon and Mathers was one thing. Moving to an unknown town a hundred miles from her parents, fleeing the scandal that now appeared in every Boston newspaper, was something else altogether. The knots in her stomach multiplied and stretched fingers of steel that began to strangle her heart.
“Ash?” Jen poked her through the open window. “You okay?”
She raised her head and forced herself to take a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
Jen pulled open the car door. “Come on. Let’s look at the place.”
Shoving dark blonde curls from her forehead, Ash got out of the car and stopped. “What if I’ve made a mistake? Like the biggest possible mistake in the world?” She stared up at the house, a nondescript two-story with dusty windows. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen before. Well, that’s the point, right? I wanted something completely different. I wanted to start fresh, someplace where no one knew me.
Willing her feet to step one in front of the other, she followed Jen to the front porch. “What if I’m really supposed to open my own law practice, go into politics, like Jess and Anne? Like Dad?” She sank onto the bottom porch step.
Jen tried the door. “You’re not,” she said over her shoulder.
“How do you know?”
“Because you spent the last two months of law school miserable and because you need a change.”
“My parents are going to kill me.”
Jen joined her on the step. “To tell you the truth, I think your parents have other things on their minds these days.”
Like explaining to the press why my father was caught with drugs and a nineteen-year-old prostitute in his car? Two months before he was about to receive the Democratic vice-presidential nomination? Ash dug her toe into the pavement, tracing cracks and watching ants scurry. “I guess you’re right.” Suddenly, her decision to leave Boston and the center of the Kirk family scandal didn’t seem like the worst decision in the world. In fact, when she thought about it, it seemed downright practical.
She eyed the car and wondered how long it would take her to unpack. Not that long. The apartment was supposed to be furnished, and she’d brought only a few clothes and books. Most of the memories she’d put into storage or burned.
Jen worked her fingernail beneath some peeling paint on the porch railing. “You need this, Ash, a summer to yourself. You need to be…” She stopped for a moment, as if searching for the right word. “…away.”
“Away from the media circus? Or away from Colin?”
Jen didn’t answer, and for just a moment, Ash let herself ache with the memory of Colin Parker, her love all through law school. She’d planned to accompany him to Europe and then move in with him at the end of the summer. Hell, she’d planned on marrying him. But Colin had dumped Ash thirty-seven days earlier with a note tucked into her planner.
I need some time and space to think… it began and ended with his scrawled signature minus Love or any other word that suggested he’d shared her bed and her heart for the last three years.
One month before graduation, and three weeks after the debacle with her father, he’d dumped her. A tear snuck its way down her cheek, and Ash dropped her head to hide it. The breakup hadn’t been the worst of it. Colin hadn’t needed time. He’d lied about that part. He had needed space, though, space in which to date Callie Halliway, president of the Student Activities Council and Colin’s co-author on a half-dozen journal articles. Beautiful and well-pedigreed, Callie partnered him perfectly, both on his arm and his resume. Ash had been replaced just like that, one day there and the next day gone, as if she’d never even existed in Colin’s life.
Jen elbowed her. “Take a look at this.”
With effort, Ash raised her head. Emerging from the cornflower blue house across the street was a short, stocky woman. White hair sprang out from her head in every direction, and she wore bright yellow gardening gloves. Without slowing, she marched down her walk and across the street. Up their crooked pavement she came, until she stopped in front of them. Though barely five feet tall, she towered over Ash and Jen sitting on the step, and Ash felt suddenly as if she were back in second grade, with an angry Miss Howard staring at her across a cluttered room. A frown carved the woman’s wrinkled face into disapproving lines, and beady brown eyes examined them. Ash wasn’t sure whether to laugh or run and hide.
The woman propped both hands on her hips and said nothing. Jen stood, and Ash followed. “Hi there. I’m Asht-Ashley Kirtland.” She corrected herself, changing her name at the last minute. With the Kirk name splashed across every paper in the Northeast, she didn't need anyone connecting her to it.
The woman nodded. “Helen Parker.” She pointed across the street. “Lived there for thirty-two years, this spring. I take care of this place and the one next door. You have any problems, come see me.” She paused and massaged one temple with a gnarled hand. “Up the block there, in the white house near the end, live the MacGregors. Hiram drinks too much, but his wife Sadie’s a doll, so no one says too much about it. He’s harmless, anyway.”
Ash slid a glance toward Jen. No secrets here. That didn’t bode well.
“Two houses down from that is Lanie Johnson’s. Used to be a Rockette, or some such thing, ‘til she busted her hip and ended up back here in Paradise. Had a man at one point, a while back, but he ran off two or three years ago.”
Helen paused to draw a breath. White flecks of spittle marked the edges of her mouth. “The rest of these homes are rentals, mostly to college kids during the year.” She narrowed her eyes, and Ash read the woman’s message loud and clear.
“I just graduated,” she explained, leaving off the bit about Harvard and law school. “I’m subletting for the next three months.”
Helen’s mouth relaxed a fraction. “Well, the other places are empty now.” Her gaze moved from the girls to the door behind them. “You’re the only ones living here this summer, far as I know.”
“Really?” Loneliness dropped a curtain over Ash’s hopes of finding new friends. Well, solitude was probably better if she hoped to figure out what direction her life was supposed to take now.
Helen reached into her front pocket and pulled out a key ring. Dangling it from two fingers, as if it were a dirty tissue, she held it out. “Square one’s for the front door. Smaller one’s for your door upstairs. And the silver one opens your mailbox.” She glanced at the solitary car by the curb. “Where’s the other one?”
Ash looked up from the keys, confused at
the question. “I’m sorry?”
Helen puffed out a long breath of air. “The other tenant.” She rubbed her forehead with one hand, as if trying to pull the name from memory. “Edward something. Your downstairs housemate.”
“I have a housemate?” Ash looked at Jen, who grinned.
Helen had already headed down the front walk, but at the question, she turned back. “Of course. I thought you’d be arriving together.” She eyed the porch for a moment, and Ash read the look in her watery blue eyes: You better behave.
She stifled a laugh. “Thank you, Helen. Nice meeting you.”
The woman turned without replying and shuffled across the street, where she vanished beyond the sunflowers cloaking her front door.
“Cool. A housemate,” Jen said. “A male housemate.”
“Just what I need,” Ash said as she tried the key in the door. “Come on. We’ve got stuff to unpack.”
Chapter Two
“I wonder what he looks like,” Jen said as they pulled sheets and pillowcases from a cardboard box.
“He’s probably seventy-five years old, newly widowed, and blind in one eye.” Ash stood on the bed and stretched to hang a curtain over the back window.
Jen collapsed onto paisley-patterned pillows. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Find the worst in everything. He could be young and single, you know. Why not?”
Ash sat too. “Because if he’s really young and single, why would he be living here?”
Jen turned to Ash, lips still but eyes sending the message.
“Yeah, I know.” Ash shrugged. “But I’m a special case. A nut case. I’m sure most people in this town aren’t from screwed up families like I am.”
Summer on Main Street Page 59