Again, not really a surprise. Mother wasn’t a fan of Connor’s, either, though she’d warmed considerably to him over the years. The first time I’d brought him home to meet my family had been a disaster. It was shortly after we’d started dating our junior year of college. Sadie had shot him dirty looks all night, while Mother shared every embarrassing story about me she could remember, starting with adventures in potty training. It was a miracle he’d stuck around long enough to fall in love with me. But he had. And to this day I still felt a stab of pain, of betrayal when I recalled Mother’s reaction to the news that I had gotten engaged.
“LC,” she’d said, “you’re too young to tie yourself down. You’re young and free! The world is wide-open to you. Go and explore it. You shouldn’t settle. Not now, not ever.”
To Sadie and me, Mother had always sung the praises of seeing the world, of being footloose and fancy-free. While Mother had never seemed outwardly unhappy with her life, I suspected she held resentments. It wasn’t a life that she would have chosen if she hadn’t gotten pregnant out of wedlock. Seven months and a quickie wedding later, I’d been born. Not too long after that, Daddy inherited this property and, with Uncle Camp’s help, started rebuilding. A tiny two-room summer cottage soon became a three-story bed-and-breakfast. But in fulfilling Daddy’s dream, Mother had given up hers, which was to travel. Her wings had been clipped by responsibility, especially after Daddy died. She’d thrown herself into being an innkeeper, tirelessly working day and night to make ends meet.
Back then, I’d tried desperately to get her to see my point of view. “I’m not settling, Mother. I love Connor. I can’t imagine living a day without him by my side.”
What Mother had never understood, not in my whole life, was that I didn’t want footloose and fancy-free. I wanted stability. Routine. Affection. Love.
Mother had shaken her head fiercely. “You say that now, but you’re making a mistake you’ll regret one day. Mark my words.”
Bitterness swelled at the memory alone. Even worse, I could only imagine how she’d gloat if she found out Connor and I were currently having marital problems.
Drawing in a deep breath, I used Sadie’s phone to send an email to Connor’s work and home accounts—those addresses I remembered—to let him know about my phone. Then I called my cell phone provider to see what I needed to do about getting a new phone and was dismayed to learn that only after paying the deductible on my insurance plan would a replacement phone be mailed to me—in one to two business days.
After I hung up with the phone company, my gaze fell on a letter on Mother’s desk, a bill visible atop a teetering stack of paper. It seemed Mother was a month behind on her electric bill and had been hit with late fees. I glanced at the date—the notice had arrived early last week and was coming due soon. If it wasn’t paid in full, the cottage’s electricity would be disconnected. I nibbled my thumbnail as a pit grew in my stomach.
Fighting the urge to snoop some more into Mother’s finances, I walked out of the office, leaving the bill behind on the desk, along with a growing suspicion that the missed payment hadn’t been an accidental oversight.
Chapter
8
Sadie
Leala and I had rock-paper-scissored for who scored the preferred job of cleaning the guest bedrooms over the cruddy job of scrubbing the connecting bathrooms.
I’d lost. Which was why I found myself on my knees, wearing yellow rubber gloves, and running a rag over the tiles in Bree’s bathroom. For a teenager, she was especially neat, and I was beyond grateful.
“Should we ask her about it?” Leala asked, popping into the doorway, a dust mop in hand.
Even though the house was well soundproofed, we’d been discussing in hushed tones the bill Leala had found in Mama’s office. We didn’t want to take any chances Mama could hear us through the vents.
She had gone to her room after breakfast to freshen up, and when she didn’t come back down after a time, I’d sneaked in to check on her. She’d been sound asleep in bed, HGTV providing white noise. I tiptoed back out and hoped she’d rest for a good, long while.
Bree and Teddy had borrowed a pair of bikes to venture into town, and Nigel had fit neatly into the basket on Bree’s bike. My heart had squeezed a little when I saw that Bree had combed her hair forward and wore a bucket hat to shadow her face, which I knew likely had to do with sun protection for her tender scars, but it also served the purpose of helping her hide them.
The strange thing was, after less than a day with her, I didn’t even notice the scars so much. Sure, I was still curious about how they had come to be, but when I looked at her now, I mostly saw her big green eyes and the sadness in them.
I said, “I’m leaning toward no. It will only rile Mama up if she thinks we were snooping. She needs to stay calm this weekend.”
“But what if she’s in financial trouble?”
I dunked my rag, squeezed it out. “She’d tell us.”
“Would she? You know how proud she is.”
Leala made a good point. I stood up, my knees aching. “Uncle Camp did mention this morning that occupancy was down, but he wasn’t sure how big of a hit the cottage was taking because Mama doesn’t talk money with him. And now that I think about it, when I went to tip the grocery delivery guy last night, the petty cash tin in the kitchen was empty.”
Leala leaned against the doorjamb. “If she’s having money trouble, I can sit down with her, help her with a budget. See where she can make cuts, save some money, like not washing the sheets every day for guests staying multiple days. Besides being environmentally unfriendly, it’s costly.”
Mama had yet to adopt any kind of green initiative for the cottage, which meant all linens and towels were laundered daily. I already had a big wicker basket loaded to bring downstairs to the laundry room.
She added, “We can also ditch the bottled water she leaves in every room and replace it with a pitcher of filtered water. She already has a dozen pitchers on hand. The startup cost is minimal.”
These were good ideas. “Not changing the sheets every day would also be easier on her physically.”
Leala snapped her fingers. “Maybe that’s the way we should approach it—frame it around her health instead of her finances. We can sneak in other changes, like the water, while somehow making it seem like they were her idea.”
“That could work.” We had used this method a lot growing up—dropping hints and making comments that would lead Mama to think she’d been the one to come up with the idea originally. It was often the only way to get something we truly wanted, like the trip to Disney World when I was seven. Leala and I had set that trap for months, laying the groundwork by mentioning how busy Mama always was, and how a vacation would be nice during our January off-season, and how so-and-so had just gone to Florida after their parents had scored a vacation package deal.
Leala bit her thumbnail. “I might have to do a little more snooping, see how big of a hole she’s in.”
In shock, I gaped at her as I peeled off the gloves. “Leala Clare, you’d never! You’re such a Goody Two-shoes you wouldn’t even peek at your Christmas presents when we knew where Mama hid them.”
She laughed. “People change, Sadie.”
It was true—they did. I knew I’d changed these last eight years, closing myself off more and more as time went by. “Speaking of, since when do you do yoga?”
“Since Tucker was six months old. The doctor thought it would help with my healing. Stretch the muscles. Heal the mind.”
I tipped my head. “The mind? Did you have postpartum depression?”
Tucker’s birth had happened so fast, nearly two weeks before his due date, because Leala’s blood pressure had skyrocketed. I’d been in Louisiana, and by the time I’d reached the hospital, he’d been nearly a day old. I hadn’t stayed long, either, only a few days to help Leala get settled at home. I’d used the excuse of needing to get back to work—which had been true since I’d had intervie
ws scheduled—but the real reason was the same as always. This town brought back bad memories that made me feel like a failure.
“You know I had a rough birth with Tucker, an emergency C-section,” she said. “What you don’t know is that I hemorrhaged on the operating table. I needed blood transfusions—seven units of blood. The doctors fought for hours to get the bleeding under control. In order to save me, they eventually had to do an emergency hysterectomy. It was a lot to absorb. To grieve. It still is, if I’m being perfectly honest. Connor and I had wanted a big family. Yoga helps keep me focused on what’s important. I’m still here. Tucker is here. We’re both healthy.”
I rushed over and threw my arms around her. “Oh my God, Leala. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She laughed at my sudden assault but accepted the hug. “I wasn’t ready to share the ordeal. At first, I wanted the focus to be on Tucker and how wonderful it was that he was here. And I really didn’t want to face the reality of what had happened. I didn’t die that day, but a few of my dreams did. I needed time to process the trauma in order to focus on healing. Mentally and physically. I’m not going to lie—it took a while, and there are some days I still work on it. It’s hard, painful work, but I knew I had to do it, because I didn’t want to live with that misery for the rest of my life.”
I didn’t like talking about the night I fell into the lake, either, so I couldn’t fault her for wanting to keep the hysterectomy to herself for a while, but it pained me to know Leala had gone through something so traumatic and I hadn’t known. She was my only sister, and I hadn’t known she’d almost died. “But it’s been years since then.”
“I’d have told you, but you weren’t around, except for holidays. Talking about what had happened over Christmas dinner or Easter brunch wasn’t going to happen.”
I’d purposely chosen to live away from Sugarberry Cove—and my old life. I had no right to feel sorry for myself now, but I did. Trying not to let the hurt come through in my tone, I said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know this. That you’ve managed to keep it quiet all this time. That Mama doesn’t talk about it every time there’s a gathering.”
Her faced clouded over. “Mother doesn’t know.”
My jaw dropped.
“I didn’t tell her on purpose. I saw what she did to you after your accident, and I didn’t want that kind of attention. Mother … dwells. What you water grows, Sadie.” Her forehead furrowed. “I was lucky that I had Connor and that he gave me the support I needed because I don’t think I could’ve done it alone. I’m just sorry you had to deal with your experience on your own. I’m sorry you’re still dealing with it. Eight years is a long time to suffer, Sadie. I’m here for you if you need me, you know. If you want to talk. Or do yoga.” She smiled and pressed her palms together. “Om. You should join me tomorrow morning on the dock. Bree will be there, too. Don’t say no straight off. Just think about it, okay?”
Before I could say anything at all, the sound of a power saw echoed up the stairs. The contractor had obviously arrived, and I prayed Mama would sleep through the noise.
Leala looked at her watch. “We should get a move on. I’ll check the room next door, make sure everything’s ready for the guest arriving today, while you wrap up in here.”
As I went about finishing my chores, I thought about our conversation and how dreams can shift. Life was about adjusting, Uncle Camp had said. It was true. Life tended to set up speed bumps that send us veering off in other directions. If we didn’t make changes, shift gears, we’d crash and burn. My accident had been a speed bump. And I had the feeling this weekend was one, too.
Ten minutes later, I headed downstairs with an overflowing laundry basket. I’d just taken the turn in the staircase when a man walked into the entryway from the hallway, a pencil tucked behind one ear, a piece of wood trim in hand.
Will Lockhart.
My foot slipped and I fell down the last three steps, landing with a bone-jarring thud on the pine floor. I squished my eyes closed and wanted nothing more than to run out the back door, fling myself into the lake, sink to the bottom, and stay there. But knowing my luck, Lady Laurel would throw me back out again, so I could flop around on the dock in all my embarrassment.
The air shifted, and I knew Will was kneeling next to me as he asked, “Sadie! Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” I kept my eyes squished closed, so I didn’t have to see him studying me, my hair. Upstairs, the vacuum shut off; then I heard hurried footsteps.
Leala’s voice floated down. “What was that noise? Oh my gosh, Sadie. Are you okay? What happened?”
Before I could answer, Will spoke up. “She caught one glimpse of me and flung herself down the stairs.”
Humor laced his words, but I didn’t particularly find them amusing.
“Well,” Leala said, “that makes perfect sense since Sadie always was tripping over herself to get your attention, wasn’t she? Are you okay, Sadie?”
Mortified, I groaned. I popped one eye open to peer up at her hanging over the railing. “I’m fine. Just sitting here plotting how to kill you.”
Leala laughed. “Yep, she’s fine. I’m going back to vacuuming.”
Her steps retreated, and I realized I was still clinging to the laundry basket for dear life. I loosened my grip and slowly looked over at Will.
The kindness in his light-brown gaze caught me off guard, mostly because the last time I’d seen him he’d barely been able to look at me at all. He smiled, took the basket out of my hands, and then held out a hand to help me up. “Welcome home, Sadie Way.”
I stared at his hand for far too long before taking it. Our hands fit together perfectly, like always. His palm was rough, his ring finger bare, and I hated that I’d even looked. “Thanks.”
It had been nearly eight years since I’d seen him last, but I’d have known him anywhere. That beautiful smile, so big it stretched nearly across his whole face. The high cheekbones and strong jawline. Those eyes that reminded me so much of the lake bottom when the sand was stirred up. The inexplicable pull toward him, impossible to ignore. He stood a head taller than me and had filled out with muscle across his shoulders, chest, and arms since I’d been gone. He’d been my best friend through most of high school, but by the time we’d graduated, my feelings for him had deepened. He’d been my first love. I thought he’d felt the same.
I’d been wrong.
Painfully wrong.
Looking away, I pulled my hand free.
The vacuum droned above our heads as he said, “You sure you’re okay? That was quite a fall. You’ll have bruises come tomorrow.”
I wouldn’t, actually. “Really, I’m fine. It didn’t even hurt, but it did boost my resolve to get rid of that flimsy runner.” I stared at the faded floral print accusingly, as if it had been the one at fault, not my distraction.
“The runner. Right,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “No pain at all, you say?”
I held his steady gaze, unwavering under thick eyebrows. I knew what he was asking. He was the only one, other than the doctor who’d treated me at the hospital after my accident, who knew I couldn’t feel physical pain.
After I had woken up in the hospital, the doctor had mentioned I might have lingering headaches because of the knock to my head. He’d politely listened when I explained I didn’t have any pain and then told me it was a result of the painkillers I was on and to be grateful. It didn’t take long to realize I couldn’t feel any physical pain at all, and not only that, but I healed exceptionally quickly when injured. Like from blood draws. The nurses were baffled. When I brought it up the next time I saw the doctor, he wrote it off as a psychological side effect, essentially insinuating that it was all in my head.
It wasn’t, but I hadn’t had any explanation for it either and was left to wonder if my numbness was because after I’d died that night, not all of me had come alive again.
I never told anyone else of my theories … except for Will. Back then, I told him absolutely e
verything. Well, almost everything. I’d never shared the true strength of my feelings for him.
“Still?” he asked now, watching me with concern flickering in those beautiful eyes of his.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, not wanting to talk about it. “Which is good. There’s lots of work to get done around here.”
He paused a beat, and I imagined he was waging an inner war on whether or not to push for more of an answer.
Finally he said, “Camp mentioned you wanted to spruce up the place while you were in town. Are you thinking to repaper the walls?”
Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief that he accepted my change of subject. “No, we’re going to paint.”
He ran a dark hand across his chin, over a one- or two-day-old beard, slightly thicker than a five o’clock shadow. His hair was cut short on the sides, slightly longer on top, the loose curls flopping playfully around his forehead. His T-shirt was printed with LOCKHART CONSTRUCTION CO., and I couldn’t help noticing that he smelled of freshly cut wood, earthy, and oddly enticing.
Reaching out, he gently touched the wall. “Have you ever taken down wallpaper?”
“Before last night you mean? No.”
He gave a soft laugh as if he knew exactly how the wallpaper had come down. I suspected Uncle Camp had filled him in. I wished he had filled me in. Why hadn’t he told me Will was Mama’s contractor? Suddenly I suspected the detail hadn’t slipped his mind. He’d asked me a few times over the years if I kept in touch with Will, and I always dodged the questions, saying that it didn’t matter, that it was in the past. Maybe this had been Uncle Camp’s way of getting me to face my past head-on. Something I most definitely did not want to do.
Will said, “You could spend a bunch of money on a steamer or bottles of wallpaper remover, but a mix of warm water and fabric softener does the job just fine. Spray it on, let it set, then scrape. It’ll be a right mess, though, so best to be prepared with tarps.”
The Lights of Sugarberry Cove Page 9