The Stillwater Bay Collection (Books 1-4): Stillwater Bay Series Boxed Set

by Steena Holmes

  Oh God. “I’m sorry. I’m so . . . so sorry.” How could she be so selfish?

  “Don’t. I can’t . . . We promised, right?” Julia nodded.

  “You are not to blame. If you want to feel . . .” Lacie shook her head. “Then feel. But you have to promise me that it won’t destroy you.”

  “I promise.”

  “You’ve lost way too much weight. You haven’t been out of your house in days and”—her nose scrunched up—“you could really use a shower and some clean clothes.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come here.” Julia leaned back in her chair and placed her hands in her lap.

  “I’m not leaving until you finish that muffin and drink some coffee.”

  Julia stared at her dirty kitchen floor and couldn’t believe she’d let things go like she had. She’d always taken such pride in her clean home, happy that despite its small size, she’d been able to make it feel cozy and clean. Gabe would be embarrassed to see things now.

  “How can you”—she hesitated—“how can you get through each day and not feel like giving up?”

  Weary lines covered Lacie’s face, and for the first time, Julia noticed how tired her friend looked. Maybe she wasn’t handling it well either.

  “I have my family to think about. What I want to do and what I have to do are two different things.”

  “I wish I had done something,” said Julia. “Seen something. I feel like it’s all my fault, and I need to fix it somehow, and yet . . . I can’t.”

  “So that’s why you let people egg your house and spray paint horrible words on the siding? Why you let them treat you like garbage?”

  Julia didn’t say anything. Yes, that was the reason. Because she felt she deserved it. If it helped them feel better, if it helped them to deal with their grief in a small way . . . then she would take whatever they threw at her.

  She didn’t think she said that out loud, but she must have because Lacie stood up and gave her a hug, holding on tight.

  “Here’s what I’m learning. Grief demands an answer, and sadly, sometimes there isn’t one. But that’s not your fault and it doesn’t mean that people can take out their anger on you.”

  Julia didn’t know what to say.

  “How people are treating you, it’s not okay. This isn’t how this town should be reacting. You’re not at fault.” She sat back down in her chair and pushed the container of muffins forward. “I don’t blame you, Julia, for what your son did.” Her eyes closed as she paused. “I can’t let my grief overwhelm me to the point where I don’t recognize myself. I can’t do that. And neither should you.”

  Julia watched as Lacie stood up and busied herself with cleaning her kitchen. Julia finished her muffin and then went over and wrapped her arms around her friend, leaning her cheek against Lacie’s back. She could feel the sobs shake Lacie’s body as she stood there, crying, but there was nothing she could do. No words she could say to take back the fact that Lacie’s child was now gone.

  How does one go about apologizing for that?

  A NOTE FROM STEENA

  Don’t worry…the story isn’t finished! While I was only given permission to include the first five chapters from Stillwater Rising, you can read or listen to the rest of the book buy purchasing a copy from the link below.

  I kept the price of this boxed set low enough that by buying this set and Stillwater Rising it is still cheaper than if you’d purchased all individually…

  Happy reading!

  Stillwater Rising

  STILLWATER TIDES

  STILLWATER BAY SERIES

  STEENA HOLMES

  www.steenaholmes.com

  www.facebook.com/steenaholmes.author

  www.twitter.com/steenaholmes

  This book is dedicated to the members of my amazing reader group - Steena’s Secret Society. Thank you for all your support and for waiting so patiently for this story.

  Copyright © 2016 Steena Holmes

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-987877-08-3

  ISBN: 978-0-9920555-5-4

  Dear Readers

  Sometimes we will read stories that touch our hearts and won’t let go…so many of you have told me that my Stillwater Bay series is like that. If that’s why you picked up Stillwater Tides - thank you!

  It’s because of readers like you that I was able to write this story.

  I hope you will enjoy this little look into Stillwater Bay and the community there. I love writing about the community members of this town and how they rise above the tragedy that hit their town. I hope you will too.

  Happy Reading

  Steena Holmes

  1

  GRACE

  Babies shouldn’t cry like this.

  They should be filled with life and laughter, and eyes round with wonder and delight.

  They should feel peace, safe and wanted. Loved.

  They shouldn’t cry as if their hearts broke over and over and over with every breath that entered their tiny bodies.

  They should never cry this hard.

  “Shh, little one, shhh.” Grace rubbed Sophie’s back, bouncing her gently in her arms while walking in circles in an attempt to calm her. Gas in the infant’s tummy bubbled beneath her hand and she sighed with frustration.

  No wonder you’re unhappy.

  “Shhh, it’s all going to be okay. Your daddy should be home soon.” Grace’s voice remained low and steady.

  Between the diaper rash she’d discovered this morning and now the gas, Grace didn’t blame Sophie for her tears. She’d been shocked this morning when she changed the girl’s diaper. Her little behind and the backs of her legs were bright red, with a few raised welts.

  “Your father should know better,” Grace muttered.

  While bouncing the baby in her arms, Grace took out her phone to hit the voice-record button, something she did often to leave herself notes. Nathan needed help and if anyone could help, it was Lacie. She ran the local moms-and-tots groups in town.

  She thought about how soaked Sophie had been when he’d handed her over this morning and sighed. “I don’t think your daddy has read any of those parenting magazines or articles I’ve left lying around for him, has he?” She kissed the top of Sophie’s head and breathed in that fresh baby-wash smell. “If he had, he would know by now that you need your diaper changed more often.”

  She worked hard to keep the frustration out of her voice. The last thing little Sophie needed was to have more negativity in her life.

  Gradually Sophie quietened and Grace breathed a sigh of relief as the baby fell asleep. In the room she’d converted into a nursery, Grace hit the play button on the iPod sitting on the dresser and waited for the sounds of soft classical music to fill the room. Sophie snuggled in close, and Grace wasn’t quite ready to relinquish her hold, especially since she wasn’t crying anymore, so she sat down in the corner rocker and closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her as she rocked gently.

  Memories of a time she would rather forget haunted her as the emotion within the music struck a chord.

  Breaking news. There have been reports of gunfire from a small town on the coast of Washington. Eyewitnesses are claiming that a young man has opened fire within the walls of Stillwater Elementary School….

  Her heart pounding, Grace opened her eyes and forced the memory of the radio announcer’s stunned voice to silence.

  Not comforting silence.

  Deadly silence.

  Sophie fussed, as if recognizing Grace’s stress, so she breathed in deep, filling her lungs up until they hurt before releasing the air slowly and steadily.

  With Sophie finally asleep, Grace placed her in the crib and stared at her angelic face. She’d never seen a more beautiful baby. When she wasn’t crying, there was a peacefulness on Sophie’s face that eased an ache in Grace’s heart.

  To keep the memories at bay, she needed to be busy. She’d planned on tacking her garden and with Sophie asleep, there was no time like the present.


  Her poor roses and other plants were smothered by weeds or dying due to lack of water. In some sections she didn’t even know which was which—weed or flower. She knew she should have kept the markers with the names of the plants in the places she’d planted each one, as John had suggested. She thought she’d remember. She thought wrong. She forgot a lot of things lately.

  Although it wasn’t so much forgetting as not caring. She had other things to focus on. Other things to worry about. Whether or not she planted irises beside orchids or whatever was out there wasn’t really a priority. Not right now.

  But it wouldn’t hurt to try. So she spent the next hour working in one small section, pulling what she hoped were weeds and not plants before giving up. It was time to face the fact: She was not a gardener. Not like Katie had been.

  Thinking of her best friend hurt. It physically hurt. Her throat swelled and ached from struggling to swallow, and her eyes burned, as if she’d stared into the sun for too long.

  Grace rubbed her dirty hands over her shorts before she could stop herself and her breath hitched at the stains she left behind.

  Blood.

  It looked like blood. Blood she’d wiped without thought to clean her hands before reaching out to one of her students.

  Blood that coated her skin when she’d knelt beside Katie in their kindergarten classroom at the school after fighting her way through the crowds and emergency personnel to ensure her students and fellow teacher were safe.

  Grace stared at her hand and shivered, her hands shaking at the memory. Flashes of Katie’s face, the sounds of the screams and sirens in the background as Grace rushed to the side of the school where her kindergarten classroom was located hit her hard, and she couldn’t breathe.

  Her lungs constricted and a wave of pain tore through her chest, forcing Grace to lie down on the ground, her back pressed hard against the grass while she stared blankly up at the clouds, compelling her body to relax, her lungs to let in the air she needed.… She tried to calm her body, to get through this panic attack.

  Her therapist had warned they would hit her like this.

  It took several minutes, but eventually she grounded herself and was able to sit up and not feel like her lungs were about to shrivel to the size of raisins.

  She hated those memories. Hated how they came out of nowhere, how almost everything she did was tethered back to a memory of that day.

  She needed to think about something else. Anything else.

  One thing her therapist had said was to reach out as often and as much as she needed whenever the memories of that day surfaced.

  There were only three people she normally would have wanted to talk to.

  John. But lately conversations between her and her husband had been…awkward.

  Faith. But Grace wasn’t quite ready to face her sister. Not yet.

  And Katie.

  But her best friend was dead.

  So instead she called Paige.

  “One word,” Grace said as soon as Paige answered her phone. “Garden.”

  “So you’re finally going to take me up on my offer to help?” Paige Bloomin’s voice held a hint of laughter, but mainly Grace heard exhaustion and sadness.

  “Yes and yes. If you have time.”

  “For you? I’ll make time,” Paige said.

  Grace groaned and hit the speaker button on her phone before she sat down on a lawn chair. “You’re busy, aren’t you?”

  Paige snorted. “Things are a little crazy, but it’s all good.”

  Grace frowned. She wondered how much of that craziness had to do with Paige attempting to distract herself from what happened in their small town.

  Two months had passed since the school shooting, but the effects still lingered. There wasn’t a single person in Stillwater Bay who hadn’t been affected by the events of that day. Paige had lost someone special, someone she’d thought about having a future with. Someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like Katie.

  Neither one should have died.

  No one should have.

  “Do you remember what plants you had and where you planted them?”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” While she’d always wished she had a green thumb, Grace had to accept that when it came to gardening, her thumb was indeed quite black.

  Paige’s sigh was loud enough for Grace’s neighbors to hear. “What happened to the notebook I gave you to keep all the info in? We even sketched out the garden and where you wanted plants.”

  “Honestly, I’m sure it’s here somewhere. I just have no idea where.” Nor was she really inclined to look.

  “I’ll pop over tonight. How much of it is still alive?”

  Grace looked over her garden. Other than her rosebushes and a few shrubs, she had no idea.

  “I’ll take your silence as almost none?” Paige said.

  “The roses are okay, I think. There’re buds on them, at least. I had to clip a few blooms off because they looked like they’d been half-eaten by something.”

  Paige didn’t reply, but Grace knew she was rolling her eyes at her. She just knew it.

  “I have a few clients to deal with today; then I’d planned to stop at Katie’s and take a look at her garden. No doubt Nathan doesn’t have time for it, and she—”

  “Always was proud of her flowers,” Grace whispered.

  “Right.” Paige cleared her throat. “I need to stop by the shop too for a bit, so…” Her voice trailed off, but Grace could read between the lines.

  “Why don’t you come by for dinner? Look over the garden, we’ll share a bottle of wine, and then you can come back tomorrow or whenever to fix my disaster?” she suggested.

  “That’s a great idea.” The relief in Paige’s voice was noticeable. “I’ll see you later.”

  Grace leaned back in the chair, her face raised to the sun, and closed her eyes. She should probably tell John that Paige was coming over and then think about what to make.

  Her hand hovered over her phone before she dropped it. She didn’t really need to call and tell him; she could just wait till he was home and casually mention it.

  It actually would be a nice change to have someone else sit at the table with them, someone to help keep the conversation flowing, rather than the stilted silence that seemed to grow between them with each passing day.

  Grace knew they weren’t the only couple who were struggling since the tragedy, but they probably were the only ones refusing to see a counselor for it.

  Grace didn’t see a reason to go. John did. He wanted to work on their marriage, but in order to do that, Grace knew she’d have to work through…whatever she was going through. And she didn’t want to.

  It didn’t mean John had stopped trying, though. Case in point, her cell phone buzzed with a message from the man himself.

  Heading home. Forgot a report I printed off last night. I’ve got coffee.

  Grace’s breath caught.

  Which report? I’ll have it ready for you.

  She could meet him at the door and then wave good-bye as he drove off. No need for him to come into the house, and especially no need to stay.

  Except he never replied.

  Frantic now, Grace headed back inside and washed her hands, being sure to scrub the dirt from beneath her nails before she searched his office and found the report she thought he needed.

  She was sitting out on the front porch swing, leg bouncing nervously by the time he pulled up.

  It was hard not to smile instinctively as John raised the coffees he’d brought and winked.

  Those little butterflies that announced the quickening of love fluttered, and not for the first time Grace wished she could rewind time back to when things were simpler and they were very much in love.

  Once upon a time when John would come home early, they’d head straight to the bedroom, forgetting about the coffees until they were cold.

  Now…her fingers tightened around the report she held and she
struggled to find words to mask her nervousness.

  He sat beside her on the swing, close enough for their legs to touch.

  “I grabbed that report for you.” She handed him the file without looking at him.

  “Thanks. I’d made some notes on it last night that I forgot to enter in the document.” He took the file, leaving it beside him. “Did you get any gardening done?”

  She laughed briefly. “Enough to know I need Paige to do the rest. She’s coming for dinner, by the way.” She sneaked a look over at him.

  He nodded and glanced up at the hanging pots on their porch. “Think she could fix those too?”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “I’ll just buy new planters for that. And I’ll try to remember to water them.” She took a sip of her latte and sighed with satisfaction. Gina, the owner of a little café named after herself, made the best in town. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  Their conversation was stilted, mundane, and skirted across anything remotely personal. Much as their entire relationship seemed to go lately.

  She was surprised when he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Anything for you.”

  She searched his gaze, read more than she wanted to behind the love and acceptance she saw, and looked toward the front door with hesitation.

  John followed her gaze. “Am I keeping you from something?”

  She shook her head, sipping her coffee to keep from saying anything.

  “I should be home early.” He touched her knee, squeezing lightly. “Maybe I can help you with dinner?”

  She nodded. “You can barbecue while I make a pasta salad and—” A car pulled up to the curb.

  Grace felt like swearing, something she rarely did.

  John’s hand left her knee, tightening into a fist before relaxing.

  She’d purposely asked Nathan to come early, but it was barely after noon.