Left Turn at Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “I hope you had more than billiard lessons between you.”

  Layla could tell Gran was making an effort not to pry. Or perhaps she didn’t want to look too deeply into Beth’s past. Maybe one day Gran would be able to know more, but for now, Layla knew her grandmother wasn’t ready. Frankly, she wasn’t eager to hear the full story of Beth’s past, either. Her nights out in bars. The drinking and partying. The men.

  “I’m not proud of the things I did, and the people I hung out with were trouble with a capital T,” Beth said, as if she sensed Gran’s growing uneasiness with the conversation. “You have to remember that I wasn’t in a good place. Everything I did was to punish myself. For all his issues, Max treated me well. I put up with a lot from men, but not abuse. I wasn’t the kind to stay if a guy knocked me around.”

  The full reality of her mother’s life smacked Layla like a slap in the face. “Were you? Knocked around, I mean?”

  Beth didn’t answer, but Layla heard the truth anyway. She was filled with an unexpected, and surprising rage. Some man had hit her mother. Maybe more than one. The knowledge made her want to hunt down every last one and make them pay.

  Gran made a sound between a whimper and a growl.

  Beth let out a deep sigh. “Sorry. I didn’t think we’d get into this so soon. I shouldn’t have mentioned pool.”

  “Who hit you?” Gran asked, in a voice hospital residents had learned to fear.

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Who. Hit. You.”

  Layla’s eyes widened at the venom spewing from her grandmother’s mouth. Beth must have recognized the firestorm, too.

  She bit her lip. “Just a couple of the guys I dated. Not that many, but believe me I got out as soon as it happened. I hated myself, but not enough to let some jerk use me as his personal punching bag. It was no big deal. I was careful. I figured out how to spot the guys with anger management issues after a while, and I stayed clear of them.”

  “If I could find them I’d—” Gran broke off, perhaps startled by the menace in her own voice. “Well, they’d be sorry.”

  Layla suddenly laughed. Beth and Gran looked up startled.

  “A need for revenge must run in our DNA, too,” Layla said. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Beth grinned, and Gran harrumphed again, but a hint of a smile played about her lips.

  They were finishing up dessert – a key lime pie Layla had picked up at the bakery downtown – when they heard keys in the front door. A few moments later, Josh barrelled into the room, with Aunt Grace not far behind.

  The little boy made a beeline for Beth, and she scooped him up. “There’s my big boy! Did you like the movie?”

  “It was awesome!” he said. “Can I go play upstairs?”

  She set him down again. “Sure. But say hello to Layla and your grandmother first.”

  He gave out quick hugs and then raced off as quickly as he’d appeared.

  Gran watched him go with wonder. “Does he ever slow down?”

  “Only to sleep,” Beth said.

  “That boy plumb wore me out,” Aunt Grace said as she eased into a chair.

  Beth’s face creased with concern. “I shouldn’t have let you go out with him by yourself. I hope you didn’t overdo it.”

  Grace waved off the comment. “Nonsense, it’s good to be around so much energy. Keeps me on my toes.”

  Gran reached for her sister’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Grace winked. “I know.”

  Layla watched her grandmother and great-aunt, marvelling anew at how close they were. Humbled that Aunt Grace had sensed they’d needed time to adjust to being a family, and had volunteered to take Josh for the night so they could.

  “I hope your evening went well?” Aunt Grace asked, looking to each of them.

  “Once we managed to get over the shock of learning Beth was a pool hustler, it went fine,” Layla said.

  Aunt Grace’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked her niece, sounding not at all scandalized. If anything, she seemed in awe. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play.”

  “I can teach you,” Beth said.

  “I’d like that.” The phone rang, and Aunt Grace popped up to answer it, waving the rest of them off. “I’ve got it. You three finish your pie.”

  She picked up the phone. A moment later, Layla heard a sharp, pain-filled gasp. “Oh no!” Grace said. “Are you sure…Yes, yes, I’ll tell them.”

  “Aunt Grace, what is it?” Layla asked immediately rushing to her side.

  “Oh Layla… it’s Thomas Bertram.”

  “Emma’s dad?” she said, heart pounding. “What happened?”

  She clutched at Layla’s hands. “He and his wife were in a car accident.”

  “Were they badly hurt? Are they in the hospital?” Layla asked, even though she already knew the answer judging from the ashen color of her great-aunt’s skin.

  Aunt Grace shook as tears streamed down her cheeks. “No. They didn’t make it to the hospital. They were both killed. Oh honey, they’re gone.”

  The words slammed into her gut like a clenched fist. “What about Emma’s sisters? Were they with them?”

  “No, thank the Lord.”

  “And Emma? Has she been told yet?”

  “I don’t know.” Aunt Grace burst into tears. “This is awful. Just awful.”

  Shock numbed Layla to any pain. She couldn’t grasp that Thomas Bertram was dead. She pictured him laughing, helping to set up a tent in the backyard for Emma, Layla, and Callie. He’d taken them all camping a couple times and taught them how to build a campfire. Emma’s parents had been the ones who’d comforted Callie after her mom died, when her dad had been too grief stricken to deal with his daughter.

  Now, he was gone.

  “Those poor beautiful girls,” Aunt Grace said, as sobs shook her shoulders. “Who will take care of them now?”

  Layla wrapped her arms around her aunt. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Layla’s first experience with death had come when Callie’s mother died. The suddenness, the fact that Callie had been the one to find Jilly Williams in the house, and the awful circumstances surrounding her death, brought the entire town to a screeching halt. A hush had seemed to fall over the citizens of Shellwater Key for weeks afterward. Everyone spoke in furtive whispers, usually coupled with covert, worried glances at Callie. Eyes filled with pity and even horror.

  Layla and Emma had both tried to comfort Callie, but there’d been little they could do. At the time, Layla hadn’t known exactly what had happened to Jilly Williams. The adults wouldn’t, or couldn’t, discuss it. All Layla knew was that Callie had seen something terrible inside her house. Something she couldn’t talk about.

  Callie’s dad had taken his wife’s death even harder. He didn’t leave the house for two weeks. An army of people had showed up at his door, but he wouldn’t answer. Then one day, Callie didn’t show up at school or their clubhouse. She never missed their weekly club meeting, even when her mom was having a bad day. Layla and Emma knew something had happened, but when they went to Callie’s house she was gone. Ben Williams had taken his daughter and moved across the country in the middle of the night. No word to anyone, no goodbyes to neighbors or friends, and no forwarding address. Callie and her father had vanished, and no one ever heard from them again.

  Now, all the emotions of that time came rushing back as Layla prepared to attend the funeral for Emma’s dad. The day Thomas and Mona Bertram were to be buried was sunny and blessedly free of suffocating humidity.

  Layla drove to her grandmother’s house. From there she’d go to the church with Gran and Aunt Grace. As soon as she pulled into the driveway, her brother Josh flew through the door.

  “Layla…Layla!” he cried as he sprinted toward her on sturdy legs.

  Layla climbed out of the car and braced herself for impact. For all his small stature, Josh packed a wallop when he connected with his intended target
. He wrapped his arms around her middle and grinned up at her. As always Layla’s heart melted a little.

  “Hey buddy,” she said, relishing the feel of his tight grip and the scent of sweat and little boy. Right now she needed his steady presence.

  “Did you come over to play with me?” Josh asked.

  “Honey, let your sister go,” a low, husky voice said from behind Layla’s back. “You’ll choke the life out of her.”

  Layla rotated her head and met her mother’s eyes. Eyes that reflected uncertainty laced with clear amusement. “He’s all right.”

  Beth’s smile grew as she came down the steps. “Josh, I already told you that Layla has to go out with Gammy. To the funeral, remember?”

  Layla was surprised to find out Beth had told the little boy. Would he even understand what a funeral meant? What death meant?

  But Josh took only a second before he dropped his chin. “Oh...” He glanced up at Layla “For your friend’s daddy. But you shouldn’t be sad. He’s in heaven now, so he can look out for everybody from there.”

  Layla blinked away a sudden curtain of tears and brushed her fingers across Josh’s cheek. “Yes, he can.”

  “Josh, go on inside and tell Gammy that Layla is here,” Beth said, steering the boy toward the house.

  “Okay, Momma!”

  Josh raced inside, and Beth turned back. “I haven’t seen you since we heard the news. How are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

  Layla shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Beth touched Layla’s shoulder. Impulse had Layla reaching up to squeeze her mother’s hand. Beth’s eye went to their entwined fingers, and she swallowed.

  The quiet moment was broken when the door opened again and Gran emerged with Aunt Grace. Gran hugged Layla. It wasn’t a perfunctory squeeze, either, but a deep embrace as if her grandmother wanted to absorb Layla into her soul. Perhaps to reassure herself that Layla was still alive, even if their relationship was strained.

  Aunt Grace did the same thing, and then she hustled them both to the car for the short drive to the church. The parking lot was completely full, as was the sanctuary. It seemed everyone had come out to pay their respects, and to support the Bertram family.

  Layla strained to see over the crowd, searching for a place to sit. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Noah waving.

  He pointed to the pew beside him.

  “Noah saved us a seat, Gran,” Layla said, taking her grandmother by the elbow and helping her navigate around the knot of people gathered at the back of the sanctuary.

  Their progress was slow, as the aisle was clogged as well. Layla startled when someone grabbed her hand. She swiveled her head and looked down to see Mr. Conklin.

  “I sure was sorry to hear the news,” he said. “Still remember you and those two girls playing in the street,” he said. “Couldn’t have been bigger than a tadpole’s tail.”

  “I guess we made a lot of noise,” Layla said.

  He flicked his hand. “Nah…Always liked the sound of kids laughing. Miss it, actually. Reminds an old man that life goes on. You remember that, too. Life ain’t always kind, but there’s a master plan. We’ll see the Bertrams again in glory.”

  “Thank you,” she said, touched beyond words by his kindness.

  Gran and Aunt Grace stopped to say a word to Mr. Conklin, and finally they all managed to make it to the pew where Noah was waiting.

  Only Noah wasn’t alone. Annaliese was on his other side, and beside her was Chester Wilson. Layla barely absorbed the shock of seeing them all when she glanced at the row behind. Her breath left in a rush as she saw her father and his parents.

  Layla stared at Colin in shock as he stood up. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  His eyes filled with compassion as he enfolded her in a hug. “Did you think we wouldn’t come?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think at all…”

  “I know. Your mother did, though.”

  Surprise whipped through her. “Beth called you?”

  “She wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be alone today,” he said. “Taylor and the boys would have come, too, but they went back home with their mother.”

  “She didn’t want me to be—”

  Layla didn’t get a chance to say anything else as a barely suppressed rumble of exclamation rippled through the congregation. She looked over her shoulder to see that Emma had arrived. Beside her stood Emma’s mother. The cause of the murmuring bursts of shock, no doubt.

  Mary Bertram hadn’t been seen in Shellwater Key since the day she’d left town fifteen years ago, only weeks after the divorce had been finalized. Some claimed she’d left to start over, others to escape the humiliation of her husband leaving for another woman. Whatever the reason had been, she’d stayed away. Now, the first Mrs. Bertram made her way to a pew at the front of the church. She didn’t say anything, keeping her eyes fixed on Emma.

  The organ began playing. The service was sweet and sad. Layla cried all the way through a video with pictures of the Bertrams through the years. Whoever had put the video together made sure to include shots of Emma and even Mary Bertram. Layla gasped as she saw several shots of herself, with Emma and Callie. In each one they were smiling, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

  A whimper of distress shimmied up her throat. Then a wrinkled hand reached out for hers. Gran. On her other side, Noah laced his fingers through hers. She looked up at him and caught sight of Annaliese, who flashed a warm smile. Layla could feel the supportive force of her father and grandparents behind her, too.

  A shiver worked its way along her spine. Beth had been worried that Layla would be alone, but she was far from alone. Layla had spent most of her life feeling like an outsider. In Miami, she’d had business success, but little else. No life outside the office. No real friends. No one who truly cared what happened to her.

  But here, in Shellwater Key, she had everything.

  On paper her life might seem empty. Her lifesavings had disappeared, her love life was in shambles, and her only visible means of support was a crumbling old dinner theatre. Except a spreadsheet wouldn’t include the things she’d gained here. New friends, new family, and a job she was coming to love.

  Layla had spent most of her life running. In the process she’d lost touch with so many things from her childhood. Her faith, her friendships. A lifetime of wondering why she hadn’t been good enough to love had twisted her heart. Now, there was evidence that it hadn’t been a lack of love on Beth’s part, but a host of circumstances.

  And Layla knew if she could accept her mother’s explanation – if she could forgive her grandmother’s flaws, and find a way past her own anger – maybe she could capture the life she was meant to have.

  When the service finished, a cavalcade of cars followed behind the hearse to the cemetery. Bonita Valley contained acres of rolling, manicured lawns and lush trees. Rows of gravestones spread out as far as the eye could see. Some were gleaming white, others aged by time. Layla’s grandfather was buried here, and so were Gran and Aunt Grace’s parents. The plots represented some families who no longer lived in Shellwater Key and others whose lines had simply died out. There were a few plots with fresh mounds of dirt, older graves with fresh flowers, and still others no one visited anymore.

  As she made her way among the grave markers, Layla couldn’t help but wonder about the family members and friends who’d been left behind. Had they paid their last respects, believing everything had been said? Had they been at peace despite their grief, or had there been regrets? Or anger that had no place left to go? Guilt over a refusal to forgive? Was Emma feeling some of that? Her family had been fractured fifteen years ago after the divorce, and she’d never been able to mend the rift.

  Now, she’d never get the chance to make things right.

  It was a smaller group at the cemetary. Emma stood with her mother. Emma’s half-sisters, Imogene and Paige, were across from them, with a dark-h
aired man who looked to be in his thirties. Layla didn’t know who he was, but he seemed to be close to the girls. Little Paige even buried her face in his chest once.

  The minister said a prayer, and then Emma and her sisters tossed flowers into the open graves. Layla saw Mary Bertram reach for Emma’s hand as they began to lower the coffins. Layla couldn’t imagine what her friend was going through. Her heart went out to Imogene and Paige, too.

  After a final prayer, everyone began to disperse. The dark-haired man led Imogene and Paige away, leaving only Emma and her mother.

  A hand touched her shoulder. “Are you ready?” Gran asked.

  “Why don’t you go to the car?” Layla said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I should…” But she didn’t know what she should do.

  “Okay.” Gran squeezed. “I’m sure Emma could use a friend right now.”

  Layla watched Emma and her mother for a moment, not wanting to intrude. Layla had to commend Mary Bertram for coming. It must have been hard to return and face all the old memories of her prior life.

  Layla studied Emma, trying to find evidence of the girl she’d been. It had been years since the last time they’d seen each other. Once they’d gone off to college, their visits hadn’t seemed to coincide. Emma’s curly mass of caramel curls remained, though she wore it shorter now. She couldn’t top more than five foot three and had a gently curved figure.

  She glanced up, and Layla saw a maelstrom of grief. She took a few steps closer and recognition dawned. Layla felt Emma’s indrawn breath of surprise.

  Layla kept moving until she was a couple feet away. “Hi Em.”

  “Laylee. What are you…how…oh my…”

  They met two steps later. As they embraced, a small piece of Layla’s soul locked back into place. A place where innocence and pledges of undying friendship resided. Where whispered confidences and girlhood dreams had once lived.

  Emma pulled back slightly and gave Layla a once over. “Look at you!”

  “You too.”

  “I’ve missed you—” They chorused in unison.

  They shared a tremulous grin.

  “It’s been too long,” Emma said. She shook her head. “I don’t know what happened.”