Sam shrugged. “Sure, if you consider him a teddy bear.”
Charlotte almost spit out her beer at that and ended up having to wipe her mouth with her napkin.
“Teddy bear is not how I would describe Fred. Opinionated. Grumpy. Stubborn. But teddy bear? Not the Fred I know.” Charlotte thought about the multiple bar fights Fred had broken up. That nose of his had more curves than the Oregon coastline.
“Your talk with your boss didn’t have anything to do with our conversation yesterday, did it?” Charlotte brought the topic back to hand. She was intrigued as to why Sam would stay in Stillwater when she was told to head back home.
Sam grunted. “His only goal is the story. If the story isn’t there, then he’ll send me out to where another one is. Except, I think there’s still enough interest to warrant a longer stay.” She must have caught the way Charlotte winced. “Sorry. I know the last thing you want is to continually be front-page news, but with all the doom and gloom the media preaches, wouldn’t it be nice for the silver lining to show through?”
“We have enough silver linings. And we certainly don’t need them to be plastered all over the media.” Charlotte shrugged. “Sorry. I understand it’s your job, and compared to the other reporters who were here, you are my favorite, but there comes a time . . .”
Sam waved her hands. “No apologies needed. I understand, I do.”
“So you’re sticking around because . . .”
A guarded look crossed Samantha’s face. “Let’s just say I have unfinished business to take care of.”
“In Stillwater?”
Sam nodded. “Don’t ask, okay? Let’s talk about Julia instead. I’ve got a week before I need to return back home, so let’s do what we can while I’m here.”
Charlotte reached for her purse and pulled out her notebook, thumbing through the pages until she found the one she’d scribbled some notes in early this morning after Robert canceled their meeting. Some of the items were redundant after Sheila’s insightful talk, but there were other ideas that held some merit to them.
“Do you have some ideas?” Charlotte asked, her pen ready.
Sam nodded. “I do.” A soft smile spread across her face as she brought out her own notebook and flipped it open.
“First thing on the list is Fred.”
Charlotte’s brow creased. “Fred?” What did Fred have to do with helping Julia?
“Mayor, what do you think I’ve been doing as I meet people in this town? Just eat their food, buy their items, and annoy the hell out of them as I pepper them with questions?”
“I should know you better than that by now.” Charlotte chuckled at herself. Interested to know how Fred played such a key part to helping Julia, Charlotte waited for Samantha to continue.
Except she didn’t. Fred joined them with their plates and gave what Charlotte could only label as a stink eye to Samantha. She laughed when Sam winked at Fred and then patted the seat beside her, an indication for him to sit down.
“I’ve got work to do,” Fred grumbled, and yet he sat.
“I was about to tell our mayor here your great plan to help Julia, but I thought maybe you’d like to tell her yourself?”
Charlotte sat there, amazed, as Fred’s cheeks blazed red and his gaze suddenly ended up on the table. Her amazement didn’t end there, however.
She sat there, open mouthed, while Fred outlined his idea, and she finally understood why Samantha called him a teddy bear.
Feeling lighter than she had in ages, Charlotte waved good-bye to both Fred and Samantha, who was now seated at the bar, and headed back toward the town hall.
She had just enough time to make it back to her office to meet with Arnold and discuss with him her ideas, ideas that both Sam and Fred thought would work. She couldn’t believe she’d been so blind to what was happening around her.
Blinded to the way members of her community felt about what had happened when Gabriel Berry took a gun into the public school and opened fire. Blinded to how certain families were coping with their grief. Blinded to how others were obviously not coping.
She had a feeling the graffiti on Julia’s home would stop. Fred was going to take care of that by having a stern talk with Trevor, the man responsible for the public desecration of Julia’s home. Samantha was going to use her skill with words to convince others in the community of how they needed to group together, as a unit, and help each other heal, while reminding them it wasn’t acceptable to shun someone who would never have turned them away. And Charlotte . . . well, Charlotte would do what she did best: ensure this town continued to move forward.
She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and waved as she caught sight of Charity and her best friend, Amanda, as they headed straight for her.
An idea bloomed.
She stopped the girls and made small talk with them, her intent to find out what their plans were for the rest of the afternoon.
“How would you girls like to earn some money this afternoon?”
From the way their eyes brightened, she knew she had their attention.
“Come with me, then.” She didn’t even bother to try to keep the smile off her face as they walked toward the Treasure Chest, Julia’s store. She fished out a key from her purse, one she’d snagged from Julia yesterday with the excuse that she wanted to look in on it. It had surprised her when Julia handed it over no questions asked.
Treasure Chest was Julia’s passion. She always said it was her small way of helping others in the community—through buying and selling their handicrafts. During the summer and Christmas months, her store was one of the most successful ones in town, so it was sad to see it boarded up and closed, especially now. How could Julia pay her bills if her store wasn’t producing any income? How could those who sold their items through her store help make ends meet if no one could buy them?
Well, Charlotte had an idea, and it all started with these girls.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JENNIFER
With it being a beautiful day, it shouldn’t have surprised Jenn that they weren’t alone in the cemetery. Over in the far corner the landscapers were cutting the grass, trimming the hedges, and working in the gardens while visitors strolled through the walkways.
She couldn’t understand how people could find peace at a cemetery. What was so peaceful about gazing upon countless headstones and white crosses? What was so beautiful about the gardens along the pathways or the shelter of trees that surrounded the area?
There was no peace here. Not for her.
Hand in hand, Jenn and Robert walked alongside each other as they made their way to the bench by Bobby’s grave. She sank down on the seat while Robert went over to the white cross and squatted down on his legs. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what was said and she turned her gaze, to give father and son some privacy.
She searched for the other white crosses that marked the graves of the victims from the school shooting and counted in her head the number. Too many. There had been twelve deaths, twelve lives snuffed out unnecessarily, taken against their will. There were more white crosses than that in this cemetery, but she knew twelve of them belonged to the victims of Gabriel Berry. She didn’t count his own marker as one. What had Julia been thinking, to bury her son here?
So she would have a place to visit. The thought brushed her mind, but she ignored it, as best she could. She didn’t want to desecrate Bobby’s memory or ruin their time here by thinking of his murder. The anger that simmered deep inside her bubbled, the thought of Gabe and Julia like a flame. She squashed it down because now wasn’t the time or the place.
“Did you bring these?” Robert startled her as he sat down beside her. She shifted to increase the distance between them. She didn’t want to be touched, not right now. She glanced down at the plastic car in his hand and shook her head.
“Where were they?” They were s
imilar to the ones she’d seen yesterday by the boat dock. Who was leaving them?
“There.” Robert pointed to the small pile of toy cars, trucks, and even a boat at the base of the cross.
Her lips tightened. Who was doing this? She looked around her and found similar toys on other grave sites, some with small dolls, others with stuffed animals or plastic figurines.
“Someone is leaving toys on the graves,” she said quietly. But who? Who would do that? A parent? A teacher? Maybe it was Jordan. But if so, why hadn’t he told the parents?
“I think it’s nice. A gesture not many would consider. Bobby wouldn’t have liked all the flowers, anyway. This is more his style.” Robert played with the car, his body hunched over as his fingers pushed the tiny wheels till they spun.
“I don’t like it.”
“Why?”
Jenn shrugged. “It’s weird, creepy almost. This is our son’s grave, and yet these aren’t our toys, or even Bobby’s toys. Who would bring them . . .” Her voice drifted off as it hit her.
“She did it,” Jenn spat out. “As if this could make up for what he did.” The thought made her want to grab every single toy, not only on Bobby’s grave, but on every other grave in the cemetery and throw them out. Or better yet, throw them at her, through her windows, against her house. How dare she do this? How dare she think she could make up for what her son did?
Jenn’s fingers clenched until her nails bit into the skin on her palms.
“No, no, it wasn’t Julia,” Robert shook his head and reached for her hands, covering her fists with his. “These aren’t from Julia, trust me. The woman has been holed up in her home, afraid to come out. She wouldn’t do this.”
Jenn breathed in through her nose and out her mouth, all in an attempt to calm her racing heart. She was sure Robert was right, but if it wasn’t Julia, then who? Who would leave toys on the graves of the children?
“I’ll look into it. Maybe talk with Charlotte or the town maintenance manager and see if they know anything.” He turned the car over in his hands. “The question, though, is what do we do with these?”
“They’re on every grave, Robert. Of all those who died with Bobby.”
Robert’s head shot up, and he looked around. He stood and turned, not saying anything as he looked around them.
“All of them?”
Jenn nodded.
Robert sat back down on the bench and sighed. He rubbed his chin but didn’t say anything. Jenn made a mental note to ask Charlotte about the toys being left.
“If you want to head to the office, I’ll stay here a bit longer.”
But he shook his head and reached for her hand.
“There’s no place I’d rather be than here. I’ll admit, it’s not a place I see myself coming to often, but it’s good to be here, to sit close to our son.”
Jenn linked her fingers with his, her anger from earlier ebbing away. “It’s not really a place I enjoy coming to either. I prefer to go sit on the beach or out on the cliff by the lighthouse.”
“But that’s not where Bobby is.”
“He’s not here either, is he? Not really.” His body was here, but she didn’t want to think about her son lying there, in his coffin. She just . . . couldn’t.
“Did you want to go down to the beach then? We could park at the lighthouse and walk down one of the trails.”
The heaviness that had filled her pores earlier lightened. She leaned her head on Robert’s shoulder for a brief moment before she stood up. “That would be nice.”
She wasn’t sure what had happened between yesterday and today, but whatever it was, she would take it. With Robert beside her, maybe she could get through this and find a way to climb out of this pit she was in.
She let go of Robert’s hand for a moment and went to stand by Bobby’s grave. She lifted her fingers to her lips, placed a small kiss there, and then touched the white cross. “I love you, baby.” She wanted to say more, needed to say more, but not here.
Robert waited for her, and she was suddenly very thankful he was there. More than she thought or even expected she would be.
Time slipped by as Jenn sat beside Robert on the beach. They just sat there, without words to break the peace between them, and it was a time Jenn would forever hold close to her heart. It was as if her heart was slowly healing. They watched the water lap along the shore, the seagulls dive into the water for fish, and the families play down the beach, far enough away to not intrude.
It wasn’t until Robert’s stomach grumbled that they left the beach. Holding hands, they made their way back up the rough path toward the lighthouse.
“Is that Blake?” Robert had his hand shielding his eyes from the sun and hesitated. He waved at the man who stood on top of the long winding pathway toward the lighthouse. “We should stop in and see how he is. It’s been a while.”
Jenn grunted as she almost tripped over a rock in her path. Robert’s hand steadied her, and they climbed the rest of the way up.
There was a small shop and shed on the grounds beside the lighthouse. It was a nice tourist area for people to stop, buy items at the unique gift shop, and take photos of the historic lighthouse. The view of the water was breathtaking, especially during sunrise or sunset.
The owner of the gift shop was Blake Casser, and he reminded her of a grizzly old biker, even though he was younger than Jenn by a few years. Blake had led a rough life, and that roughness had rubbed off on him.
At the crest of the hill, Blake stood there with two water bottles, and he threw them their way. Thankfully, Robert was a good catch because Jenn flinched. They both opened the bottles and drank. They should have brought their own but hadn’t anticipated staying on the beach or the long climb in the sun.
“It’s been a while,” Robert said after he almost emptied his bottle.
“You know where I live,” Blake almost growled.
“In the middle of work?”
Jenn kept quiet. She never really had a good read on Blake, other than he scared her. She wasn’t sure why.
Blake shrugged, and the movement caught Jenn’s attention. It looked as if there were butterflies or dragonflies on his arm. She peered closer.
“They’re not real. Damn near look it, though.” Blake stepped closer and held out his arm to her.
“They do,” she said. She was amazed at the art on his arm. She wasn’t someone who loved the idea of a tattoo, but she knew an artist’s touch when she saw it. These looked like a 3-D design.
“A buddy came to visit during the winter and used my arm as a canvas.” Blake’s voice grated, like sandpaper being scraped against a rock. Robert had told her it was due to an accident he’d been in years ago, and Jenn believed him, based on the scars that covered Blake’s throat. She wondered why he’d never covered them up with tattoos.
“Figured you’ve been busy since I haven’t seen you around.” Robert relaxed his stance, and Jenn knew he was in the mood to chat. She wasn’t, but that was okay. She loved Blake’s work and wouldn’t mind taking a look around his shop while the boys talked.
“Yeah, I’ve been working on a few projects.” He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about them.” He glanced back toward his shop.
“Are they in there?” Jenn asked. She took a few steps toward the shop, but Blake stepped in her way.
“I’m not quite ready for you to see them. Not yet.”
Jenn glanced back at Robert, who shrugged.
“All right then. Is it just us you don’t want seeing your work or everyone?”
Blake didn’t reply, just stood there. Jenn felt a sudden need to leave, so she gestured to Robert that she was heading back to the car.
“Thanks for the water, Blake,” she called over her shoulder. She noticed Robert had moved closer to him, and the two were talking.
While Blake was never overly friendly, she’d never been stopped from entering his shop either. He created the most beautiful designs out of sand glass, and she even had a few pieces in her home that she’d bought. What could he be working on that she couldn’t see?
Minutes later Robert made his way over to their SUV and opened the door.
“He’s working on a new statue and isn’t ready for us to see it. I guess he’s doing something for Bobby that we will recognize.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Like what?”
Robert shook his head. “Not sure. We’re going to meet down at the pub later, and he’ll fill me in.” He turned the SUV on. “What would you like to do now? Go for an early dinner, head to the club, or go home?”
“If you want to drop me off, I don’t mind if you head into work. Besides, Charity will probably be home soon.” She couldn’t believe they’d spent the day together, like they had, and without any work interruptions. Earlier, he’d turned his ringer off and not once had he checked his phone for messages or returned calls, even though she knew he’d probably received at least half a dozen by now. With summer homeowners returning, Robert was normally the first person they called. He took care of many of their summer family homes, maintained their yards, let housekeepers in, etc.
“She’s having a sleepover with Amanda.” Robert gave her a small smile as he drove down Pelican Street. He reached for her hand. She really couldn’t remember a time, other than during the funerals, that they’d held hands or even touched as much as they had today.
“She is? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Robert gave her a pointed look, as if to remind her she’d spent the morning in hiding.
“Why don’t we go for an early dinner at Fred’s then and be home in time to watch the sunset?” That and sunrise were her favorite times of the day. She loved to sit out on the deck with a glass of wine, wrap a blanket around her, and think.
Stillwater Rising Page 14
