“What?”
“Julia’s backyard. Why did you go there? Of all the places you could have gone . . . why Julia’s?”
Jordan bit his lip and looked away from her.
“Jordan?” She didn’t think it was a very difficult question. He ran and stopped at Julia’s. A woman he refused to talk about or see since the school shooting.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
He shrugged. “I just . . . I just stopped and went in.”
He still wouldn’t look at her.
“You just went in. Into the backyard of a woman you don’t even like? I’m sorry . . . I’m having a hard time believing that.”
He didn’t reply.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about today, it seems. You don’t know why the ceremony bothers you, why you ran, and now why you stopped at Julia’s place.”
She cocked her head and tried to read him but couldn’t. He was completely shut off from her.
“Should I be worried?”
He shook his head.
“Great. That answers a lot.” She tapped her foot on the ground. “So now what?”
“What do you mean?”
Charlotte squeezed the bridge of her nose and struggled to remain calm. He was hiding something from her, something about Julia, which didn’t make sense at all. But there was a ceremony this afternoon they needed to be at and a fair going on, meaning her town was full of visitors. As much as it bothered her to know Julia was in her backyard crying, she couldn’t focus on her today.
God, that made her seem so cold.
“I want to go visit Julia’s shop and see how things are.”
Jordan sighed. His lips thinned, and she knew he wanted to say something but held himself back.
“I’ll go with you. If we can’t run away, then we can at least stay together.” He reached for her hand but hesitated, as if unsure.
“You’ll come to the ceremony then? It won’t be all that bad. And it looks like there is some sort of reveal happening.”
There it was, that glazed look in his eyes. The same look he always got when someone mentioned how heroic he’d been that day.
That expression he had in his eyes when she’d met him at the school, outside by an ambulance. He’d stood there, dazed, as he stared blankly about him. The moment he called her, she dropped everything and rushed up to the school. All he’d said on the phone was “He had a gun. He had a gun.” She’d had no idea who carried the gun or what had happened, but she cried the moment she saw him standing there, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. She flung her arms around him and held him close, shocked to find his body shaking. Once she knew he wasn’t shot, she put everything aside, all her emotions, and did what needed to be done. Comfort those around her, help direct the children that weren’t hurt to a safe area, coordinate the teachers to help keep everyone calm.
Jordan just stood there, shell-shocked. She knew something terrifying had happened for him to react that way. It took a good thirty minutes for him to come out of his daze and realize he was needed.
Whatever had happened, whatever it was that he kept secret . . . it still affected him and Charlotte felt helpless.
“What’s being revealed?” There was feigned interest in his voice.
Charlotte shrugged. She wasn’t going to force the issue with him. “No idea. Just what the flyer says.” It was still crumpled in her hand, so she held it out to him.
“You have no idea?” She could tell he didn’t believe her, but it was the truth.
“Doesn’t that worry you?”
It did. She wouldn’t lie. She didn’t like being kept in the dark, especially about something like this. But there wasn’t much she could do about it, especially after Charlie Monroe had told her to mind her own business anytime she tried to get involved. They’d just have to wait for the ceremony to see what all the fuss and secrecy was about.
They made their way down the path until they hit the sidewalk that led up Main Street. The North Beach should be full of activities as well, as most of the kids’ events would be there. From clowns to face painting to turtle races. If they walked slowly and didn’t stop to talk to too many people, they might make it there in fifteen minutes. They could spend some time at the beach, talking with families and interacting with the children, something she knew Jordan would love to do, and then they could walk back down to the town hall in time for the ceremony.
It wasn’t the afternoon they’d originally planned, but nothing made Charlotte happier than spending time in her town, amongst the people. She’d only agreed to go for the drive for Jordan, because he seemed to need it.
But not her. This is where she got her energy from. This is what invigorated her. The town. The people.
She pushed aside the lingering questions about Jordan and Julia from her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JENNIFER
There was a lightness to her heart that surprised her as she walked hand in hand with Robert down Main Street. Maybe it was the air filled with the regular sounds of happy children—screaming, crying, laughing—as they enjoyed the day outdoors with their families. Sounds Jenn hadn’t been sure would ever be heard again in this town. Or maybe sounds she knew she’d hear again, but because it meant life was returning back to normal, she hadn’t been ready to accept them.
Up ahead was Merlin the Magician, better known as Thomas Woodward, a retired schoolteacher. Every year he dressed up in his magician finery and mesmerized the children of Stillwater with his tricks. A group of boys all stood around him, their hands clasped tight behind their backs, as they watched him do one trick after another.
Jenn recognized those boys. Bobby used to hang out with them. Jenn had hosted their mothers at her house for playdates before the boys were old enough for school. While their children played with Legos or action figures, she’d put on a pot of coffee or opened a bottle of wine, and the moms sat and gossiped about their lives while their children entertained one another.
It had been a while since she last had coffee with them. Once their children were in school, she hadn’t felt the need to continue to have them over.
She vaguely remembered them at Bobby’s funeral. The women all sat in one section, their families filling up the pews. She distinctly remembered the way they sniffled and held their own child’s hand as they came up to her and Robert after the funeral. She also remembered the envy she had experienced watching those mothers with their children. Children who hadn’t died that day. Children who had been in the same class as Bobby yet spared.
“That used to be me,” Robert said. “I used to beg him to show me, over and over, how he did his tricks. You know what he would tell me?”
Jenn smiled up at him. “A magician never tells, only shows,” she answered.
He squeezed her hand. “My poor mom. I would beg her for magic books so I could learn on my own. I would bug Mr. Woodward at recess all the time, trying to show him what I’d learned. And yet, I could never do the tricks properly.”
“Never?”
“Never. I was too nervous. He was my idol, way back then.”
She nudged him in the side. “He still is,” she said. It was true. Robert met with the elderly man once a week up at the clubhouse and drank coffee, talking about golf or the way things used to be. He said he was spending time with him because he was lonely, but Jenn knew otherwise. Robert eventually mentioned issues he was dealing with as a member of the town council or with work, and he took Thomas Woodward’s advice more often than not.
“You know, I was hoping maybe Bobby would have developed an interest in magic.”
Jenn tilted her head up to look at her husband and noticed his gaze was on his old friend. She wrapped her hand around his arm and squeezed.
“I even bought him his very own magic kit.
” He cleared his throat. “I’m not too sure what to do with it now.”
If it were her, she’d be tempted to keep it. It was bought for her son, and so it would always remain his.
“It’s something we’ll have to think about, eventually. What to do with his things.”
She nodded. They would. One day.
They stood there on the sidewalk, quiet in their thoughts, and waited for the elderly magician to completely mesmerize the children who surrounded him until he sent them on their way.
“That used to be you,” Thomas said as he packed away his supplies in his big black magician’s bag.
“I was just saying that to Jenn.” Robert grinned.
Thomas zipped up his bag, dusted his hands off, and cracked his gnarly and knotted knuckles.
“You were a curious one, that’s for sure,” he said. “Always bugging me to show you how I did things, and trying to show me your own tricks.” He winked. “I did say try, right? I’m not sure you ever got a magic trick right.”
Robert laughed, and it was in his laughter that Jenn once more saw that glimmer of hope. She drank it in, glued to the way her husband’s eyes lit up and how his laughter infected those around them. People stopped and stared at them, smiles on their faces as they continued on their way.
“Where are you off to now?” Robert asked.
“I thought I’d grab something to drink before the ceremony.” Thomas glanced across the street toward where the town hall was located. “That’s something I don’t want to miss.”
“Do you know what’s it’s about?” Jenn asked. She’d asked Shelley earlier when she caught sight of the flyers, but Shelley had remained tightlipped about it. Considering this was the first she’d heard about the event this afternoon, she was more than a bit curious.
“I do. But don’t ask me to tell you. Just be there,” Thomas said. He pursed his lips and gave his head a small shake when she was about to ask him another question.
“It’s strange that something like this would be arranged without either one of us knowing about it,” Robert said.
Thomas shrugged. “You don’t always need to be in the know.” He picked up his bag and tugged the strap over his arm. “Sometimes it’s good to give up control. Good for your soul. You should try it.” He tapped the top of his forehead with two fingers and gave a minisalute before he headed down the sidewalk.
They watched him go. No doubt he was headed to find another group of kids at the beach or in the community center parking lot. Jenn tugged at Robert’s arm, and they continued their walk.
They came to the intersection of Main Street and Water Avenue, where the town hall was located on one side and the library on the other. A crowd had gathered already in front of the town hall, where a podium had been erected alongside a large covered object.
Charity stood on the outskirts, as if waiting for them, and waved.
Jenn scanned the crowd for Charlotte but didn’t see her. She did, however, catch the eye of Lacie and her family, who stood close to the front. Lacie waved and gestured for them to join her, but Jenn shook her head. She was more than happy to stay on the outskirts of the crowd.
“You have nothing to do with this, right?” she asked Robert. Normally he’d be right up there, at the front, preparing to give a speech or to talk with other council members and their families.
“Nothing.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. “Hang on a second,” he said. He angled his body away from her as he answered his phone.
Jenn stepped closer to Charity and linked her arm through her daughter’s. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
Charity held her hand up and waved. “Amanda and I were going to head to the beach for a game of volleyball, if that’s okay? Then just hang out at the midway with friends later until the fireworks.”
Jenn placed a small kiss on the top of Charity’s head. “Sounds like fun.” She knew her daughter was itching to hang with her friends. Robert had been right about that. “Go ahead. Will we see you later or . . .”
“Can I sleep over at Amanda’s again?” There was a hopeful note in her voice. Jenn nodded in response and was thrilled to have Charity give her a brief hug before she took off to join her friend in the crowd.
Jenn turned to face Robert, to let him know what was going on, but he was still engrossed in his phone call. His face glared a brilliant red, and the muscle in his cheek pulsed. He was angry, and she could tell it was all he could do to keep a tight rein on his emotions. Whom was he talking to?
“No, I will not do that,” he said into the phone. He paused. “No, I don’t think you understand. What you’re asking me to do is not only illegal but . . .” He paused again, but this time Jenn could hear yelling from the other person. Robert pulled the phone away from his ear and grimaced. “I highly doubt you’ll find anyone in this town who will take care of this for you.” His lips thinned. “No, that won’t work for me. I’ll call you back next week and arrange something.” He jabbed the screen of his phone and jammed it back into his pocket.
“What’s going on?” she asked. She reached out to him, but he took a step back, looked around, and realized others had heard his conversation and blanched.
Jenn glared at the people around them and was thankful they all had the decency to turn away from them.
“Robert?”
He groaned. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“It was the Robertsons, wasn’t it? Was this about Julia again?” She recalled the conversation she’d walked into a few days ago, when he’d told her they wanted the woman evicted from her home.
He nodded. The look on his face told her he didn’t want to discuss it, and as much as she wanted to prod, to give him her own opinion, surprisingly, she didn’t.
“You’ll figure it out. I’m sure Charlotte would love to help if you told her.” That was all she said.
He gave her a half smile before he placed his arm around her, and they edged closer to the crowd. Charlie Monroe, another town council member and head of the fair committee, took the stage and reached for the microphone. He tapped it a few times, and everyone in the crowd winced at the loud shriek from the speakers.
“Hello, everyone. You can hear me okay?” he asked.
“More than we want to,” yelled a voice from the middle of the crowd. People around them laughed and Charlie grinned. He was known for having a loud mouth and not being afraid to speak his mind—anywhere, anytime—and it didn’t matter the place.
“Very funny, Dick. Very funny. On behalf of . . . well, on behalf of the members of this town, I want to thank everyone for being here. This weekend we’re celebrating the vibrancy of our town, but we also need to take the time to remember the loss we’ve all experienced as well. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in that grief, but, as our good pastor here said”—he pointed toward Pastor Scott Helman at the front of the crowd—“a little bit of happiness does our soul good. So today, we want to help bring that happiness if we can.” He walked closer to the covered object and fingered the large sheet. “Did you know we have an artist in this town? Sometimes we tend to forget him, as he tends to hibernate up at the lighthouse throughout the year, and unless you venture up that way, he’s a bit easy to miss. He’s a quiet man”—he coughed to hide his smile—“but has a way of making a statement with his hands and mind.”
Charlie looked out over the crowd and pointed to Blake Casser before he beckoned him up to the stage.
“As a town, we wanted there to be a way to remember the lives that were lost last month in a way that would be memorable and befitting of who they were. Most of those who died were children, but we lost a few good teachers as well.” Charlie wiped at the tears that trickled down his cheek.
Jenn grasped on to Robert’s hand.
Charlie handed the microphone to Blake, who scowled at him but took it fro
m his hand.
“Sometimes words aren’t enough. And sometimes they are too much. You all know I’m not a fan of platitudes . . . and I won’t say something that’s not true. Being sorry can’t replace the hugs you would get from your children if they were still alive. Sympathy can’t fill the void in your hearts. I know this. But I also know that sometimes, we need something tangible to remember . . . to remember they were real and they did make a difference.” He scuffled his feet a bit before he gathered the hem of the cover and then paused.
“This is nowhere near what is in my heart for each and every one of you, but I hope when you see it, whether today or a year from now, it will bring a smile to your face and joy to your heart.” He handed the microphone back to Charlie and then, with a pull from his arms, uncovered the large sculpture.
Jenn gasped along with everyone else in the crowd. She covered her mouth with her fist to hold back the sobs that racked her body.
The statue was amazing. Even from this distance, Jenn could see that somehow Blake had managed to meld together sand glass into the shape of a heart. But it was what was inside the heart that stole her breath. Out of glass, Blake had etched out what looked to be the names of all those who died on that fateful day. Jenn wanted to get closer, to see for herself if she were right. She wanted to see Bobby’s name there, forever remembered. She must have tried to move forward because Robert’s arms tightened around her and held her back.
“Wait. Let’s just wait,” he murmured into her ear.
“For those who can’t see, I created a wreath of sea glass in the shape of a heart. Inside this heart is a pane of glass I blew myself with the date and name of each person—whether child or adult—who lost their life. They will never be forgotten.” Blake cleared his throat before he stepped back.
Charlie pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. He glanced over at the crowd and pointed to someone, but Jenn couldn’t see to whom.
“We also wanted to honor some heroes in the crowd, but apparently they’re too shy to come up. Many more lives would have been lost that day if it wasn’t for the smart thinking of our principal and teachers. Without them . . . well, my granddaughter wouldn’t be here.” He cleared this throat.
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