Lila raised her eyebrows, trying to look innocent. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Adele.”
No, Jane thought. Lila never did it on purpose.
Adele gave Jane a quick hug, but Jane tightened at her touch.
“I think I’ll have some more coffee,” Jane said. As if the coffee could wash the pain away.
“Comin’ right up, honey.”
Finally, Jane forced a smile—the smile of a pastor’s wife, used to living in a fishbowl—and turned her attention to the stacks of finished layouts on the table in front of her. Lila did have a point: nothing felt the same without their other friends. And as much as she hated to admit it, that included Meghan.
Had she gotten Suzanne’s note? Why wasn’t she here?
“Look at all those pages.” Lila ran a hand over the stack nearest to her. “Mine have been here this whole time. I found them in my hope chest. Mama stuffed them in there like dirty laundry. I haven’t seen them in years.”
“You were all so artistic,” Jane said.
“Not me.” Lila glanced at her. “Suzanne was the real artist, although Meg could do a pretty mean graffiti wall.” Jane and Lila shared a tension-relieving laugh and Adele covered her ears.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Adele said.
“Lila, you could always decorate a room like a work of art.” Jane glanced at Campbell, who appeared to be tolerating their chitchat. “I’m telling you, I was the only one without any trace of artistic talent.” Jane picked up Suzanne’s pile and thumbed through the square layouts. “You can tell which of these pages are Suzanne’s and which are the rest of ours at first glance.”
“She definitely had her own style.” Lila leaned forward, joining Jane as they pored over the first few pages.
“ ‘Pure Delight.’ ” Jane laughed. “I remember this.”
“Remember Suzanne insisted on using the word ‘delight’?” Lila laughed. “I think we made fun of her for that for years.”
“We’d throw it into sentences—”
“This corn dog is so delightful.” Lila did her best Scarlett O’Hara imitation.
“I simply delight in the summer sun.” Jane put on an accent to match Lila’s.
“Suzanne got so mad.” Lila’s eyes sparkled as they told the story.
“Did she tell you about the summer we all met?” Jane smiled as she focused on Campbell. “Lila and I had been friends for years, but we didn’t meet Meghan and Suzanne until we were almost thirteen. Suzanne rescued me from two mean girls and then convinced me to go for a ride on the carousel, remember, Lila?” Jane could still feel the sense of relief as clear as if she were sitting on that bench with a drippy ice cream cone today.
Lila laughed. “The summer it was restored. I remember. Suzanne made us keep our ticket stubs. For ‘prosperity’s sake.’ ” She glanced at Campbell. “That’s what she called it.”
Jane could still see Suzanne’s grin as she stood up from the bench and challenged Jane.
“You ready for the carousel or what?” Suzanne took off in the direction of the carousel, and Jane tried to keep up with her. When they reached the line, Suzanne nearly plowed into Lila, who wore a pink belted dress and a white headband.
“Oh, sorry.” Suzanne apologized.
“You really should watch what you’re doing,” Lila said, her Southern accent more pronounced than usual.
“I said I was sorry, geesh.” Suzanne looked at Jane and shrugged.
“Lila, this is Suzanne. It’s her first summer here.”
“How wonderful for us,” Lila said.
Jane glanced at Suzanne, who seemed completely unfazed.
When the carousel came to a stop and it was time for them to get on, a man handed them all tickets.
“I thought it was free,” Jane said, turning it over in her hand.
“It’s a souvenir,” the man said. “Grand reopening.”
The small gray ticket fit in the palm of Jane’s hand. Fancy red letters spelled out Sweethaven Beach Carousel. Grand Reopening. 1983. Sweethaven’s only traditional wood-carved carousel. Jane closed her fingers over the ticket and glanced at Suzanne.
“I’m going to keep my ticket someplace safe. A scrapbook or something,” Suzanne said. “That way I can always remember the day I met my first Sweethaven friend, Jane.”
Jane stopped, then pulled the scrapbook pages onto her lap. She flipped through them until she found one with an enlarged photo of the carousel. She pointed to the right-hand corner. “She kept her word. All four tickets, neatly preserved.”
Campbell took the page and read her mother’s handwritten words: “ ‘The day I met my first Sweethaven friend, Jane.’ ” She glanced at Jane, who wiped a tear from her cheek.
“That carousel was like freedom to me,” Jane said. “Your mom had a way of pulling me out of my shell. It didn’t matter what anyone else said because she was always on my side.”
The girls zig-zagged to the other side of the merry-go-round, where Jane spotted the perfect baby-blue horse. She hopped up and slung her leg over the bright pink saddle, then grabbed on to the golden pole.
“So is this your new best friend, Jane?” Lila said, leaning forward.
“I just met her. Can’t we all be friends?” Jane tried to talk quietly so Suzanne wouldn’t hear her.
“She doesn’t look like she’ll fit in here at all.”
Jane had gotten used to deferring to Lila. Her friend had the kind of personality that made it hard to do anything but what she wanted.
“I think she fits in just fine,” Jane said. She couldn’t remember a time she’d ever openly disagreed with Lila.
Lila shot her a look, but Jane focused on the unfamiliar happiness that bubbled in her belly.
Once they were all in place, Jane looked behind her. A redheaded girl with long legs and pale skin sat in an oversized sleigh being pulled by two hand-carved tigers. The girl stared, steely-eyed, in their direction. Had she been there this whole time? Jane hadn’t seen her get on.
Suzanne followed Jane’s gaze to the girl. Suzanne smiled, but the girl looked away. Just then the organ music kicked up and the carousel began to spin.
Jane gripped the shiny pole as if she were five again. The music bubbled up inside and her mind floated back in time. Hanging on for dear life, she swayed to the music, then threw her head back. A happy giggle escaped her lips and it didn’t matter who heard. She followed Suzanne’s lead, holding on tightly to her pole, while her hair swished in the wind. No worries. No cares. Just happiness.
When the ride came to an end, Jane and Suzanne followed Lila off, but the redheaded girl stayed put in the tiger-pulled sleigh. Jane assumed it was so she could ride the merry-go-round over and over again without waiting in line. Once they reached solid ground again, Jane couldn’t keep herself from laughing.
They rode the carousel five more times that day, and eventually they even made friends with Meghan, the redheaded girl, who’d just moved to Sweethaven from Nashville.
Darkness fell as the four of them watched the sun set over Lake Michigan. In all the years she’d been coming to Sweethaven, Jane had never really made friends with anyone other than Lila. The kids she played with on the beach didn’t really count, so she spent all her time with her family. Her mom said that’s why they were there. To be a family.
Something told her things would be different now.
“Hey, look!” Suzanne pointed at a photo booth next to the carousel. “Let’s do that!”
“I’m not going in there.” Lila crossed her arms.
Suzanne grabbed Jane’s hand. “You’re in, right, Janie?”
No one called her Janie. She liked it. “I’m in!” She grinned.
“Meg?” Suzanne turned her attention to Meghan.
“Sure, whatever.” She shrugged.
“Do you know how many people are in there every day?” Lila turned up her nose.
“Thousands. In Sweethaven. Population 152.” Suzanne laughed. “Come on!”
Finally, Lila relented and the four of them crammed into the closet-sized photo booth.
That was the beginning. The beginning of The Circle.
Campbell shook her head. “She didn’t tell me anything about this place. I guess she had her reasons for keeping it to herself. I mean, she had a reason for leaving here, right?”
“So you didn’t know anything about us at all?” Lila stared at Campbell, who shook her head again.
“Wow.” Jane said. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you anything.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Campbell’s terse reply told Jane the young girl didn’t care to walk down memory lane with them. She couldn’t blame her. She’d just been hit with a bombshell and they’d yet to explain anything to her. It was thoughtless of them.
Campbell eyed them, suspicion behind her glare.
“Campbell,” Adele said softly.
“I think it might’ve been complicated,” Jane said.
“How so?” Campbell straightened in her chair.
The girl knew nothing. Not of them. Not of Sweethaven. Not of her grandparents or her father. How could they break all of this to her at once?
“It’s pretty straightforward,” Lila said.
Jane cringed. Lila wouldn’t be gentle.
“What do you mean?”
“She left because she got pregnant.” Lila rifled through a stack of layouts, found one, and handed it to Campbell. “Look.”
Campbell glanced at the page and then looked at them. “I read this one. It was on top of Mom’s stack.”
Jane knew the layout. They’d received it in the mail, along with the scrapbook—when it was still intact. Suzanne’s letter to them, a good-bye of sorts on a scrapbook layout, explained that her parents wouldn’t let her come back. She’d disgraced them, and she’d be punished by staying home that summer, taking care of her new baby.
Punished. Harsh words for a daughter to read.
Campbell ran her hand over the Polaroid Suzanne had stapled to the page. The only photo they’d seen of her nine months pregnant. Maybe the only one that existed.
“I get it. She left because of me.” Campbell stared at the page. “I figured as much. Being with me was her punishment.”
“We don’t know the whole story. Her parents weren’t in Sweethaven that summer. We had a different pastor, and by the time they returned, Suzanne had already gone.” Jane kept her tone soft, not that anything she did would soften the blow at this point.
The blood drained from Campbell’s face. “She said they died right after I was born, but she never spoke to them or introduced me to them.” She bit her bottom lip as if to keep from crying. “They didn’t want me. Is that right? They kicked my mom out?”
“We always thought they gave her an ultimatum,” Jane finally said. “She could stay if she gave her baby—if she gave you—up for adoption.”
“And she chose you, darlin’,” Adele said. “She chose you. And it was a hard choice, but you were worth it.”
“Was I?” Campbell’s tears came quicker now. She wiped them away before they could run down her cheeks. “My grandma—what happened to her?”
Silence filled the room. How did they tell her? Adele and Jane exchanged glances, and finally Adele laid a hand on Campbell’s shoulder.
“Your grandma died about seven years ago,” Adele said. “She was very sick, but people around here swear her bitterness killed her.”
“She was alive this whole time? She died when I was seventeen.”
Adele nodded.
“And my grandfather’s lived here all along? Two hours away from us?”
Adele hesitated, then looked at Jane and Lila. None of them had words to comfort Suzanne’s daughter.
Everything the girl thought she knew was a lie.
Lies her mother had told.
Were they wrong to tell the truth? Would it somehow ruin Campbell’s memory of Suzanne?
No way around it now. The pain hovered overhead—familiar pain that sliced into Jane.
Campbell excused herself, leaving the three of them staring at each other, dumbfounded.
She’d come there for answers, but Jane wondered if she’d rather go back to not knowing the truth. Some secrets were too painful to dig up. Some feelings were too heavy to feel.
Maybe they shouldn’t have told her anything. Were these painful secrets even theirs to share? If they kept this up, Campbell would regret ever coming to Sweethaven—ever meeting any of them.
Jane sighed. She’d imagined this so differently.
SEVENTEEN
Lila
Lila tossed and turned, punching the pillow then flipping it over. No use. No matter what she did, sleep eluded her. Finally, she gave in and went downstairs. Cold floors under bare feet sent a shiver down her spine.
The house, which should be providing relaxation and comfort, had done the exact opposite—sent new thoughts spinning in her already confused head. Memories she’d done everything to bury now flashed in front of her like a beauty queen’s bleached white teeth under hot stage lights.
Her phone on the granite countertop in the kitchen showed no missed calls. No messages.
Where was Tom? Did he even care that she’d gone?
Maybe he had a trip. Maybe he had gone overseas. She hadn’t bothered to look at his schedule before she left. She’d just gone. Impulsively. That was so unlike her. She hadn’t even remembered to put her favorite hand lotion in her bag, the lotion that rubbed the wrinkles from her hands. The lotion that promised youth.
But she knew the truth. And so did Tom. She hated to imagine all the ways she disappointed her husband. No longer the picture of beauty, wrinkles had wormed their way into her once-taut skin. He’d never mentioned them, but she could tell things had changed between them over the years. Would he still marry her if he’d known this is what they’d become? Sometimes tragedy brought people closer, but not them. Theirs had torn them apart.
Had it gotten more difficult for Tom to spend time in their empty home, a home devoid of the sounds of children? Maybe they’d been torn apart by the constant reminder that they’d never have the one thing they always wanted.
A baby.
Not for lack of trying either. With Daddy’s wealth, she had access to the best of everything. Doctors, fertility treatments, answers.
But a baby seemed the one thing Daddy’s money couldn’t buy.
It had driven a wedge between them. With every birthday that passed, she watched the dream get further and further away, like a boat sailing out to sea.
Tom had always wanted kids. He’d have been a great father too, but Lila sometimes wondered if this was her punishment for being such a selfish person.
Maybe God knew what a terrible mother she’d be. Maybe He was sparing her the failure, or sparing her children the therapy.
She spread the old afghan over her lap and lay on the chaise lounge in the front room. Moonlight spilled through the skylights, illuminating the space.
How had she gotten here? How had she allowed herself to become so pathetic? Such a caricature of a person. Beauty pageants and Junior League and social climbing had done nothing to fill the constant void that tormented her.
She pulled the blanket up around her neck, wishing it could offer her the warmth she needed. Wishing she didn’t need strong arms to fall into. She’d spent her life pushing people’s buttons and what had it gotten her?
Her eyes grew heavy and she struggled to keep them open, her mind drifting back to when she had the comfort of friends who’d accepted her for who she was. Only in coming back here did she realize how important that had been.
Lila’s eyes flickered open and she shifted her position on the couch. As her eyes closed again, she relived that summer in her mind.
Blue Freedom Days in Sweethaven made the little town feel even more Mayberry-esque than usual. It didn’t need a holiday to come alive, but for some reason, the mid-summer celebration plugged the town into an electrical s
ocket and turned up the charm. Swarms of people filled the streets, all decked out in red, white, and blue.
Lila arrived near the flag pole to meet the others for the opening ceremony. She’d tucked her pink LeClic camera in her purse. Suzanne had already titled the scrapbook page they’d dedicate to this day: “Blue Freedom Through Our Eyes.”
She watched as women set up booths to sell their jams, jellies, and homemade pies. Men showed off their woodworking projects. Artists displayed their favorite pieces around the perimeter of the square. At the center was the gazebo where the mayor prepared to kick things off.
She met up with Jane and Suzanne, but none of them had spotted Meghan.
“Let’s move up. Meg will find us.” Lila pushed her way through the crowd.
“Good afternoon, Sweethaven,” the mayor began. “We have a long tradition here that goes back to my great-grandfather, one of the original founders of this fair town.”
Suzanne scoffed. “He’s not even trying to be sneaky about his name-dropping anymore.”
“That tradition continues today. The Blue Freedom Days.” Cheers went up from the excited crowd.
“There’s Mrs. Barber.” Suzanne pointed to the other side of the crowd where Meghan’s mom stood in the very front, an American flag in her hand.
“Is Meg with her?” Jane followed Suzanne’s finger, expectation on her face.
Lila glanced at the mayor and then gasped. “No,” she said. “Meghan’s on the stage.”
The three of them stared behind Mayor Swanson where their usually shy friend stood, poised, in front of the entire town.
“What’s she doing up there?” Suzanne waved in Meg’s direction. Meg spotted them and lifted her fingers in a slight wave.
The Mayor continued. “This year, one of our very own, Miss Meghan Barber, will kick things off with her stunning rendition of our national anthem.”
Lila looked at Suzanne and Jane.
A Sweethaven Summer Page 11
