A Sweethaven Summer

by Courtney Walsh

  “And a wife?”

  He nodded. “Melissa. Nice lady.”

  Campbell looked away. If she confronted this maybe-father, she could ruin things for his real-life wife and family.

  “You want to get back to the photos?” Luke glanced outside. They’d cut their tour short when Campbell got Lila’s call. “I had to promise Russ another week, but he said we could come back.”

  “I think maybe I need to be alone.” Sorrow wormed its way into her belly as she said the words. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to hop back on the trolley, tour Sweethaven with this handsome guy, and take pictures of all the places her mom had painted. Land and buildings rich with history—her history.

  She did not want to watch his face fall or his smile fade.

  “I’m sorry, Luke. I think I have some things to sort out.”

  “I understand. Will you be at my mom’s for dinner? She’s throwing a pre–Blossom Festival bash and she wants you to come. I think Jane’s whole family will be there and Lila’s coming…”

  “Sure. I can do that.” She forced a smile. “Thanks for understanding.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds that felt a lot longer, and finally Campbell looked away.

  “I guess I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  She nodded and walked outside.

  As nervous as she was to meet Dr. Mark Davis, her conversation with Lila had given her hope. A big-shot cardiologist or a deadbeat dad: one of these men had to be her father. She wanted to cautiously entertain the idea that in a matter of days, she could find out his identity. The sun shone down on her face, and she reveled in having an open afternoon. No commitments—only her and her camera.

  As she walked toward the lake, her mind wandered. She took her shoes off, feeling the warm sand soft beneath her feet. In the distance, she glimpsed the lighthouse her mom had painted. The carousel. The boardwalk. The places of her mom’s youth.

  And her dad’s.

  Zoom. Click. Click. Click. Her camera captured the sights.

  The more time she spent here the harder it got to ignore the fact that she had another parent. Somewhere. And for years she’d been trying on different dads in her imagination, but none of them had stuck.

  What would it be like to find him? What if Dr. Mark Davis had her upturned nose or her blond hair? What if he had long, thin fingers like hers? What if his three kids were her half-siblings, and they invited her to be part of their family?

  Or what if his wife left him because he’d never told her the truth about having a daughter? She’d already ruined enough families—she didn’t want to risk ruining another.

  But you deserve the truth too.

  The names Jared Kimball and Mark Davis rambled through her head. Someone had to know the truth.

  Seagulls chirped overhead. She imagined the beach was filled with people during the summer, but now it was virtually empty. A man threw a Frisbee to a golden retriever, a young woman jogged on the sand near the water, and an old man sat on a bench just ahead in the distance.

  An old man. Tall. Lanky. Familiar.

  Her grandfather.

  He didn’t see her. She could run the other way, but something stopped her. This man could have the answers she needed. Would he turn and walk away from her after the way she’d spoken to him at the auction?

  Her words rushed back and heat crawled up the back of her neck.

  She had to find out for herself.

  But the nagging question of the money rose in the back of her mind. And what if he had forced her mom to tell him who had gotten her pregnant?

  But Lila and Jane will find out the truth. You don’t need him.

  She could ask him and then go. Luke was right—she didn’t have to have a relationship with him. She’d ask him the question and that’d be it.

  Simple.

  But as she got closer, as he looked up and saw her approaching, she realized there was nothing simple about it. In all her years of imagining the perfect father, she’d never considered a grandfather. She’d never entertained the idea that her mom hadn’t told the truth.

  He stared at the ground, as if he couldn’t bear to look her in the face.

  The closer she got the more she wanted to turn around. Run away. Get back in her car and never come back to Sweethaven again.

  But she had questions. And he had answers, so she kept walking.

  “Would you like to sit?” He looked at the bench next to him. His quiet voice surprised her. He seemed…broken.

  She willed herself not to feel sorry for him after what he’d done to her.

  They stared at the water as it lapped the shore. Birds hopped on wet sand. A man with a metal detector passed by and waved. The man at her side lifted a hand in recognition.

  The tense silence stretched between them like a tightrope pulled taut. Her mind whirled with questions.

  “It’s beautiful here, don’t you think?” He focused on the lake.

  A quick glance at him and then back to the lake. She didn’t respond.

  “I moved here year-round when Cath—your grandmother—died. People thought I was crazy, but they’d never been to Sweethaven. What do you think of it?”

  She shifted in her seat and straightened her shoulders. She didn’t want to have a conversation with him. She didn’t want to enable him to ease his guilty conscience with a quick chat about the weather.

  “It’s nice.” She wished she’d spent her summers here, running the beaches with girlfriends and learning how to scrapbook their memories with Mom and her friends, but his actions had prevented that.

  “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

  “Did you pay off Mom’s house?” she blurted.

  He turned to her. “What?”

  “The house is paid for. Was it you?”

  She could see by the look on his face he had no idea what she was talking about.

  His shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “I wish I could’ve done that for you. We never had much extra money.”

  She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying, but her eyes betrayed her and clouded anyway. If he hadn’t given them the money and paid for the house, then who had? Certainly not Jared Kimball.

  She stared at the water. A young family walked on the long dock that led to the lighthouse. The mom held the hand of a toddler, and the dad carried an older child on his shoulders. From a distance, they looked like the family she’d always imagined having.

  Too late now.

  “I’m sorry.” Her grandfather’s frailness surprised her.

  She turned to face him, and he looked away.

  “I’m sorry for everything.”

  He wasn’t talking about the house. Or the bank account.

  Conflicted feelings rose inside her. Part of her wanted to tell him she forgave him. That’s how her mother had raised her.

  “You can’t hold onto this stuff, Campbell,” she’d said. “The bitterness will kill you.”

  But some things couldn’t be forgiven with two simple words. Surely Mom understood that or she would’ve made amends before she died.

  Reverend Carter’s eyes welled with tears that glistened in the light of the setting sun. “I have so many regrets.” Starting with her birth.

  “Your mom came by to see me the day she was here, in Sweethaven. She said she forgave me. She’d had a good life and raised an incredible daughter. It shamed me that she’d offer her forgiveness when we were so terrible to her. We’d tried to get her to give you away.”

  Campbell chewed on her lip.

  “Your grandma was so embarrassed. She couldn’t get past that pride and focus on what Suzanne really needed.” He shook his head. “And I went along with it. Suzanne was so belligerent, so strong-willed, but I know she was terrified. I should’ve been there for her.”

  She couldn’t think about that right now. She didn’t want to be the priest at his confessional.

  “You don’t know who my dad is, do you?”

&n
bsp; He shook his head.

  She stared at him for a long moment, determined to discern if he was telling the truth.

  “I tried to get her to tell me. I wanted to wring the kid’s neck. She wouldn’t say a word. I thought she’d have told you though.”

  “She didn’t get a chance.”

  Campbell stood.

  She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t take his regret away. Nothing she said would make what he’d done disappear. His actions had wounded her—as much as she hated to admit it—and sticking around for a second dose seemed like a stupid thing to do.

  He didn’t have the answers she needed.

  “I have to go.” She didn’t move for a long moment. He stared at the water. She should have more to say. She should be able to forgive.

  But she just wasn’t ready.

  Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Adele

  With Luke’s help, Adele hung paper lanterns in the grand oak tree in her backyard. They positioned her favorite long table underneath and decorated it with sprays of twigs and tulips. Swathes of floral fabric hung at the front of the table, held together by small bouquets of white flowers.

  Inside, the pulled pork simmered in the Crock-Pot, cooked first in vinegar and then bathed in homemade barbeque sauce. It should be falling apart by the time her guests arrived. Two large pitchers of sweet tea sat on either side of the long table. The coleslaw was finished and the apple dumplings almost done.

  Now to clean herself up. Her guests would arrive shortly. She hadn’t seen Jane’s family in years, and she’d told Lila to invite Tom, but judging by the reaction she’d gotten, she didn’t expect him. Campbell hadn’t been around all day, and the quiet house begged to be filled with laughter again.

  The phone rang, cutting through the silence.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Hello?”

  Just as she was about to hang up, the person on the other end cleared her throat.

  “Hello?”

  “Mama?”

  Meghan.

  Her face warmed, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  At the sound of Meghan’s voice, Adele’s mind conjured images from that day six years ago—a day filled with regret.

  “Mama, something happened to Alex,” Meghan had said, her face stained with tears.

  “What’s wrong, Meg? What happened?”

  Her daughter’s face fell then and instantly Adele knew. The unthinkable. “What’d you do?” Her words escaped before she could stop them, and the hurt registered on Meghan’s face in an instant.

  “It was an accident,” she said, her eyes pleading.

  “Is he okay?”

  Meghan shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mama.”

  Adele’s pulse raced, her heart beating at lightning speed. Without thinking, she grabbed Meghan’s arm and searched for track marks, then studied her eyes for signs she’d been using again.

  Meghan recoiled. “You think I’m high?”

  She dropped Meghan’s arm. “I don’t know what to think, Meghan.”

  “I’m clean. I told you.” Meghan stared at her, probably searching her face for signs of an ally. “You don’t believe me.” She looked away.

  “I just have to be sure, Meghan. After everything, I have to be sure. If that boy is gone—” Adele’s voice caught in her throat. “If it’s your fault, I need to know.”

  Meghan’s shoulders dropped as the air escaped from her body. Adele watched as pain filled her eyes and, without a word, she turned around and walked out of the kitchen, then out the front door without even a backward glance.

  Adele watched as she drove away, unaware that her daughter would cut off all contact for years.

  She thought about that moment every day, and now, with Meghan on the other end of the phone, the pain rushed back and her chest filled with the pressure of regret.

  “I got a letter—from Suzanne.”

  “I know, hon. We hoped you would show up for Blossom Fest.” She tried to keep her tone light, in spite of the weight that buried her.

  “Probably not a good idea.”

  Adele took a deep breath. “Hon, Suzanne didn’t make it. Her daughter sent those letters to you girls. She died a few days ago.” What she wouldn’t give to hug her daughter right then.

  Meghan paused. “She’s gone?”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

  Silence fell between them. They had so much to say. And in less than an hour, her house would be full of people, but her daughter wouldn’t be one of them.

  “Come home.” Her heart spoke the words. Meghan’s kids were in Sweethaven—with their daddy. Adele always wondered how her daughter went such long stretches without seeing them. If it weren’t for their other grandmother, Violet, Adele would spoil them every chance she got.

  After a long pause, Meghan sniffed. “I can’t, Mama.”

  “You can. Everyone misses you. We all want you here. With us.”

  Regret wove its way through her heart. She should’ve called and told her about Suzanne as Campbell had recommended.

  “I went through my scrapbook pages,” Meg said. “I found one I did about you and that Tammy Wynette song you used to sing to me at night. Even when I was in high school.”

  Adele remembered. The tune of “Bedtime Stories” drifted into her mind, and a smile passed her lips.

  Softly, she sang the chorus into the phone and realized Meg was singing with her. She wiped a tear away as the music closed the gap between them, just as it always had. The years she’d wasted now filled her with remorse. Why had she stopped trying to make it right? She never should’ve given up. You don’t give up on your kids—no matter what.

  “I close my concerts with that song,” Meg said.

  “You do?”

  “Every one.”

  Adele smiled through her tears. “I’d love to hear that someday.”

  “I’d love that too, Mama.”

  Mama.

  “Meg, I’m sorry. For everything.”

  “Oh, sorry Mama. My manager’s calling on the other line. I gotta run.”

  “Meghan, wait.”

  “I’ll call later, okay?”

  Adele couldn’t speak. She didn’t know how to say good-bye again. “You promise you’ll call?”

  “I promise.”

  Adele hung up, and tears poured down her cheeks. It was the kind of gut-wrenching cry she’d only experienced a handful of times in her life.

  The front door opened. “Adele?” Campbell’s voice rang through the entryway and reached her in the kitchen, but she couldn’t respond. She didn’t trust her own voice to hold.

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes and nose, praying she’d done a decent job of putting herself back together.

  “I’m back.” Campbell entered the room.

  “Oh good, Luke told me about the gallery. Did you get what you needed?” Adele stared out the window at the back yard. She knew she should clear up what had happened at the estate sale, but she couldn’t muster the energy.

  “I think so.”

  Adele finally turned around and recognized the heavy sorrow on Campbell’s face. “What’s the matter?”

  “I ran into my grandfather.”

  Adele’s stomach flip-flopped. She knew Michael’s regret intimately—it easily rivaled her own. Maybe she couldn’t fix everything with Meghan, but could she help Campbell understand?

  “And?” They sat at the table.

  “I asked him about the money. The house, the checking account. He didn’t know anything about any of it.”

  “I didn’t think he would.”

  Campbell’s face fell. “Then who?”

  Adele raised her eyebrows.

  “You don’t think…” Campbell’s voice trailed off.

  “Who else?”

  “So he does know about me—he just decided to pay us off instead of actually having a relationship with me.” Sorrow swept across h
er face.

  “Hon, I’m sure there’s a reason.” She closed a hand over Campbell’s.

  “So he must be wealthy—like, a doctor maybe?”

  “Why would you think so?”

  “Lila thinks she knows who my father is. A man named Dr. Mark Davis. And then there was some art student named Jared Kimball. The woman at the gallery said they spent time together.”

  “I remember Mark. I run into him on occasion. Doesn’t really resemble you, but I don’t suppose people would think either one of my kids belong to me. Jared Kimball, though. He’s a local. Pretty sure he’s not your daddy.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Campbell chewed the inside of her lip.

  Adele sighed. “Your mama came over here late one night, frantic over an art student who’d gotten the wrong idea. I think he’d been following her around town. Scared her pretty good.” Adele studied her hands. “Meghan tried to tell her she couldn’t be so nice to everyone all the time. I’m guessing he was the one. He’s a troubled man.”

  “Was that the same year?”

  Adele squinted and stared at the ceiling, as if the answer hung in the heavens. “No. It was the summer Meg got her license. They were sixteen.”

  “So it wasn’t Jared Kimball.” Her chest filled with relief. “So, Dr. Mark Davis?”

  Adele raised one eyebrow.

  “I guess the only thing left to do is to ask him.” Campbell ran her hands through her hair.

  “How was your grandfather?”

  She frowned, then shrugged. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

  “Darlin’, what that man has been through—”

  Campbell looked surprised, but she didn’t respond.

  “Some regrets are too big. You just don’t understand how much he needs your forgiveness. We’re all just mistakes with feet anyway.”

  Campbell’s eyes narrowed as if she were putting the pieces of a puzzle together in the air. “This isn’t about me and my grandfather at all, is it?”

  Adele looked away. “Of course it is.” The lie smacked at her like a child throwing a tantrum.

  “What happened with you and Meghan?”

  Adele sighed and then told her the whole sordid story from top to bottom. “I’m a fine mess of a woman, Campbell Carter.”

  “So, you need me to forgive my grandfather to give you the hope that one day Meghan can forgive you.”