Adele recoiled.
“I’m not Meghan, Adele, I can’t forgive you for her.”
Adele gasped.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Campbell said. “I’m sorry. It’s just—this is all getting to me, that’s all.”
“Of course I want her to forgive me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted—to make sure she knows how sorry I am.” Adele wrestled with the anger and sadness that sprang to life inside her. “I just hung up the phone with her.”
“With Meghan?”
Adele nodded, begged herself to keep it together.
“And?”
“I am full of regrets. I thought I was helping her. But her sobriety was pretty new. The lifestyle she’d been living—it didn’t lend itself to trust. But my accusations—my disbelief of my own daughter—that’s what made her leave. She knew I suspected she’d been using that day, and that hurt her. If I could take it back, I would.”
Campbell’s face softened.
“Just like your grandfather. I know how sorry he is. I’ve seen it.”
“What he did—”
“Was no worse than what I did. I accused my own daughter of the unthinkable. I might as well have told her that boy’s blood was on her hands.” The memory of that day skittered through her mind. She pushed aside the image of Meghan’s face. “It was my fault she left. I forced it—just like your grandparents forced your mom. And yet, you’re sitting here, holding my hand.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Campbell
Campbell stood in Adele’s guest bathroom. After a day spent mostly outside, she felt grimy and needed to clean up. She splashed water on her face and dabbed it dry. A glance in the mirror left her with a deep ache. The quiet house scratched at the pain she’d buried for days.
She closed the toilet lid and sat down, her head in her hands.
“God, this doesn’t make any sense,” she said out loud. “Why am I even here?”
She’d meant here as in Sweethaven, but once the sentence had been spoken, a bigger meaning came into play. Why was she here? So far, her life had brought nothing but ruin.
She startled at a noise in the hallway and wiped the tears from her face. She tried to focus on the positive—at least she had more answers than when she’d first arrived.
Back in the guest room, she noticed that the trunk sat in the middle of the floor. Luke must’ve brought it in. Subtle.
She changed clothes and reapplied her makeup, but the trunk tormented her. She flung the lid open and pulled out one of the letters her mother had written to her grandparents.
She tore open the envelope.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I wanted to write you a quick note to let you know how we’re doing, and to see if maybe you’d like to see us again soon? Campbell is starting to walk now—or at least trying to. She’s really cute and smiles all the time. I would love for you to get to know her.
I’ve decided to enroll at the community college here. I got a scholarship and some financial aid, so I hardly have to pay anything. I’m going to study art and become a teacher. I think I’ll be really good at it.
Here are a couple of photos from Cam’s one-year photo shoot. I think she has Dad’s ears, what do you think? Take care, and please call. I’d love to hear from you soon.
Love,
Suzanne
Two wallet-sized photos had fallen to the ground when she opened the letter. Her mother had tried to make contact, but her grandparents had returned the letter unopened. All the letters. Judging by the postmarks, it looked like Mom stopped trying after Campbell turned five—old enough to start asking questions. Mom hadn’t cut them off—they’d cut her off. And she’d made up that story about their death so Campbell wouldn’t be hurt knowing her own grandparents didn’t want her.
She wiped the tear that had fallen down her cheek and returned the stack of letters to the trunk next to the scrapbook pages her mother had hidden away. Those pages could tell her the truth about Mark Davis.
The stairs creaked, and she shut the trunk. Adele appeared in the doorway. “Just checkin’ on ya, hon. Everyone’s downstairs, but I didn’t want to serve the food without you.”
The welcome distraction she needed.
“I’ll be right down,” she said.
She shoved the trunk out of the way and walked downstairs.
Luke saved her a spot next to him at the table, and she wished she didn’t have so much on her mind. It would’ve been lovely to spend the evening marveling at his tan skin or his stubbled chin. Or the way he paid attention to her without being smothering.
“I took the trunk to your room,” he said. “Just in case.”
“I saw that. Thank you.” She didn’t really feel thankful, though. Part of her wished she could dump that trunk in the lake and never open it again. But another part of her—the part that needed answers—was grateful for his thoughtfulness.
Dinner played out like a well-rehearsed scene in a movie. Old friends reconnected. They laughed. They passed good food around for second—and third—helpings. Campbell documented it all with her camera. And while they had all been strangers to her this time last week, she reveled in the quiet familiarity of her mother’s friends.
The night waned, and people dispersed. Graham and Luke talked at length about the best golf courses in the area. Jane’s daughters headed out for a fish fry down at the beach, and Sam tossed the ball to Mugsy, who stared at it and laid her head back down.
The four women huddled at the table over coffee and apple dumplings.
“Everything was just wonderful, Adele.” Jane sipped the hot coffee.
“It really was, thank you for including me,” Campbell said.
“Don’t be silly. You’re part of the family now. All of you are—so you better not be strangers.” Adele took a bite of her apple dumpling. “I just wish Meghan could be here.” She looked away.
“I could’ve sworn I saw Nick in the grocery store earlier,” Lila said. “I can’t believe he lives here now.”
“Yeah, after they split up, he moved back here.” Adele sighed. “Their twins divide their time between here and Nashville. When Meghan’s on tour, they stay with Nick and his mom. I’m worried, though; Violet Rhodes has never been right in the head.”
“I remember,” Jane said. “Poor Nick, growing up with her for a mother.”
“I bet I have stories that could rival his.” Lila laughed.
“What did you mean ‘when Meghan’s on tour’?” Campbell asked.
Adele set her drink on the table. “That’s right, you don’t know. Meghan is Meghan Rhodes. The country singer.”
“What? Why didn’t you guys tell me this?” Campbell shook her head. “She’s famous.”
“Yes, she is, darlin’,” Adele said.
“Really famous.” Campbell glanced at Luke, who had also managed not to reveal who his sister was. She mailed a letter to a famous singer, and she didn’t even realize it.
“Let’s change the subject,” Adele said. “Where are we at with your daddy-search?”
“I found some more scrapbook pages.” The words escaped before Campbell had a chance to decide if she wanted them to.
“You did?” Jane set her mug down.
“They were hidden in the trunk. With letters Mom had written to her parents.”
Adele let out a slight gasp.
“The letters had been returned—unopened.”
“What in the world was wrong with Suzanne’s mom?” Jane shook her head. “I don’t understand how a mother could intentionally stop speaking to her own child.”
Campbell glanced at Adele, who looked away.
“I’m so sorry, Adele, I didn’t mean—” Jane’s cheeks went red.
“No, darlin’, you’re right. It’s no way for parents to carry on with their children. Yet, here I am.” She paused, as if trying to decide whether to go on. “I made a grave mistake with Meghan, and she’s makin’ me pay for it. I have to let her work it out for
herself and pray that the good Lord brings her back to me.”
Campbell smiled softly as her eyes met Adele’s.
“Campbell, what did the pages say?” Lila asked.
“I only read one of them. It was from the first night she met a boy out on the dock. She said she’d had a huge fight with her parents and she snuck out. He was there. They talked. Sounded innocent, but I think you might’ve been wrong. Whoever this guy was—I think maybe she loved him.”
Lila and Jane exchanged a look.
“Do you still think it could’ve been Mark Davis?” Campbell tried to read them both.
Jane shrugged. “It would really surprise me if it was.”
“It seems the most logical possibility,” Lila said. “Mark was so good-looking and we all knew he’d end up rich like his father. I think in some way we all had a crush on Mark Davis.”
“Lila!” Jane threw her napkin at her.
“What? I’m just telling the truth. Not like your crush on him, of course.” Lila laughed.
“Maybe it was Gunther,” Jane said.
Confused glances criss-crossed over the table. Then Lila burst out laughing. “I am sure your mom had better taste than that. Mark Davis is definitely the best option.”
Campbell went to bed that night replaying the conversation in her mind. She’d spent hours editing photos, but even that distraction couldn’t keep her mind from wandering. As she tried to sleep, her thoughts returned to the pages in the trunk. The words her mother had written. Quietly, she opened the lid and fished the stack from inside.
One by one, she read the pages her mom had hidden. Like a delicious romance novel, the pages chronicled not only a love story, but a friendship—between two people who felt misunderstood everywhere but on that dock in the middle of the night.
One of the pages described a conversation they’d had about their fears of moving beyond high school—something that supported the argument that it was Mark Davis and not an older man. Another page mentioned her friends and how she needed to be careful to keep from wanting anything but friendship from this boy because it could erode the relationships that meant so much to her. Another clue that it was Dr. Davis.
One page, written in white paint pen on a dark navy sheet of cardstock, had been titled “The Night Everything Changed.”
Her mom had drawn stars and a sliver of a moon on the background. The dock led to a boat, and in the boat, her mom had drawn two people. The journaling read:
Tonight he arrived with a yellow rose. Maybe I wanted it to mean more than it did. Maybe it wasn’t a symbol of his undying love—just something pretty he found on the way to the dock.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I know better. We had the perfect friendship—one that I could count on, different from my girlfriends, and I ruined it. I let us ruin it. We had gotten so close, but I think we both got confused. I let myself fall for someone that was never supposed to be mine to begin with. And I made a huge mistake. He told me he was sorry. He’d never meant for it to happen either. My heart is broken. Everything will change now. We’ll never be the same. But I’ll never forget it. Not for as long as I live.
Mom had loved him. Whoever he was. He broke her heart.
Campbell cried, not just for herself, but for her mom—who’d never found someone to replace the love she knew in Sweethaven.
THIRTY-FIVE
Campbell
Sunlight poured in the windows, rousing Campbell from sleep.
She looked at the scrapbook pages strewn across the floor. She must’ve dropped them when she drifted off. She’d discovered more evidence to prove Lila’s theory. A wave of fear shot through her body. Dr. Davis could be in town at that very moment.
She curbed the emotions, trying to forget she had a grandfather to attempt to forgive and a maybe-father to confront.
So far, every effort to ignore those facts had failed.
She threw off the covers and hurried to get ready. After one final glance in the mirror, she went downstairs. The house was quiet. Even Mugsy was gone.
Tonight she’d pick up her prints and take them to the gallery for framing.
She walked down Elm Street to Main and turned toward downtown.
Campbell took a couple shots of the flurry of activity in Sweethaven Square as residents decorated the gazebo. She walked down a busier than usual Main Street until she reached the Café.
Inside, her eyes grazed the crowd until she found Luke behind the counter.
As he glanced up and met Campbell’s eyes, his smile widened and he waved. The little old lady he waited on followed his stare until she spotted Campbell, gave her the once-over, and then wiggled her eyebrows, teasing Luke. His face flushed red, and he handed the woman her drink.
“Did you get all your shots edited?”
“I finished them around two, but I took more this morning.”
“Did you send them to the place I told you about? I called my buddy Jeff—he’s going to rush them through for you.”
“Yeah, I e-mailed them. Thanks, Luke.” Had anyone ever been so nice to her?
“My pleasure. Listen, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but I thought you might want to know that Dr. Davis is here.” Campbell’s pulse quickened.
“Right over there.” He pointed to a man sitting at the high counter against the wall. The man was reading a newspaper and drinking from a disposable coffee cup. His back was to them so she couldn’t make out his features.
Campbell switched her bag from one shoulder to the other. She knew an opportunity had presented itself. Her maybe-father was only a few feet away. She could potentially sit down and have a conversation. Maybe God had opened a door for her. But that was silly. Why would God do that?
“He’s by himself,” Luke said.
“Should I talk to him?” Campbell’s mouth went dry like someone had swabbed the moisture away with thick strips of cotton.
Luke laid a hand on her shoulder. “I think you’re the only one who can make that decision.”
Sometimes she hated being a grown-up.
“All right,” she said. “Wish me luck.”
She hitched the bag up higher on her shoulder and walked toward Dr. Davis. She left a seat between them.
Dr. Davis concentrated on his newspaper. He wore reading glasses and a thick gold band on his left ring finger.
She imagined herself as a little girl, showing him crayon drawings or telling him fairy tales. She imagined him taking her to the beach and building sand castles on the shore. Or coming home with a puppy in his arms—a dog he’d picked out just for her. She’d name the dog Ollie and teach it to catch a Frisbee in mid-air. She’d call home from college after a particularly difficult exam and her father would tell her to “stay the course.” He’d say, “You can’t give up after the first hard test, Cam.” He’d call her Cam because that’s what fathers do. They give their daughters nicknames like Sweetheart and Peanut-girl and Squigs.
She chewed the inside of her lip as she tried to work up the courage to speak. She must’ve been staring because Dr. Davis, her maybe-father, gave her a sideways glance. She smiled and looked away.
“Here’s your latte.” Luke must’ve have witnessed her crashing and burning.
“Thank you, Luke.” Her voice was quiet.
“Dr. Davis, how’s that coffee?”
The man smiled up at Luke. “Can’t find a better cup anywhere, Luke. I dream of this coffee when I’m back home.”
“Good to hear it.” He paused and looked at Campbell. “This is Campbell Carter. I think you might remember her mom, Suzanne?”
He stared at Campbell, but she could tell by his expression her mom’s name hadn’t registered.
“She used to come when she was a kid,” Campbell said. “She hung out with Luke’s sister Meghan and Jane—”
“Oh, Suzi.” He laughed. “I remember. I haven’t seen her—wow, since I was in high school.”
Campbell glanced at Luke. He’d swooped in like a knight and sa
ved her from the fire-breathing dragon.
“How is your mom?” Dr. Davis had folded his paper and now gave her his undivided attention.
Her imagination sprang to life again, this time with a giant pile of autumn leaves. She could smell their crispness. And then she was seven, burying him in the sand, jumping off a diving board into his arms, playing catch in the yard.
She pushed the daydream aside. “She passed away, actually.”
He sank back in his chair, slouched at the shoulders, and sighed. “I’m so sorry. She was young.”
“Cancer.”
He lifted his chin. “Ahh.”
“Dr. Davis, I was wondering if you and my mom ever—dated?”
“Suzanne and me?” He laughed. “No. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
“So you two never—” She squirmed in her seat. “I’m looking for my father.”
His eyes widened.
“My mom’s friends don’t know who he is and she never told me. Someone mentioned you were around a lot back then.”
She recognized the look in his eyes. Pity, clear and unrestricted. He felt sorry for her.
Humiliation stood at the door to her heart and knocked. She sighed. Another dead end. Another mistake. Another regret.
“I wish I could help you, but it wasn’t me. I was pretty hung up on Jane back then if you want to know the truth. Suzanne always tried to talk me into asking her out, but I was too chicken. The next summer, she’d already started dating the guy she ended up marrying.”
“Graham.”
Dr. Davis nodded. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. She got pregnant here, the summer before her senior year.”
He shook his head. “You know…” His eyes glazed over as if he were remembering something.
“What is it? Do you know who it could be?”
He hesitated for too long a moment and then re-focused his eyes on her, quickly looking away. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Dr. Davis, if you know something, please tell me. I have no one else.”
The harder she looked for her father, the angrier she grew with her mother for keeping this secret. What could be more important than leaving her with a father, rather than leaving her alone?
A Sweethaven Summer Page 20
