by Rita Garcia
“Then you’re aware Anne gave me up?”
She settled back into her chair, reached over and touched my hand. “Yes. She never hid the fact she had a daughter.”
Before I could reply, something caught her attention, and I followed her gaze to see Logan climbing out of my SUV. She greeted her brother with a hug and headed inside.
Maggie possessed a contagious energy. The way her lips formed words gave me the impression her voice had a melodic quality. Her steps reflected rhythmic movement—without doubt a unique beat going on. And while she epitomized a girlie-girl, Logan—he was all male. There he stood, six feet of pure gorgeous. My hand went to my chest—had my heart actually missed a beat?
His booted steps caused a vibration in the wooden slats of the porch. He pulled a chair to the table. A smile reached his coffee-colored eyes and startled my pulse, in a good way. “Hi, Samantha. Feeling better?”
“This house, the view, the peacefulness—I could spend forever right here.” I swept my hand through the air. “Please, call me Sam.”
“Sam it is.” His wink sent another direct jolt to my heartbeat. I’m losing it—like a teenager reacting to her first crush.
Maggie reappeared and served a pastry and a glass of sweet tea to her brother. “You’ll never guess who Sam is.” Words continued to tumble forth. “She’s Anne’s daughter.”
His aha response surprised me. “You reminded me of someone. But I couldn’t place it.” He took a man-sized bite of his pastry, as though we were not discussing anything that merited undue concern.
“We were talking about Anne being Sam’s birth mom. Go ahead, Sam, tell us the story.” She stood, held up her finger. “Wait. My phone’s ringing. I’ll be right back.”
He chuckled as Maggie dashed inside. “Been that way since we were kids. Seldom slows down.”
“She has a way about her.” Before I lost my nerve, I rushed on. “Does it bother you that I’m Anne’s daughter?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer. The only person I’d discussed the adoption with was my aunt and she’d gone ballistic.
No more fazed than if I’d told him what I had eaten for breakfast, he shrugged and lifted his hands, palms up. “Don’t know her whole story, but she made a difference in many lives—especially children’s.” He stuffed another bite into his mouth.
Maggie came rushing back to the table. “What did I miss?”
“Not a thing, sis.” They both looked at me.
I cringed. “Discovering I’d been adopted put me on an emotional—” Words stuck inside my chest. I couldn’t understand the contradictions I felt—how could I possibly explain them to someone else? “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear the psychobabble.”
“Didn’t you write to Anne after you learned about the adoption?” The sincerity of Maggie’s interest encouraged me to continue.
“Yes, and then we exchanged emails. I wanted to visit her.” I bit down on my lip, trying to compose myself. “I’ll always regret waiting too long.”
“From what Anne told me, you only found out the end of last year and we’ve barely skated into May. Not much time to come to terms with your emotions. If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe she knew about her heart condition.” Maggie tucked one leg up under her.
“The attorney sent me a copy of the autopsy report, along with her death certificate. According to the report, Anne’s condition resulted from a birth abnormality and if found earlier, it might’ve been surgically corrected.” A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. “There’s so much—”
“Doc’s orders say you need to rest.” Logan stood with his hand outstretched.
I placed my hand in his and we trailed behind Maggie to a downstairs guest room. She pulled down the comforter and folded back the French doors. I offered my thanks as they left the room, and easing under the covers, I absorbed the silence—one of the few times being deaf seemed like a gift.
When I awakened, flaming cerise etched with gold burned across the sea. I envisioned stroking the scene across a canvas—not that I could capture the awesome beauty of nature.
The setting sun made it apparent I’d slept the afternoon away. Goldie stretched and eyed her vest on the chair next to the bed. “It’s okay, baby, no worries.” Heavenly aromas had worked their way into the room, and I was suddenly starving. “Let’s go find our hostess.”
We trailed the divine whiffs coming from the kitchen. I inhaled the fragrance—Italian. Logan sat at the table chatting with Maggie as she prepared dinner. What a treasure it must be to have a brother or a sister. “Smells good in here.” Maggie stood, stirring a pot on a black-and-white porcelain stove. The antique appliance had two ovens, and a curved warming compartment on top. “Wow, what a great stove.”
Maggie laid the wooden spoon dripping with white sauce on a plate. She remembered to face me so I could lip-read. “It’s original to the house, although I don’t cook often. When I do, the smoke alarm likes to buzz in with an opinion.” Her animated movements suggested she’d giggled at her own joke. “Logan picked up dinner and brought it over. I’m merely reheating it.”
I turned to Logan. “Fettuccine Alfredo is one of my favorites.” My closed grin widened when he smiled back. “Do you have my keys? I need Goldie’s food from the car.”
“The entry table.” He pointed toward the front hall.
Maggie tapped my shoulder. “Logan brought in Goldie’s things. I filled her bowls—they’re on the patio outside your room. That little girl of yours is adorable.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without her. Now, what can I do to help?”
“It’s under control—you just relax and take it easy.”
I gave up at her no-nonsense, don’t-argue-with-me attitude and carefully lowered myself onto a chair across from Logan.
“Feeling better?” He tipped a coffee mug to his lips.
“Much. Rest was exactly what I needed.” If eyes truly reflected the soul, I hoped mine weren’t broadcasting the perplexity storming my insides. Unanswered questions were never far from my thoughts.
“Shall we go informal?” Maggie piled pasta and sauce onto three plates and brought them to the table. She returned to the stove and grabbed a basket filled with toasted garlic bread and joined us.
“Do you plan to be in town long?” Maggie wound the pasta around her fork.
“The private school where I work has been experiencing funding issues, which enabled me to take a month-long leave of absence.” Not only did I hold the position of administrator—I had started the school. I looked at Logan. “Are you on duty tonight?”
He nodded as Maggie touched my hand to get my attention. “I own Magnolia’s Antiques, two doors down from the bookshop. In a day or two, you might want to ride into town with me and see Anne’s shop—if you have the keys.”
“I do. Anne’s attorney sent them. Originally, I planned to stay in the apartment above her shop.” Why had Anne chosen to own a bookshop? “Did Anne love books, or did she open a bookshop for…for some other reason?”
Maggie pushed her plate forward and rested her arms on the table. “Books were her passion. Maybe it was the writer in her—she dreamed of being an author someday.”
The more Maggie talked about Anne, the more I realized the strong bond of friendship they’d shared. “Anne mentioned you in her emails, but I didn’t realize you were so close.”
“Anne and I were great friends. I wish you could have gotten to know her.” Sadness replaced the sparkle in her eyes as she patted a stray tear. “I miss her.”
For a brief second, a flash of jealousy clouded my thoughts. I should have been the one to know Anne—she was my birth mother.
Logan rose abruptly, as though reading my emotions. “I’ll take Sam into the front room where she’ll be more comfortable.”
With my arm locked in his for support, again. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the way my breathing reacted to his touch as he led the way to an antique velvet-tufted sofa.
A fi
re crackled in the fireplace, lighting the room with a gentle glow. My words took on a will all their own. “My father’s sister, my Aunt Gwen, considered Anne a less than desirable person.” I could still feel the sting of my aunt’s words before I left Stone Valley. Raising her shaky voice about what an ungrateful daughter I turned out to be, for wanting to explore my past. Her words still blistered, telling me I wasn’t a true Forrester and never would be. “My aunt gave me the impression she had never approved of my birth mother.”
“Most of the town held Anne in high esteem. Only a fool would say otherwise.” A shadow crossed his face and quickly faded. “You’re searching for answers.”
“Exactly. I want to know about Anne. What she believed. What she excelled at. What she feared.” My most puzzling question remained unspoken—why had she given me away.
“You’d need to ask Maggie about those things.” He stood, picked up the poker, and pushed the logs around, freeing the flames to leap higher.
“Don’t you understand? In the process of finding out everything possible about Anne, I’ll find pieces of myself, bits I never knew existed.” Maybe I should have listened to my aunt and refused to come to Serenity Cove. But what if I no longer belonged in Stone Valley—not as a Forrester? What if I don’t fit in either world?
Chapter Three
One the oldest residents of Serenity Cove, the cigar-store Indian figure stood sentry outside Magnolia’s Antiques, greeting the customers in his colorful headdress. If only I had a silver coin for each time someone stood next to him and had a picture snapped. The ship bell clang as I opened the door to Maggie’s shop.
“Well, hello, what brings you by?”
“What—can’t I visit my favorite sister?”
“You’re wanting more than a sisterly chat.” She smiled and continued arranging jewelry on a glass countertop.
“On my way to see Sam at the bookshop.”
“I’m enjoying getting to know Sam better. We have coffee of the mornings before she heads to the bookshop, like Anne and I used to do. ” She nodded to a table with two rose-colored wing chairs, the setting for one of her favorite things—inviting a friend for a cuppa, as she called it. “Time to sit a few minutes?”
“Not today. I wanted to ask you about Anne’s parents.”
“According to Anne, they don’t want anything to do with Sam—wouldn’t tolerate Anne even mentioning her name.” She gazed out the window as though she might find a solution in the sun’s slanted rays. “Sam needs our prayers.” Maggie fingered the chain of a necklace for a moment. “Logan, take it slow. I see many of Anne’s wonderful qualities in Sam, but don’t get too involved too soon.”
“It’s all good. We’re just friends.” I’d seen Sam almost daily since she’d arrived in Serenity Cove. Yet, I couldn’t argue with Maggie’s logic. Sam would be leaving soon.
I left and walked the few steps to the bookshop. Lilyan Brown was leaving. I stepped aside and held the door as she exited. A look of irritation crossed her face as she brushed past me. Lilyan had moved here when we were in middle school. Her odd behavior had only worsened in high school. And truthfully, not much about her has changed. Why had she visited Sam? The bookshop had remained closed since Anne’s death. It couldn’t be good.
Even though she couldn’t hear me, I called Sam’s name as I entered. The dusty wooden shelves lining the walls remained filled with books. Odd—I still expected Anne to greet me with her cheerful hello. Goldie barked, drawing my attention to the rear of the shop.
“Hi. We’re in the back.” Sam waved.
I joined her at one of the reading tables. “Before the town built a library, Anne allowed us to sit at these tables and do our homework. She kept a set of encyclopedias and a few dictionaries so we could do research or look up spelling words.”
Sam nibbled her bottom lip. “The more you and Maggie tell me about Anne, the more extraordinary she sounds.”
I nodded. “She was.” Sam’s eyes reflected confusion. I wanted to help, but people generally had to work through this kind of stuff on their own. “How’s your morning?”
“Eventful. Received an email from Anne’s attorney, Taylor Jones. There’s something he’s not telling me, I’m sure of it.”
“Most of the locals use Jones. Anne’s will should be pretty straightforward, unless she left a codicil with unusual stipulations in it. He didn’t elaborate?”
“Not really.”
“Anne must’ve left instructions for Taylor to send you the keys to the shop.”
“Yes, and he also mentioned the apartment upstairs. Seems Anne thought of everything.” She tilted her head to the side. “I had a visitor this morning, a woman by the name of Lilyan—didn’t catch her last name.”
“What did she want?” I rubbed the back of my neck. Lilyan’s histrionics not only worked overtime—they never stopped.
“To say hello. And drew a couple of invisible boundary lines.”
“Boundary lines?” My jaw tightened.
“Bizarre. Like your hers, so hands off.”
I thought I had settled this the last time Lilyan pulled this stunt. Before I had a chance to explain, Goldie’s ears popped up and Sam looked toward the front of the shop. Her alert system made her aware someone had came in, before I even knew the door had opened.
Maggie took a seat next to me and glanced at Sam. “Doing okay?”
“I am. The pain is better.”
Maggie leaned on the table. “My assistant came in for the afternoon. We can go home when you’re ready.”
“I’ll drop you at Maggie’s later.” I reached to scratch Goldie behind her ears, but she pulled away, moving closer to Sam.
Sam laughed. “Don’t take it personally. When Goldie has her vest on, she’s a working dog and is trained to respond only to me because she’s on duty.” Sam reached down and ruffled the dog’s fur. “There are a few more desk drawers I’d like to go through, if it isn’t an inconvenience.”
A chance to spend more time with Sam stayed on my mind a lot these days. “No problem.”
Maggie pulled her keys from her crocheted bag. “See you at home then. Be careful and don’t overdo.” She left through the rear of the shop, to the alleyway where she usually parked.
I caught Sam’s attention. “Lilyan and I have never dated. I’ll talk to her and make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”
“Like I told her, I’m only here to put Anne’s affairs in order. My life is in Stone Valley.” Sam stood and Goldie popped up beside her. “I’m going to get busy on those drawers.” Sam crossed the room to Anne’s desk and began poring over letters and pictures she had pulled from a bottom drawer. I moved and sat across from her.
“Pictures of you?” I picked up the photo closest to me. Even as a small child, her azure eyes and honey blond hair were unmistakable.
She shuffled through the photographs. “My mother sent these snapshots to Anne. Evidently, they exchanged letters. I found the notes Anne had written to my mother—that’s how I learned about the adoption. Why the secrets? Why the deceit? Why the lies?” She lowered her voice to not much more than a whisper, apparently directing the questions to herself.
I touched her hand and she looked up. “It’s possible they both loved you.”
“So why withhold the truth?” A mixture of anger and sadness filled her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I want to get out of here.” She reached down to the bag sitting on the floor and winced with a sharp intake of breath.
I helped her lock up the shop. My earlier conversation with Maggie still lingered. If a meeting could be arranged with Sam’s grandparents—they’d fall in love with her. How could they not? Those eyes and that smile—man.
As I drove, Sam peered from one side of Main Street to the other. “This town—it seems fictional. If I could custom design a town, I’d copy Serenity Cove.” She looked at me as though waiting for a reply.
“Not much designing went on.” I looked around at the shops and chuckled.
> She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it over one shoulder.
“You’re right. Mismatched homes turned into shops—I think the city planners followed a crazy-quilt pattern and created a town. But it certainly has a unique charm.” Sam lowered her window and Goldie climbed from the back and laid her head on the edge of the opened space, allowing the wind to ruffle her fur.
When had the town become so vibrant? I glanced at Sam—my heart pounded with a desire to know this beautiful creature better.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dr. Rita Garcia is an inspirational novelist—her imagination was creating stories when she was still too young to put pen to paper. Romance is a big part of her novels. Hope is an even larger element of the stories. Rita and her husband reside in Southern California.
Please visit Rita at her blog and website:
Blog: http://www.reflectionswithdrrita.com/
Website: http://www.ritagarcia.com/
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Other books
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
