"That will change. She's getting better."
"Well, I'm not going to deal with him right now, and I think we've seen enough of the old homestead." He put the car into drive. "Let's go home."
A few minutes later, he parked in the driveway.
"Do you need any help getting Ashlyn into the house?" she asked.
"No. I'll carry her inside and then come out and unload the rest of the stuff." He paused. "I know I promised that Ash and I would help you with cleanup, so as soon as she's had a nap, we'll come over."
"It's fine. Don't worry about it. There's always tomorrow."
"A deal is a deal. Besides, I don't know if I can go the rest of the night without seeing you."
She shook her head in bemusement. "How is it you're still single when you know just the right thing to say?"
"It's not a line, Mia. I'm speaking from the heart." His eyes turned serious. "You're amazing. I've never met anyone like you."
Her heart skipped a beat at his warm gaze. "Thank you. Anyway, I'm going to go. You know where I'll be."
"Okay, one second." He cast a quick glance toward the backseat, and then turned his gaze back to hers. "One kiss?"
She leaned over and kissed his mouth, wishing for far more than the quick, teasing taste of him. Then she got out of the car and quietly closed the door while Jeremy took his sleepy daughter into his arms and carried her into the house.
She smiled as she watched them go, thinking that in sleep Ashlyn was more than happy to put her arms around Jeremy's neck. She was slowly coming to trust him. That trust would only get stronger.
She opened her door and walked inside. As she paused by the hall mirror to set down her keys, she saw her reflection and couldn't help thinking that the light in her eyes and red in her cheeks had as much to do with Jeremy as it did with her long day in the sun.
What was she going to do about him?
He was weaving his way into her heart. She'd told herself that it was just a summer fling, something light and fun...but it felt like so much more than that. And Jeremy wasn't helping with his compliments and his unmistakable desire for her.
But where could this go? Both of their lives were completely up in the air.
Which was why she needed this to just be a summer romance.
She'd go back to her life; he'd go back to his. And they'd just have a great memory.
That thought was completely depressing, so she decided maybe she'd just stay living in the happier present for now.
She went upstairs, walked into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes. A shower would cool her down and clear her mind.
An hour later, she'd changed into clean shorts and a shirt and decided it was too nice of an evening to stay inside. Plus, what she really needed to do was start organizing the paintings and make sure she had everything out of the studio that might be part of her planned exhibition.
On her way to the stairs, she paused in front of Carly's open bedroom door. She'd glanced in the room a few times, but she hadn't been able to get herself all the way inside.
Maybe it was time to make that move.
She crossed the threshold and took a deep breath, inhaling her aunt's favorite scent—lavender. Carly had often sprayed it on her pillows and bed sheets and lined her dresser drawers with scented paper.
Mia felt a wave of emotion run through her as she thought about her aunt's smiling face, her joy for life, and her love of travel. She wanted to be more like her adventurous aunt and less like her normal boring self, and not just while she was here in Angel's Bay, but wherever she went next.
Making that silent promise to herself, she walked over to the closet and opened the door. It was a walk-in closet, and as she entered, she was overwhelmed once again by all the stuff; not only the clothes hanging on the rods, but the boxes on the shelves, the piles of shoes on the floor, and the laundry basket overflowing with sheets and towels. She was surprised to see that there were more paintings lined up six deep against the wall. She'd thought all the art was in the studio, but that wasn't the case.
She flipped through several paintings, noting that her aunt had signed some of them. These were Carly's personal paintings and through them she saw a picture of her aunt's life. Some were seascapes that looked very much like the view from the backyard. Others showed European settings, quaint towns, fountains, a river that looked like the Seine.
A rush of emotion swept through her. She was looking at Carly's life—or at least what was left of it.
She'd been right when she'd decided to leave Carly's personal bedroom space for later. It was just too sad to be in here right now. She left the closet and the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Still feeling a little too emotional, she decided to grab a cold bottle of water from the kitchen and go out to the backyard where there were far less memories.
When she stepped onto the patio, something felt wrong.
Her gaze moved toward the studio, and she was shocked to see many of the paintings she'd taken out of the cottage earlier thrown haphazardly on the grass. In fact, some of the canvases had been slashed with a knife.
Her stomach turned over as a wave of nausea ran through her. Who would have done this?
She forced herself to walk past the paintings and open the studio door. The first floor was a mass of destruction. Everywhere she looked, she saw chaos. Boxes of jewelry beads had been dumped on the floor. Sculptures had been smashed and lay in pieces on the tables. Bottles of paint had been poured over every available surface, creating rivers of what felt like anger and devastation.
Shaking her head, she backed out of the studio. The shadows of the trees now seemed ominous. She no longer felt like this was her safe, peaceful backyard. Goose bumps ran down her arms and her heart thudded against her chest.
She told herself to get a grip; it was probably just a disgruntled artist. Or some bored teenagers. At least, they hadn't tried to get into the house.
On the other hand, the house had been locked up while the studio had been wide open. She'd never imagined someone would come into the yard and do this.
She needed to call the police—or someone. Jeremy would know what to do.
Jogging toward the gate, she ran up to his front door and rang the bell.
He opened the door a moment later, a smile spreading across his face when he saw her. He'd changed out of his bathing suit into jeans and a clean shirt. "Mia, I was going to come by and see if you wanted to get dinner with us."
"I have a problem, Jeremy."
His smile faded as he took in the expression on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Someone broke into the studio. They made a huge mess. I think I need to call the police."
"Hold on—what?"
"Come see for yourself."
As she finished speaking, Ashlyn slid past Jeremy and gave Mia a smile.
"Hi Ashlyn. Can I borrow your dad for a second?" she asked. "I want to show him something at my house."
"I'll come, too," Ashlyn said aloud.
"Uh, I don't know," she said, not sure she wanted Ashlyn to see the mess.
Jeremy frowned. "Is it that bad?"
"A bunch of paintings were destroyed."
"Ashlyn, why don't you wait here? I'll be right back," he told her.
Ashlyn shook her head and darted down the steps, running toward the gate leading into Mia's backyard before anyone could stop her.
"She's really quick sometimes," Jeremy said, pulling the front door closed behind him as he stepped onto the porch.
"I can't imagine who would have done this," she said, as they hurried next door. "I'm just glad they didn't get into the house."
As they walked into the yard, she saw Ashlyn picking up one of the slashed canvases. Jeremy walked over to his daughter and took the picture out of Ashlyn's hands. He glanced back at Mia, a grim expression in his eyes now.
"I told you it was bad."
"You were right." He looked at his daughter. "Ashlyn, I need to go into the st
udio with Mia and you need to stay out here. I mean it."
"There's broken glass inside," Mia added. "We don't want you to cut yourself. Why don't you sit at the table and wait for us?"
"Okay." Ashlyn walked over to the table and sat down.
Jeremy strode toward the studio, preceding her into the room. His gaze swept the room, his jaw tightening with anger. "I'm calling the police."
"It was probably just some bad kids, right?"
"I don't know, but this looks like more than kids to me."
While Jeremy called the police, she walked outside and went over to the table. Ashlyn looked a little worried.
"It's all right," Mia said reassuringly, sorry she'd involved Jeremy and Ashlyn. This was the last thing Ashlyn needed. She tried to downplay the problem. "Someone made a mess in the studio, so we'll have more to clean up, but it needed to be cleaned up anyway, so it's not the worst thing."
"They're sending someone over," Jeremy said as he joined them at the table.
"Good. This must have happened while we were at the beach."
"I'm glad you weren't here," he said grimly.
"It probably wouldn't have happened when I was home. I didn't lock the studio door when we left. I didn't think it was necessary."
"I wouldn't have thought so, either."
"You should go home. I'll wait for the police."
"I'd like to stay with you, but…"
"You should take Ashlyn home."
He looked toward his daughter. "Yes. Let's go figure out what we're going to have for dinner, Ash."
Ashlyn slid off her chair and walked over to Mia. She slid her hand into Mia's and said, "You come, too."
"I can't right now, honey. I have to clean up, but I'll see you later."
"Come now."
"Mia has some things to take care of," Jeremy said.
"I'll walk you back to your house," Mia said, sensing that Ashlyn was about to throw a fit. There were storm clouds brewing in her eyes, and she had a feeling the uncertainty of what was going on was bothering Ashlyn more than she and Jeremy could understand.
She held Ashlyn's hand firmly as they walked through the gate and down the side of the house.
As they neared the front yard, a police car sped down the street, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the house.
As the uniformed officer stepped out of the car, and headed toward them, Ashlyn let out a shockingly long scream of terror. She let go of Mia's hand and ran toward her father, her arms outstretched, begging for him to lift her up, to hold her.
Jeremy swept her up in his arms. "It's okay, baby," he said.
"Don't let them take me away," she yelled, tears streaming down her face. "Don't let them take me, Daddy. Please, please, don't let them take me away again. I won't be bad anymore. I promise."
Mia's heart tore a little more with each terrified, panicked word, especially the one that turned Jeremy's face white. Ashlyn had called Jeremy Daddy for the very first time.
"No one is taking you anywhere," Jeremy said firmly. "You and I are always going to stay together."
"You should take her inside," Mia said.
"I will." He gave Kent a nod and then took Ashlyn into his house.
"What's going on?" Kent asked in confusion. "What happened?"
"A few things," she said. "I think your police vehicle and your uniform scared Ashlyn. I don't know if you're aware of her background, but her mother was killed in a robbery. I assume the police must have arrived at the scene and were possibly the ones to take her away from her mother."
"Damn," he muttered. "Poor kid."
She nodded, hoping this event wouldn't be a setback for Ashlyn.
"So what's the other thing? Why did you call for the police?"
"The studio was vandalized. I'll show you," she said, leading him into her backyard.
As she showed Kent the cottage, Mia got angry. "Why would anyone do this?" she asked.
Kent studied the destruction with a sober gaze. "I don't know. It's a mess. This place looks nothing like it did when I stayed here a year ago. Then it was a safe, warm haven."
"Well, I don't think it's been that for a while. There was a lot of junk in here when I arrived, but someone came in here and deliberately destroyed things." As she spoke, she wondered if that person had been in the studio before, perhaps one of the artists who didn't want their work to be shown. But she doubted Christina Wykoff or Rita Phelps would do this, and Kent certainly didn't look like he was guilty.
It was possible some of the other artists had heard about the upcoming exhibition, perhaps someone she hadn't met yet. "Do you think this was done by someone who stayed here?"
"I don't want to believe that. Carly offered this studio up for free to give people a chance to recover from whatever they were going through. Coming here was the best thing that I could have done. The two weeks I was here changed my life."
"How so?"
"I needed a place where I didn't have to answer the well-meaning questions of my family; I didn't have to keep assuring everyone I was all right. I didn't have to worry that if I couldn't sleep at night that I would wake anyone else up if I turned on the lights or went for a walk at two in the morning. I got better here," he said. "I painted my demons and surprisingly enough, they went away once I put them on paper." Kent finally turned his head to look at her, and there was an apology in his eyes. "Sorry, this isn't about me. I got lost in the past for a moment."
"That's why you didn't want me to show your art, because you painted your demons."
"In crazy bad, big brushstrokes. They don't deserve to be displayed."
"I understand." She finally got it. It wasn't the quality of the work Kent was worried about; it was giving his demons public attention.
"I never thought about what Carly would do with the painting I left her," Kent said. "I assumed she would throw it away; it wasn't good. But maybe she would have put it in a gallery with the others she'd collected. I guess I should have asked her if she had that intent. Perhaps she had the same idea you did. It was her right. The painting belonged to her." He paused. "Carly was a wonderful woman. She helped me turn my life around. I wish I could say we'll find out who did this and punish them, but I don't think it will be easy. We're still looking for the vandals who broke into the high school last month. They messed up a couple of classrooms."
"Like this? Maybe it was the same person or persons."
"It's possible."
"You can't get fingerprints or anything from in here?"
"A lot of people have been in this place. Even if we could get prints, I doubt they would pinpoint who did this. Was the studio locked?"
"No," she said with a sigh.
"Once you get this cleaned up, you might want to make it a little more difficult to get into the yard and into the studio."
"I know. I should have been more careful. I wasn't planning to go out today, and then Jeremy asked me to build sand castles with him and Ashlyn. I should have locked up first. But Angel's Bay has lulled me into a false sense of security."
"It is a safe town, but you still have to take ordinary precautions." Kent paused. "Jeremy didn't win the competition again, did he? You know, he won like ten years in a row, right?"
"I thought it was six."
"Close enough."
"No, we didn't win. We came in seventh."
Kent whistled under his breath. "Jeremy must have been pissed."
"He handled the disappointment well. His main goal was to get closer to his daughter, and that happened. Ashlyn had a great time, so from that standpoint it was a win."
"I'm glad to hear that. You know before this happened," he said sweeping his hand toward the mess, "I was thinking Jeremy should try his hand at some painting. It helped me get rid of my frustrations. It might work for his."
"You think he's frustrated?"
"Don't you? He has a kid who won't talk to him, and his career is up in the air."
"True. I'm aware of what's going on."
"He's a good guy," she said simply.
"One of the best," Kent agreed. "Jeremy was always better than me and Barton. Whatever he did, he always had the edge, whether it was academics or sports or just being a natural-born leader. It used to drive Barton crazy. I just accepted that Jeremy was blessed with a few more gifts than I was."
"You want him to stay in Angel's Bay, don't you?"
"Yes. I know he has issues with his dad, and he's always said he'd never live here again, but this would be a good place for him to raise his daughter and to be with his friends. Leaving the Army will be extremely difficult for him. I know what it's like to have to reinvent yourself. I can help him navigate that course."
"You don't think this town would be too quiet?"
"I think he could use some quiet, some peace, a daily reminder that there are still beautiful places and good people in the world. It's easy to lose your way when all you see is evil."
His words sent a shiver down her spine. Despite Kent's easygoing manner, it was clear that he'd been to hell and back. Had Jeremy made that same trip? She suspected the answer to that question was yes.
"I should get back to work," Kent said. "If you have any more problems, give us a call."
"You don't think they'll come back, do you?"
"I can't imagine why. Whatever they wanted to do, they did."
She thought so, too. "I'll walk you out."
When they reached his car, Kent looked over at Jeremy's house. "I hope Ashlyn is all right. Do you think I should try to talk to her before I go, let her know I'm a good guy?"
"I think you should let Jeremy handle it for now."
"I hope I didn't make his life more difficult."
"Me, too." She also felt torn between trying to help and giving Jeremy and Ashlyn some space. But she'd told Kent to let Jeremy handle his daughter; she needed to take her own advice.
Fourteen
"It's okay, Ash," Jeremy said, stroking Ashlyn's hair. Since coming back to the house twenty minutes earlier, he'd sat down on the couch with Ashlyn's arms still wrapped tight around his neck, her body shaking with the weight of the sobs pouring from her mouth.
If I Didn't Know Better Page 16
