Suddenly One Summer (12 page)

“I can take care of myself.”

“And you want to do all this just to get a story?” she queried.

“That’s right,” he said quickly.

He started to pull away, but she tightened her grip on his arm. “I don’t believe you. I think—I think you want to help me.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t have figured you for a knight in shining armor.”

His expression turned grim. “Don’t ever mistake me for that, Jenna. I’m no knight, believe me.”

“Now who’s too hard on himself?”

He shook his head. “You have enough to figure out, Jenna. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced down at her hand on his arm. “And…you should let go.”

She should, but the heat of his body was deliciously warm and the air between them filled with electricity. It was the same charge she felt before she took the stage, the delicious and terrifying sensation that something amazing could happen if she just let
it. Her stomach danced with butterflies and as she looked into Reid’s dark gaze, she knew that he felt it, too.

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her up against him. “Remember that I told you to let go,” he said, before his mouth came down on hers.

The kiss started out hard and a little angry, as if Reid were pissed at himself for wanting her. But as her mouth softened under his, the anger turned to passion. He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he were dying of thirst and she was his salvation.

Suddenly her legs were hitting the edge of the bed and she went down onto the mattress with a soft
swoosh.
Reid followed, his body covering hers, his mouth seeking the soft curve of her neck, his hand caressing her breast, his leg parting her thighs.

She ran her hands through his hair and moved restlessly under him, desperate to get closer. She wanted to feel his hands and his mouth on her bare skin. She yearned to ease the reckless, aching point of desire that was tightening every nerve.

Then the clock chimed. It didn’t make sense at first. She was so caught up in Reid, she’d lost track of where she was. It chimed again and again.

“Goddamn clock,” Reid ground out as he lifted his head. “Who puts a grandfather clock in a hotel room?”

The clock chimed ten times, and Jenna sat up in shock. “Oh, my God, I’m late. I have to pick up Lexie at the library!” She shoved Reid off her and
stumbled to her feet, catching a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. Her hair was tangled from Reid’s impatient hands, her lips soft and kissed, her eyes dark and smoky. “I look like a mess.”

“You look beautiful,” Reid said. “But you should go.”

“Yes. And we can’t do that again. This is the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong everything.”

“Then why does it feel so right?” Reid asked.

Jenna grabbed her purse and headed out the door, having absolutely no answer.

As Charlotte opened the door to her mother’s house and encouraged a reluctant Annie to enter, she hoped she was doing the right thing. Annie had been released from the clinic after several lengthy sessions with a psychiatrist, who had come to the conclusion that Annie was no longer a danger to herself or to her baby. Annie had admitted that jumping off the pier had been a momentarily stupid impulse, and one she had no intention of repeating. She’d felt desperate and alone, and her father’s extreme behavior had driven her to the edge, but she very much wanted to live and to make a life for herself and her baby.

Charlotte had spent enough time talking to Annie to believe her, but she still intended to keep a close eye on her, at least for the immediate future. Annie would face many difficulties in the days and weeks to come, and she would need support to deal with them.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Annie whispered, her face pale, her light brown eyes worried.

“Yes,” Charlotte said reassuringly. “My mother is very happy to have you stay here for a few days until we can find a more permanent place for you to live.”

“She doesn’t think I’m bad, that I’m a—sinner?”

Charlotte suspected her mother had a lot of negative thoughts about Annie and her teen pregnancy, but she hoped her mother would wear her minister’s wife face, not the condemning face she’d shown Charlotte so many years ago. “Don’t worry, it will be fine.” She surreptitiously crossed her fingers, hoping that would be the case.

As they moved farther into the house, Charlotte was surprised by the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. When she’d left the house in the early morning her mother had still been asleep, and she was usually in no hurry to get up and face the day. Apparently something had changed.

“Finally, you’re here,” her mother said as they entered the kitchen. She had an apron on over her black slacks and gray sweater, and there was a rosy glow to her cheeks. She actually smiled when she saw them. “You must be Annie. I’m Monica Adams. I hope you like oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“I—yes,” Annie stumbled.

“Good. Lunch first. I’ve made a chicken salad and I picked up some fresh strawberries at the farmer’s market this morning,” Monica went on. “Why don’t you wash up and we’ll eat? The bathroom is down the hall on the left.”

“Okay.” Annie cast Charlotte a quick look and then left the room.

“Wow, you’ve really gone all out,” Charlotte said in amazement. The bright-eyed woman facing her today was not the woman she’d had a conversation with last night or any of the nights in the last several months. “Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for your father. I had a dream last night. Your father told me that I needed to move on, to be strong for him, to keep his legacy alive, and to make him proud.” Her eyes misted. “He appeared so handsome, so alive, and smiling—not like he looked those last few weeks when he was in so much pain.” She cleared her throat. “I intend to honor your father in every possible way.”

“Great,” Charlotte said warily, not sure where her mother’s new attitude would take them, but it was a welcome change from the half-dead woman she’d been living with.

“Although I could have used your help this morning,” her mother continued. “I had to change Jamie’s sheets and tidy up his room—so much for your taking complete responsibility.”

Apparently her mother wasn’t that different after all. “I had to go into the hospital. Kara Lynch had a cramp scare last night and I wanted to check on her, but she’s fine.”

“Thank goodness. Kara is a lovely girl, not like that brother of hers, Shane, who is always so sullen. And those tattoos on his arm—who knows what they mean? I cross the street whenever I see him coming.”

“Shane isn’t a bad guy.”

“Please don’t defend Shane Murray to me,” her mother said, “or any of those other boys you ran with in high school. You were always drawn to young men with questionable values. The only one of your boyfriends I ever liked was Andrew, and heaven knows why you stopped seeing him.” Her mother gave her a sly look. “Now that he’s coming back, maybe the two of you will find you have more in common these days.”

“I don’t think so.”

“How would you know? You haven’t seen him in years, have you?”

“No, but I can’t see myself dating a minister.”

Her mother’s mouth drew into a tight line. “Like me, right? You can’t see yourself as the minister’s wife, because you think my life is a waste.”

“I don’t think that at all.”

“I’m not stupid, Charlotte. I know you believe that being someone’s wife, tending to their needs, isn’t enough. You’re a career woman. You’re a doctor and so very important. You bring new life into the world. How could a minister’s wife who bakes cookies and takes soup to the sick compare to a doctor?”

Charlotte stared at her mother in amazement, not realizing just how much pent-up anger her mother had toward her, and it wasn’t even true. “I don’t think what you’ve done with your life is unimportant,” she said slowly. “You’ve helped a lot of people.”

“I’ve seen the disdain in your eyes many times. Do you think I don’t know how disappointed you were to have me as a mother?”

Charlotte met her mother’s gaze. “What you’ve seen in my eyes didn’t have anything to do with your role as a minister’s wife. It had to do with the choices you made for me, not for yourself. Do you really want to talk about what happened?” She held her breath, because she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to have it all out now.

After a moment, her mother shook her head. “There’s nothing to discuss. The past is the past. We can’t change any of it.” Monica walked over to the oven and pulled out a tray of golden brown oatmeal raisin cookies. Those were her sister Doreen’s favorite; Charlotte hated raisins. And her mother knew that. “I still think you should give Andrew a chance,” her mother said as she slipped the cookies onto a plate.

“I’m sure all the single women in the church will be after him,” Charlotte said lightly. “I hope he likes baked goods and homemade quilts. He’ll be getting a lot of them.”

“See, there you go, making fun of our town traditions.”

Charlotte sighed. “I really wasn’t doing that. I just meant that Andrew will be at the top of the eligible men list, and a lot of single women will be interested.”

“You can compete.”

“Excuse me?”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m not allowed to acknowledge that you’re pretty? You are my daughter, after all.” She paused, glancing toward the door. “Why don’t you find Annie? She seems to have gotten lost.”

Charlotte was more than happy to end her conversation with her mother. She found Annie down the hall in her brother’s room. Annie was staring at the photographs on Jamie’s desk and in her hand was the most recent one, taken right before her brother shipped off on his first deployment. He was in uniform, his once long hair cut very short, his boyish face looking very adult, very determined.

Annie stared at her with accusing eyes. “I can’t stay here,” she said flatly.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked in surprise.

Annie pointed to the photo. “This is a soldier’s room.”

Charlotte remembered Annie’s father, dressed in fatigues, aiming a shotgun at them.

“The army makes people crazy,” Annie continued. “When they come home they don’t know who they are anymore.”

“Is that what happened to your dad? Did he change after he came home?”

Annie nodded. “My mom used to be able to talk him down when he’d get really upset, but when she died, he went over the edge. I didn’t know how to bring him back. He’s fighting his own war up on the mountain. Sometimes I used to think I was his hostage, his POW. But then other days he’d be almost normal again. I never knew who he’d be when I woke up in the morning.” She swallowed. “He only let me go to town to work so I could buy food for us.” Giving Charlotte a worried look, she added, “I don’t know what will happen to him now. He grows vegetables
and he has some chickens, but not much else. He told me not to come back. I don’t know what to do.”

“You need to stay here, rest, and take care of your baby. We’ll sort it all out, Annie. Maybe we can get your father some help, make sure he has enough to eat, but I don’t want you to go back there alone. You have to think not only of yourself, but also about your baby. All right?”

“Okay,” Annie agreed, appearing relieved.

“I think you might be more comfortable in my room,” Charlotte said. “Come with me; you’re going to love this room. My sister, Doreen, decorated it when we were teenagers, and she’s a real girly girl.”

“Oh, wow,” Annie said, breathing in the sight of the all-pink room, the fluffy pillows on the double bed, the stuffed animals on the loveseat by the window, and the shelves and shelves of books.

“We used to have twin beds until I moved out after high school, then Doreen took over the room. The books are mine; she was the makeup girl.” Charlotte pointed to the dressing table where there were still rows of bottles of nail polish, as well as a hand mirror, a couple of hairbrushes, and a drawer full of discarded makeup.

“It’s so pretty,” Annie said, her eyes lighting up.

Annie might be eighteen and pregnant, but she was still a little girl in so many ways—a beautiful little girl with her light blond hair and brown eyes that were a mix of innocence and sadness. Annie had seen some bad things in her life, but she also had no idea what the rest of the world had to offer her.

Charlotte couldn’t help wondering who had taken Annie’s innocence. Another young kid? Or someone older, who should have known better? She had asked whether Annie had been forced into having sex, and Annie had told her no. Other than that she’d provided no other information about the father. Charlotte very much hoped the girl wasn’t lying, but she knew firsthand that teenage girls could get into all kinds of sexual trouble.

Annie caressed the fluffy comforter. “It’s like a fairy-tale room. You were so lucky to grow up here.”

“I didn’t see it that way when I was younger.” Looking at the room through Annie’s eyes, Charlotte realized just how privileged she’d been. But she’d always felt like the room was Doreen’s, and the house was her mother’s, and she’d never really fit in anywhere. She started at the sound of the doorbell.

“Would you get that, Charlotte?” her mother called.

“I’ll be right back,” Charlotte told Annie. “Feel free to look around.”

She headed to the front door as the bell rang again. She threw it open, expecting one of the ladies from the church dropping off yet another casserole—and her welcoming smile turned to shock at the sight of the man on her porch, holding a bouquet of flowers. His once blond hair had turned darker, but he still had blue eyes, a cleft in his chin, and a beautiful mouth. Her heart did a backflip. For a second she went back in time to the moment when she’d opened her door to find the high school star baseball player,
Andrew Schilling, holding a handful of wildflowers that he’d picked on the way over to her house. He’d asked her to go for a ride in his car, and she’d taken his hand, and then…

“Charlie?” he asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “Is it really you?”

She swallowed hard. She couldn’t let him see how unsettled she was. “It’s me. What—what are you doing here?”

“I’m going to be the new minister.”

“Yes, my mother told me that yesterday. I didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.” She wasn’t ready to see him, to talk to him. But here he was, wearing dark brown slacks, a cream-colored button-down shirt, and a brown blazer. He looked handsome and conservative, older. She couldn’t help wishing she was dressed in something a little more exciting than gray capri pants and a black sweater, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“It’s been a long time,” Andrew said, clearing his throat. “I heard you’re a doctor. That’s very impressive.”

“Yes. And you’re a minister.”

“I think we’ve established that,” he said with a small smile.

“So what can I do for you?”

“I came to talk to your mother. Look, I don’t want to put you and your family out of your home. You’ve been here forever. It doesn’t feel right. I can keep an apartment in town.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Monica Adams said, coming up behind Charlotte. “Hello, Andrew.”

“Mrs. Adams. These are for you,” he added, handing her mother the flowers.

“They’re beautiful, and it was very thoughtful of you to bring them. You’re the new minister now, and this will be your house, a place for you to bring your wife and your children.”

“I’m not married,” Andrew said quickly.

“Well, I’m sure you will be at some point.”

“But I don’t need this house right now, and I don’t want to push you and your family out of it. It’s been your home for so long.”

“Yes, it has been my home. I will miss it more than I can say, but my husband would want you to be here. This is where you belong. I’m glad it’s you and not a stranger,” she added. “Would you like some lunch? We were just about to sit down. There’s plenty to go around, and I’m sure you and Charlotte would like to catch up. I remember how close you were before she took up with that other boy.”

Andrew looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Charlotte willed him to say no. She could
not
have their first conversation in thirteen years take place in front of her mother.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said. “I have a meeting at the church.”

“Of course. Another time.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Andrew said.

As her mother walked away, Charlotte started to close the door, but Andrew put up a hand.

“Do you want to get a cup of coffee later?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I’m busy today. Sorry.”

He nodded, a rueful smile on his lips. “I probably deserve that. I think I said the same thing to you the last time you wanted to talk.”

He had, and she remembered every word as if it had been branded into her head. “It was a long time ago, and really not a big deal. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Charlie?”

“What?” she asked, feeling a desperate need to close the door on him and her past.

“I’m happy you’re here. That we’re both here at the same time.”