Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2) (28 page)

Becca had her father. Annie and Taylor had Will. Luke had his mother, and after today, every other parent on the island would be watching out for him, too.

Looking back down at the phone, he set down his rod. “Luke?”

“Yeah?” the kid said distractedly.

“I’m going to head over to the parking lot and take this call.”

“Okay,” he said, not bothering to look up, still fixated on reeling in whatever he’d snagged on the bottom of the harbor.

Colin turned, walking back toward the parking lot, as he lifted the phone to his ear and picked up the call.

B
y the time Becca left work, it was after five o’clock. Late afternoon sunlight cast the village in a warm, golden glow. The rain from two days ago had intensified all the colors: the brilliant green of the leaves, the deep blue of the water, the vibrant pink, orange, and purple of the flowers blooming in her neighbors’ window boxes and gardens. Even the grass looked thick and lush.

Walking slowly into town, she passed the street where she lived and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going yet, but she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face what was waiting for her there—the reams of uncut lace on her kitchen table, the half-finished seating chart for the reception filled with names of too many people she didn’t recognize, the notebook lying open on the coffee table where she’d been working on her vows, which she still couldn’t seem to find the words to write.

Her fingers drifted to the charm hanging from the chain around her neck. She wished her mother were here. She wished she could talk to her. She wished she could ask her what to do. She rubbed the heel of her palm over the hollow ache in her chest, unconsciously following the faint sound of wind chimes to the café. She wasn’t just attracted to Colin anymore. She was falling for him.

She was supposed to be walking down the aisle to marry Tom in two weeks and she was falling in love with another man—a man she barely knew. She had always thought that love should be based more on friendship, on stability. But nothing about her feelings for Colin felt safe. Whenever she was with him, she felt like a sail snapping loose from its riggings, whipping wildly in the wind.

If this was what falling in love felt like, she had never been in love before. She had never felt so restless, so panicky, so less like herself. As much as it scared her, she was beginning to crave it—the dizzying loss of control, the intensity of emotions that swept up as fast as the storms rolled over the water in the summertime, the blurry, rose-colored haze that scrambled all rational thoughts.

Pausing on the sidewalk in front of the café, she watched the chimes dance and sway, catching the fading sunlight and reflecting shoots of color across the underside of the roof. She could hear voices in the backyard—Taylor and Ryan tossing sticks for their dogs to retrieve. A child’s laughter drifted toward her as the two labs barked and splashed into the shallow cove. She knew Ryan was keeping an eye on Annie and Taylor now that Will had left, and she knew that Annie was still mad at her. But she couldn’t stand their friendship being strained any longer.

Walking up the path to the porch, she climbed the steps and let herself in. The café was closed, the chairs turned upside down on the tables, the day’s specials wiped from the chalkboard menu hanging on the wall behind the register. Della had left and the kitchen was empty, but the lingering scent of butter and sugar still clung to the air.

She heard someone moving around upstairs, the old wooden floorboards creaking under a set of footsteps overhead, and she made her way slowly across the dining room and up the steps to the apartment.

Annie turned when Becca got to the landing. She had a basket of laundry in her hands, a dishtowel thrown over one shoulder, and her long red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. “Hey,” she said.

Becca could tell she was exhausted, and not terribly happy to see her, but she didn’t ask her to leave. That was progress, at least. Annie turned the laundry basket over, dumping the clean clothes onto the cushions as Becca walked over to the couch. “Need a hand?”

Annie hesitated, then nodded, accepting the small peace offering. “Sure.”

Becca picked up a shirt, still warm from the dryer, and started to fold it. The simple motion of doing something with her hands made her feel a little bit better. Looking out the window, she had a clear view of Ryan and Taylor playing fetch with the dogs in the backyard. She watched Ryan’s chocolate lab, Zoey, streak out of the cove with a stick in her mouth, followed by Riley, hot on her heels. Zoey dropped the stick at Taylor’s feet and both dogs shook, spraying muddy water all over Taylor. Taylor squealed, and Ryan’s easy, carefree laughter rippled over the water as he picked up the stick and launched it back into the cove. “Did Will get off okay this morning?”

Annie nodded. “He made it back to Virginia Beach around two.”

Becca reached for a pair of black sweatpants, shaking them to smooth the wrinkles out of each leg. Behind the couch, she spied a row of cardboard boxes taped up and ready to be carried over to the inn. “When’s the official move in day?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Annie dug around the pile, searching for a match to the sock she was holding. “We drove a load of boxes over last night, and we only have one room left to paint in the new wing, but there isn’t a whole lot more we can do to the main house until Jimmy finishes the renovations.”

At the mention of Jimmy’s name, Becca remembered the promise she’d made to her father earlier, that she would agree to steer clear of him for a few days. She wondered if he was at Rusty’s now, finishing off his third pint in less than an hour, oblivious to the fact that everyone on the island was furious with him now. “I overheard someone mention earlier that Will was going to try and track down Jimmy before he left.”

Annie nodded. “He found him passed out in his truck outside Rodney White’s house in Sherwood.”

Rodney White?
Becca’s hands stilled on the jeans she was folding. Rodney had been in her class in elementary school, but he’d dropped out after eighth grade. He was a notorious screw up and rarely held down a job for more than a few months at a time. He’d worked in the kitchen of almost every restaurant in the area, but his real income came from the drugs he sold to whoever was stupid enough to buy them. From what she’d heard, the people who bought from Rodney were into things a lot harder than pot.

If Jimmy was hanging around Rodney’s house now, things were a lot worse than she’d thought.

Annie picked up one of Taylor’s jumpers, folding it into thirds. “Will said Jimmy was so messed up when he found him this morning, he was barely coherent.” She shook her head, her expression darkening. “He called one of the guys from the fire department to give him a ride home. He said there was no way he was going to bring him into the school like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Becca said, picking up another pair of jeans and giving them a hard thwak to get the wrinkles out. “He won’t be coming into the school anytime soon. Shelley and I met with Courtney this afternoon. We told her that Jimmy is no longer allowed to set foot in the school. As far as we’re concerned, until he gets his drinking problem under control, he’s a threat to Luke and the rest of the children.”

“How did Courtney take that?”

“Not well.” Becca set the jeans down. “I think she’s still in denial. She had to pick up a second job after her husband passed away and she needs help taking care of Luke. If she can’t count on Jimmy, she might have to drop the second job, and I don’t think she can afford to right now.”

Annie frowned. “If all she needs is help watching Luke when she’s at work, I’m sure there are people on this island who’d be willing to help. I could even step in and watch him if she got in a bind.”

“I know. Believe me. I’ve offered plenty of times. Lots of other people have offered. She refuses to accept help from anyone who’s not family. The problem is that the only family she has now is Jimmy. And if she continues to let Luke stay at Jimmy’s house, we’re going to have to report the situation to Child Protective Services.”

Annie winced.

“I know it’s harsh,” Becca said, “but we can’t risk Luke running away again or accidentally crossing his uncle one night when he’s been drinking and having him blow up. We’ve given her several options on the island—baby sitters who would charge almost nothing, other parents who’ve come forward and offered to look after Luke at no charge. Hopefully, the threat of the state’s involvement will scare her enough to accept the help that’s being offered. Filing a report is an absolute last resort.”

Annie’s gaze shifted back to the window, where she had a view of Taylor chasing Riley down to the end of the dock. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

Becca paused, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I can relate to her not wanting to accept help,” Annie said, as she continued to watch her daughter play in the yard. “As a single mother, I’ve been in her shoes. I can understand where she’s coming from. Maybe I can get through to her.”

“It’s worth a try,” Becca said.

Picking up the empty laundry basket, Annie carried it over to the closet beside the kitchen, setting it back on top of the dryer. “If the single mom card doesn’t do the trick…” She lifted a shoulder. “My mother was an alcoholic. I can tell her a few stories about what it’s like for a child to grow up in that environment.”

Becca turned slowly, meeting Annie’s eyes across the room. “Your mother was an alcoholic?”

Annie nodded.

“I didn’t realize…” Becca said, trailing off.

Annie closed the door to the laundry closet. “It’s not something I’m proud of, not something I particularly like to share with anyone. But if it’ll help Courtney and Luke, I will.”

Becca watched her friend walk into the kitchen. She thought about her own father, how she never talked about his alcoholism with anyone, how, when she’d been living through it, she had tried to hide it, desperate to pretend that everything was fine.

Looking back at what was left of the pile of laundry, she thought about how many times she’d spoken with Courtney over the winter about Luke, raising her concerns that he was withdrawing, that he wasn’t getting the support he needed from her to cope with the death of his father. But she hadn’t considered sharing her own experience. She hadn’t considered opening up that part of herself. She hadn’t realized that it might be the only thing that could get through to her.

Dishes clinked behind her as Annie stacked them in neat rows on the exposed shelves lining the walls above the sink. Folding the last T-shirt from the pile, Becca set it on the arm of the sofa. She thought about how badly she’d wanted to shield Annie from the news about the school. Her friend had been through so much in her life. She didn’t need to be shielded from anything.

“Annie.” Becca turned and walked over to the counter that offered the only separation between the kitchen and the living room in the apartment. “I know I’ve already apologized, but I’m sorry. Again. For everything. I should never have kept the news about the school from you. I should have told you right away.”

“I know,” Annie said, sighing. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you the past few days. I was just so angry. I’m still angry. Taylor and I…we were finally good again. We were finally settled. Everything seemed to be going our way…and then….” She shook her head, wiping a rag over a frying pot and slipping it into the drawer on the other side of the counter. “For the first time in my life, I didn’t want anything to change. I just wanted everything to stay the same.”

Becca nodded. She understood. A week ago, she had felt the same way. Now…she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

Walking out from behind the counter, Annie scooped up the piles of laundry from the sofa, carried them into the bedrooms, and set them on the beds. When she came back out, she gestured for Becca to sit on one of the stools. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Iced tea? Soda?”

“Iced tea would be great,” she said, grateful that they’d finally reconciled.

Annie poured two glasses of iced tea, and handed one to Becca.

Becca took a sip of the Southern-style recipe she had probably learned from Della—brewed with cloves, fresh mint leaves, lemon juice and gobs of sugar. “How did you think today went?”

“I thought you did a great job,” Annie said. “I was impressed by how many parents showed up.”