Kaleidoscope Summer (Samantha's Story) (26 page)

Chapter Nineteen

A
web wov
en—
not by my design. I’m left to examine each delicate strand,
for
therein lies the essence of who I am.
Hope
keeps fighting
to
emerge
from a place deep in
side.
F
ear and doubt
keep
push
ing
it
away
.
Why d
o I keep allowing life to toss
me around at whim
? T
he other me was
never
tha
t way.
~
Journal entry

On impulse
,
I retrie
ved Dr. Ellie’s
card
from
Goldie’s vest
where I had stuffed it
that day on the beach with Maggie
.
I
composed a text
and
cringed
as
I sent
it
.
Like
dark clouds before a rainstorm
, a
covering of regret
moved in
.
What c
ould
she possibly say
? She
didn’t have the power to change reality.

While I waited
,
I shuffled through the p
apers
littering
t
he kitchen table
, again
.
I wanted
something,
anything
to
ca
t
ch
my attention.
It proved frustrating—I had no idea what I was
searching
for.
Six w
eeks had slipped by and I wasn’t
any closer to
the trut
h
.

My phone lit up
on the table next to me with
a text from
Dr.
Ellie
.
“
Working from home. Eleven works for me
.”
Oddly
,
it
reminded me of being summ
oned to the principal’s office—t
hat same sense of dread.

I showered, changed and
headed out to Dr. Ellie’s.
I looked up
the address she sent me—she lived in one
of the
summer cott
ages on a stretch of Shoreview Drive
not
far from
the shops on Main Street
. I
decided
to walk. When G
oldie and I stepped outside
,
Maggie
was busily
arranging
a display in front of her shop
.

“Hey, Maggie.”
I strolled
to her.

“W
here
are
you two headed?
”
She ruffled Goldie’s fur.

“Taking your advice, having a chat with Dr. Ellie. Are we still on for lunch today?”

Her
hesitation sparked my
interest
. “This is awkward. I invited
both
you and
Dr. Ellie
to lunch
. I already cance
led with her.”

I bit my
lower lip
to repress a smile—the smile won. “
It’s all good. I’ll give you a report on
how it goes.”

“Drop by for a cuppa after?”
H
er mouth stretched into a
n
uncertain
smile
.

“
Will do.
” I walked a few steps, flipped around and called to her. “Maggie. Thanks for caring.”

She lifted her hand and her smile brightened
.
I returned her wave and continued toward the unknown.

Where the row of shops ended,
we foll
owed the curve
on
to
the coastal road
. Sun glistened on the
playful waves
. I wanted to
forg
et my appointment and
go si
t on the shore and squish
warm
sand between my toes.
You can do this,
I lectured myself and kept going.

We neared
the cottages.
M
ost were lovely
,
two-story
summer
homes.
We passed the first one. On closer inspection
,
some
need
ed
a coat of paint, though
the roughness create
d a natural charm. I saw Dr. Ellie
chatting
with a young couple.

When
I reached her
walkway
,
she motioned
to me
.
“
Hello,
Samantha
, I see you found me. Come meet my neighbors,
Steve
and Audr
a Wheeler. T
hey’re renting the
Wilson
’s cottage.” She wrinkled
her
forehead
and looked from me to
Audra and back again.

We exchanged gr
eetings as
Steve
also
shifted his
gaze between his wife and me
,
mo
re than once. It felt unsettling. I wanted to
get on wi
th my appointment
—before I lost
courage.

Audra filled
the e
xaggerated silence. “We’ve only
recently moved here. W
e’re
planning
to
open a real estate office.”

“Drop by the
Sea Glass
B
ookshop—
I may
be your first client.” I tugged
Goldie
’s leash
closer.

Audra
’s
smiled glistened
as though
life had granted her a wish. She
pulled a card from her p
ocket and handed it to me. “Call me when you’re ready. I’m available anytime.”

I shoved
the card
into the
front
pocket of my
jeans. “Thanks, I will
.”

Dr. Ellie put her hand on Audra’s arm.
“It was lovely chatting with both of you
.”
Then she
climbed the steps to her front door
and held it open for me
. “Welcome
.”
Her short, wispy auburn hair suited her petite features.

T
he
nautical sea blue
s
and soft white décor
was both refreshing and inviting
.
Maggie’s influ
ence on the space left a
tangible
mark
. “You have a delightful
home.
And please
,
call me Sam.
”

“Thank you
, Sam
. This is where I spen
t
most of my summers growing up, a
tradition
I continued
with my
own
sons. Now
I use it as my home base when I’m in
Serenity
Cove. I
have an office at the church, but m
y front room is
much
more comfortable.
” She lifted her hand toward the room. “H
ave a seat.”

A
prepared
tr
ay with a teapot
, accompanied
with
almond cookies
,
rested
on the large ottoman in front of the sofa.
If she and
Maggie weren’t already friends,
I’d introduce them.

She filled our cups and leaned back on the sofa. “My
husband, G
erald
,
and I live in
Mariner Bay
.
”
She
paused
,
taking
a sip
of her tea
. “We
have three sons who are now grown, married
,
and living in different towns
.
”

She got up and opened the drapes
,
revealing abstracts of blues
and greens rippling on the sea
. “
Serenity
Cove is a
…
place, I…
living here
year round
.”

Lip-read
ing often
presented
a challenge
, like f
illing in the gaps when
I
missed
words
.
“Do you speak with an accent?”

“
You’re spot on.
I’m o
riginally from Sidney, Australia.
My father decided to uproot the family and we moved
h
ere thirty-five years ago.
Think by now I’d lose the accent
—especially the Aussie slang
.” Her laughter reached her eyes
a
s if she treasured unspoken memorie
s. “A defining
period for
my family.
I’m positive it changed many courses of our lives.
”

I
smiled at
the term
spot on
,
an Aussie saying that
I had heard many times.

O
n opposite ends of the sofa,
we
sat angled toward each other
,
like
friends
casually
chatting over tea. “I’d like to
start with
a
prayer.
”
She reached for my hand.

“I keep
my eyes
open
when I pray with another person.
Lip-read
ing
is how I listen to the words and grasp the essence of the prayer.”

“Father, we
invite you to be with us today
as we search for truth. Bless us with the light of Your loving peace. Amen.”

I nodded
,
moved by her prayer. “Amen.”
I liked that she
kept her
eyes open
,
too. I
t created a
n
easy
commonality between the two of us.
She also spoke
more slowly and distinctly, making i
t easier for me to catch her words
.

She wrapped her
hands around her teacup
and bega
n the session
.
“I’m curious—w
hat motivated you to call?”

I knew the answer
to this one
.
I’d actually rehearsed it.
“Confusion.
L
ike I’m attempting to put
a puzzle together, one of tho
se with thousands of pieces
. The ones where you have to
keep
combing through the pile
,
searching to find a needed piece
.
” I recited the practiced analogy
, but this time I added something new.
“This
puzzle
doesn’t have a picture on the box.”

She made notes on a pad
.
“
T
wo words jumped out at me. Confusion. Searching. Tell me more about those.
”

“Learning I was adopted.
I f
elt
violated—m
y
identity
stripped away
. M
y life base
d on lies and deception.
I want to know the truth.
”