A Sweethaven Summer (16 page)

“So there’s no record at all of my mother being in that class?”

“ ’Fraid not. But you could talk to the teacher, Mr. Hanes. He still teaches here.” She jotted down the teacher’s information on a sticky note and handed it to Campbell. “If you hurry, you might catch him. He’s in the theatre building on the second floor.”

Campbell thanked her and hurried out onto the sidewalk, spotted the theatre, and went inside. The smell of sawdust filled the space, and she realized she was backstage.

A college kid dressed in black painted a set piece. He glanced up. “You look lost.”

“Looking for Mr. Hanes.”

“The art guy? He’s upstairs.” The kid showed her to the elevator.
As the doors closed, Campbell let out a heavy sigh. What was she doing? This was crazy.

But it could lead to the answer she needed.

What if her mom hadn’t told anyone her father’s identity because he was older, like a teacher? What if it was Mr. Hanes?

The elevator doors popped open. The walls had been decorated with student artwork, and Campbell imagined her mother, only seventeen, coming here to take her first college art class. She must’ve been so excited to study something she loved so much. She wiped her wet palms on her jeans and found Mr. Hanes’s room, the door partially open. The room was empty, but the light was on.

“Hello?” She looked around but saw no one.

She walked down the hallway, peeking in other classrooms, but the floor was dark. Apparently everyone was out to lunch.

Campbell pushed the elevator button and waited.

“You looking for someone?” A man’s voice echoed down the hallway. She turned and saw a tall, stout man with white hair and a white beard standing outside of Mr. Hanes’s room.

“I’m looking for Mr. Hanes,” she said.

“You found him.” He held his arms out at his sides and grinned. “What can I do ya for?”

The elevator doors opened. Her last chance to escape.

Campbell stared at the doors, her heart racing, then turned and walked toward Mr. Hanes. “I just had a couple of questions.”

Mr. Hanes ushered Campbell into the classroom. The man, who bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus, waited for her questions. What if this man was her father? No telling how charming and handsome he’d been twenty-five years ago.

“Sir, I wanted to talk to you about a student of yours. Her name was Suzanne Carter, and she took a summer class with you when she was seventeen.”

He frowned. “I have a lot of students, Miss…what’d you say your name was?”

“Campbell Carter.”

“So, this girl—she’s your mom?”

Campbell nodded. “I was wondering if you might remember her.” Campbell opened her purse and pulled out a scrapbook page. She pointed to her mom’s photo. “That’s her.”

He studied the picture, but no sign of recognition crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember her. If I only had her one summer, that would’ve been a six-week class. Not much time to get to know my students.”

Campbell took the page from him. “You’re sure?”

“I am. Is she missing?”

“No. I was actually hoping you might know if she was dating any of the other students or…”

“Or?” His brow furrowed.

“If maybe you might’ve had some kind of…romance with her?” Had she really just asked that?

Mr. Hanes cleared his throat. “Miss Carter, I don’t think I like where this is headed.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” Campbell’s stomach churned.

“That’s not how it looks from where I’m sitting. Men in my profession have to be especially careful to avoid these sorts of accusations. I can tell you in no uncertain terms that I was never involved with your mother or any other student.” He didn’t raise his voice, but Campbell didn’t question his intent.

“I understand.” She cracked her knuckles. “I’m really just trying to find my father. I needed to exhaust all my resources.”

His face softened. “Well, no harm done.”

“Do you keep your class lists?”

“We weren’t computerized back then, but I have files that go back at least that long. I’ve got my own system, I guess.” He walked over to a large metal file cabinet that had to be fifty years old. He yanked the bottom drawer open. “The eighties are on the bottom.”

Campbell watched as he flipped through the files and finally held up a manila folder.

“Eighty-six,” he said. He opened it and rubbed his beard. “Hm. Looks like there was only one boy in that class.”

“Really?”

“Tony Angelotti.”

Campbell rummaged through her purse until she found the small notebook she carried with her. “Does it say anything else about him?” Her heart raced.

“No natural talent,” Mr. Hanes read from the sheet in front of him. “Guess he wasn’t much of an artist.”

Campbell smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Hanes. This is really helpful.”

“My pleasure.”

“If you think of anything else, would you mind giving me a call?”

“Sounds fair,” he said.

Campbell jotted down her cell number and thanked him for his time.

She wished the elevator could transport her to a land free of embarrassment. What was she doing accusing random men of being her father? But she’d risk embarrassment all over again if it got her closer to the truth.

Tony Angelotti
.

She drove toward Sweethaven, back toward the interstate that would lead her home. But as the Sweethaven lighthouse came into view on the horizon, Campbell started to see things differently. This man, the teacher, had given her a name. A new lead. And, she’d eliminated Mr. Hanes as a father. That was progress. She still had a faceless father, a mysterious grandfather, an unknown benefactor, and a bank account full of money, but she had one solid answer: the art teacher was not her dad. Maybe she could do this after all.

The short car ride back to Sweethaven had been a mental tug-of-war. She considered that it didn’t matter where the money had come from. She should accept it and move on. But it did matter. The money felt dirty. Like a payoff. A bundle of
we’re easing our own guilt
cash.

She drove to the beach and parked in the lot with the best view of the lighthouse. Mom’s old trunk filled the back seat, but she reached the latch and propped the lid open as best she could.

She rifled through Mom’s old things and found a Blossom Queen sash and tiara, a pennant for the Sweethaven High School football team, a dried rose, Mom’s old Polaroid camera, a stuffed
frog with a tag around his neck that read
You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your handsome prince
.

Mom never had.

Or had she? What if Lila was wrong and her mom really
was
in love with someone that summer? What if they couldn’t be together? Maybe her grandparents had forced them apart. Maybe Tony Angelotti didn’t meet their standards.

After she left Adele’s, Jane had called Graham, certain he would agree that she’d done enough time in Sweethaven. She could take the scrapbook home and never have to come back to this place. But her husband, as usual, surprised her.

“Hon, you should stay. Didn’t you say the Blossom Festival is this weekend?”

“Yes, but we have things at home. Church. Other things.”

“Jim’s covering for me Sunday. I’m bringing the kids up.”

Jane’s heart leapt. But as quickly as it soared with happiness it plummeted with fear. The girls hadn’t been here in six years. Sam had never been.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Graham.”

“Too late, I’ve made all the plans.”

Jane’s pulse quickened.

“Do you really think the girls will be that into summer at the lake anymore? We don’t even have Internet access.” Why did she insist on carrying this cross alone? Was she the only one who could decide how their family grieved?

“They’ll be fine.” He paused. “Jane, I think our family needs this. We’ve been stuck in a holding pattern for six years. Maybe we need some closure.”

What could she say? She hung up and realized she’d already started praying.

“God help me through this weekend. I cannot do this on my own.” She’d awoken that morning praying the same prayer. Now, sitting at the kitchen table with a large mug of coffee, she felt more peaceful, as if something had shifted inside.

A knock on the door startled her. She walked to the entryway and saw Adele’s white hair through the window.

“Hi, darlin’. I brought you a carrot cake.” She held the cake holder out as an offering.

“Thanks, Adele, but I don’t know if I can have that in my house. The way I’ve been feeling, I’d probably eat the whole thing myself.”

“Cake’s meant to be eaten, hon.” She stepped inside and shut the door behind her. “Listen, I know it’s not easy for you to be here—and that scrapbook houses a world of hurt—”

“No, the scrapbook houses a world of happiness.”

“And that’s why it hurts.” Adele touched Jane’s arm. The nearness of another person unnerved her. Times like this she wrapped herself in loneliness and retreated on the couch with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Knowing Adele, she wouldn’t get off that easily.

“The cottage is lovely, Jane.”

“We’ve been renting it out summers,” Jane said. “Making a little extra money.”

“But you haven’t been back since—”

Jane shook her head before Adele could say his name.
Alex
. “No, but Graham’s bringing the kids up.” She glanced around the cottage, out the window—anywhere but at Adele. Jane hated how weak she still felt, how volatile. One look and Adele would see the pain she worked so hard to bury.

“For Blossom Fest? Perfect. We can do a barbeque at my house.”

“I don’t want you going to all that trouble.” She could smell the sugary sweetness of the carrot cake through the Tupperware.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll invite Lila and maybe Luke will come.” Adele smiled.

“What about Campbell?” Jane searched Adele’s face for a sign she’d simply forgotten to mention Suzanne’s daughter.

“Of course, if she’s still here. She seems ready to bolt back to the city at any second.”

Jane sighed. “That’s my fault.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I went to talk with her after she went upstairs last night. I think I only made it worse. Can you imagine finding out you have a grandfather after all these years?”

“I think she has a lot goin’ on right now. I’m still hoping she’ll stay around.” Adele smiled warmly. “What about you now? How are ya, honey?”

“I’m fine.” She sat at the rickety kitchen table, which was distressed from wear and age.

“I don’t believe you. I can see it in your eyes.” Adele put a hand over hers.

“It’s been six years. It should get easier.” Jane purposely sat with her back to the window that overlooked the lake. The view made their cottage one of the best on the block—maybe one of the best on this side of Sweethaven. But Jane couldn’t stand to take in that view. It mocked her. Reminded her of all she’d lost.

“Let yourself feel the pain. Only way to heal.” Adele’s eyes carried a sadness—an understanding. Perhaps anyone with children could imagine the horror of losing one.

“I won’t keep you. I just wanted to bring the cake by. Would you stop over for dinner tonight? I sure am enjoying the company.” Adele’s face fell and for the first time, Jane recognized the loneliness in her eyes. The older woman had lost her husband a few years ago,
and now that Jane knew she and Meg weren’t on speaking terms, she saw a very different Adele. She’d always been so strong, but perhaps Jane had been too caught up in her own pain to notice Adele’s.

“I would love to, Adele. What can I bring?”

“Your pretty self is all.” She stood. “And maybe a smile if you’ve got one.”

Jane walked her to the door. “Thank you for the cake. I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Believe me, these hips are wearin’ their fair share of Me-maw’s carrot cake.” She laughed. “Enjoy it. I have a couple other stops to make, so I’ll get outta your hair.”

Jane closed the door behind Adele, and the silence of the cottage haunted her. She walked through the long hallway and into the master bedroom. The bed was made and the room decorated in a nautical theme. Her mother’s doing. She heaved her suitcase onto the bed and unzipped the front pouch.

She pulled out a small scrapbook. The plain blue front hadn’t been decorated, but knowing its contents brought tears to her eyes. She ran a hand over it but couldn’t open it. Not yet. She couldn’t see his face smiling at her. Not while she sat in this house. In this town.

She tucked it away and wiped a tear from her cheek.

She lay on the bed and her mind transported her back to one summer on the lake. Even as a kid, she’d never liked the water. Rightfully so, it turned out. It seemed strange now that the lake had been the backdrop for so many of her memories. One in particular flittered to the forefront.

Suzanne lay beside Jane on the dock with one toe in the water. Her red and white bikini showed off her skinny frame and tan skin. Jane twisted the drawstring on her shorts but refused to take them off. No sense sharing her newfound cellulite with the entire beach.

Lila fanned herself with a magazine. She looked like a movie
star with her wide sunglasses and perfectly coiffed hair. Jane pulled her legs underneath her, sitting cross-legged on the dock and wishing she could disappear.

Meghan lay on her stomach, her red hair dumped in a messy bun on top of her head. She’d been quiet so long, Jane assumed she’d fallen asleep.

At the end of the dock, Jane spotted Mark Davis and one of his friends. She shifted on her towel. What did she look like next to her three skinny friends? She wished she could crawl into a hole.

She spent most nights staring down the street at Mark Davis’s house, wishing he’d come out and talk to her like he used to when they were kids. It was silly, really. Boys didn’t like her that way.

“There’s your boyfriend, Janie.” Lila hopped up and waved at them. “Hi guys!” Like a swimsuit model, she exuded confidence in that pink gingham bathing suit with her long, skinny legs and perfectly golden tan.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Lila.” Jane’s heart raced as the two boys walked toward them.