The Seacroft: a love story (Paines Creek Beach Book 2) (4 page)

Vivian coughed to get their attention, concerned that her employer would jump poor Cody right there in front of her. “Isn’t that your family’s place, Cody?” She squinted in the bright sun and pointed to the white farmhouse on the bluff in the distance.

“Yep.” Cody stood and stretched in the sun. His swim trunks slipped a little lower, revealing a trail of hair leading downward. He casually pulled them up.

“Really?” Uvi looked intrigued. “You never told me much about your family, Cody.”

He paled, running a hand nervously through his hair. “You wouldn’t want to hear about them, Uvi. Trust me.”

She slid closer to him. “I would. I like to know about my employees’ histories.”

“You sure?” He plopped down on the towel again, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “Well, okay.”

He still looked nervous, and at once Vivian regretted pointing out the house. What had she gotten him into?

With eyes still closed, he began to speak. “That’s Blueberry Hill. My Uncle Finn and my father grew up there. You’ve heard of him, right? Jax McGraw?”

Uvi raised an eyebrow again. “Who?”

Vivian started to recall something about the two brothers who’d grown up on the hill after the fire, the awful blaze that had been responsible for the injuries that had ultimately killed her dad. Of course, it wasn’t their fault. It had been an electrical problem, and everyone said that being a fireman was always the most dangerous job a man could have. She’d been proud of her father, but devastated when he’d died.

She tried to remember a news story from maybe five years ago about the family. It was something about a car accident. She thought one of the McGraw boys had died.

Cody hesitated. “You haven’t heard about him? Jax McGraw?”

Uvi shook her head and pulled down her sunglasses to peer over the top at him. “No. I don’t get out much, as you probably already know.”

He sighed. “Well, he was a real jerk. A playboy. A cheater. A bastard, really.”

“Pray tell,” Uvi said with sudden interest.

“He got a bunch of girls pregnant when he was in high school. My mom was one of them. I guess she told him she had an abortion, so he didn’t even know I was born. And she didn’t even tell me about him until I was fifteen. That was about the time she found another prick to live with who had six kids of his own. I got sick of living there and took off on my motorcycle.”

Vivian couldn’t help herself, leaning forward in fascination. “Where did you go?”

“I drove all day and night to come right here. Right to Blueberry Hill. I wanted to see my father. To confront him, actually.”

Uvi sighed. “And to see if he’d take you in? Give you a home?”

“I guess.” Cody stretched forward, reaching for his sunglasses. “But when I arrived, my uncle Finn told me Jax was dead. He’d died in a car crash, not long before I got there.”

Vivian sat up, her heart pounding. “That’s horrible, Cody.”

He gave her a grateful glance, then glanced back at the hill. “My uncle and Libby, his second wife, took me in. I changed my name to McGraw, which it should have been in the first place. Then I worked on the blueberry farm and took care of their horses for the past six years, graduated from high school, and even tried college for a while.” He blew out another sigh. “That didn’t go so well.”

Uvi stroked Cody’s arm again. “Tragic.”

Vivian broke in again. “What did you study?”

“Accounting.” He rolled his eyes. “I hated it.”

“Accounting?” Viv said, as if she didn’t believe him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I sort of liked numbers in high school, so this one counselor pushed me that way. But it really sucked.”

 Vivian scrunched her nose. “I can't see you as a bean counter.”

He snorted a laugh. “It wasn’t a good fit.”

“My goodness.” Uvi sat up and adjusted her sun hat. “That’s quite a story.”

Cody nodded. “I guess.”

“Terribly sad.” She pulled a pout.

Cody sighed. “Yeah. I guess. But Finn and Libby have been good to me. Real good. Except for working me to death on the farm.” He let out a chuckle. “And trying to turn me into a babysitter.”

“Babysitter?” Uvi said.

“They had triplets two years ago,” he said with a grin. “And they needed a lot of help. I still go over on my days off to see the little monsters.”

“Three?” Vivian said. “Wow. Are they boys or girls?”

“All girls,” Cody said. “Much to Libby’s disappointment. She wanted at least one boy. You know. To inherit The Seacrest.”

Uvi’s eyes swung to the opposite side of the beach to another mansion perched regally atop a hill. “I often wondered who would inherit The Seacrest. Libby’s an only child, right?”

Vivian frowned. “I’m lost. How is Libby related to The Seacrest mansion?”

Cody rolled onto his stomach and planted his elbows in the sand, resting his chin on his palms. “Libby is Finn’s wife. Her dad, Rudy Vanderhorn, owns The Seacrest. There’s some weird stipulation in his will that Libby must produce a boy, and that the boy will inherit the place.”

“That’s stupid,” Vivian said. “What, is he, like five hundred years old? How archaic. Libby should inherit her family home, for goodness sakes.”

Cody smiled. “I know. I agree. It’s idiotic.”

“Who gets the place if she doesn’t produce a boy?” Vivian asked.

“I’m not sure. I think it goes to the state. But she’s pregnant again, believe it or not. And they’ll find out in the fall about the baby’s gender.”

“What if it’s triplets again?” Uvi said, laughing. “Wouldn’t that be hysterical?”

Cody moaned. “Oh, don’t even say that.”

“What if it’s three more girls?” Vivian smiled, studying The Seacrest. “You know. It looks a lot like your place, Uvi. It’s uncanny.”

“It should,” she said. “The Seacroft and its mate, The Seacrest, were built over two hundred years ago by twin brothers. The places are identical, except for a few updates done by more recent owners. Like my upgraded kitchen, you know?”

Vivian smiled. “Wow. Really? That’s very cool. Twin mansions by the sea. You could almost write a book about that.”

Uvi scoffed. “Your head is in the clouds today, Vivian dear.” She stood languidly, dropped her wrap, hat, and glasses, and sashayed toward the water, wiggling her fingers over her shoulder. “Going for a dip. Back in a bit.”

Vivian watched Cody stare at Uvi’s retreating figure, surprised he didn’t catch a mosquito in his dropped jaw.

“Now who’s ogling?” A low chuckle slipped from her lips. Shaking her head, she picked up her paperback and began to read.

Chapter 6

On Saturday, Vivian headed out on her bicycle to visit her mother at Shady Pines. If she were honest with herself, she just needed to get out of that stuffy old mansion. Away from the orders and lists of chores. Away from Cody and the way she felt every time she looked at him. She just plain needed a break.

In the early hours of the morning, fog drifted over Paines Creek Beach, lying low along the roadsides and spreading its vaporous fingers over orange daylilies and pink roses blooming in the gullies. The streets were relatively quiet at seven o’clock, except for people flocking to breakfast spots like the coffee shop on Main Street.

Pedaling steadily along the sandy roads, Vivian greedily inhaled the moist air. It was still cool, and felt refreshing after the blistering heat of yesterday.

She hadn’t ridden past Blueberry Hill since her father died from complications after the fire, so many years ago. But today, for some odd reason, she felt less traumatized. Was it the beautiful morning? Could it be the fact that Cody lived here for the past five years that made it less threatening?

Maybe there was a lesson to be learned. The house on the hill had been half-destroyed when her dad and his crew responded to the fire. And he’d even helped save the two boys, although the mother, father, and little girl were lost in the blaze. Now she realized those two boys were Cody’s Uncle Finn, and his father, Jax.

She thought about Cody and his past when she approached the entrance to Blueberry Hill, stopping at the bottom of the hill to watch the sign advertising berry picking sway in the breeze. She glimpsed a big house further up the incline, realizing it was completely rebuilt. She couldn’t begin to tell the difference between the original and new sections. In the rolling fields on either side of the entrance road stood row upon row of blueberry bushes, their berries just starting to ripen. And toward the sea, fenced pastures held what looked like a dozen horses of various sizes and colors.

She sighed. How she would have loved to learn to ride, to sit astride a strong steed and pound along the sandy shore.

She wondered about the berries. When would they be ready for picking? She’d heard that folks showed up in droves for this opportunity and she decided that maybe she’d get over her old demons and do the same this year. She loved blueberry pie.

Feeling warmer now, she unzipped her blue hoodie and pedaled onward, approaching her family’s old trailer. She felt a sense of loss staring at the yard filled with two tricycles, toddler toys, and a plastic baby swing that hung from her favorite old maple tree. This hadn’t been the most elegant place on earth to live, but it had been the last place she’d called home. Inside those thin tin walls, she’d nursed Martin back to health from his cancer. He’d been so grateful for her help, the sweetest guy she’d ever known. Until that damned aneurism struck.

She remembered the days, too, that were filled with worry. When her mother began to show symptoms of memory loss, she’d disappear for hours at a time. Some kind stranger would often bring her home, saying they found her crying on a bench by the beach. Or the police would call, and she’d drive her mother’s old Plymouth over to the station to pick her up.

Then there were the days her mother forgot she was cooking something on the stove, and Vivian would rush into a kitchen filled with smoke.

She shuddered at the memory. Scary times.

She and Martin had spent many a day driving that old jalopy around town, searching for her mom, Mirella. It had been the last thing of any value they’d sold after her mind went for good. And even then, they’d only gotten five hundred bucks for it. But they’d needed the cash.

They finally and desperately ended up seeking help, and two months later her mother was moved to Shady Pines.

She and Martin had visited regularly, even though in the end Mom hadn’t recognized them most days. And then, when her brother got sick, the visits slowed down.

She turned into the driveway for Shady Pines ten minutes later. Up the curving driveway she pedaled, waving to a few early morning residents who were strolling across the fenced grounds with their nurses.

“Good morning,” she called, to those who waved back.

At the entrance, she parked her bike in the rack around the side of the building, and attached the lock. The darned old thing probably wasn’t worth stealing, but she couldn’t take the chance of losing her only method of transportation.

She headed inside with a hopeful lilt in her heart. Maybe today her mom would know her. Maybe she’d call her by her name. Maybe… “Hi, I’m here to see Mirella Wood,” Viv said to the receptionist. The kind woman chatted with her for a few minutes about the heat wave that had just broken, and a doctor stopped her in the hall to ask how she was managing. By the time she got to her mother’s room, another ten minutes had passed.

“Hello?” She slowly pushed the door open. “Mom?”

Her mother sat in a wheelchair by the window facing the sea.

This was the reason Vivian paid such exorbitant prices each month—practically her entire salary—because her mother had always loved the sea.

“It’s rough today. See the whitecaps?” Mirella said.

Vivian approached her slowly, standing to the right of the chair. She had to be careful not to rush in and hug her. The last time she’d done that, her mom had started screaming. “Yes, I see. Isn’t it pretty?”

“Do you remember the time Daddy took us out on the boat, and we almost capsized?”

Vivian felt the blood drain from her face and she wobbled in place. She had no such memory, but the fact that her mom mentioned her father and wanted to share a memory surprised her. “Um, tell me about it.”

“You and I were just turning seven, Katrina. Mom and Dad wanted to give us a special treat for our birthday.”

Katrina?
Her mother’s twin sister had died years ago. She sighed, and then figured, why not go along with the charade? It was better than her mother denying any knowledge of her own child. Wasn’t it?

Vivian touched the back of the chair. Her mom didn’t seem to mind. “Was it scary?”

“Oh, yes! Mom kept telling us to ‘put our sea legs on,’ remember? And those waves! Oh, those waves! They must’ve been seven feet high, and they splashed over the sides of the boat.”

“What happened?”

“Daddy managed to get us to safety. Just like he always did. He said that storm blew up out of nowhere.”

Vivian felt her shoulders droop. She missed her grandparents desperately. They’d both passed away—just months apart—three weeks before her mom started to get sick. And she thought how lovely it would be to have a father who took care of her, who loved her. A father who never died and left her alone to cope with the vagaries of the universe.

“He was a good father, wasn’t he?” she said.

Her mother turned to her and grinned. “The best. Especially when he brought home the rock candy. Remember?”

A pang of sadness hit her. Her mother had always put a string of rock candy in their Christmas stockings. “I love rock candy.”

“Me, too.” She looked up suddenly from the wheelchair. “Will you bring me some next time you visit?”

Vivian took the hand her mom extended toward her. “Of course I will.” Tears filled her eyes, and she held onto the soft warm hand until her mother lost interest and went quiet again.

Backing out slowly, she said goodbye. No response. With a hitch in her chest, she walked down the long hallway and out to her bicycle.

It was always like this. It always hurt. But she’d come back soon, no matter what. After all, the woman was her mother. She’d never desert her. She mounted her rusty old bike and pedaled back down the driveway.