The Lights of Sugarberry Cove Page 5

  The last I knew, Will had been going to college to become a pharmacist and planned to eventually join his dad in their family business, here at Lockhart’s. Now twenty-six, there was a good chance he’d be working today, and I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he were.

  Turning and running sounded like a fine idea until the image of Leala’s sad eyes popped into my head. With renewed determination, I marched my way down the greeting card aisle toward the back of the store, past two employees doing more talking than working. A bit of their conversation floated after me, nearly making me stop in my tracks. Talk of how the Lockharts were currently enjoying a six-week European vacation to celebrate their thirtieth anniversary.

  With that news, my anxiety crept up. If Will’s dad was out of town, the chance that Will would be the pharmacist on duty was highly likely. I dragged my feet and desperately tried to shake the feeling that I was headed to the gallows. At the end of the aisle, I turned right and looked ahead, bracing for the worst only to see no one working at the pharmacy. Taking a fortifying breath, I tapped a bell on the counter, kept my fingers crossed, and waited for Will to appear.

  “Well, hello there!” a cheerful voice boomed as a woman I didn’t recognize stepped out from a storeroom. “How might I help you, miss? Are you picking up or dropping off?”

  My shoulders relaxed, but as I finished up the transaction, collecting and paying for Mama’s prescriptions, making small talk with the personable pharmacist, I couldn’t help but question why it wasn’t relief I felt at not seeing Will … but disappointment.

  Chapter

  5

  Leala

  “Psst.”

  From my spot in a rocking chair on the back porch, I didn’t see anyone as I looked up from my phone, which glowed brightly with a photo of Tucker on his second birthday, his face covered in chocolate frosting.

  It was a little past seven, right about the time when Tucker would normally be done with his bath. Soon it would be reading time, when he’d pull several books from the case in his room, and we’d curl up in the rocking recliner next to his bed until he started nodding off. Then he’d sleepily say his prayers, climb into bed, give kisses, and hug Moo like he never planned to let the stuffed cow go as he drifted off to sleep. Would Connor remember to kiss Moo good night, too?

  I’d been holding off on calling because Tucker didn’t quite understand cell phones or video calls, and I didn’t want him to melt down over hearing my voice and not understanding why I wasn’t there. But my resolve was wearing thin, especially since Connor hadn’t sent any pictures or text messages. Not a single one, all day long. I gritted my teeth, thinking of how I sent Connor loads of pictures every day, to keep him involved in our daily lives even if he wasn’t there. The least he could’ve done was return the favor.

  “Psst. Leala, over here.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I squinted through the sliding screen door to see Mother’s ex-boyfriend, Buzzy Hale, waving as he stood beneath an arched arbor that served as a shortcut between his yard and the cottage’s—yards otherwise divided by a white picket fence that ran the length of the property line. The fence and arbor were both covered in Alabama Crimson honeysuckle, the vines twisting and twining around pickets, rails, lattice—a little wild and a little tame, a fitting representation of Mama and Buzzy’s past relationship. Vibrant crimson flowers normally bloomed in early spring, but it seemed every year a red flower would appear out of season and Buzzy would declare the bloom the result of lake magic blowing just the right way.

  “Hey, Buzzy. You okay?” I called out.

  He nodded and gestured me over. The slider’s screen door squeaked dramatically as I opened it and stepped outside. Without the back porch’s ceiling fans to stir the late-day heat, it settled around me like a weighted blanket, oddly comforting on such a hot evening.

  I skirted two patio tables, cushioned Adirondack chairs, and a freestanding three-person canopied swing as I crossed the fieldstone courtyard and stepped onto thick grass. I noticed for the first time a small fenced-in area on this side of the house that had dog bones and toys within its confines. A doggy play yard. I stifled a groan of frustration, irritated beyond belief that Mother now allowed pets at the cottage. I’d lost count of how often I had begged her for a pet while I was growing up. Mostly I’d asked for a kitten. A sweet, cuddly kitten. But honestly, I’d have accepted any pet. A dog, a hamster, a turtle. Anything. Someone to love, and who’d love me unconditionally. But each of my pleas had been met with the same answer: No.

  Let it go, let it go. I pulled in a deep breath through my nose, held it, then released it. Breathwork usually calmed me right down, but today I could still feel a thrum of exasperation humming under the surface of my skin. I had to grow forward to go forward, as one of my morning affirmations would say. Which was entirely easier said than done.

  Buzzy waited patiently as I made my way over to him, and I hoped he couldn’t read my thoughts. I didn’t want to talk about my relationship with my mother, a topic he used to favor as he tried to make peace between us.

  As I neared the arbor, I noticed the honeysuckle vines seemed to glow in the fading sunshine as light gently skimmed emerald-green leaves. “It’s good to see you, Buzzy. I guess you heard about Mother.”

  Buzzy, a retired banker, had a pleasantly round face, thick silvery-blond hair, wore round black-rimmed glasses, and had an air of importance about him that contradicted his nickname, one he’d acquired as a teenager when caught smoking weed with a bunch of his marching band friends after a high school football game. Nicknames in the South tended to stick for life. I was glad to have broken the usage of mine, though there were a few around here who still called me LC—namely, my mother. I suspected she used it solely because she knew how much it bothered me. She was a contrary sort—at least with me. Oil and water, Buzzy had once said of us. To me it felt more like gasoline and a match.

  “I did, I did. I’m glad she’s out of the hospital.”

  I wasn’t surprised he knew she was already home. In a town the size of Sugarberry Cove, word traveled like an electric current, sparking between houses, stores, ears, mouths.

  “She’s glad, too. You know how she can’t abide being told what to do. I think it was just about killing her to be a nice, docile patient. She’s doing quite well, considering.”

  Mother had come downstairs after her long nap looking remarkably refreshed for what she’d been through these last couple of days but moving a touch slower than her usual full steam ahead. Much to my dismay, instead of taking supper in bed, she had insisted on joining us on the patio and had scowled the whole time after Sadie served her a no-cheese flat-bread pizza with heart-healthy veggies. After we ate, Mother and Teddy took to the great room with a pitcher of sweet tea. Bree had gone to her room. Sadie, Uncle Camp, and I had cleaned the kitchen and they were still catching up with each other when I’d stepped outside to check my phone.

  Buzzy cradled a ceramic bowl in his arm like a baby and said, “Susannah’s iron will is her greatest strength and her biggest weakness.”

  There was no arguing the statement because it was true. I flicked the tip of a honeysuckle leaf just to watch it shimmer. “Hopefully she’ll stick to the doctor’s recommendations. She needs to make changes to her lifestyle and follow up with a cardiologist in the coming weeks, but she should make a full recovery given time.” Relief flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away, and I added, “Do you want to come inside? Say hi? I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t,” he said with a grim smile.

  Another knot of guilt tightened in my stomach, and I glanced at the lake. The water was calm, so like the night that Sadie had fallen off the dock and hadn’t resurfaced for nearly ten minutes. The night my wish, the last one I’d ever made, had affected so many lives, one change leading to another, leading to another, like out-of-control dominoes.

  That dock was gone now, replaced a few years ago with a newer model right ar
ound the same time the house got a new roof. My gaze lifted upward to the roofline. In my mind’s eye I could see a rusty extension ladder leaning against the siding and my daddy lying on the ground, my mama kneeling over him, shouting for help. She was supposed to have been helping him by holding the ladder but had gotten distracted by something.

  Swallowing hard, I forced myself to look away and face Buzzy, whose eyes shined with kindness, compassion, as if he’d caught a glimpse of my memories.

  I flicked another leaf. I wanted to apologize to him but didn’t want to explain why—how it was my fault he and Mother split up in the days following Sadie’s accident because my wish had come true.

  “I heard Sadie’s home,” he said, breaking the pained silence.

  “She is. I’m hoping to convince her to stay awhile this time. She’s been gone from these parts for far too long.”

  “That she has. Send her around so I can give her a proper hello. I’ve sure missed that girl.”

  Once again I wanted to invite him inside but knew he’d only turn me down. “I will. No doubt she’ll be foraging for vegetables from your garden soon enough, so be prepared for the invasion. She still loves to cook.”

  Buzzy had an immense garden, a thing of beauty, lovingly tended. He had graciously allowed Sadie and me free rein of his yard when we were younger, permitting us to pick anything we wanted, welcoming us with open arms and heart, treating us as if we were family. His cozy bungalow had been a second home, sometimes more comforting to us than our own. He was a good man. One of the best, and we’d been blessed to have him as part of our lives.

  “It comes across on A Southern Hankerin’,” he said. “Such darn good stories she shares. I learn something every time I watch and not always about food. Tell her she’s welcome anytime.”

  I yanked a leaf from the vine and rubbed it between my fingers. The shine vanished instantly, the leaf now dull and plain. Why was everyone so impressed with Sadie’s little videos? All this praise was only going to feed her ego. At this rate she was never going to stop traveling to settle down. She was just going to keep running away from her fears, away from family, away from everyone who loved her.

  A melancholy wail filled the air, and Buzzy and I turned toward the lake. A lone loon floated across the glossy surface, her body barely creating ripples in the water. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. A muted black with a long, graceful white neck, a grayish pattern on her back, long beak, and those brilliant red eyes that seemed to sparkle even in the waning light. Birders not familiar with the lake might label her a common loon, rare to be seen in Alabama this time of year, but she wasn’t common. Not by a long shot. Every day for as long as I could remember, she floated by at dawn and dusk, calling for her mate, and tonight the haunting sound echoed across the lawn and through my soul.

  Buzzy and I watched in reverent silence until the bird floated around a bend in his seawall, near the spot where two water oaks had entwined over the years to form a single tree. She faded from sight, but I knew she’d continue swimming toward the cove where the public beach was located until disappearing along with the sun until it rose again.

  “Here.” His voice was hushed as the loon continued to cry in the distance. “Take this.”

  He thrust the bowl into my hands. It was full of the most beautiful raspberries I’d ever seen, plump and a stunning reddish pink. “These are gorgeous.”

  “They’re Sus’s favorite and heart-healthy. Don’t tell her where you got them or she might chuck them into the lake.”

  “Buzzy, you know she wouldn’t do that.”

  He lifted a thick eyebrow.

  Okay, maybe she would. Mother was a bit unpredictable.

  A bee inspected the honeysuckle, dipping in and out of sight. “It’s been eight years. Maybe it’s time to mend some fences?”

  Surely my wish held no power all these years later. What was broken could be fixed. Everything could be repaired, given time and a little forgiveness. At least I hoped so.

  He glanced toward the water. “You’re as sweet as your mother’s mint tea, but sometimes it’s best to let things go and move on.”

  I held up the bowl. “These raspberries don’t say moving on to me.”

  “I said it’s best, not that I’ve been able to do it. You take care, Leala Clare.”

  With a wave and a smile, he turned and headed back toward his house. I stood there a moment, hugging that bowl, until I heard a noise behind me.

  Sadie stood on the back porch, a cell phone glowing at her ear. I heard her say, “Hi, Mrs. Teakes; it’s Sadie Scott. If you could give me a call back, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to come back on Monday if that’s all right with you. Just let me know.”

  Monday. I had so little time to convince Sadie to stay, to remind her how much she loved Sugarberry Cove and that she was happiest here in her hometown. It suddenly seemed an impossible mission, especially since she was as stubborn as Mother.

  The sun sank lower in the sky, coloring the lake in bold oranges and pinks as I crossed the stretch of yard toward the back porch. The screen door squeaked as I came inside, and I made a mental note to oil the track first thing tomorrow.

  Sliding her phone into her back pocket, Sadie nodded to the bowl. “What have you got there?”

  “Contraband.” I set the bowl on a side table and quickly told her about my conversation with Buzzy. “Don’t tell Mother.”

  Sadie turned a rocker so her back was to the lake when she sat down. “My lips are sealed.”

  I sat in the chair next to hers. “Buzzy pretty much invited you to plunder his garden. He said to come on over anytime. Standing invitation. He’s missed you.”

  The fans stirred the loose hair that fell around her face, framing it in sparkles. At supper, she’d kept her back to the water as well. The key to her staying in Sugarberry Cove definitely went hand in hand with her making peace with the lake.

  “I’ve missed him, too,” she said with a smile aimed toward his yard. “A lot.”

  “You know, if you moved back here, you wouldn’t miss him so much.”

  Her brows dipped low as she scowled, and I smiled innocently and rocked slowly, watching colors fade in the sky as the sun sank, its last beams glittering on the lake’s surface. And dang if those sparkles didn’t look just like the shiny glimmers in Sadie’s hair.

  “Did you run into any familiar faces at the pharmacy earlier?” I asked, hoping that reconnecting with the community she loved would help my cause.

  “No, thank goodness.”

  “Thank goodness?” My eyebrows lifted in question. “Why?”

  “It’s just…”

  “What?”

  Lifting a shoulder in a half shrug, she said, “People were so disappointed when I dropped out of college. I don’t really want to revisit those memories.”

  I rocked slowly, letting her words settle. After her accident, she’d gone back to college but dropped out less than a week later. It had been a huge shock to those who knew Sadie well. The ones who expected her to get her English degree, then an MFA, and change the world with her storytelling. The accident had changed her. She’d been so withdrawn and people had been worried, concerned for her well-being.

  But perhaps now, looking back, there had been some disappointment, too. Disappointment that she’d given up so easily. That she’d quit. At least, I suddenly realized, there had been disappointment on my part. With that thought, my stomach ached with remorse.

  “Do you regret dropping out of college?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, my emotions hidden.

  “Not even a little.” She picked at the frayed edge of her denim shorts. “I hated school. I hated it even before the accident, but afterward it was unbearable.”

  I hadn’t known that. “You hated it? You never told me.”

  Lifting a dark eyebrow, she said, “You weren’t exactly available.”

  “I’m always available for you, Sadie Way.” She’d only been in college for two weeks before the
accident, and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask if she’d given it enough of a chance, given herself time to acclimate, before I squashed the question. She’d just said she had no regrets of quitting, and I needed to listen. To hear her.

  She stared at me with big blue eyes full of disbelief, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, and said, “College was a hundred times worse after the accident. I went back to stares and prying questions, and I came to the realization that life was too dang short to spend four years hating it. So I came home, hoping for some sort of normalcy, only to find the people here staring and voicing their dismay that I’d dropped out.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I only saw people who were worried about you, Sadie Way. Because they love you. They still do. Whenever I’m in town, I’m always asked how you’re doing, when you’re coming back. I’m not the only one who wants you to come home for good. You belong here. Always have.”

  She wrapped her arms around her legs and shook her head.

  “What about Will?” I asked, knowing I was pushing my luck. She had clearly entered her stubborn mode, but I only had two more days to work on getting her to reconsider her stance on this town.

  Sadie looked over at me and snapped, “What about him?”

  Whoa. I’d obviously hit a sore spot. I held up my hands to ward off the fury in her voice. “I was just wondering. You two were so close once. I thought you might like to reach out to him, catch up some.”

  “Will cut me out of his life after I left town,” she said, her voice shaking slightly with raw emotion, “so I certainly won’t be reaching out to him.”