Stillwater Rising Page 10

  It was as if that part of her heart had died along with Bobby. And as a wife? Did the life they lived together as man and wife even count anymore? They were roommates at best. Yes, Robert had been her strength during the first few weeks after Bobby’s death, but that closeness, that . . . togetherness, wasn’t there like it had been.

  She shouldn’t be so surprised, though. Their marriage had been falling apart, piece by piece, until it seemed like all that was left was a shell constructed for Robert’s business needs. Back in March, Jenn had met with a family lawyer in the city to discuss drawing up divorce papers, but something had held her back from giving them to Robert.

  She’d always wanted the fairy-tale life, the happily-ever-after. Admitting their marriage had crumbled was admitting defeat, and there was something deep inside Jenn, preventing her from doing that.

  She wasn’t a defeatist. At least, she hadn’t been. So what had changed?

  She was the one who had changed, but why?

  There were broken pieces inside her, deep inside her heart and soul, that she wasn’t sure would, or even could, ever be repaired. But after today, first the way she’d shut down with Carla and then at the harbor with Charity, she knew she needed to piece her life back together.

  What did it say that her first thought of dealing with her grief was opening a bottle of wine or starting the morning with Baileys in her coffee?

  The outing to the harbor with Charity after dropping off the basket to the Andersons’ had been a disaster. The closer they’d come to the path leading down to the boat dock, the tenser she’d become. Charity on the other hand . . . it was like she was being set free, unable or unwilling to see that the chains she shed were being cast on her own mother. Jenn’s chest tightened, her fingers tingled, and little black dots swam ahead of her with each step she took. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, didn’t grasp the full extent of her panic attack . . . and she wished she had. Between Marina Drive and Second Bridge Street was a gravel drive that led down toward the dock. It was here that she lost her composure. Her sanity.

  The last time she’d come this way had been with Bobby. They’d waited at the top of the drive for someone to drive his boat down and unload it, a process that could sometimes be lengthy. While they waited, Bobby had built a miniature boat dock right up against the wood fence so that his boats would go up and over the first board.

  That little ramp was still there when she and Charity walked up, but now small toy boats and single white carnations decorated it.

  Jenn froze, unable to move. It didn’t matter that she blocked the drive and that cars were lined up waiting for her to cross. It didn’t matter that Charity stood unaware next to the impromptu memorial for her brother. But Jenn knew. And the knowledge crushed her to the ground until she became a bumbling mess.

  It had been Pastor Scott Helman who came to her, lifted her off the ground, and sat with her beside Bobby’s ramp. She couldn’t recall in detail what had happened afterward, other than someone had driven them home and Charity had covered her with a blanket while she sat in her large rocker.

  She was ashamed by her reaction. What if someone told Robert?

  Truth be told, another reason why she had left the house before her husband came home was to avoid the look of reproach in Robert’s gaze when he walked through the door.

  “What am I doing?” she whispered to herself.

  She’d driven out to the lighthouse and down the rocky path as far as she could, then climbed over the fence so she could sit on the large rock face that hung over the water. It used to be her favorite place as a teen to hide, to think, to daydream. The rock wall had crumbled thanks to the weather, but she was safe enough as long as she didn’t sit on the edge.

  She needed a game plan, a focus, to help her out of this pit she was losing herself in. Yes, she was mourning. She wasn’t just mourning for her son, but for the life she’d had. Last summer, she’d never have let Carla talk to her like that. Yes, she would have been polite, but she would have stood her ground. Not like today. She didn’t like the woman she’d been today. Weak. Downtrodden. Empty.

  The counselor she’d been seeing had told her to look within herself and see who she was in that exact moment—whether it be a mother, a wife, or a volunteer. Whoever she was in that moment, she should be that person to the full extent, with everything inside of her.

  But she hadn’t followed the counselor’s advice. Instead, she’d taken all the many facets of who she was and lumped them together in a pile of worthlessness. She couldn’t do it all, so she couldn’t do it at all. Perhaps that was the wrong way to look at it. Maybe her counselor had been right.

  Right now, she wasn’t a mother, a wife, or a volunteer . . . she was Jenn. A woman with dreams, goals, and desires. In this moment, as she sat gazing out on the bay, she could be that woman. A woman with a dream of being fulfilled. A woman with a goal of being someone others could look up to. A woman with the desire to change her town for the better.

  Having a goal gave her a purpose. And with a purpose, she knew she could get out of the hole she was mired in.

  An idea bubbled up, bringing a small shimmer of excitement, before she squashed it down. The one thing she wanted to do, she couldn’t. She knew that. It would be viewed as betrayal, not just by her husband but by her best friend as well.

  A best friend who obviously had no idea what she was going through.

  Something clicked inside her heart. Like her marriage, had her relationship with Charlotte all been a charade? Was it based on what Jenn could do for her as the mayor instead of as a friend? It was starting to look that way.

  She knew it wasn’t fair to expect Charlotte to understand completely what she was going through, but she wasn’t the only one grieving. Dozens of families in Stillwater had lost a child; dozens more had children who’d been hurt, terrorized, and traumatized beyond comprehension.

  But what about Robert? If she went through with this idea, Robert would be angry. No, he’d be more than angry, he’d be furious, because it would go against everything he’d been trying to do since the shootings occurred.

  Everything he’d worked so hard on with Charlotte.

  Jenn wasn’t ready to face that issue yet.

  But it did help to make up her mind.

  Feeling more relaxed, Jenn leaned back on her hands and stretched out. A warm breeze played with her hair. She let her head fall back, exposed her throat, and fell into the sensation of being set free, like a bird. She imagined herself drifting upward, toward the clouds, with the wind beneath her. She smiled as the heaviness she’d carried earlier let go.

  She could do this. In this time and in this moment, she knew she could do this. Nothing and no one would stop her. And if it meant betraying those around her, then it begged the question, who was the first betrayer?

  Jenn parked her SUV outside the town hall and made her way in. It wasn’t until she stood in the main hallway that she realized she’d come empty-handed. She hoped nobody would comment on it.

  A small buzz came from the committee room off to the side of the building’s entrance. She was the last one to arrive. Her cheeks heated up, and she quickly ducked her head, with the hope that no one would notice her.

  “There you are,” a voice called out.

  Jenn plastered a smile on her face and lifted her hand in a small wave.

  “Sorry for being late,” she said.

  A table had been set up with coffee, and someone else had brought a plate of baked goods. She filled a Stryofoam cup with coffee but bypassed the slightly burnt cookies before heading over to the round table set up in the middle.

  One empty seat remained, and it was right beside Lacie. Jenn gave her a small smile but kept quiet as Charlie Monroe was speaking. Charlie owned the local hardware store and was head of the fair committee.

  “Jenn, we were just discussing t
he new parade route.” Charlie leaned forward and looked at her from the other side of Lacie. “We’re going to start at the lighthouse this year and go down First and end at South Beach. The route is quite a bit shorter, but we want to bypass the school this year.”

  Jenn nodded in agreement. She was the one who had first suggested the reroute when they’d met earlier to discuss postponing the annual summer parade.

  “We’re running into a bit of a snag, though,” Lacie mentioned.

  “What kind of snag?” Jenn leaned forward and placed her elbow on the table.

  “Well, we normally end with the children’s activities that would be set up in the school parking lot. We don’t have that venue now.”

  The fun activities were an important part of the parade. They usually had stalls for face painting, clown lessons, water tanks where kids could dunk their teachers, and other fun things for families to do.

  “What about the community center?”

  Charlie shook his head. “That’s where the midway is being set up.”

  The midway included the carnival rides, games, and entertainment.

  “Surely there is room?” While the parking lot wasn’t that large, she did remember that they’d rented only a few rides and booths, making sure to leave plenty of room for other things. “Why can’t we move some of the booths down to North Beach and set up some activities there? Sure, things will be a bit different this year, but that’s to be expected, right?”

  Jenn caught the way others in the committee nodded and jotted down notes on the pads of paper laid out at every seat.

  “Merille, you okay with reorganizing the fixtures?” Charlie looked at the woman across the table from him.

  “And, Arnold, can you restructure the notice for the paper to ensure folks are aware of the route change?”

  “Already done,” Arnold mumbled before he took a sip of his coffee.

  While talk continued around the table of tasks that were under way for the July Fourth festivities, including a large fireworks display out in the bay, Jenn mulled over thoughts she wanted to bring up and jotted down some key points. She waited for the lull that announced the ending of their meeting before she spoke up.

  “Before we all go, there’s something I’d like to . . . suggest to everyone here.” She leaned forward, planted her elbows on the table, and linked her fingers together.

  “This isn’t about the parade or anything linked to these festivities. Rather, they are about the school, and I bring it up now because, frankly, everyone here is on the school board.” She glanced around the table and met the gaze of each person. She wasn’t sure how the next few words she uttered would be taken, but she knew, deep inside, that they were the right words.

  “I’d like to propose a discussion regarding the closure of Stillwater Public before the start of the new school year in September.”

  There. She’d said it. Without thinking of the ramifications or any of the minute details that would go into closing the school. She spoke what was in her heart. Living in the moment, as her counselor would say, and it felt right.

  She was met with silence and bewildered glances.

  “Why would we do that?” Charlie asked.

  That moment of clarity, of feeling the rightness of what she was about to say, dissipated. She wished she could take her words back, rewind and press Delete on these last few moments.

  Lacie laid her hand on Jenn’s arm. “I’m not sure that is the best plan, not for our small community.”

  “Why not? It’s not a large school. We ship our high school students off to larger schools. Why can’t we do that with our younger children? Why force them to remain in a school where they lived a nightmare? How many of you were at the school Friday? Did you not see the reactions from our children as they faced their fears? Why would you want to do that to them?”

  “And what would we do with the building? Let it sit empty as a monument to the worst day in Stillwater’s history?” Arnold wheezed, in between a coughing fit.

  That gave Jenn pause. “We could create a lasting monument,” she suggested.

  “No.” Charlie stood up. “Jenn, we all understand where you are coming from, but the answer has to be no. This isn’t something we’ll table at our next meeting. It’s not even something we’ll bring up in our minutes as discussed.”

  Jenn twisted in her chair to look at Charlie directly. “But I think it should be discussed.”

  Charlie’s gaze remained firm. “Closing the school isn’t what is best for this town. Our children are resilient. They will heal. We all will heal.” He stepped away from his chair and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. If you need some time . . . well, we all understand if you decide to step down for a bit.”

  Jenn shook her head. Stepping down admitted defeat, and that was something she wouldn’t do. She looked at the other members around the table and focused on Shelley Peterson. The owner of the Seaglass B&B had lost her nephew in the shooting that day. Perhaps she would understand and sympathize. And Lacie, she knew Lacie had to feel the same way.

  “I understand, Jenn. Trust me, I do,” Lacie said quietly.

  Jenn turned toward her. “Then why didn’t you support me, back me up?”

  “Because I’m not sure that’s the right way to go about it. There are too many ramifications to closing the school. Trust me, I’ve thought about it. But do you want to be responsible for all our teachers losing their jobs?”

  Jenn picked up a pen and played with it. “I’m sure they could find positions elsewhere.”

  Lacie’s brow rose. “Really? In our economy?”

  Okay, so she should have thought this through a little more. “So what do we do then? Because we need to do something.”

  “I’m all for sheltering our kids from the bad world outside our front doors, but sometimes we can’t. But what we can do is what we have been doing. Teach them coping methods. Help them face their fears—”

  “By forcing them?” Jenn interrupted. She would never agree that pushing the children to face this fear was the best thing for any of them, including her child. Never. And she couldn’t believe Lacie was.

  “I think we’re looking at it a bit differently,” Lacie sighed. “We can’t hide from this and pretend it never happened. That’s not the way to help our children or even our community.”

  “I’m not hiding.” But Jenn knew by the look on Lacie’s face that she’d been caught in a lie. “I’m not. I wake up every morning, knowing my son is gone. I wish I could pretend otherwise, but . . .”

  “But have you accepted it?”

  “Of course not.” Jenn jerked back at the thought. “How could I possibly accept it?” Just the thought of being at peace with her child’s death tore her already tattered heart into a million pieces.

  “That’s the only way to heal, as hard as it is.” Lacie’s soft voice was filled with something other than her own acceptance, and Jenn could hear it.

  “Have you?” she asked. “Have you accepted your son’s death? Has Pastor Scott? Have you forgiven God for taking your child away like that? Have you accepted the pain and fear he must have been in just before he died?”

  Lacie winced.

  “I didn’t think so.” A small level of satisfaction filled Jenn. At least she wasn’t the only one still hurting. Still angry. “So don’t lecture me when you haven’t done it yourself.”

  Lacie stood up, gathered her belongings, and looked down. Jenn could read the sadness in her gaze and see how her words had hit hard and hurt. She was about to apologize, but Lacie spoke first.

  “I’ll never understand nor will I be able to forgive something so senseless. But if I don’t learn to accept that my son is gone, that he will never sit at my kitchen table again, never argue with me about the clothes he wants to wear or the music he was listening to, then I’ll never be a
ble to move on with my life. I’ll miss him every moment of every day, but I have two other children to raise, to love, to teach that when life hammers you into the ground, you can still get back up.”

  The room was empty now; the others had left while the two were talking. Jenn stood up and gathered her own purse. In silence they exited the room and made their way outside. They stopped at the small round water fountain beneath the stairs, and Jenn trailed her fingers in the shallow water.

  “Have you gotten back up yet?” Jenn asked the one question circling her mind.

  Lacie shook her head. She glanced up at the sky, her shoulders back, and a small tear slid down her cheek. “I’m afraid I never will.”

  Jenn didn’t know how to respond or what to say, so she remained quiet as Lacie walked away from her. She stood there, unsure of what to do or where to go, when she heard her name called.

  “Merille, I thought you’d gone home.” She eyed the woman with curiosity. Merille wasn’t someone she normally stopped and chatted with. Although she should. Merille was a mother who understood the pain of losing a child. Her son had been another victim of Gabriel Berry’s rampage.

  “I wanted to talk to you, without others around.” Merille’s voice was low, quiet, and she stood with her head bowed. It took a few moments, but when she lifted her head, there was fire blazing through her gaze, a fire that Jenn understood. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone. There’s a group of us that agree with you. We feel the school needs to be closed too.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHARLOTTE

  Charlotte parked her car in their driveway and then followed the walkway to the side of their house. The gate was latched but not locked, and the hinges squeaked as she pushed it open. Buster barked in greeting while she locked the gate behind her and met Jordan in the back.

  He held out a glass of wine to her.

  “How did you know I needed this?” She took a sip and sighed at the blissful quiet of their yard.