The Stillwater Bay Collection (Books 1-4): Stillwater Bay Series Boxed Set Page 10

  “And another pair of slowpokes this morning, I see.” Principal Jordan Stone held the door open for them as they walked in. “Let me guess . . . Bobby, you couldn’t decide what to wear today, right?”

  “Not me, Principal Stone. That was Charity.” Bobby shook his head in disgust.

  “It must be a girl thing,” Jordan leaned down and whispered loudly. He continued to hold the door and then walked with them into the office, where the kids were given a late slip.

  Jenn smiled and waved goodbye to her kids. Bobby looked over his shoulder at her, blew her a kiss, and then waved. She loved that he still did that, and she held on to that memory, knowing that soon her little boy would grow up and be too embarrassed to blow her kisses in public.

  Jenn waved to Katie, Bobby’s old kindergarten teacher, just as her cell phone rang. She paused inside the entry to grab it from her purse, pushing open the school doors with her hip, and bumped into Gabe Berry, Julia’s son.

  “Oops, sorry, Gabe,” she said as Gabe brushed by her. His face was down, his eyes half-hidden beneath the large hoodie he wore. When he glanced up at her, she was taken aback by the anger and fear in his eyes. His backpack was falling off his shoulder and he hitched it up, not saying a word to her. For a brief moment, she thought about why he was at the elementary school and not on the bus to the high school. She was going to stop him to ask but didn’t. From the scowl on the boy’s face, she knew to leave well enough alone.

  Once outside, she remembered her call and brought the phone up to her ear to say hello. She waved at some people she knew as they drove by, and made her way to her vehicle.

  Opening her door, she was about to get in when a snapping sound filled the air, like when firecrackers were set off on a street. Her first thought went immediately to Gabriel, who was known for pulling stunts like that late at night on the beach behind his house. But why in the school? That didn’t make sense. She heard the sound again, but this time it was louder and had more of a popping sound, so she glanced around to see whether a vehicle had backfired, but she was all alone. And that was when she heard the screams.

  So many screams . . . coming from the open windows of the school.

  Her world stopped.

  Jenn’s body jerked, her knees gave out, and she reached for the door to hold herself up. Her muscles tightened as the screams overwhelmed her until she could literally feel them inside herself.

  The terror, unmistakable.

  The screams for help, undeniable.

  More popping sounds filled the air and this time Jenn knew they weren’t firecrackers, but gunshots.

  Charity and Bobby!

  She rushed toward the school, her heart racing, her adrenaline high as thoughts of protecting her children filled her.

  She kept her eyes glued on those front doors . . . until the cries for help over her shoulder stopped her.

  At the side of the school, close to where Jenn knew the grade-three classrooms were located, a window was open and an adult was in the process of climbing out.

  They screamed at her for help.

  She couldn’t move.

  Small bodies were being rushed out of the window and set down on the ground, and in that one moment all she thought about was Bobby.

  One of them could be Bobby.

  Jenn ran, her heart racing as she searched the children for her son.

  “Bobby?” she screamed out as the crowd of children grew.

  He wasn’t there. But in his place were frightened and tearful kids, boys and girls she knew, his playmates who looked up at her with terror in their eyes.

  “Thank God you’re here.” A teacher reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, his grip tight. “Take them over to the parking lot, on the far side.” He pointed to where he wanted Jenn to lead them.

  The children stood there, tears on their faces, hands covering their ears, some squatted low as if to hide themselves.

  “Bobby?” A sob ripped out of her throat before she could stop it. “Have you seen Bobby or Charity?” She rushed to the window to peer in but couldn’t see anything other than more children huddled together.

  “Mrs. Crowne.” The sharp voice stopped her. “Please help us. Take the kids over to that area and then call the police.” The teacher’s voice was calm but terse as he lifted more children out on the grass.

  The children.

  Unable to breathe, Jen grabbed her chest, tried to swallow, and forced herself to concentrate, to not let the panic that was there, right at the edge, take her over.

  “My kids...please, I need to find them.” Her gaze darted all over the place, searching, trying to find her son and daughter.

  “Mrs. Crowne, please. I need your help.” It was the panic in his voice that caught her attention. “I’ll find them, Bobby and Charity. But please, help me.”

  The children. They needed her. She had to help. She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes and reached for the hand of a small child beside her.

  She couldn’t stop her trembling no matter how she tried.

  “Come with me. But we need to run, okay? Everyone hold hands . . . that’s good . . . let’s go.”

  They ran across the grass, the moments ticking by. . . .

  More screams. She stopped.

  Another shot. Her body jolted.

  And another. She jerked.

  Then his voice. The one she’d been listening for.

  Bobby.

  She knew it was him amid all the others, unmistakable, crying out for her.

  Her legs collapsed and she lost her footing.

  Her son was calling out for her, the terror in his voice overwhelming.

  Oh, God.

  Thank you for reading Stillwater Shores. I hope you enjoyed it! The next story is Stillwater Rising.

  Turn the page...

  STILLWATER RISING

  STILLWATER BAY SERIES

  STEENA HOLMES

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 Steena Holmes All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781477825150

  ISBN-10: 1477825150

  Cover design by Kimberly Glyder Design

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014937381 Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-0-9920555-5-4

  A NOTE FROM STEENA

  If ever there was a book that I wish more readers could read…it would be Stillwater Rising.

  There’s something about this story that hits hearts in such a real way - sadly, the subject of this book is something we hear about too often in the news.

  My goal with Stillwater Rising was NOT to focus on the event that led up to this story - the school shooting - but rather focus on the aftermath - primarily, the healing that needs to come from such a tragic event.

  While I am unable to provide the full story within this boxed set - I did receive permission from my publisher to include the first five chapters of Stillwater Rising in this collection! I hope you will enjoy these chapters and don’t worry - there’s a buy link so you can continue on with the story!

  Stillwater Rising

  This book is dedicated to the families who have been affected, in one way or another, by an event similar to what has happened to this fictional town. Your loss can never be adequately shared, but I am humbled by your strength.

  1

  JENNIFER CROWNE

  The water in the bay rippled with the push of a breeze that wafted in through the open kitchen window.
With her eyes closed, Jenn welcomed the morning kiss on her cheeks as the air surrounded her. She tightened a shaggy brown housecoat around her body and waited for the flow of the coffeepot to slow enough for her to fill her mug. The drip of each drop into the pot of liquid rang in her ears, along with the steady tick of their old grandfather clock down the hall. Every small sound intensified against the morbid stillness in the house, a facade that ate her insides every second there was no noise, no laughter.

  She leaned down, planted her elbows on the wood block of her island, and stared out their large bay windows that overlooked Stillwater Bay. Her husband had built their house on the cliff with the bay on one side and the town of Stillwater on the other. Glass windows filled three-quarters of their home. Rob claimed it was so they could see everything around them, but to Jenn, there was no place to hide.

  Once she had loved the openness. Now she hated it.

  A light fog hugged the waters below as it drifted out with the current. Every day since that day a fog had covered the shore. As if the bay itself was in mourning, a thought that comforted Jenn more than she wanted to admit.

  A light scuffle and creak from upstairs alerted her that Charity, her thirteen-year-old daughter, was awake. A glance at the clock confirmed it was still early, barely past six in the morning. Jenn sighed at the thought of another long day when she had to be stronger than she was.

  She’d been dreading this day since the letter came in the mail.

  She checked the chocolate-chip muffins she’d pulled out of the oven earlier to make sure they were cool enough, just as her daughter came down the stairs.

  “Good morning.” Jenn straightened and held out her arms. Despite the dark circles beneath Charity’s eyes, her gaze was bright, almost to the point of feverish.

  “Morning,” Charity mumbled as Jenn gave her a hug. She pressed her lips against Charity’s forehead to test for a fever.

  “Can we go in a bit early today?” Charity pulled away and reached for a muffin from the tray.

  “I was actually thinking . . . why don’t we go into the city for the day? We could go see a movie, do some shopping . . .” Heading into the city was one of the last things she wanted to do, but it was better than the alternative.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  It had been a gradual change, but the sweet, innocent daughter Jenn once knew was gone. She saw glimpses, when Charity didn’t think anyone was looking, but gone was the charming little girl Jenn knew, and in her place was a hormonal, surly teenager who didn’t seem to remember what it meant to respect her parents.

  “Yes, Charity. I’m serious. It could be”—she struggled to find the appropriate wording—“fun?”

  “Shopping? Fun? No thanks. I’d rather go to school, Mom.” The exasperation was quite clear in Charity’s voice.

  Jenn’s shoulders sagged. The school.

  “It’s going to be a madhouse, so I’d like to get there a bit early if we could. Mandy and I planned to meet up so we could go in together.”

  Jenn didn’t know how her daughter did it. How she could be ready to head back into that place so soon.

  Just the thought of the school, the mere mention of its name, brought vivid images to mind, images Jenn knew would haunt her for the rest of her life. Thank God Charity would be going to high school in Midland in the fall.

  “Amanda’s going? Of course she is.” There was no reason she wouldn’t. “Well . . . I thought your dad would take you. Didn’t he say that? He knows I can’t . . . ,” Jenn sighed at the dubious look on her daughter’s face. Of course he wasn’t going to take her.

  “Mom, you have to drive me. You can do it.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can,” Jenn managed to whisper before she took a deep breath and fortified herself.

  What was it Robert had said to her last night? That people looked up to her, counted on her to be strong. But who would be strong for her? Not her husband. He wanted to pretend it had never happened, burying himself in his work instead of allowing himself to grieve for what they had lost.

  Her gaze drifted to the abundance of floral arrangements and cards that littered her house. She wanted to throw them all out, rip up the cards she couldn’t bear to read with the well-meaning words written on them, and burn them until she choked on the smoke.

  The grief counselor had told her that one day she’d want to read those cards, that the words written would give her the strength to remember, to get past the nightmare she lived. Soon she’d have to throw out the dead arrangements, the ones that had withered, but even those she couldn’t touch. Every time the local deliveryman rang her doorbell, she had him place the vases on the foyer table for either Robert or Charity.

  “How’s the muffin?” Jenn changed the subject as she took another piece of her muffin and nibbled on it.

  “Edible,” Charity mumbled as she reached for her second one. Jenn shook her head but kept quiet. Pick your battles, her counselor had said.

  “Are you ready?”

  Charity shook her head as she glanced down at the pyjamas she wore.

  “No, I mean, are you sure you’re ready to go to the school today? I’m sure Amanda or even Principal Stone could gather your things for you.”

  “Mandy’s mom says we can either be the victor or the victim. And if we don’t face our fears, then they’ll soon control us.”

  Of course Amanda’s mother said that. It wasn’t her child who had been gunned down at the public school. It wasn’t Amanda’s mother who had found her son facedown in his own blood.

  “And is that what you’re doing? Facing your fears?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.” Charity’s head popped up, and her chin jutted out.

  Jenn sagged against the counter and turned her attention back to the scene outside her windows. The water in the bay beckoned her, soothed her.

  “I wish I could say the same thing,” she whispered. She was afraid of everything lately, it seemed. Before the shooting, she knew what she wanted in life. In fact, she’d taken steps to change her life, to be more in charge. She thought about the envelope sitting in her desk drawer and wondered if she’d ever get back to the woman she used to be.

  “So can we? Mom? Hello-o?”

  Jenn shook her head and refocused. “I’m sorry?”

  Throwing her hands up in frustration, Charity just frowned and stood there with her hands on her hips.

  “Right. School. No. I don’t think you should go.” Jenn filled her mug with coffee, grabbed another muffin, and started to head over to the breakfast nook when her daughter’s voice stopped her.

  “But Dad said . . .”

  Jenn turned. “I don’t care what your father said. I’m not taking you. If he wanted you to go, then he should have been here to drive you.”

  She’d had this argument with Robert last night. She’d suggested instead of going into the office in the wee hours like he normally did to get a head start on work, he should stay home and they would have breakfast as a family, then they could deal with this if it came up. Apparently he hadn’t believed her when she said she wasn’t going to drive Charity to the school.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You should know by now, life isn’t fair.”

  “I’m calling Dad.” Charity reached for the phone. “Yes, great idea.”

  A letter had been mailed last week to all the families letting them know about the school opening the last Friday before summer vacation officially began. A day for closure and remembrance. The day was going to include games and outdoor activities, but opening the school—for even a short period of time—had nothing to do with supporting their children and everything to do with maintaining the pretense that their town was learning to move forward.

  “But Dad—” Charity half turned away from her as she spoke to Robert on the phone.

  Jenn watched as her daughter’s face crumpled. She breathed a small sigh of relief as her daughter hung up the phone. Jenn didn’t say anything, but
she was thankful Robert backed her up on this even if he didn’t agree with her.

  “He can’t drive me. He has a bunch of meetings today. Which totally sucks.” Charity pushed items around on the island.

  “There’s no reason to go, Charity, you know that. If it’s just to see your friends, then you can do that anytime.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it? Explain it to me. Why are you so insistent to return to that school?”

  “You don’t understand.” Charity lowered her gaze. “Please, Mom, will you just take me?”

  Jenn shook her head. “Please don’t ask me again.”

  She never wanted to step foot back in that school. Ever. She doubted there would ever be a day when she didn’t drive by without remembering, without the sinking weight of depression and grief hitting her.

  Robert had asked her how long she was going to be like this. When she asked him what he meant, he only stared at her. Then he said the words she wasn’t ready to hear.

  “You’ve lost yourself. Little by little, and I don’t even think you care.”

  But she did care. She did. But it had only been a month since she’d lost her son. A month. Of course she wasn’t going to be her usual self.

  A week ago today, the town had held a funeral service for the students who had been murdered in a fit of rage by a local teen. Weeks before, each family had held their own private services. A time to mourn the loss of their children in a senseless act. There were so many questions without answers, so much anger, hurt, and fear.

  Jenn wished she were more like Robert, who didn’t seem to feel any of that. But she did. She felt all of it, and it was overwhelming. She tried to wear a mask, knowing it was what Robert wanted, especially when they were out in public, but it was hard.

  Her ten-year-old son had been one of the last children to be found.