The Stillwater Bay Collection (Books 1-4): Stillwater Bay Series Boxed Set Page 2

  Julia looked at Charlotte for a moment without saying anything and then smiled. It was weak and small, but Charlotte would take it.

  She fixed her a plate with a cucumber sandwich cut into four pieces and added some salad greens. She made a plate for herself so that Julia wouldn’t be uncomfortable eating in front of her.

  “How was the service?” Julia’s voice cracked.

  “It was nice.” The word was inadequate, but then, how would you describe a memorial service for the victims to the mother of the boy responsible for their deaths?

  The silence in the room was thick and tangible, and Charlotte was at a loss for words.

  “I made the right decision not to go, didn’t I?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “Lacie told me I should have gone.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth and then closed it, shocked at the news. Why would Lacie do that? How could she? Julia’s being there would have been like a . . . like a slap in the faces of all the families, even though she had every right to be there. What had Lacie been thinking?

  Lacie was Julia’s best friend; they were inseparable, and Charlotte couldn’t imagine the pain that had torn them apart after Gabriel killed Lacie’s son Wes. She wasn’t sure how their friendship could survive, and wouldn’t have thought Lacie would be talking to Julia just yet.

  “Why?”

  A sad smile settled onto Julia’s face. “She said I was as much a victim as anyone else and grieving for my child too.”

  “Oh, Julia, I’m sorry.” Charlotte didn’t know what else to say. Lacie was right. No matter what had happened, Julia had also lost her son.

  Julia shook her head. “No. It’s my decision. The town didn’t need me there as a reminder.”

  “But she’s right,” Charlotte said.

  “My child is the one who wrecked their lives.” Tears welled up in Julia’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the edge of the blanket she had wrapped around her.

  “Julia . . .” Charlotte didn’t bother to argue. “When is Gabe’s memorial service? Have you decided on a date yet?”

  Once the police had released Gabriel’s body, Charlotte stayed with Julia while he was cremated in private. There hadn’t been a service yet for him; Julia had wanted to wait for the other families to have theirs first. She didn’t want his grave to be there before their children’s or loved ones’.

  Every decision Julia had made since that fateful day had been with others in mind, always placing their grief, their heartache above her own.

  Judging from the amount of food in Julia’s kitchen, though, it seemed like she hadn’t been forgotten.

  Julia shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m going to do one. Who would come? I have no family left, and all my friends . . .” Her voice broke and she couldn’t finish.

  Charlotte leaned forward and placed her hand on Julia’s knee. “Your friends will be there. Maybe not all of them, not yet, but you won’t be alone.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  Charlotte watched as Julia retreated inside of herself even more.

  “I will be there, Jules. I promise. I will not leave you alone.” That was one promise she vowed to keep: She was not leaving Julia alone. “Do you want me to take care of it? Arrange something private?”

  Julia shook her head. “Who would officiate? Not Scott Helman—I couldn’t ask that of him.”

  Charlotte shook her head. No, Scott had done enough. Despite being one of the families who also lost a child on that day, he was also the local pastor and had been at every service held over the past two weeks.

  “Not Scott,” Charlotte agreed. “Me.”

  There was a quick flash of hope in Julia’s eyes, but it didn’t last long.

  “I can’t. I won’t do that to you, Charlotte. You need to be focused on the town, not on me. Just give me some time, okay?”

  The defeat in Julia’s voice rubbed Charlotte raw, but she knew nothing she said would matter right now.

  So she would give her friend time.

  2

  LACIE HELMAN

  Last night I asked Scott to choose between me and the Church. He chose me. I wish he’d chosen the Church.

  Lacie read and reread that sentence over and over until her heart sank and she thought she would drown beneath the weight of what she’d done. With her knees tight to her chest, she rested her forehead against the nightgown pulled tight to cover her legs and forced herself not to cry.

  Writing it down made it sound so much worse than what it was. She sounded cold, harsh, uncaring, whereas she was anything but.

  She loved Scott. They’d been married for over fifteen years and he was one of her best friends.

  But she hated the Church and the life they led. Hated the demands placed on Scott, how, no matter how much they planned to have family time, something always came up. Always. It was rare that he could sit down for a meal without getting a phone call or text message asking for his immediate help or advice. It was always a fight to get Scott to agree to shut his phone off during meals and to ignore the ringing of their home phone when people couldn’t get him on his cell. The Helmans used to love sitting down as a family and watching the latest cooking show, but now they had to tape everything and wait for when Scott could join them. The Church always came first. Always. Never his family.

  Once, she’d loved being a pastor’s wife, loved knowing that she was needed and made a difference. She’d grasped hold of Scott’s calling and made it her own until she’d forgotten what it was she’d wanted to do with her life, other than being a wife and a mother.

  But it wasn’t her calling. She couldn’t do it anymore. The late nights. The gossip. The single parenting. The pressure to perform and always be on.

  She wouldn’t lie: She’d been surprised at how Scott responded to her ultimatum.

  Her or the Church. He chose her.

  She should be thrilled. Elated. On cloud nine.

  “Mom? Mom? Mom? Mooommmmm . . .”

  Lacie sighed, closed her journal, and replaced it in the drawer of her bedside table before her youngest son, Liam, barreled into her room, running as if he were a quarterback, clutching their tabby kitten like a football under his arm.

  “Liam, I don’t think Butterball likes being held like that.”

  Her son stopped dead in his tracks and gave her a weird look, as if how could she even question that?

  Butterball gave a few weak meows, and Lacie rushed to extract the nearly suffocated cat from Liam’s hold and place her down. Liam watched the kitten scamper beneath Lacie’s bed, and before he could get down on his hands and knees to go after it, Lacie grabbed her youngest son by the shoulders and steered him back toward her door. She grabbed her housecoat and slipped her feet into the slippers.

  “Have you had your breakfast yet?”

  “You weren’t there.” He looked up at her with his big eyes.

  “But you’re a big boy now, remember? You can pour your own cereal.”

  His lips pursed and he dug his heels into the carpet. He turned, crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned at her.

  “You weren’t there,” he repeated.

  Lacie sighed. “I know I wasn’t, but I was coming. Daddy got your cereal down, didn’t he?” Scott promised he’d help the kids with breakfast this morning before he went to the church. He also promised he’d call a board meeting for tonight and announce that he was stepping down.

  Her stomach twisted in a knot at the thought. She hated herself for making him choose, for making him give up his dream, his passion . . . but she was dying a slow death, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hang on. Somehow, somewhere, she’d lost herself. Who was Lacie Helman? She had to be more than a mother, more than a pastor’s wife . . . but what?

  Was the love they shared enough? She used to think so—that as long as they had each other, they could get through anything. But that love . . . it hadn’t helped much in the past few years.
It hadn’t kept her from losing herself, her identity. At what point had she even stopped loving herself?

  She donned her housecoat, slipping her arms inside, and then made a tight knot with the belt to hold the edges together. She really needed a new one. Either that or proper pyjamas to walk around the house in. Except this was a school day, which meant even proper pyjamas wouldn’t work.

  “Listen.” She bent down and looked Liam straight in the eyes. “Can you go and pour some cereal into your bowl while Mommy gets dressed? I’ll be lickety-split, okay?”

  Liam nodded, a deep drop of his head so that his chin almost hit his chest. “Okay,” he said.

  Lacie smiled at him, leaned forward, and placed a small kiss on his forehead. “That’s a good boy.”

  She headed back into her bedroom, but not before she heard her son call out, “Lickety-split, Mommy.”

  “Lickety-split, Liam. Promise.”

  She knew she had maybe two minutes before he rushed back into her room, thinking she’d disappeared somehow.

  She threw on yoga pants and a long T-shirt. She’d have a shower later once Emily, Liam’s helper, stopped by. She straightened the comforter on the bed and was pulling her hair into a ponytail when Liam’s expected panic began.

  “Mom? Mommm? Moooommm?” Liam banged on the closed door to her room. When she opened it his hand was in midswing, and instead of connecting with the door, his fist connected with her thigh.

  “Oomph,” she said. He was quite strong for his age and size. “I’m right here, kiddo. You were supposed to pour your cereal like a big boy, remember?”

  “I missed you.”

  The way he said it, looking up at her with his big blue eyes and his hands cupped beneath his chin, melted her heart.

  “Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore, ’cause guess what?” Lacie held her hand out to Liam, who grabbed hold.

  “What?” His voice bounced off the walls with its vibrancy.

  “You don’t have to miss me anymore, ’cause I’m right here.” She smiled down, knowing exactly how he’d respond.

  “Yay!” he shouted. “Wesley . . . hey, Wesley . . . Wessssllllleeeeyyyyy,” Liam called out.

  Her twelve-year-old son, Wes, poked his head out his bedroom door. “What’s up, buddy?”

  “Mom’s here.” Liam smiled, his huge grin stretching from one side of his face to the other.

  “Hey, Mom. Sorry, I meant to be downstairs with him, but I slept in.”

  “It’s all good. I figured you’d be tired after last night. You didn’t get home until really late with Dad.”

  Last night was the culmination of everything Lacie had been feeling—the fact that her son had been out until almost midnight because no one else would stay to help Scott clean up after some kid had spray-painted graffiti on the church.

  “At least school is almost done, right?” He wore a hopeful look on his face.

  “You’ve a month left, Wes. That’s not almost done.”

  “But it’s close.”

  Ever the optimist, her son. “Yes, it’s close. Not close enough that it’s okay to be up till midnight on a school night, however.”

  “Dad needed my help.”

  Lacie struggled not to roll her eyes. “I’m sure he did. Because there was no one, no adult,” she corrected herself, “who could have stayed to help your father.”

  Liam tugged at her hand, and when she didn’t move fast enough, he pulled. “Hungry. Hungry now.”

  “Sorry,” Wes muttered before he closed the door.

  Lacie walked away, knowing it wasn’t right to take her frustrations out on her son, that he still viewed the Church, the people, as family. His family. God’s family. And it was only right to do anything and everything to help those in God’s family.

  But that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She wasn’t sure whether it was disappointment, bitterness, or just plain anger that welled up inside her at the thought.

  Since when was it okay for ministers to put the needs of their families last? Since when did the Church have to come first?

  She had a niggling worry that Wes would have a hard time understanding why Scott was stepping down from being a pastor. But they would deal with that when the time came. There would be so many questions they’d have to answer, not just from their own children but from others in town. Lacie knew this, but if she were being honest, she wasn’t ready for it.

  It would have made things so much easier if Scott had chosen the Church. Except, deep down, she knew that wasn’t the outcome she wanted. She didn’t want to leave her husband, didn’t want to destroy their marriage . . . what she wanted was a divorce from the Church.

  Kelsie was already downstairs, her head bowed as she devoured mouthfuls of her cereal. She glanced up, but instead of smiling, she spooned more cereal into her already full mouth and then grabbed the box of Lucky Charms on the counter and poured more into her bowl.

  “How many bowls is that?” Lacie narrowed her gaze at her thirteen-year-old daughter.

  Sheepishly, Kelsie held up three fingers.

  Lacie knew she should say something, get upset, lecture her on the values of eating not only a healthy breakfast but a reasonable one, but she couldn’t, because Liam dropped to the floor and began his regular dance of flailing and wailing.

  She so didn’t need this right now. “Please tell me you left some for your brother.” She knew from the look on her daughter’s face that she hadn’t.

  “Why, Kelsie? You know that’s his favorite. Why couldn’t you have left him at least one bowl?”

  And just like that, the look on her daughter’s face went from mischievous to thunderous.

  “It’s my favorite too.”

  Lacie stepped over her son, who continued to throw a temper tantrum on the floor, and reached for the empty cereal box. “I hope there’s more in the pantry,” she muttered.

  Lacie and Scott worked really hard to ensure that they didn’t give Liam any special attention compared to their other children, despite his being their only child with Down syndrome. But sometimes it was hard.

  “Are you done yet, Liam?” Lacie asked while she searched the pantry for an alternative that would make him stop. Some Special K and Rice Krispies, but no Lucky Charms.

  She couldn’t wait for this stage to be over. All kids threw temper tantrums, but Kelsie and Wes seemed to grow out of it pretty early. Not so Liam. He was always a few years behind.

  “Hey, man, what’s all the commotion about?” Wes ran down the stairs and slid across the floor until he was beside Liam. “I thought maybe we could do something different for breakfast today,” he half whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Like what?”

  “Mom bought some supersecret toaster waffles yesterday and tried to hide them. What do you say we eat them up before she gets a chance to?” Wes turned his head slightly and winked at her. Lacie had to turn away; otherwise Liam would see the smile on her face and know it was all a ruse.

  “Secret waffles?” She could hear the excitement in Liam’s voice. “Okay.”

  “Keep it on the down-low, though,” Wes whispered.

  “Mom, Mom . . . we’re going to sneak your waffles.” Liam giggled.

  Lacie just shook her head and headed into the back, to the freezer, leaving the kids to their breakfast. Once again she was so thankful for Wesley and how patient he was with Liam.

  While the kids ate, Lacie got their school bags ready, complete with lunch. It was Wesley’s day to bring in a snack for his class, so she’d made some chocolate-chip cookies and placed them in the freezer overnight. Except, as she opened the freezer lid, the bright red Tupperware container she’d used was gone.

  “Where’re all the cookies I made last night, guys?” she called out.

  When no one answered, she sighed before closing the lid and heading back into the kitchen.

  “I’m serious. Where are the cookies? Wes has to take them to school today.” She looked at Kelsie, who shrugged,
and then to Wes and Liam, who shook their heads.

  She grabbed her cell phone from the counter and sent Scott a quick text.

  Please tell me you didn’t take cookies from the freezer this morning.

  It didn’t take long for him to answer.

  I did. Was that okay?

  She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. She wasn’t even going to ask why—no doubt there was some Bible study or prayer meeting or something and he was just being kind. Everyone probably fawned all over him for being so thoughtful in bringing cookies, and knowing Scott, he’d make sure she got all the glory.

  They were for Wesley’s class.

  I’m sorry! I’ll call Anne Marie and ask her to put some cookies aside. Do you want me to drop them off?

  And just like that, any frustration she’d felt melted.

  Thank you. Tell her I’ll grab them.

  Yes, he made mistakes, but he was always the first to admit it and try to make it up.

  Love you.

  She read those words and knew he meant them. He must—he was leaving the Church for her.

  See you later. She knew he wanted, needed her to say it back to him. And really, saying those three words he needed to hear this morning shouldn’t be so difficult. Of course she loved him. She always would. But she didn’t feel it right now. She’d just asked him to make a major decision regarding their marriage and he had . . . but did he think that erased all her feelings, her anger and her frustration?

  She sighed. Of course he did, because that was how he thought. She’d asked him to make a choice and he’d made it without any hesitation. Because he loved her.

  Love you too, she texted back.

  “Okay, guys, we need to get ready soon. As soon as you finish your breakfast, we’ll make a pit stop at Sweet Bakes and grab some cookies from Anne Marie.”

  “Did Dad take the ones you made last night?” Wesley asked.

  “I’m afraid so, kiddo.”

  “Can we get some for home, too?” Kelsie asked.

  “Oh, I think we might be able to do that.” She should also pick up one of Anne Marie’s chocolate croissants as well. And maybe even a pie for Scott for when he came home after his meeting.