Stillwater Rising Page 4

  “Really, Ms. Hill? One question? You said that on the day of my son’s funeral as well, didn’t you?”

  Their son’s funeral had made front-page news, a fact Jenn would never forgive. The image of her standing off to the side as she stared at her son’s casket, the haunted look in her eyes, she’d never forget it. How could they memorialize something like that? Why did they have to focus on her, on her grief?

  She knew why. Robert. Her husband was the reason, and parts of her heart hated him for that.

  She understood the deal made between the reporters, Charlotte, and Robert, who believed it was better for the town if the news focused on only one family while the others mourned in private, but she doubted she’d ever forgive Robert sharing something so private with a world that had no true understanding of the devastation they experienced.

  “Mrs. Crowne, please, I promise.” Samantha followed her to the sidewalk and then sneaked around her to block her way into the bakery.

  “Fine.” Jenn refused to smile, be polite, or offer anything in the way of kindness to this woman, no matter what Robert said.

  “It’s about the school reopening today. What are your thoughts?” The microphone held steady in her face.

  Jenn tossed her hair back and gripped the handles of her purse.

  “I think it’s horrible and unfair to the children and parents of Stillwater to expose them to a place where so many lives were lost.”

  A gleam appeared in the reporter’s gaze as she struggled to keep the smile off her face.

  “Mayor Stone believes it will help the students move forward, do you not agree?”

  Jenn snorted. A tiny part of her knew she should keep her mouth shut, that she should hold back her anger and tactfully agree with whatever Charlotte had said, but she couldn’t. Not this time.

  “Move forward? By what? Forcing them to face the horrors of their past? Is this the closure my daughter needs, is that what you are asking? In order for her to deal with her brother’s death, does she need to revisit the scene, to see the area where her brother and fellow students were gunned down to death? No. She doesn’t. None of them do.” Jenn clenched her hands tighter as she struggled to keep her voice down.

  “But it was my understanding that portion of the school was closed off.”

  “Just because flowers cover my son’s grave doesn’t hide the fact that there is still a grave. It doesn’t matter what section of the school the children are in today, they won’t forget. They will never forget.”

  “Does the mayor know how you feel?”

  “Of course she does. But she doesn’t have children. She wouldn’t understand. I’m sure I’m not the only parent who feels this way.” Jenn shrugged.

  “And yet, your daughter is at the school, right this very minute, isn’t she?”

  Jenn took a step back, her mind a whirl with how to respond. Yes, Charity was there; she chose to be.

  “My daughter is a victor, not a victim. This is her way of proving this to herself. As a mother, I want to protect her from the world, but apparently I can’t. If I could, I would have been able to protect my son too.” Jenn took another step back, ready to flee, but was stopped by the reporter.

  “Just one more question, I promise. There’s a rumor that the school might close, forcing the students to attend a school in Midland. What do you think of this?” The conniving gleam in Ms. Hill’s eyes burned brighter, as if the anticipation of Jenn’s outburst would be the fuel to her already burning fire.

  Jenn didn’t disappoint.

  “I’d like to see the school torn down and something else built in its place, a memorial of sorts for the lives lost. The children of Stillwater do not need to be subjected to the reminder that we couldn’t protect them. This town should never have to relive the horror of what we experienced. Absolutely.” Conviction filled Jenn to the core. Yes, this was the right thing to do. “Shut it down. It’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

  Jennifer pushed open the bakery door and took in the delicious aroma of chocolate and freshly baked bread. She breathed in deep, hoping that the anger coursing through her body would dissipate.

  “I don’t know how you do it.” Anne Marie stood at her front window. “The way you smile and appear all gracious. Some days I wish I were more like you.” Anne Marie turned and held out her arms to give Jenn a hug.

  Jenn shuddered. “And most days, I wish I were more like you.” She gave Anne Marie a small smile before they both turned to stare out the window and watched as Samantha Hill stuffed her equipment in the back of her UCN car. “Besides, I wasn’t all that gracious out there. I probably said more than I should have.”

  “You? I find that hard to believe,” Anne Marie laughed. “Oh honey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You know what you need?” Anne Marie reached for a tray that sat on a small table beside her and held it out for Jenn to see. “Try one. It’s a new recipe.”

  Jenn’s eyes widened at the display of small chocolate squares. The top of the squares were all drizzled with chocolate and covered with a light dust of icing sugar in the shape of a heart.

  “What are they?”

  “My version of a chocolate kiss. Just try one. I promise it will make everything else in your life disappear the moment you take a bite.”

  Jenn eyed the chocolate. “If that were true, you’d be my personal fairy godmother.” She winked at Anne Marie, who pretended to look upset.

  “I thought I already was.” Anne Marie replaced the tray on the table and took a square for herself. “Can you believe this is my second batch? I almost ate half of the first one I made before boxing it up and sending it up to the school for the teachers.”

  Jenn eyed the other half of her square. “These are delicious! I might need to take a few more, as samples.” She loved to bake, but her level of baking was nowhere near where Anne Marie was. She’d tried to talk the woman into holding classes, but she’d yet to be successful.

  “I think I can do better than that. I have a box with your name on it in the back.”

  “And this is why I love you.” Jenn smiled as she bit into the last piece of her chocolate and let it sit on her tongue. The soft chocolate with a hint of strawberry was exactly what she needed today.

  “I added some extra cookies as well. I made some for the kids who went to school today, but I figured Charity would be at home, so I didn’t want her to miss out.” Anne Marie walked past Jenn and headed to the back of her store.

  Jenn shook her head. “She went to school.”

  Anne Marie paused. “I see . . .”

  Jenn snorted. “Do you? Cause I don’t. She snuck out of the house to go. I caught up with her just before she hit Main Street.”

  “She snuck out? Why that sly little . . .”

  Jenn gave her a look. “It’s not funny. She knew I didn’t want her to go.”

  There was a light in Anne Marie’s eyes, a twinkle that Jenn knew too well. “Seems to me, I remember a young girl who used to sneak out of her parents’ home all the time as a teen.” She smiled.

  Jenn wagged her finger at the woman. “That was a long time ago, and things were different back then. This is the first time Charity has snuck out.”

  Anne Marie rested her hip on the edge of her counter. “I’m sure it won’t be the last. She’s a teenager. She’s learning to spread her wings and figure out if she’s ready to fly yet or not.”

  “Well, I’m not ready.”

  Anne Marie chuckled. “Of course you’re not. I doubt you ever will be.” She sobered. “Does Rob know?”

  Jenn shrugged. “He wasn’t surprised. Seems I’m the only one in our home who thought the school opening today was a bad idea.” Words Samantha had said earlier hit her and she gazed out the window. “Have you heard the rumor that the school may be closing, permanently?” She watched Anne Marie’s reflection from the window.<
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  “I have. Not sure if it’s serious or not, but there seem to be a few families in the area who feel the same way you do.”

  This caught Jenn off guard. “There are?”

  “Haven’t you been going to that small group at the church? The one Pastor Scott set up for the victims and their families?”

  Jenn shook her head. She wasn’t quite ready to share her grief, not like that, and since Robert hadn’t pushed the issue, she’d left it alone.

  “Robert went to a few . . .”

  Anne Marie’s brow rose. “Robert? Your husband? The man who shows no emotions and can weather anything that comes his way? He went?”

  Jenn nodded. Anne Marie knew her husband better than most others. They were siblings after all.

  “A couple of times, to show support, when it first started.”

  “But not you?”

  Jenn’s lips thinned. “I’m not . . . ready. It’s only been a month. I don’t . . . I don’t want to be told I need to say good-bye or be fed some line about how this was all in God’s great big plans.”

  “If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready.” Anne Marie walked over to her and gave her a big hug. “When you are, then I’ll be there for you every step of the way, okay?”

  “Okay.” The relationship between brother and sister was a tense one at the best of times, but Jenn was very thankful to call Anne Marie a friend.

  “Our summer families have started to arrive.” Jenn wanted to change the subject.

  “I know. Trust me, I know. I had the pleasure of finding a few messages from the wonderful Carla Anderson on my phone this morning when I arrived.” Anne Marie reached for her order book and pointed out the list of items Carla had requested. Freshly baked buns, dozen cookies, squares, coconut cream pie, and pain au chocolates.

  Jenn cringed at the list. She saw the words Welcome Basket underlined a few times.

  “I wasn’t expecting them so soon,” Jenn tried to explain, but Anne Marie waved her away.

  “Seriously? Don’t even bother. I told that woman a thing or two this morning when I spoke with her.”

  Jenn gasped. “You did not!”

  With a twinkle in her eye, Anne Marie laughed. “Trust me, Mrs. High and Mighty should have been knocked down a peg or two a long time ago.” She held up her hand. “I know, I know . . . they are important to Robbie, but seriously, since when did I start caring about my older brother’s feelings?”

  Mortified, Jenn could think only about Robert’s reaction when Carla’s husband, Shawn, told him. Which he would. No doubt a golf game had already been scheduled, along with a weekly barbecue where Jenn would have to act as hostess, once again.

  “Listen, sweetheart, you’re not going to be so involved with the events this summer, are you? If there’s anyone who deserves a break, it’s you. Robert’s had you and your family front and center throughout all of this, and it’s been a darn shame.” Anne Marie patted Jenn on the shoulder before she made her way through the store, straightening up shelves.

  Jenn sighed. She wanted to defend Robert, but what was the point? Anne Marie knew too much, saw too much, and had a bad habit of saying too much. She’d see right through Jenn’s false protests.

  “I need to keep my mind busy,” she said instead.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Jenn grabbed a loaf of bread off a shelf. “I feel like I’m going crazy. If he’s forced me to do anything, it’s because he knows I need it.”

  “What you need is to let yourself grieve. You haven’t yet, have you?”

  Grieve? Of course she’d grieved. What she hadn’t done was accept her son’s death. That’s something she would never do.

  “I’m not the only mother in this town who lost a child.”

  Anne Marie stared at her, and she blushed under her gaze.

  “Oh honey, you might not be the only mother, but you are a mother. A mother who lost a child.”

  Jenn held up her hand. “No. Not now, okay?”

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  Jenn tore her gaze away from her friend and stared out the front window and onto the street. There was a reason she was here. Focus on that.

  “Has Robert had his daily croissant yet?”

  Anne Marie’s eyes narrowed before she shook her head and reached down into the display case and pulled out the tray of chocolate croissants. “You know I love you, right?”

  Jenn focused on pulling out her wallet. “I know. But I’m just not ready for this. Not yet, okay?”

  “You know where to find me when you need me.” She pulled out two croissants and placed them in a bag.

  “Oh Anne Marie. I always need you.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear you say that because I’ve got an idea, and you’re not going to say no.” Anne Marie leaned forward and rested her arms on the top of her display case.

  “Really? And what is this idea of yours?”

  “You’ll let me help you with the baskets.”

  “You do help me. Three-quarters of the baked goods in every basket are from you.”

  She had a standing order with Anne Marie for her welcoming baskets she always handed out to the families who had their summer homes on Marina Drive. Cookies, croissants, and the bakery’s famous cinnamon buns. Jenn added her own homemade jams, muffins, and other homemade treats before she dropped the baskets off.

  “Not just with the baking this year. With everything. I’ll stop by Sunday and grab your supplies. Maybe Charity can even help. Between the two of us, I’m sure we’ve helped you with enough baskets to know what we’re doing. Okay?”

  A weight Jenn hadn’t been sure she carried lifted off. It would be nice not to deal with the baskets this year. To not have to face each person and listen to their platitudes and pretend everything was okay. She wouldn’t say no.

  “Why don’t you come for dinner?”

  Anne Marie shook her head. “No way. I love you, but being in the same room as Robbie right now would lead to dire consequences. I’d hate to be banned from your home altogether. Again.” She shrugged. “I’ll just pop over later this afternoon, before he comes home.”

  Jenn reached out to grab her sister-in-law’s hand. “He does love you, you know that, right?”

  “Oh, I know. But sometimes, honey, love isn’t always enough.”

  Anne Marie held out the bag with the croissants and then headed toward the back where no doubt she had some loaves or cinnamon buns rising.

  Jenn stepped out of the door and stood on the sidewalk. The street was practically empty, but a soft breeze wafted in off the bay.

  She pushed opened the door to her husband’s real estate office next door and smiled hello at Brenda, the receptionist who worked part-time, but searched the small space for her husband.

  “He’s just in the back grabbing coffee,” Brenda said.

  Jenn headed that way but stopped when she heard Robert’s voice. The door to the back room was slightly ajar, and she caught sight of her husband leaning against the wall with his cell phone up to his ear.

  “Listen, now is not a good time.” He caught sight of her and waved her in. “No, I understand but the season is just starting and . . . yes, I understand how you might feel that way but . . . it’s still her home . . . listen, I’ll call you later, okay?” His shoulders stooped as he hung up the phone, and it took him a moment before he pushed himself away from the wall.

  Jenn held up the bag with the croissants. “Looks like you might need this.”

  Rob rubbed his face, but the worry lines didn’t disappear. “You have no idea.” He reached for the bag but let it drop on the counter beside him.

  “What’s going on?” He held the look of someone defeated, and that wasn’t like Rob at all.

  He turned and rested the palms of his hands on the counter and placed his weight on his st
raight arms while his head hung low. She placed her hand on his back and felt the ripple of his muscles tense beneath her touch.

  “The Robertsons, owners of the beach cottages, want Julia Berry to be evicted.” Weariness laced his voice.

  Jenn shrugged. She didn’t see the issue. Julia Berry wasn’t someone high on her list of favorite people. In fact, if truth be told, that woman deserved whatever life dealt her.

  “The faster she leaves town, the better,” Jenn muttered beneath her breath. Robert heard her, though; she knew he did by the way he rolled his shoulders and shook his head.

  “You don’t believe that,” he said to her.

  Jenn said nothing.

  “God, Jenn, when did you become so cold?” Rob turned and faced her. “It wasn’t her finger that pulled the trigger; it wasn’t her who entered that school.” Robert crossed his arms as his eyes blazed with fire. “You can’t blame her.”

  Jenn snorted. “I can and will blame her. I’ll never forgive her, Robert, never.” Her nostrils flared as she drew in breath. Anger ignited through her veins, and she couldn’t believe her husband didn’t feel the same way.

  “She lost her son too.” Robert’s voice dropped along with his gaze.

  “Do you honestly think I care about that? Her son killed himself. After he shot our son and countless other children.” A shiver ran down her body at the despair on her husband’s face. She couldn’t understand him. How could he sympathize with that woman? “I’m more concerned about this town and the other parents who are struggling to survive just one more hour without their children than I am for the mother who raised a monster. If that makes me cold and angry, then so be it. I’d rather be angry than . . .” Her voice drifted as Robert’s gaze lifted off the floor and met hers.

  “Than what? Than be the woman who mourns for her child? No, you’d rather just ignore it and pretend like it never happened. It’s easier that way, right?” Robert demanded.

  “I’m not ignoring it. And pretend? Is that what you think I’m doing? Pretending?”

  She’d thought—no, she’d hoped—that they’d be able to be the anchors for one another while they grieved and that perhaps their marriage would somehow survive, but it wasn’t working out that way.