Brambleberry House
She could see the objections forming on his expression and decided not to take no for an answer. Will Garrett didn’t know stubborn until he came up against her.
“What’s your pleasure? Pepperoni or Hawaiian? I’d offer you the vegetarian but I think Sage has dibs on that one.”
“It’s not necessary, really.”
“It is to me,” she said firmly. “You just spent forty-five minutes helping me haul boxes up. You have to let me repay you somehow. Here, I hope you still like pepperoni and olive.”
His eyes widened that she would remember such a detail. She couldn’t have explained why—it was just one of those arcane details that stuck in her head. Several times that last summer, they’d gone to Mountain Mike’s Pizza in town with her brother and Will always had picked the same thing.
“Maddie, can you hold this for a second?”
She gave the box marked pepperoni to her daughter, then with one hand she opened it and pulled out half the pizza, which she stuck on top of the Hawaiian.
He looked as if he wanted to object, but he said nothing when she handed him the box with the remaining half a pizza in it.
“Here you go. You should have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning as well. Consider it a tiny way to say thank you for all your hard work.”
He shook his head but to her vast relief, he didn’t hand the pizza back to her.
“Mom, I can’t hold him anymore!” Simon said from behind the door. “He’s starving and so am I!”
“You’d better get everyone upstairs for pizza,” Will said.
“Right. Good night, then.”
She wanted to say more—much more—but with a rambunctious dog and two hungry children clamoring for her attention, she had to be content with that.
* * *
BLASTED STUBBORN WOMAN.
Will sat on his deck watching the lights of Cannon Beach flicker on the water as he ate his third piece of pizza.
He had to admit, even lukewarm, it tasted delicious—probably a fair sight better than the peanut butter sandwich he would have scrounged for his meal.
He didn’t order pizza very often since half of it usually went to waste before he could get to the leftovers so this was a nice change from TV dinners and fast-food hamburgers.
He really needed to shoot for a healthier diet. Sage was always after him to get more vegetables and fewer preservatives into his diet. He tried but he’d never been a big one for cooking in the first place. He could grill steaks and burgers and the occasional chicken breast but he usually fell short at coming up with something to go alongside the entree.
He fell short in a lot of areas. He sighed, listening to the low rumble of the sea. He spent a lot of his free time puttering around in his dad’s shop or sitting out here watching the waves, no matter what the weather. He just hated the emptiness inside the house.
He ought to move, he thought, as he did just about every night at this same time when the silence settled over him with like a scratchy, smothering wool blanket.
He ought to just pick up and make a new start somewhere. Especially now that Julia Hudson Blair had climbed out of the depths of his memories and taken up residence just a few hundred yards away.
She knew.
Sometime during the course of the evening, Sage or Anna must have told her about the accident. He wasn’t quite sure how he was so certain, but he had seen a deep compassion in the green of her eyes, a sorrow that hadn’t been there earlier.
He washed the pizza down with a swallow of Sam Adams—the one bottle he allowed himself each night.
He knew it shouldn’t bother him so much that she knew. Wasn’t like it was some big secret. She would find out sooner or later, he supposed.
He just hated that first shock of pity when people first found out—though he supposed when it came down to it, the familiar sadness from friends like Sage and Anna wasn’t much easier.
Somehow seeing that first spurt of pity in Julia’s eyes made it all seem more real, more raw.
Her life hadn’t been so easy. She was a widow, so she must know a thing or two about loss and loneliness. That didn’t make him any more eager to have her around—or her kids.
He shouldn’t have made a big deal out of the whole thing. He should have just sucked it up and stayed for pizza with her and Sage and Anna. Instead, his kneejerk reaction had been to flee and he had given into it, something very unlike him.
He sighed and took another swallow of beer. From here, he could see her bedroom light. A dark shape moved across the window and he eased back into the shadows of his empty house.
Why was he making such a big deal about this? Julia meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. He hadn’t thought about her in years. Yeah, years ago he had been crazy about her when he was just a stupid, starry-eyed kid. He had dreamed about her all that last summer, when she came back to Cannon Beach without her braces and with curves in all the right places.
First love could be an intensely powerful thing for a sixteen-year-old boy. When she left Cannon Beach, his dreams of a long-distance relationship were quickly dashed when she didn’t write to him as she had promised. He had tried to call the phone number she’d given him and left several messages that were never returned.
He was heartbroken for a while but he’d gotten over it. By spring, when he’d taken Robin Cramer to the prom, he had completely forgotten about Julia Hudson and her big green eyes.
Life had taught him that a tiny little nick in his heart left by a heedless fifteen-year-old girl was nothing at all to the pain of having huge, jagged chunks of his soul ripped away.
Now, sixteen years later, Julia was nothing to him. He just needed to shake this weird feeling that the careful order of the life he had painstakingly managed to piece together in the last two years had just been tossed out to sea.
He could think of no earthly reason he shouldn’t be able to treat her and her children with politeness, at least.
He couldn’t avoid interacting with Julia, for a dozen reasons. Beyond the minor little fact that she lived three houses down, he was still working on renovating several of the Brambleberry House rooms. He couldn’t avoid her and he sure as hell couldn’t run away like a coward every time he saw her kids.
He looked up at Brambleberry House again and his gaze automatically went to the second-floor window. A shape moved across again and a moment later the light went out and somehow Will felt more alone than ever.
* * *
“THANK YOU BOTH again for your help today.” Julia smiled at Sage and Anna across the table in her new apartment as they finished off the pizza. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Anna shook her head. “We only helped you with the easy part. Now you have to figure out where to put everything.”
“We have dishes in the kitchen and sheets on the beds. Beyond that, everything else can wait until the morning.”
“Looks like some of us need to find that path there sooner than others,” Sage murmured, gesturing toward Maddie.
“Not me,” Maddie instantly protested, but Julia could clearly see she was drooping tonight, with her elbow propped on the table and her head resting on her fist.
Even with her short nap, Maddie still looked tired. Julia sighed. Some days dragged harder than others on Maddie’s stamina. They had spent a busy day making all the arrangements to move into Brambleberry House. Maddie had helped carry some of her own things to her bedroom and had delighted in putting her toys and clothes away herself.
With all the craziness of moving in, Julia hadn’t been as diligent as usual about making sure Maddie didn’t overextend herself and now it looked as if she had reached the limit of her endurance.
“Time for bed, sweetie. Let’s get your meds.”
“I’m not ready for bed,” she protested, sending a pleading look to Anna and Sage, as if they could offer a reprieve. “I want to stay up and help move in.”
“I’m tuckered myself,” Julia said. “I’ll leave all the fun stuff for tomorrow when we’re all rested, okay?”
Maddie sighed with a quiet resignation that never failed to break her heart. She caught herself giving in to the sorrow and quickly shunted it away. Her daughter was still here. She was a miracle and Julia could never allow herself to forget that.
Before she brought in any other boxes, she had made sure to put Maddie’s pill regimen away in a cabinet by the kitchen sink. She poured a glass of water and handed them to her. With the ease of long, grim practice, Maddie downed the half-dozen pills in two swallows, then finished the water to flush down the pills.
Because her daughter seemed particularly tired, Julia helped her into her pajamas then did a quick set of vitals. Everything was within normal ranges for Maddie so Julia pushed away her lingering worry.
“Good night, sweetie,” she said after a quick story and kiss. “Your first sleep in the new house!”
“I like this place,” Maddie said sleepily as Julia pulled the nightgown over her thin shoulders.
“I like it, too. It feels like home, doesn’t it?”
Maddie nodded. “And the lady is nice.”
Julia smiled. “Which one? Sage or Anna? I think they’re both pretty nice.”
Maddie shook her head but her eyes drooped closed before she could answer.
Julia watched her sleep for a moment, marveling again at the lessons in courage and strength and grace her daughter had taught her these last few years.
A miracle, she thought again. As she stood watching over her, she felt the oddest sensation, almost like featherlight fingers touching her cheek.
Weird, she thought. Sage and Anna had warned her Brambleberry House was a typical drafty old house. She would have to do her best to seal up any cracks in Maddie’s room.
When she returned to the other room, she found only Simon, curled up in the one corner of the couch not covered in boxes. He had a book in one hand and was petting Conan absently with the other.
What a blessing her son loved to read. Books and his Game Boy had sustained him through many long, boring doctor appointments.
“Did Sage and Anna go downstairs?” she asked.
“I think they’re still in the kitchen,” Simon answered without looking up from his book.
She heard low, musical laughter before she reached the kitchen. For a moment, she stood in the doorway watching them as they unloaded her grandmother’s china into the built-in cabinet.
Here was another blessing. She was overflowing with them. She had come back to Cannon Beach with only a teaching position and her hope that everything would work out. Now she had this great apartment overlooking the sea and, more importantly, two unexpected new friends who were already becoming dear to her.
She didn’t think she made a sound but Sage suddenly sensed her presence. She glanced toward her, her exotic tilted eyes lighting in welcome.
“Our girl is all settled for the night?”
Julia nodded. “It was a hectic day. She wore herself out.”
“Is she all right?” Anna asked, her features tight with concern.
“Yes. She’s fine. She just doesn’t have the stamina she used to have.” She paused, deciding it was time to reveal everything. “It’s one of the long-term side effects of her bone marrow transplant.”
“Bone marrow transplant?” Anna exclaimed, her eyes wide with a shock mirrored on Sage’s features.
Julia sighed. “Yes. And a round of radiation and two rounds of chemotherapy. I probably should have told you this earlier but Maddie is in remission from acute lymphocytic leukemia.”
CHAPTER FIVE
SAYING THE WORDS aloud always left her feeling vaguely queasy, as if she were the one who had endured months of painful treatments, shots, blood draws, the works.
She found it quite a lowering realization that Maddie had faced her cancer ordeal with far more courage than Julia had been able to muster as her mother.
“Oh, Julia.” Sage stepped forward and wrapped her into a spontaneous hug. “I’m so sorry you’ve all had to go through this.”
“It’s been a pretty bumpy road,” she admitted. “But as I said, she’s in remission and she’s doing well. Much better since the bone marrow transplant. Simon was the donor. We were blessed that they were a perfect match.”
“You’ve had to go through this all on your own?” Anna’s dark eyes looked huge and sad.
She knew Anna was referring to Kevin’s death and the timing of it. She decided she wasn’t quite ready to delve into those explanations just yet so she chose to evade the question.
“I had a strong support network in Boise,” she said instead. “Good friends, my brother and his wife, my co-workers at the elementary school there. They all think I’m crazy to move away.”
“Why did you?” Anna asked.
“We were all ready for a change. A new start. Three months ago, Maddie’s oncologist took a new job at the children’s hospital in Portland. Dr. Lee had been such a support and comfort to us and when she moved, it seemed like the perfect time for us to venture back out in the world.”
She sometimes felt as if their lives had been on hold for three years. Between Maddie’s diagnosis, then Kevin’s death, she and her children had endured far too much.
They needed laughter and joy and the peace she had always found by the ocean.
She smiled at the two other women. “I have to tell you both, I was still wondering if I had made a terrible mistake leaving behind our friends and the safe cushion of support we had in Boise, until we saw the for-rent sign out front of Brambleberry House. It seemed like a miracle that we might have the chance to live in the very house I had always loved so much when I was a little girl, the house where I had always found peace. I took that sign as an omen that everything would be okay.”
“We’re so glad you found us,” Anna said.
“You belong here,” Sage added. She squeezed Julia’s fingers with one hand and reached for Anna’s hand with the other, linking them all together and Julia had to fight back tears, overwhelmed by their easy acceptance of her.
She realized she felt happier standing in this warm kitchen with these women than she could remember being in a long, long time.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you both.”
“You smell that?” Sage demanded after a moment.
Anna rolled her eyes. “Cut it out, Sage.”
“Smell what?” Julia asked.
“Freesia,” Sage answered. “You smelled it, too, didn’t you?”
“I thought it was coming from the open window.”
Sage shook her head. “Nope. As much as she loved it, Abigail could never get any freesia bulbs to survive in her garden. Our microclimate is just not conducive to them.”
“I hope you’re not squeamish about ghosts,” Anna said after a long sigh. “Sage insists Abigail is still here at Brambleberry House, that she flits through the house leaving behind the freesia perfume she always wore.”
Julia blinked, astonished. It seemed preposterous—until she remembered Maddie’s words that the lady was nice, and that soft brush against her skin when she had been standing in Maddie’s room looking over her daughter almost as if someone had touched her tenderly.
She fought back a shiver.
“You don’t buy it?” she said to Anna.
Anna laughed. “I don’t know. I usually tend to fall on the side of logic and reason. My intellect tells me it’s a complete impossibility. But then, I can’t put anything past Abigail. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she decided to defy the rules of metaphysics and stick around in this house she loved. If it’s at all within the realm of possibility, Abigail would find a way.”
“And Conan is her familiar,” Sage added. “You probably ought to know that up front, too. I think the two of them are a team. If Abigail is the brains of the outfit, he’s the muscle.”
“Okay, now you’re obviously putting me on.”
Sage shook her head.
“Conan. The dog.”
Sage grinned. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Just watch and see. The dog is spooky.”
“On that, at least, we can agree,” Anna said, setting the last majolica teacup in the cupboard. “He’s far smarter than your average dog.”
“I’ve seen that much already,” Julia admitted. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit of a stretch for me to go from thinking he’s an uncommonly smart dog to buying the theory that he’s some kind of conduit from the netherworld.”
Sage laughed. “Put like that, it does sound rather ridiculous, doesn’t it? Just keep your eyes open. You can judge for yourself after you’ve been here awhile. I wanted to put a disclosure in the rental agreement about Abigail but Anna wouldn’t let me.”
Anna made a face. “It’s a little tough to find an attorney who will add a clause that we might have a ghost in the house.”
“There’s no might about it. You wait and see, Julia.”
A ghost and a dog/medium. She supposed there were worst things she could be dealing with in an apartment. “I hope she is still here. I can’t imagine Abigail would be anything but a benevolent spirit.”
Sage grinned at her. Anna shook her head, but she was smiling as well. “I see I’m outnumbered in the sanity department.”
“You’re just better at being a grown-up,” Sage answered. Her teasing slid away quickly, though, replaced with concern. “And on that note, is there anything special we need to worry about with Maddie? Environmental things she shouldn’t be exposed to or anything?”
Julia sighed. She would much rather ponder lighthearted theories of the supernatural than bump up against the harsh reality of her daughter’s illness and recovery.
“It’s a tough line I walk between wrapping her up in cotton wool to protect her and encouraging as normal a life as possible. Most of the time she’s fine, if a little more subdued than she once was. You probably wouldn’t know it but she used to be the spitfire of the twins. When they were toddlers, she was always the one leading Simon into trouble.”
She gave a wobbly smile and was warmed when Anna reached out and squeezed her hand.
A moment passed before she could trust her voice to continue. “Right now we need to work on trying to regain the strength she lost through the month she spent in the hospital with the bone marrow transplant. I hope by Christmas things will be better.”
Sage smiled. “Well, now you’ve got two more of us—four, counting Abigail and Conan—on your side.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, immeasurably touched at their effortless acceptance of her and her children.
* * *
AFTER SIMON WAS finally settled in bed, Julia stood in her darkened bedroom gazing out at the ripples of the sea gleaming in the moonlight. Though she had a million things to do—finding bowls they could use for cereal in the morning hovered near the top of her list—she decided she needed this moment to herself to think, without rushing to take care of detail after detail.
Offshore some distance, she could see the moving lights of a sea vessel cutting through the night. She watched it for a moment, then her gaze inexorably shifted to the houses along the shore.
There was the cottage where her family had always stayed, sitting silent and dark. Beyond that was Will Garrett’s house. A light burned inside a square cedar building set away from the house. His father’s workshop, she remembered. Now it would be Will’s.
She glanced at her watch and saw it was nearly midnight. What was he working on so late? And did he spend his time out in his workshop to avoid the emptiness inside his house?
She pressed a hand to her chest at the ache there. How did he bear the pain of losing his wife and his child? She remembered the vast sorrow in his gaze when he had looked at Maddie and she wanted so much to be able to offer some kind of comfort to him.
She sensed he wouldn’t want her to try. Despite his friendship with Sage and Anna, Will seemed to hold himself apart, as if he had used his carpentry skills to carefully hammer out a wall between himself and the rest of the world.
She ached for him, but she knew there was likely very little she could do to breach those walls.
She could try.
The thought whispered through her head with soft subtlety. She shook her head at her own subconscious. No. She had enough on her plate right now, moving to a new place, taking on a new job, dealing with twins on her own, one of whom still struggled with illness.
She didn’t have the emotional reserves to take on anyone else’s pain. She knew it, but as the peace of the house settled around her, she had the quiet conviction that she could at least offer him her friendship.
As if in confirmation, the sweet, summery scent of freesia drifted through the room. She smiled.
“Abigail, if you are still here,” she whispered, “thank you. For this place, for Anna and Sage. For everything.”
For just an instant, she thought she felt again the gentle brush of fingers against her cheek.
* * *
WILL MANAGED TO avoid his new neighbors for several days, mostly because he was swamped with work. He was contracted to do the carpentry work on a rehab project in Manzanita. The job was behind schedule because of other subcontractors’ delays and the developer wanted the carpentry work done yesterday.
Will was pouring every waking moment into it, leaving his house before the sun was up and returning close to midnight every night.
He didn’t mind working hard. Having too much work to do was a damn sight better than having too little. Building something with his hands helped fill the yawning chasm of his life.
But his luck where his neighbors were concerned ran out a week after he had helped carry boxes up to the second-floor apartment of Brambleberry House.
By Friday, most of the basic work on the construction job was done and the only thing left was for him to install the custom floor and ceiling moldings the developer had ordered from a mill in Washington State. They hadn’t been delivered yet and until they arrived, he had nothing to do.
Finally he returned to Cannon Beach, to his empty house and his empty life.
After showering off the sawdust and sweat from a hard day’s work, he was grilling a steak on the deck—his nightly beer in hand—watching tourists fly kites and play in the sand in the pleasant early evening breeze when he suddenly heard excited barking.
A moment later, a big red mutt bounded into view, trailing the handle of his retractable leash.
As soon as he spied Will, he switched directions and bounded up the deck steps, his tongue lolling as he panted heavily.
“You look like a dog on the lam.”
Conan did that weird grin thing of his and Will glanced down the beach to see who might have been on the other end of the leash. He couldn’t see anyone—not really surprising. Though he seemed pondeorus most of the time, Conan could pour on the juice when he wanted to escape his dreaded leash and be several hundred yards down the beach before you could blink.
When he turned back to the dog, he found him sniffing with enthusiasm around the barbecue.
“No way,” Will muttered. “Get your own steak. I’m not sharing.”
Conan whined and plopped down at his feet with such an obviously feigned morose expression that Will had to smile. “You’re quite the actor, aren’t you? No steak for you tonight but I will get you a drink. You look like you could use it.”
He found the bowl he usually used for Conan and filled it from the sink. When he walked back through the sliding doors, he heard a chorus of voices calling the dog’s name.
Somehow, he supposed he wasn’t really surprised a moment later when Julia Blair and her twins came into view from the direction of Brambleberry House.
Conan barked a greeting, his head hanging over the deck railing. Three heads swiveled in their direction and even from here, he could see the relief in Julia’s green eyes when she spotted the dog.
“There you are, you rascal,” she exclaimed.
With her hair held back from her face in a ponytail, she looked young and lovely in the slanted early evening light. Though he knew it was unwise, part of him wanted to just sit and savor the sight of her, a little guilty reward for putting in a hard day’s work.