Page 8 of The Calendar of New Beginnings (Dare Valley #9)

CHAPTER FOUR

L ucy lurched up in bed when a harsh pounding broke through her consciousness.

Was someone coming for her?

Her gaze flew to the door. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.

Congo? Her vision was blurry, which only pumped more adrenaline through her system.

Then she recognized her old pine dresser, topped with a photo of her and her parents cross-country skiing.

A younger George Clooney smiled wickedly at her from the poster her mother had left on her purple walls.

She was in Dare Valley. Recovering from the attack. Right. That was why her vision was wonky.

“Lucy!” her mother called from the other side of the door. “Time to rise and shine.”

The jarring wake-up call was another reason she couldn’t stay with her parents. Ellen O’Brien did not believe in sleeping. She said people died in bed, so best not spend too much time there. The door cracked open, causing her to jump .

Her mother popped her head through. “April’s here, dear, and would love to see you.”

Hadn’t she seen the woman just last night? “Be right out,” she answered with a fake smile.

When the door closed, Lucy flopped back down and settled deeper into the covers.

She sucked in calming breaths. The alarm clock was the same one she’d had in high school, and it read 8:27 a.m. She supposed she should be grateful her mom had let her sleep so late.

After the party, she’d pretty much passed out at nine o’clock.

She’d awoken at three in the morning, but the best way to fight jet leg was to force your body to acclimate to the new time zone.

So she’d stayed in bed, thinking way too much about her conversation with Andy, her future, and being home.

Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen back asleep.

Lucy grabbed her shaggy white terrycloth robe and crawled out of bed.

Shuffling her feet, she stretched as she made her way to the kitchen—her mother’s lair.

Some women entertained in the parlor, but Ellen O’Brien conducted the orchestra of her life from the kitchen.

Most of her childhood memories of her mother were set in this room.

“There you are!” her mother said, hustling across the room and hugging her tight. “I was telling April you got a free pass on sleeping in today because you had a long journey here, but tomorrow, it’s back to normal.”

Normal. That meant waking up no later than seven a.m. She needed to find her own place—stat.

April Hale was smiling at the mother-daughter reunion over a blue pottery mug that smelled enticingly of coffee. Other delicious food smells like bacon floated through the air, making her feel a little zing of happiness.

“Good morning, April,” she said as her mother released her.

“Hi, Lucy. It’s good to see you in your mother’s kitchen again.” She came over and hugged her as well.

Even though Lucy had seen and talked to her last night, a fresh spurt of happiness filled her as memories flashed through her mind. She remembered eating oatmeal raisin cookies after school on the Hales’ Harvest Gold kitchen table as April bandaged her scraped knees or helped her with homework.

April stepped back. “Your hair is as long and fiery as I remember it. The auburn looks so good with your green eyes. Always has.”

Her compliment was a little surprising. After all, she almost always saw April on her visits home.

Was she simply being extra sweet, or subtly suggesting Lucy needed a haircut?

Her last one had been in Beirut, and hadn’t that been a trip…

She’d gotten as close as she could to the Syrian border without getting into trouble. “Thank you.”

Her mom set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, and she stared at it carefully. Another problem with her injury was that it threw off her depth perception with the objects closest to her, making it hard for her brain to pinpoint exactly where her hand needed to move to grasp them.

“Is that a hawk outside the window?” she asked, making them both turn their heads.

She put her hand toward where she thought the cup was, missed, and moved it a couple inches until she had a good grip on the mug.

“I don’t see one,” her mother said.

“Me either,” April said, “although there are plenty of them around. ”

“This coffee is delicious,” she said, taking a sip, congratulating herself on the misdirection.

“You and your father always did need coffee to function in the morning,” her mom said, pinching her cheek. “Although sleeping this late, you’d think you could do without the jolt. You need a haircut.”

“I was just thinking that,” she responded pleasantly.

“Do I even want to see your toes?” her mom asked, looking down at her feet.

She covered one foot over the other. “Stop. You know there are no nail salons in the places I visit.” Best not mention that hepatitis C was a real risk at most of the salons she could have visited.

“We can get our nails done today,” her mom said, checking her own manicure.

It looked like purple to Lucy, but it could have been blue. There was no way to be sure anymore unless she closed her bad eye, and that was the problem. Relenting to temptation would only make the healing process take longer, darn it all to hell.

“I’ll make you a hair appointment too, Luce.”

It was already starting. “Mom, I can handle my own appointments.”

Her mom yanked on a lock of her hair before turning and loading a plate with bacon and scrambled eggs for her. “I’m only trying to be helpful, honey.”

“I know.” She did. It just annoyed the hell out of her. “Let me do things at my own pace, okay?”

“Fine,” her mom said, sharing a glance with April, who was oddly quiet.

Were they wondering why she was back too?

God, she hoped they wouldn’t ask. She hadn’t kept the incident in the Congo to herself only to keep her parents from worrying.

Her mother was allergic to what she called ‘sad things.’ Lucy couldn’t count the number of times her mother had pursed her lips and told her not to be a downer.

After a while, Lucy had started self-editing everything she told her mom.

Lucy grabbed the fork her mother handed her, and felt for the plate with her free hand. Upon contact, she dug into the eggs, pushing those thoughts aside. “Cheddar cheese and dill eggs. Oh, yum.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had dill. “And apple-smoked bacon…I’m in heaven.”

“Hopefully this proves I’m not an ogre.”

Her excitement dimmed. “Mom, I don’t think you’re an ogre. But I’m a grown woman used to running my own life. You wouldn’t appreciate it if I tried to rearrange yours. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Indeed,” her mother said, her mouth twisting. “Go ahead and eat. April and I will tell you about our project.”

That sounded ominous. If they had a project, Dare Valley had better watch out.

When they were young mothers, Ellen and April had organized a breastfeeding fair for women.

They’d suggested that women should stop covering themselves in church, restaurants, and local stores.

Suffice it to say, the whole town had been scandalized.

Her dad might have thrown a blanket over her mom’s boob and begged her to stop.

Breastfeeding openly was more widespread now, of course—her mother had been ahead of her time.

“It was so nice to see you and Andy together again last night,” April said, pouring herself another cup of coffee. She and Ellen stood next to each other, a united front, while Lucy ate off the kitchen island. “Your friendship has certainly stood the test of time. Just like mine with your mother.”

The two women put their arms around each other with sisterly affection.

“Yeah, we’ve done pretty good, Shorty,” her mother said, making April laugh.

Was her mother quoting rap lyrics? Lucy didn’t want to know.

“Andy is doing better, I suppose,” April continued. “Moving back here was the best decision he could have made. He’s been able to spend more time with Danny.”

According to Andy, that was one of the main reasons he’d made the plunge. He didn’t want to miss out on anything as Danny grew up. Moreover, he needed to be mother and father to the little boy, and long hospital hours weren’t conducive to quality family time.

“It was good for me too,” April continued, “coming back here. I get to be a hands-on grandma and reconnect with all of my old friends.”

Lucy watched April and Ellen share a look before they turned their attention on her. She felt as pinned down as a butterfly in a display case.

“Like you get to reconnect with Andy,” her mother added, as if April hadn’t already laid the groundwork brilliantly.

Lucy took another bite of her steaming eggs. She couldn’t talk with her mouth full.

“Danny’s growing like a weed,” her mother continued. “He’s as cute as button and then some.”

Subtle, Mother. She gulped her coffee next, burning her mouth.

“Just like his father,” April said, grabbing the coffee pot and topping off her mug.

“I’m glad to see you’re eating so well, Lucy,” her mother said, eyeing her plate. “You’re too skinny. All that traveling overseas is hard on you.”

“I’m fine.” Lucy gave her a look before shoveling in more eggs.

“That’s a great segue to our project,” April said, setting her mug on the island. “We were hoping to get your help. With all your photography experience, this will be a piece of cake.”

Lucy’s chewing slowed. Why were the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly standing at attention?

“What project?” she asked, seeing no escape.

Her mom rested a hand on her shoulder. Oh, no. Not the hand-on-the-shoulder move!

“You know those calendars you take photos for?” April asked. “The ones of the poor kids in Africa?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously, gritting her teeth at the description.

“They look great, dear,” her mom said, pointing to the current year calendar hanging on the side of the refrigerator. “But really sad too.”