Tangerine Morning: Jezzica's Story (Serenity Cove Series) (28 page)

“Good morning. Glad to see you’re up and sitting in a chair.” Evelyn flipped open my chart and removed a pen from the pocket of her lab coat, her legs bare down to her stylish high heel shoes. My toes clinched at the thought of how her feet must throb by the end of the day.

“Incredible view.” I nodded toward the window. Could there be a better location for a hospital room? Watching the waves tease the shore earlier, I had faded into my own thoughts. Logan had invaded those musings. I resisted the inclination to fantasize. There wasn’t room in my life for a man until I found me. Besides, I was in Serenity Cove to wrap up my birth mother’s estate.

Reflections were forgotten as Evelyn secured the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “The hospital has a great patio. It’s a pretty spot for lunch or to relax with a good book. There’s usually staff or other patients to keep you company. Although, I see you have an adorable companion.” She pulled a treat from her pocket and offered it to Goldie. “Compliments of Thelma.”

She smiled and took my temperature with an ear thermometer. I thought back to when I was a teenager, when I’d hoped and prayed the device held some kind of magical healing properties.

“Temperature’s normal—good. Any dizziness or nausea?”

“None. Other than the sharp pain in my ribs, I feel great.”

“Doc wants to monitor your concussion for a couple of days. You don’t want to be alone and have a problem.” She stopped making notations on the chart and glanced toward the door. I followed her gaze to a woman, the hem of her soft, paisley sundress swirling about her ankles. I watched, waiting for her to speak. Did she have the wrong room?

“Good morning.” Her lips stretched as she punctuated
morning
with an open smile—a cheerful greeting must have chimed through the room. Her copper-colored curls bounced as she waltzed on in. She reached between the handles of the bag she carried and plopped the contents on the bed. “I hope these are the right size. I asked Logan, but you know men.” She rolled her eyes.

She greeted Evelyn with a quick hug and moved closer to my chair. The gilded specks in her intense
ly
green eyes lit with a sparkle. “I’m Maggie Delatorre, Logan’s sister. He says…place…few days.”

I accepted her outstretched hand, returning her smile. “I’m Samantha Forrester—my friends call me Sam.” I already adored her flamboyant personality. “I’m deaf, but if you speak a little slower I can lip-read.” 

“Will do.” She made eye contact. “Logan says you need a place to stay for a few days.”

Evelyn finished making notations on my chart and flipped it closed. “I’ll be back in few. If you need anything let me know.”

It took a minute after Evelyn left the room before I could string together words in response to Maggie’s suggestion. I hadn’t made the connection when Logan told me his name, but Maggie had been mentioned in several of the emails I’d received from Anne Makenna, my birth mother. My head felt swimmy—from the concussion or confusion, I wasn’t sure.

According to Anne, Maggie’s family was a part of the history here, with ancestors who played a role in Serenity Cove becoming what it is today. How would they react when they learned I was Anne’s daughter? By a force of will, I focused my attention back to Maggie to quiet the words churning in my head. “I don’t want to impose. I’m fine right here.”

“No imposition—we’re going to be great friends. You’re as pretty and sweet as Logan said.” She unfolded the garments. “I’ll go chat with Thelma while you get dressed.” I nodded and she was gone as quickly as she had arrived.

So, Logan thought I was pretty and sweet.
Strange—I felt God’s peace
.
Sure
hoped
it was His peace and not a free pass to go direct to disaster.

The checkout process went more quickly than I could have anticipated. I love these small towns. Soon after, we cruised along a stretch of coastal road, which according to the sign was called Shoreview Drive. Maggie suddenly pulled onto the shoulder of the road and pushed a button, allowing the canvas top on her red convertible to disappear into the trunk. With the top down, the scenery was even more serene and inviting.

I checked on Goldie in the back seat, though I knew she would never jump from an open car. Judging by the look on her little canine face, she was enjoying the wind whipping through the car as much as I was. The bright sun sparkling on the crystal-capped waves caught my attention. I whispered a silent thankfulness, though
apprehension still nagged my insides. How would the next few hours unfold?

Maggie touched my arm, gesturing to a house facing the sea. The wind blew her coppery curls forward, making it difficult to catch her words. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “There’s home. See the Victorian lady?” She pointed. “She’s graced that hill for many years. Christened
Lady in White
by my great-grandmother
.
”

The house overlooking the water seemed surreal, like a beautiful painting of an era that had relinquished its crown to make way for the new, modern and contemporary. Enchantment captured my breath, as though we’d time-traveled to the past. Living in a place like the
Lady in White
was the stuff of dreams, at least my dreams.

Maggie gently took the car over the skirt of a brick driveway—the craftsmanship of the herringbone pattern was a sight in itself. The front of the house faced the vast azure water as if paying homage to the sea. I followed Maggie up to the wrap-around porch. The opened screen revealed a decorative door with a beveled glass insert. Inside, cream silk swags adorned paned windows. “Maggie, I’m in awe.”

Delight glowed on her face. “My great-grandparents on my mother’s side built this house. Logan lives in our paternal great-grandparents’ home—where we lived growing up. He gave me the choice between the two, and I chose this one. Each day when I come home, it welcomes me with warmth.”

“The other one can’t compare with this one.” My eyes roamed over every surface, taking in the details.

“It’s a magnificent Queen Anne home, with chandeliers and a winding staircase—it’s grand. I love it, too. But similar to having two suitors—this one won my heart.” Two lines hastened between her brows. “I promised Doc to make sure you didn’t exert yourself. And here I am droning on and on. You feel up to having a cuppa on the front porch?”

“Cuppa?”

“Short for a
cup of tea
.” Her contagious smile reached her eyes.

Tempted to pinch myself, I laughed. “Teatime on the front porch of this splendid house? Heavenly.” Merriment filled Maggie’s face—I wanted to hear her soft laughter. Vibrations from an earlier era filled my imagination. Pictures formed in my mind of a family gathered around the dinner table within these welcoming walls. Exactly what I longed for—a husband and children chatting about all that had transpired in their day. Maggie’s hand on my arm brought me back to my reality.

“Make yourself comfortable, while I conjure up some refreshments.” Enamored with the charm of the interior, I thought to follow her to the kitchen to see more, except the pain screamed
go sit
, letting me know it was time for more pain meds. I pressed a hand against the tape covering my ribs and retraced my steps across the dark cherry wood floor.

A fabric sampler graced the wall near the front hall. Floss, faded by time, spelled out the Lord’s Prayer in elegant stitches. Thanks to my nanny, Miss Emmy, I had learned the prayer early in my childhood. Every Sunday morning, she helped me pick out a dress and added ribbons to my hair. After my Sunday school class ended, she would tuck me right next to her as we listened to the sermon in the main chapel. We’d stayed in touch, but hadn’t seen each other for several years. A longing whispered through me. With a sigh, I pushed on the screen door and strolled outside.

A soft spring afternoon, the kind that embraced the coming season, set the porch aglow. Two chairs with a table between looked like the perfect place for a
cuppa
. I smiled at the new word, carefully easing myself onto one of the white wicker chairs.

From what Anne had written in her emails, she cherished Maggie’s friendship, and now I understood why.
Lord, I don’t want to disappoint Maggie and Logan.
Goldie, who had been taking a break on the warm planks of wood, nudged me. I offered to help Maggie with the tray, although getting up again wasn’t going to be easy.

“I got it—you stay right there.” She breezed over to the table, like fresh air sweeping across the waves. “I picked up pastries from Julia at the coffee shop this morning.” I smiled at the way she seemed to think I would know who Julia was. She covered the table with a splash of lace, adorning it with two rose buds she took from the tray. From the porcelain teapot, she poured a stream of golden liquid into the matching floral cups. We sat there for a minute, stirring our tea, though neither of us had put anything into it. The ocean waves curled down into little lines of foam. “Did Logan pick up your car keys?” she asked, turning back to me.

“He did. But he forgot mention you were coming to the hospital.” I smiled, wanting her to know I was glad she had. Could there be a more serene place to recuperate?

“He’s having your car dropped off this afternoon.” She bit into a pastry and raspberry jam oozed from the flaky crust.

“When you invited me, I never imagined ending up in paradise.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to—both of you.” She glanced down at Goldie.

“We won’t put you out too long, I promise.”

“You’re not putting me out at all. Logan didn’t say where you were headed before your accident.”

“Here. To Serenity Cove.” Had Anne told anyone about me or was I about to unleash her deepest secrets?

“I got the impression you weren’t acquainted with anyone here.”

“My birth mother owned the Sea Glass Bookshop.” I inhaled deeply, waiting for her response.

“You’re
Anne’s
daughter—
our
Anne’s daughter?” Her face lit up. “She told me all about you. And you’re here—you’re finally here.” She jumped up and threw her arms around me. That might have been awkward except for her sincerity. A yelp escaped unbidden from my pressed lungs, and she quickly drew back. “I’m sorry. I forgot about your ribs. It’s amazing to meet you, at last.”

“Then you’re aware Anne gave me up?”

She settled back into her chair, reached over and touched my hand. “Yes. She never hid the fact she had a daughter.”

Before I could reply, something caught her attention, and I followed her gaze to see Logan climbing out of my SUV. She greeted her brother with a hug and headed inside.

Maggie possessed a contagious energy. The way her lips formed words gave me the impression her voice had a melodic quality. Her steps reflected rhythmic movement—without doubt a unique beat going on. And while she epitomized a girlie-girl, Logan—he was
all
male. There he stood, six feet of pure gorgeous
.
My hand went to my chest—had my heart actually missed a beat?

His booted steps caused a vibration in the wooden slats of the porch. He pulled a chair to the table. A smile reached his coffee-colored eyes and startled my pulse, in a good way. “Hi, Samantha. Feeling better?”

“This house, the view, the peacefulness—I could spend
forever
right here.” I swept my hand through the air. “Please, call me Sam.”

“Sam it is.” His wink sent another direct jolt to my heartbeat. I’m losing it—like a teenager reacting to her first crush.

Maggie reappeared and served a pastry and a glass of sweet tea to her brother. “You’ll never guess who Sam is.” Words continued to tumble forth. “She’s Anne’s daughter.”

His
aha
response surprised me. “You reminded me of someone. But I couldn’t place it.” He took a man-sized bite of his pastry, as though we were not discussing anything that merited undue concern.

“We were talking about Anne being Sam’s birth mom. Go ahead, Sam, tell us the story.” She stood, held up her finger. “Wait. My phone’s ringing. I’ll be right back.”

He chuckled as Maggie dashed inside. “Been that way since we were kids. Seldom slows down.”

“She has a way about her.” Before I lost my nerve, I rushed on. “Does it bother you that I’m Anne’s daughter?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer. The only person I’d discussed the adoption with was my aunt and she’d gone ballistic.

No more fazed than if I’d told him what I had eaten for breakfast, he shrugged and lifted his hands, palms up. “Don’t know her whole story, but she made a difference in many lives—especially children’s.” He stuffed another bite into his mouth.

Maggie came rushing back to the table. “What did I miss?”

“Not a thing, sis.” They both looked at me.

I cringed. “Discovering I’d been adopted put me on an emotional—” Words stuck inside my chest. I couldn’t understand the contradictions I felt—how could I possibly explain them to someone else? “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear the psychobabble.”

“Didn’t you write to Anne after you learned about the adoption?” The sincerity of Maggie’s interest encouraged me to continue.