The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (37 page)

“Don’t tell me how far it is from the car to there, okay? We’ll let it be a surprise.” She wiggled her toes inside her new hiking boots and hoped they’d feel as comfortable when they finished as they did right at that moment.

No such luck.

The parking lot was at the end of a road, and the trail picked up to the right and across some old railroad tracks. There was a kiosk with some liability waivers to sign and some trail maps. They signed the
forms and Grady studied the map, then turned to Vanessa and asked, “Ready?”

“Sure.” She looked around the area, which was nicely wooded and smelled fresh and green and didn’t appear to be too bad.

They walked along the trail through peaceful woodlands. At one point, Grady stopped and said, “There’s an old cemetery off that way. How about we check it out? Or would you rather do that on the way back?”

“On the way back,” she answered, a bit too quickly. She wasn’t sure how far four and a half miles would be and the trails appeared to be a bit rustic, with some fallen trees to walk over or around.

The trail ran along streams where there were small waterfalls, and while the man-made bridges were deteriorated, there were rocks to follow across the water. It was beautiful and quiet, but the trails were beginning to lead upward. After a particularly steep ascent, Vanessa was finding it harder and harder to catch her breath.

“Are you all right?” Grady asked from time to time, and she’d nod and say, “Yes. I’m fine. Sure.”

But by the time they reached the outcrop of rocks that marked the ridge, she was panting and couldn’t wait to sit.

“And my feet hurt,” she told Grady.

“Well, here, sit down and rest for a few minutes and let’s enjoy this spectacular view.” She started to sit and he said, “Wait.”

He inspected the rock and the terrain off to both sides.

“What?” She frowned.

“I just wanted to make sure there were no rattlesnakes sunning themselves where you were about to plant your butt.”

He sat and held a hand up to her to help her down.

“That was your idea of a joke, I hope. Though it wasn’t really very funny …”

“No.” He shook his head and opened his backpack. “No joke. I don’t make jokes about poisonous snakes.”

“You mean, there really are rattlesnakes around here?” She cast dubious glances at the ground.

“Sure. You’re in the woods.” He looked up and saw her uncertainty. “It’s okay. I checked. It’s safe.”

She sat but looked uncomfortable.

“So how do you feel?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She looked up at him and he nodded. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, thirsty, and I do not like snakes.”

“Other than that, what do you think of the view?”

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted.

She looked out across a green valley. Overhead a hawk circled, and in the trees somewhere behind them, a bird was singing. “I do understand why people like to do this. Other people, though, not necessarily me.”

He took off his backpack, opened it, and handed her a bottle of water.

“Don’t drink it too quickly,” he warned. “Just sip it.”

She did her best not to chug it. It was lukewarm but tasted wonderful. Amazing how good water can taste when you are truly thirsty.

“And look, Ness.” He pointed off to her right and
grabbed her hand. “That’s a bald eagle. Look at the wingspread …”

“Oh.” She stared at the huge bird that had soared up from below the rocks. “I’ve never seen one that close. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one at all. It’s … it’s breathtaking.”

They watched it rise, then glide across the valley.

“That was a moment.” She smiled up at him. “One I will remember for a long time.”

“Good.” He squeezed her hand. “Now, are you ready for lunch?”

“Oh my God, I thought you’d never ask.” She leaned back on her elbows and held her face up to the sun.

“Here you go.” He put something in her hand.

She opened her eyes and looked down.

“Normally, I’d be the last person to turn down a candy bar,” she told him, “but I’m starving and I need real food, so I hope you have something fabulous in that backpack of yours.”

“It’s not a candy bar, it’s an energy bar. And it
is
lunch.”

“This”—she held up the wrapped bar—“is
lunch?
I walked for two hours and this is all I get?”

He nodded calmly.

“See all the good stuff it has in it?” He turned the bar over and pointed to the list of ingredients but she appeared not to notice. He shrugged, then unwrapped his bar, took a bite, and began to chew. “It’s really good. Honest. I take them out on the trail with me all the time.”

“Why don’t we have real food?”

“Because it’s easier, more convenient, and certainly
lighter in weight. You’re getting all that your body needs between the nutrition in the bar and the water.”

She continued to stare at him.

Finally she said, “Grady, do you remember when we were making cookies at my house before the wedding?”

“Sure.”

“And you said that Mia didn’t know you had a job and if I promised not to tell her that you’d buy my silence—your words—with anything I wanted?”

“Right.”

“Well, I never told her, so the offer is still good. I mean, it’s still open, right?”

“Uh-huh.” He took another bite. If he was worried about where this was leading, it didn’t show.

“And it was
anything
I wanted, right?”

“That was the deal.”

“Here.” She held out her energy bar. “You’re going to need it.”

“Why?” He frowned and took the last bite of his.

“Because I know what I want.”

“I always pay up. Go ahead. What is it?”

“I want you to carry me down off this damned mountain and buy me a burger.”

Many thanks to:

Those incredible folks at Ballantine Books for their support, encouragement, and enthusiasm—Linda Marrow, Libby McGuire, Scott Shannon, Kim Hovey—and Kate Collins, my fabulous editor, whose guidance has made every one of my books better; Scott Biel, for coming up with the beautiful covers that are
so right
for these stories; and last but not least—the long-suffering production staff.

The lovely Grace Sinclair, whose winning of a drawing at Country Meadows Retirement Village in Hershey, PA, inspired a character.

Victoria Alexander, who saved me from reinventing the wheel. When I told her I wanted to write a series set in a small town filled with interesting characters on the Chesapeake, she reminded me that I already
had
a little town on the Bay filled with interesting characters (St. Dennis from
Last Words
)
and
I should set my new series there and write more about the characters I already had. So I did.

And as always, St. Loretta the Divine.

July 13, 1983

Diary ~

Another sunny summer day in sleepy St. Dennis. Spent the morning at the Inn helping the housekeeping staff wash the bed linens, and the afternoon washing the lunch dishes and trying to keep my children out of trouble. Oh, the glamorous life of an innkeeper on the Chesapeake Bay!

Oh—one exciting thing did happen! Over the weekend, Beryl Eberle—the fabulous actress Beryl Townsend, for anyone in St. Dennis who’s been under a rock for the past quarter century—came back and opened up her family’s home as if she intended to stay awhile. I was at the market early in the week and overhead one of the clerks mention that Beryl—Berry, to those of us who have been lucky enough to have known her forever—had called in an order that morning and he was getting ready to deliver it, and just which of those big old houses out on River Road was hers? (I was able to tell him, of course.) There was a time when she and my cousin Archer were sweet on each other, but she’s a huge movie star and he’s a country lawyer, so anyone could tell that was going nowhere
.

Anyway. Berry’s nephew Ned had a fatal heart attack and died very suddenly two weeks ago. Berry, of course
,
dropped everything and flew from California straight to New Jersey, where Ned lived with his family. Berry is taking Ned’s children for the summer. Imagine Berry—who never had a child of her own, and, as far as I know, never missed the experience—having full responsibility for a seven-year-old boy and an eleven-year-old girl for the rest of the summer. Yes, I said full responsibility: It appears that while Roberta did bring the children to St. Dennis, she returned to New Jersey—alone—the following morning
.

Word has it that Berry had to back out of a movie she was to begin filming to spend the summer here with her grand-niece and -nephew. While many in town have expressed surprise over this, I do not. Berry adored Ned—he was clearly her favorite of her siblings’ children. It should be an interesting summer
.

~ Grace ~
      

P.S. I spotted the children with Berry at the park today. The little boy has hellion written all over his face; the girl looks lost and sad and is very quiet. Berry will have her hands full this summer, no doubt about that
.

Everything in Dallas MacGregor’s life was wrong and she wanted to die. At least if she died, she’d be with her father, and the taunts of these hateful people wouldn’t matter. Her mother had promised her a summer of fun with lots of new friends at her great-aunt’s beautiful house by the beach, but she’d lied. She’d lied about everything.

There was no beach here, no ocean, just the Bay, and the river, neither of which had what a girl from New Jersey considered a proper beach, so that was lie number one. Lie number two: She hadn’t had a minute of fun since they arrived here in St. Dennis. Lie number three: The kids here all hated her and called her names like Pudge and Chub. And her great-aunt Berry’s house was like a museum. All the furniture was old and stiff and uncomfortable and there was only one small television, which her great-aunt rarely turned on except to let Dallas’s little brother, Wade, watch
Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
or
Sesame Street
. What fun was there in any of that?

Dallas threw herself down on the riverbank and sobbed. Even if she died, no one would care. Why, she
could walk right into that river and drown and it would probably take weeks before someone missed her. Yeah, no one would even realize she was gone until her mother came at the end of the summer to pick up her and Wade.