One Summer by JoAnn Ross Read Free Book Online Page B

begin again. And again.
    The sound of the clock on the wall seemed inordinately loud. And slow. Click … Click … Click …
    Finally giving up, she decided to turn to knitting more clothing for Harbor Home, a shelter for victims of domestic abuse. Only to discover that she’d forgotten to buy the yarn she’d been planning to use for a sweater.
    “It’s not as if you don’t have plenty of other yarn,” she muttered as she looked at the baskets overflowing with colorful balls in a rainbow of hues on the shelves her husband had built for her in their bedroom. “Just use something else.”
    The only problem was, she’d had her heart set on “Peace Pink,” a soft pastel shade she thought was not only a soothing color but also appropriate, since the women and children living at Harbor Home had definitely gone there seeking not just safety but peace.
    Unfortunately, her son and her daughter-in-law, with whom she lived, had gone into Tillamook to buy supplies for their bait shop. And her husband was out at sea with their grandson. A group of insurance men from Eugene who’d won a fishing trip in a sales contest had chartered Cole’s boat. Since she knew her Bernard still missed his days as a commercial fisherman, she’d merrily waved him off this morning, promising that she’d stay home while he was gone.
    As much as she loved her family, she was looking forward to a little alone time. She was also getting weary of their hovering over her as if she were an infant. She was seventy-four years old. She might not have traveled the world, as her three grandsons had done while in the military, and perhaps her memory wasn’t as sharp as it had been when she’d been younger, but she wasn’t ready for the old folks’ home, yet.
    She’d been living in Shelter Bay for fifty-four years. Although the town had experienced changes over time, much had stayed the same as it had been when she’d first arrived as a young bride after Hurricane Audrey had devastated the Louisiana bayou and shut down the shrimping business for a time. Figuring that crabbing wouldn’t be all that different, her husband, Bernard, had packed what was left of their belongings in his old Ford pickup, and brought her here to Oregon.
    Adèle had gotten a job working as a companion and housekeeper for Sylvia Blackwell, the widow of a timber baron, who’d opened her eyes to a larger world. Sylvia had not only shared tales of her travels; the wealthy woman had a vast library in the cliff house that she’d encouraged Adèle to use.
    “It’s not as if I just fell off a crab boat,” Adèle reminded herself.
    What she’d done was fall down the stairs at the house her grandson was now living in, hitting her head when she’d reached the bottom. Dr. Conway, who was not only a very bright neurologist but also the mother of the young woman with whom her grandson Sax was obviously in love, had diagnosed her with a form of dementia. That had been the bad news. The good news was that unlike “normal” dementia, she shouldn’t get worse, and might even get better. But any recovery would, Dr. Conway had said, take time.
    Unfortunately, unlike her husband, Adèle had never been known for her patience.
    She looked up at the clock. It wasn’t yet noon. She had plenty of time to walk the few blocks to the Knitting Nook and be back before the rest of the family returned. They’d never even know she left the house.
    And maybe she’d stop at Take the Cake and pick up some of those coconut-lemon cupcakes she’d become so fond of since Cole’s fiancée had brought them home from the wedding-cake tasting.
    “See?” she said to herself. “Your memory can’t be that bad. You remember those.” Of course that might be because they were the best dessert she’d ever tasted. Although the sun was shining through the clouds, it was misting, a light, silvery rain that around these parts was known as “liquid sunshine.” Slipping on a hooded sweater she’d knit in a soft