Chapter 9

Sunday, November 27

The notes of the final hymn vibrated from the organ in the church sanctuary. Jill held her side of the hymnal and mumbled the words while Greg’s melodious baritone rang in her ears. From the first time she’d heard him sing, sitting in this very church, she’d thought it was such a shame he never studied music. A voice like that could have taken him far on the performance circuit.

She clamped her teeth together in defiance of a yawn. She’d read an entire novel to postpone the moment when she had to close her eyes last night, though today she couldn’t remember a thing about the story. Still, it had served its purpose. When she finally allowed herself to fall asleep around four a.m., she’d been so exhausted she didn’t dream at all. But seven o’clock had come awfully early this morning.

The hymn ended, and after the minister’s final words, the organist launched into the postlude, signaling the end of the service. Jill bent forward to grab her purse from beneath the pew in front of her, while Greg stepped into the aisle and waited for her to join him.

“There you are, Bradford. Could we have a word about this meeting of yours tomorrow night?” One of the church elders, Mitch Landry, plucked at Greg’s sleeve.

“Of course.” Greg gave her an apologetic grimace. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Jill nodded. “Take your time. You know it’ll be at least half an hour before Nana is ready to leave.”

Greg turned to give Mitch his full attention, and Jill scanned the choir loft to catch sight of Nana. Her gaze was drawn immediately to the fiery red head surrounded by a sea of gray. Nana stood out among her cronies like a stray dandelion in the middle of a manicured lawn. Her arms waved, hands churning the air around her as she spoke with all the dramatic flare of a stage actress. As Jill watched, her hands swept down her body toward the floor. Probably describing Mom’s wedding dress, which meant news of the wedding had spread through the congregation. No surprise there.

Jill turned to pick up her bulletin from the cushioned pew, then straightened, catching sight of a man hurrying toward her. She bit back a groan. Paul Nester, minister of music, wore a purposeful expression that sent dread rippling through her. Before the accident he took every opportunity to pressure her into playing in church whenever her concert schedule allowed her to be in the Cove on a Sunday morning. The invitations stopped for a long time after the accident, but in recent months he’d dropped a few casual hints to let her know he hoped to schedule her on the special music calendar whenever she was ready to play again. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t going to hint around this time.

She considered escape. Could she pretend she hadn’t seen him? Slip into the aisle and lose herself in the crowd of chatting congregants? A second later, the opportunity fled. He made eye contact, held up a finger, and mouthed, “I want to talk to you.”

Resigned, she waited until he sidestepped the length of the pew in which she stood, then forced a smile. “Hi, Paul.”

“I heard your good news.” His eyes flickered behind her back, where Greg stood talking with Mitch. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you.”

“I also heard you’ve started giving piano lessons. Mrs. Fontaine and Mrs. Cramer told the choir this morning that you’re teaching their granddaughters.”

“That’s true. We started yesterday, in fact.”

“That’s wonderful news. Does this mean you’re playing the piano again?”

Here came the request. Jill started to shake her head, but he continued before she could even begin the gesture.

“Because if so, I have a slot in the Christmas program waiting for you.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to see who was standing nearby, and went on in a lower voice. “The program is terrible. We need someone with talent. Your playing is such a blessing.”

A blessing? The word struck her with the force of a slap. A blessing to whom? Certainly not to her, not anymore. God had taken away her blessing when he allowed that crash. When he crushed her hand beyond even the most skilled surgeon’s ability to repair.

She swallowed back a bitter surge of acid and managed to choke, “I can’t.”

And even if I could, I wouldn’t. If God had seen fit to take her gift from her, then why should she play for him? She would use her training to help students like Mariah and Kaylee, but that would be the extent of her giving musically to others. She would not play for anyone else, including God.

Paul’s glance lowered to her left hand for a fraction of a second, which she realized she’d been flexing unconsciously, then flicked back up to her face. The sympathy she saw in his eyes twisted a knot in her chest.

He reached toward her, but did not touch her. “I’m so sorry. When I heard you were taking students, I guess I misunderstood.”

She was saved from responding by Greg, who ended his conversation with Mitch and joined them.

“Well, that’s good news.” His grin swept them both. “He wanted to let me know he and the rest of the elder board will be attending the meeting tomorrow night as a group, as a public show of support.”

“Hey, that is good news.” Paul clapped him on the arm, relief at the interruption of their awkward conversation apparent in his exuberance. “I’m planning to be there too. Look forward to hearing what you have to say.” He smiled another unspoken apology toward Jill, nodded farewell, and left.

“It’s starting to look like the whole town is going to show up tomorrow night.” Greg scooped up his Stetson from the pew and twisted his features into a grimace. “I hope they like my plan.”

Jill turned her back on Paul Nester’s retreating figure. At least that uncomfortable conversation was over with. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be forced to have it again.

She made her way to the back of the sanctuary beside Greg. “You’re not getting nervous, are you?”

“Nervous?” He shook his head. “Nah. I’m looking forward to laying everything out. If there are any real holes in my plan, I need someone to point them out so I can address them. Besides,” He put an arm around her waist and hugged her close, “my number-one fan will be there. Who else matters?”

Jill almost stumbled. She’d said the same thing to him several times, just before she went onto the concert stage. Greg had traveled to as many of her performances as his schedule allowed, and always sat on the front row. His hands were always the first to start the applause after every piece.

We’ve changed places. I’m part of his audience now.

The discovery slowed her step with an unexpected wave of sadness. She’d become accustomed to the idea that she would no longer play on the concert circuit, but this was different. She’d stepped completely out of the spotlight. The rest of her life, she’d have a supporting role.

“Oh, by the way,” Greg went on. “I forgot about a meeting I scheduled Wednesday at four, so I won’t be able to pick you up until around five thirty.”

She pulled herself away from her gloomy thoughts. “What’s happening Wednesday night?”

He stopped and turned to face her. They’d almost reached the sanctuary doors, so the people behind them parted to go around them through the exit.

“We’re going to my parents’ house for dinner. Remember?”

Parents’ house? Did she know this? Her face must have been blank, because Greg’s expression grew concerned. “We talked about this last night. You said you were free Wednesday.”

“I did?” Now that she thought about it, she did remember discussing dinner with his parents, though she couldn’t recall that he mentioned a day. She’d been distracted during their phone conversation, only half-listening as she searched through Nana’s bookcase for something to keep her awake so she wouldn’t fall asleep and dream.

“Yes, you did.” Greg peered at her closely. “Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, I remember.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired today. Didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“If you’d rather not go, we don’t have to. It’s just that Mom wants to talk about the wedding decorations.”

Great. Yet another wedding planner. As if she didn’t have enough with Nana and her Dynamic Dozen.

Jill cleared her expression. “Greg, I want to go. You know I love your parents.”

She did. Greg’s mother was one of the sweetest women she’d ever met, and Jill loved spending time with her. His dad was a bit forceful, nothing like Jill’s memory of her own mild-mannered father, but over the past four years Jill had come to admire him and his fierce devotion to his sons.

“Okay, good.” The anxiety melted from his features.

Nana came up behind them. “I’m ready to go. And look what I have, Jill.” Her arms were loaded down by an untidy stack of magazines, which she transferred to Jill. “They’re bridal magazines. The girls gathered as many as they could find and marked pages for you to see. We’ve found some ideas for the flowers and the cake. You and I can go through them this afternoon, and report back when everyone comes over in the morning.”

This afternoon? Jill hefted the heavy pile. It would probably take days to go through all these. She caught sight of Greg’s grin over Nana’s head. Was he laughing at her? If he thought he was sticking her with all the planning decisions, he’d better think again.

“I have a great idea,” she told him. “You can come home with us and help us look through all these magazines. After all, this is our wedding, not just mine.”

The grin faded, and his eyebrows drew together. “Me? I don’t know anything about flowers.”

“That’s all right, dear.” Nana patted his arm as she brushed past. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know this afternoon.”

“That’s, uh, great. Thanks.”

Jill bit back a chuckle at his discomfiture as she dumped the magazines into his arms. “Come along, dear.” She gave him a sweet smile and followed her grandmother out of the church.

“What about that one, only with purple icing?” Greg tapped the picture of an elaborate, tiered wedding cake in one of the four magazines spread open on the coffee table in front of them. “That’s my favorite color.”

Jill twisted sideways on the sofa to fix him with an Are-you-out-of-your-mind stare. “A purple wedding cake?”

Beyond Jill, Ruth gave him the pitying look he’d come to recognize in the past hour as one women reserved for men who didn’t have a clue. She stood, picked up her empty teacup, and headed for the kitchen without another word.

“What?” He lifted his hands in an innocent palms-up gesture. “You two said I could voice my opinion. I told you I wouldn’t be any good at this.”

Jill’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing this on purpose. You think if you make ridiculous suggestions we’ll get tired of hearing them, and we’ll tell you to go home.”

Busted. He ducked his head. “Well …”

“Fine. Your heart’s not in it, so you might as well go.”

She gave him a shove. Was it a little too firm to be entirely playful? That wasn’t like Jill. Greg examined her face for signs that she was upset with him. Her eyelids drooped, and a couple of dark smudges marred the smooth skin beneath her eyes. She’d mentioned at church that she hadn’t slept well last night, and she looked like the lack of rest was catching up with her this afternoon.

Jill looked up and caught him watching her. A sheepish smile curved her lips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I guess I’m not my normal sweet self today, huh?”

“You look tired,” he told her. “Maybe you should take a nap.”

“No.” Her quick response surprised him. She flipped the page of the magazine in her lap. “I’ll be fine. I just want to get through all these before Nana’s friends show up in the morning. They went to the trouble of finding them and marking their suggestions, and I don’t want them to think I’m not grateful.”

That was his Jill, too kind to hurt someone’s feelings.

He settled deeper into the sofa cushion and looked at the magazine she held. “If you’re going to suffer through another five dozen pictures of wedding cakes, I will too. What’s next?”

The smile she turned toward him this time was tender. “You don’t have to do that. I know you’re concerned about your presentation tomorrow night, so I think you should go home and work on it. You’ve been tortured enough with wedding stuff.”

Since that’s exactly what he’d planned to do with this afternoon and evening before being drafted to look through wedding magazines, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her brow. “Thank you for understanding. I love you, you know that?”

“I love you, too. You’re going to be terrific tomorrow.”

“And you are going to be a beautiful bride in just under four weeks.” He stood and gathered up their teacups. “I’ll take these to the kitchen and say good-bye to Ruth so she won’t think I escaped without permission.”

Jill smiled, nodded, and flipped another page. He examined her profile. She looked pale. As Greg headed for the kitchen, worry wormed its way into his thoughts. Her recovery after the accident had taken so long, and for a while they’d thought she might not make it. Maybe he’d been wrong to ask for such a quick wedding date. He really hadn’t anticipated the planning would be very involved, but it looked as though he’d inadvertently created a stressful situation for her.

“Oh, thank you, Greg.” Ruth took the cups from his hands when he entered the kitchen. “Would you like a refill?”

“Thanks, but I need to get going.” When she gave him a sharp look, he rushed on with his excuse. “Jill said I could go home and work on my speech.”

Her lips pursed as she considered, then gave a nod. “I suppose that’s important too.” She turned toward the sink with the dishes.

Greg stepped up beside her and pitched his voice low. “Is she doing okay? She seems pretty stressed today, and she mentioned she didn’t sleep well. Do you know if that’s just a one-time thing?”

Ruth glanced toward the open doorway. “Oh, I think so. She’s just experiencing the normal pre-wedding jitters.” He must have looked startled, because she rushed on. “Not about you, dear. Just about all the things that need to be done.” Her expression grew stern. “Done in a very short time, I might add.”

Of course, all those “things” weren’t really necessary, if you asked him. And Jill didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about having a wedding cake, or pictures, or anything like that either. It was Ruth who was pushing those “things.”

He had to tread lightly there, though, since obviously Ruth cared a lot about them. “Well, maybe you could encourage her not to go overboard with the planning.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “Remind her that one of the benefits we discussed about a family ceremony was not having to stress over the planning.”

He couldn’t tell if his subtle suggestion hit its mark or not. The only reaction he got as Ruth rinsed out the teacups was, “Hmmm.”

He straightened. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely.” A broad smile stretched across her face. “My knitting circle is planning to get there early and sit up front.”

“Good. Ask them to leave the rotten tomatoes at home, okay?” He grinned. “Save them for Samuels’s next public appearance.”

She laughed her hearty laugh, and fell in beside him as he headed toward the front door.

In the living room, he opened his mouth to say good-bye to Jill, but snapped it shut when he caught sight of her. She’d fallen asleep on the couch, the magazine still in her hand. Her head lolled backward against the rear cushion, her eyes closed, chest rising and falling evenly. Sleep smoothed out the lines he’d noticed earlier around her eyes, and her lips were soft and pliable. He resisted the urge to brush a good-bye kiss against them, lest he wake her. The sleep would do her good.

He mouthed a silent good-bye to Ruth and tiptoed from the room.

Crushing weight. Searing heat. Icy cold fingers reaching for her, pulling her down …

Jill came fully awake with a gasp, screams from her dream still echoing in her mind. She was on her feet beside the sofa, and for a moment couldn’t remember how she got there. The scattered magazines jarred her memory. The wedding. Flowers and cakes. She’d sent Greg home to work on his speech and then she’d done the one thing she had vowed not to do.

She fell asleep.

And the dream had returned.

Her chest heaved with a sob. What was wrong with her? It couldn’t be stress from wedding planning. That wasn’t stressful. In the past ten years she’d learned what real stress meant. The loss of her father, her mom’s stroke, and finding solace in her music only to have it taken from her in the brutal accident last year. Having the only future you’d ever wanted ripped away from you, that was stressful. Having a doctor tell you another surgery would do no good, that you’d regained as much motion as you were ever going to have, that was stressful. Recurring thoughts of children flying through the air in front of your eyes and slamming into a window that was where the ceiling should have been, that was real stress. What was selecting bouquet flowers compared to that?

I’m losing my mind.

That was the only explanation for the recurring nightmare, and for the ever-increasing urge that someone wanted her to warn the people of Seaside Cove that they must leave. Evacuate their homes. Take their children, their loved ones, and head inland.

The feeling was so strong she found herself halfway across the room toward the front door before she realized what she was doing. With an effort, she stopped. What was she going to do, run into the street and scream at the top of her lungs?

Yes, that’s exactly what her instincts told her to do.

That’s crazy.

Which proved her point. She was losing her mind. The sight of Nana’s cozy living room blurred behind a pool of tears. Poor Greg. He was engaged to a crazy person. He deserved so much better.

God, can’t you make this dream go away? I don’t want to be insane.

Could insanity be stopped? Reversed, even? Doreen would know. That’s what she’d do. She’d call her counselor. A wild hope blossomed in her chest, but it felt alarmingly close to hysteria, so she clamped her teeth together before she made a noise that would attract Nana’s attention from the other room.

Tonight was Sunday. Doreen would understand an emergency call on Sunday, but only if it was a true emergency. Did insanity count as a true emergency?

Jill bent her forefinger and bit down on her knuckle. No. She would not bother Doreen on Sunday evening. The dreams were getting more vivid, and the urge to warn the people of the Cove was growing stronger with each one. But it could wait until tomorrow. Nothing would happen tonight, she was certain of that.

Because now she knew when the disaster was going to happen. Now she had been given a date.

How crazy was that?