An Autumn Destiny (Journeys #3)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
The change of seasons from summer to fall occurred faster than I could believe, with transitions springing forward at warp speed.
I wondered if everything felt so different because I had split my time between the shore in southern New Jersey and the rural county in southeastern Pennsylvania, and that was a new experience for me.
A perceptible change in the weather at the shore occurred as well. Ocean breezes seemed stronger, and the wind scattered the sand nearest the dunes throughout the tall grasses. The sun would warm the days, yet I’d need a sweater for my evening beach walks.
Temperatures were similar in Pennsylvania but, there, the leaves had already begun to change colors. September seemed too early for that, even though the flowers I’d planted in the porch containers at Quality Landscapes looked well past their prime. Fall had definitely arrived.
Perhaps I felt the rapid passage of time more intensely this season because my wedding day quickly approached. October 18 had seemed so far off in June, yet it would be here in the blink of an eye, or so I told my mother when we spoke on the phone the previous evening.
She laughed. “I hate to remind you that most brides have at least a year to plan their wedding.” She paused and I pictured her giving my father an eyeroll because I hadn’t listened to her advice. “Your dad and I will be there in just a few weeks, and we’ll help wherever you need us.”
“I know, and I appreciate that, Mom.”
“Are the alterations to your gown finished?”
“I have a fitting tomorrow afternoon, so I hope so. Angela is coming with me, and she’ll pick up her gown, too.”
“She’s your Matron of Honor, right?”
“Yes, and Brad’s only sibling. Her husband, Mike, will be our Best Man. I can hardly wait for you and Dad to meet them because they’re great.”
“I’m glad you get along so well, honey. I always felt close to your dad’s sister. Did you invite Marie to the wedding?”
“Yes, but she declined.”
“That’s too bad. I had hoped to catch up with her there.”
During the pause when she relayed to my father that his sister wasn’t able to attend the ceremony, my thoughts returned to my fiancé, Brad Davenport. His parents had both died several years earlier, and he had no close relatives other than Angela.
“I could start working on the seating arrangements for the reception,” she said when she returned to the conversation.
“That would be fabulous, Mom. I’ll email a list of those who are coming, and their relationship to Brad or me. I sure wish you lived closer.”
“We do, too, honey. Stay calm and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
When Dad retired, my parents moved from the Baltimore suburbs to Satellite Beach, Florida, and they loved living near the ocean. I now understood their decision, especially after spending much of my summer in Stone Harbor.
Initially, I didn’t mind the distance. They enjoyed the new friends they’d made, and I had a great job with a publishing firm. Eventually, I married a wonderful man, Tony, and we named our baby Chet. Then, one act of violence took my husband and son.
I wallowed in grief for five years, and didn’t want anyone, including my parents, to interfere. Then, I met Heather Archer and Brad Davenport. Both of them brought me out of darkness.
After lunch, I sat on the back steps to my apartment behind Brad’s landscaping storefront and called Rita Bennett, the older woman who lived next door to Heather at the shore.
She persuaded me to rent her second-floor apartment, more for company than the need for income, and I think the connection was good for both of us.
Heather introduced us in late May when Rita’s grandson, Wyatt, brought her home from rehab after a hip replacement.
He’d planned to stay with her until she was back on her feet, but fate intervened.
He and Heather were instantly attracted to each other, or so it seemed, and they traveled together to Texas, which left me with Rita.
She picked up the call immediately. “If you’re checking on me, you’re a little late. I was up with the birds today.”
“I thought Wyatt intended to stay with you for a few days before he and Heather took their next trip.”
“That was the plan,” she said, “but he’s not sleeping here. I suspect they’ve gone shopping on the mainland this morning since his car isn’t in Heather’s driveway.”
“He probably noticed your blinds open and figured he didn’t have to worry about you.”
“Maybe, but humor this old lady because it doesn’t take much to get me grumbling.” She paused before adding, “I guess I miss your company.”
“It won’t be long before Brad and I return for the weekend. Line up any handyman jobs you need him to accomplish while you and I work on wedding planning.”
“I’d like you to help me find a dress for the occasion. I don’t have anything suitable in my closet.”
“We can go shopping on Saturday,” I replied supportively. “Did I tell you my fitting is tomorrow?”
“Yes, so have someone take a photo. I can hardly wait to see your gown.”
“I will,” I promised. “I’ll send you a text with the picture and I’ll call you with our ETA on Friday.”
“What’s that?”
“Our estimated time of arrival.”
She giggled. “Oh, right. I must be getting dotty.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied with a chuckle.
As we ended the call, I thought about how gracefully Rita had aged. Until she broke her hip last spring, she was a very active eighty-eight year old. That may have slowed her steps, but her mind stayed clear. Other than a little forgetfulness, I never would have guessed her age.
I returned the phone to my jeans’ pocket and walked the circular driveway to the front of Quality Landscapes.
At one time, the stately manor belonged to Brad’s grandparents, and they hired Heather’s Aunt Bertha to serve as a maid and nanny to their children.
In time, Brad’s grandfather split the property and built a house next door as a wedding gift for Brad’s parents.
When the grandparents died, they bequeathed the original property to Bertha—to everyone’s surprise. She, in turn, converted the house to a consignment shop to benefit needy families, and lived in the apartment attached to the back.
Brad, who inherited his parents’ home next door, took it upon himself to check on Bertha every day until she, too, died. In a way, he hoped his grandparents’ home would pass back to him, but it didn’t. Bertha bequeathed it to her niece, Heather Archer.
I couldn’t help but think how things in life connected, even when they’re not related.
Heather hired me to clean out her aunt’s shop and offered me the apartment to live rent-free.
I’d relied on Brad for help getting rid of the dusty remnants and preparing the place for sale, then he bought the property for his new landscaping business.
Now, he and I have planned to marry in just a few weeks.
I wouldn’t have believed it a year ago because it sounded like a fairy tale, yet it’s not. Everything connects.
As I rounded the bend, the young Brazilian woman, Nina, whom Brad hired as a store clerk waved to me from the front door. “Olá, Jodie,” she called. “Can you come help me?”
She scurried back inside and I rushed up the steps, hoping we didn’t have a crisis. She didn’t usually sound so stressed.