Footprints in the Sand
Mary Jane Clark
Dedication
For Frances Mary Margaret McCormack Twomey,
with admiration, gratitude, and love.
Your friendship and loyalty have seen me through, Francie.
You are such a great gift.
And for all who struggle with Fragile X Syndrome,
as well as the researchers who are working on treatments.
We’ll get there.
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Monday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Tuesday
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Wednesday
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Thursday
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Friday
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Saturday
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Sunday
Epilogue
Aunt Nora’s Easy but Sinfully Delicious Siesta Key Lime Pie
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Mary Jane Clark
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
She arrived twenty minutes early, parking in a spot where she could observe everyone entering and leaving the bar. Her hand shook as she twisted the key in the ignition to turn off the engine. Heart pounding, she settled back and began her vigil.
She wanted to meet him in a public place. That would be safer than going to his home or inviting him to hers. Having people around would ensure that he’d control himself. If he yelled or lashed out, there would be witnesses. He wouldn’t want that.
Every muscle in her body tensed when she spotted him going into the bar. The door closed slowly behind him. She drew down the visor, flipped on the light, and checked her face in the mirror. She noted that she looked surprisingly calm.
She waited a few more minutes before getting out of the car. As she crossed the street, her long dark hair fanned over the shoulders of her yellow cotton sweater. She straightened her short skirt, took a deep breath, and pulled open the weathered door.
A group of guys were clustered in the entranceway. She felt their eyes sweeping over her but pretended not to notice. She was not going to let herself be distracted from her mission tonight.
Scanning the room, she saw the back of his head as he sat in a booth toward the rear of the bar, just where he’d said he’d be. She knew he wouldn’t want people to recognize him talking to her. That was fine as far as she was concerned. She really didn’t want to be seen with him either.
She made her way through the crowded space, ignoring the suggestive comments of some of the more loose-lipped customers. She was used to it. A few remarks she thought were flattering, but mostly she just found them irritating.
Sliding into the booth, she was grateful that it was a bit quieter in the rear of the room. What she had to say shouldn’t be spoken loudly.
“What will it be?” he asked.
“One of those,” she said, cocking her head in the direction of the mug on the table in front of him.
“Something to eat?”
“No,” she said. “Not right now. I’m not really hungry.”
He gestured for the waitress and ordered two more beers.
“So, Shelley,” he said, leaning forward and looking into her eyes. “To what do I owe this honor?”
The smile disappeared from his face as she answered.
“I might as well get right to the point,” she said. “People need to know what you’ve been up to.”
Monday
You need not call the devil;
he’ll come without calling.
AMISH PROVERB
Chapter 1
February 13 . . .
Five Days Until the Wedding
Green-and-yellow birds chirped noisily in the palm trees outside the terminal at Sarasota Bradenton International Airport. The sky was clear and bright, but the breeze was cool as Piper Donovan and her parents pulled their luggage across the macadam.
“Not exactly beach weather,” observed Piper, “but it’s so much better than that frigid nightmare we left behind in New Jersey.”
“That’s what you say every time we come down here, Terri,” Vin remarked as his eyes scanned the parking lot, searching for the rental car.
“I know I do,” said Terri. “That’s because I can’t ever get over how pretty it is. Heaven. Nora and Frank sure had the right idea when they moved down here.”
“Too bad Uncle Frank didn’t live long enough to really enjoy it,” said Piper as she rested the small box she was carrying on top of the car. She reached for her parents’ bags and hoisted them into the trunk. “I miss him.”
“Me, too, sweetheart,” said Terri as she thought of her older brother. “I wish he were still here, especially now. Frank should be walking his daughter down the aisle.”
Vin reached out, put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and drew her close. “Don’t worry. I’m going to do the best I can to stand in for him,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Even though there really isn’t any aisle to walk down. Whatever happened to a church with a priest? Now, put on your sunglasses, Terri. You know the bright light bothers your eyes.”
“This macular degeneration is such a drag,” said Terri as she opened her purse.
While her mother searched for the glasses, Piper struggled to make the last bag fit. Vin scowled as he watched.
“Here, let me do it,” he said, reaching into the trunk.
“I can do it, Dad.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Piper stood back, knowing that letting her father have his way was easier than resisting. After Vin had neatly rearranged the trunk’s contents, Piper took the small box from the roof, holding it carefully as they all got into the sedan and buckled themselves into their seats.
“I’m glad Nora has finally met someone,” said Terri as she settled back. “She’s been by herself for too long.”
“What’s his name again?” asked Piper, pulling a clip from the pocket of her hoodie and sweeping her long blond hair up into a loose bun.
“Walter. Walter Engel.”
“And what’s his deal?”
“He’s a businessman,” answered Terri. “I gather he’s into a lot of things. I know he owns the Whispering Sands Inn.”
The car pulled out of the parking lot, exited the airport property, and turned left on the Tamiami Trail. All the passengers knew exactly where they were heading.
“My mouth is literally salivating for that pie already,” said Piper, closing her eyes and resting her head on the rear seat.
The direct flight from New York to Sarasota left early in the morning, which meant rising well before dawn. The food on the plane had been next to nonexistent, leaving them famished. It was their custom on each yearly visit to their Florida relatives to stop first at Fisher’s, an Amish restaurant, and get something to eat.
The gleaming office buildings and high-rise condominiums that overlooked the downtown marina gave way to a stretch of the Tamiami Trail dotted with chain stores and restaurants. At Bahia Vista Street, Vin steered left off the highway and toward the Amish section of town. Soon the houses became exceedingly modest, situated on tiny lots. Propane tanks outside signaled that the owners of the one-story cottages were determined to be “off the grid” and refused to use electricity.
The Pinecraft district of Sarasota was a winter vacation paradise for Plain People. The neighborhood had roughly two thousand year-round residents. The population more than doubled during the winter season, when Amish snowbirds descended from the North.
Piper stared intently out the car window, catching sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a starched white cap and a simple blue dress as she pedaled along the sidewalk on an adult-size tricycle. Her legs were covered in thick stockings, and she had on plain black shoes. The basket on the broad-seated trike was full of brown paper sacks.
“That’s so not for me,” said Piper, shaking her head in wonder as she watched the Amish woman pedal away.
Fisher’s had three buildings. The largest, the restaurant, was flanked by a gift shop and a bakery-and-produce stand. The lunch crowd had already descended by the time the Donovans arrived and looked for a parking space. A line of waiting people snaked out the front door.
“Don’t worry,” said Vin. “It always moves pretty quickly.”
“Can I check out the gift shop while you guys wait on line?” asked Piper as she placed the box she had held in her lap onto the rear seat next to her.
“Sure, go ahead,” said Terri.
Inside the store Piper perused the merchandise. Amish cookbooks, handmade quilts and baskets, cloth dolls, and wooden toys were displayed alongside the traditional gift-shop fare of jewelry and T-shirts. At the left side of the room, Piper noticed a young man with a bowl-shaped haircut sitting at a long table. Large, gaily painted disks decorated the wall behind him. Each disk featured a different design and set of symbols. Birds, hearts, flowers, stars, trees, leaves, horses, cows, pineapples, unicorns, and other symbols were arranged in all sorts of configurations.
Piper approached the table and watched as the young man painted a bright green shamrock in the middle of a blank disk. Feeling her eyes upon him, he looked up and smiled politely.
“Hi,” said Piper, gesturing at the decorations on the wall. “Did you do all these?”
The young man nodded. “They’re hex signs,” he said. “Every symbol has a meaning.”
“And each one conveys a kind of wish?” asked Piper as she began to recall the trip her family had taken to Hershey, Pennsylvania, one summer when she and her brother were little. She and Robert had been excited to go to the amusement park and walk the roads dotted with lampposts whose tops were shaped to look like silver-wrapped chocolate kisses. Her parents were more interested in the side trip to nearby Lancaster, where the Amish people drove their horse-drawn buggies. Piper vaguely remembered hearing about hex signs then.
The young man nodded again. “The one I’m painting now portrays the good luck of the Irish.”
“What about that one?” asked Piper, pointing to a sign featuring an American eagle.
“That one symbolizes strength and independence.”
“And the one with the doves and the interlocking hearts?” asked Piper.
“That’s a wedding hex sign. It proclaims a loving, happy marriage.”
Piper studied the circle. A man’s and a woman’s names were printed in the center of the hearts. She hadn’t gotten a gift for Kathy and Dan yet. Maybe this would be something special for them.
“Could you make another one of the marriage signs and put in the names of a different bride and groom?” she asked.
“Of course,” said the young man. “I can have it ready in a few days.”
When Piper gave the first names of the bride and groom, the young man looked up at her. “Kathy Leeds and Dan Clemens?” he asked.
“Yes. Do you know them?”
“Sure,” he said in a soft voice that Piper had to strain to hear. “My sister works sometimes for Kathy’s mother, and I know Dan from the Mote Marine Aquarium. I also know Kathy because I deliver pies and cakes to the hotel where she works.”
“The Whispering Sands Inn?”
The young man nodded.
“My family and I are staying there while we’re in town for the wedding,” said Piper. “I hear it’s beautiful. How could it not be when it’s on that Siesta Key beach?”
At her remark, Piper could see the young man’s facial expression change. His jaw clenched, and he turned his attention to writing down the order information. He didn’t seem interested in any additional conversation.
As she
left the gift shop, Piper felt satisfied yet slightly uneasy. Wasn’t a hex a bad thing? Wasn’t a hex a kind of curse?
Chapter 2
While he capped the tubes of paint and cleaned his brushes, Levi Fisher reflected on how different things were now. Just a few days ago, he would have been excited to have a commission to do a customized hex sign, especially one for a couple about to be married, a couple he knew to be such nice people. But since the awful thing had happened on the beach, he couldn’t find enthusiasm for anything. He had been enveloped by a painful mental darkness.
As the child of Amish parents, Levi had been raised to live separate from the world and embrace instead his family and the Amish community. As an Amish adult, he would be expected to honor history and tradition, turn the other cheek, and lead a simple life through the practice of humility, modesty, thrift, and peacefulness. It would always be his sacred duty to surrender to the will of God and submit to the authority of his Amish community and its rules. Setting rules and limits and respecting them were the keys to wisdom and fulfillment, and to becoming Christlike.