That Camden Summer Read online

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Appendix:SMALL TOWN GIRL

  This novel is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,

  and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THAT CAMDEN SUMMER

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1996 by LaVyrle Spencer.

  Excerpt from Small Town Girlcopyright © 1997 by LaVyrle Spencer.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement

  and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

  For information address:

  The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is

  http://www.penguinputnam.com

  ISBN: 978-1-1012-1929-4

  A JOVE BOOK®

  Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  JOVE and the “J” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

  ‘‘A modern fairy tale, complete with a deserving heroine, a prince of a guy, and a happily-ever-after ending.’’—People

  ‘‘The perennially bestselling Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. Famous for her heartrending slices of Americana, [LaVyrle] delivers the goods.’’—Publishers Weekly

  The year is 1916. The place is a tiny New England village called Camden—where a newly divorced woman learns that love can be more special the second time around. . .

  When free-thinking divorce é Roberta Jewett returns to her hometown of Camden, Maine, she discovers that small-town folk consider a divorced woman little more than a prostitute. Condemned by her mother and scorned by neighbors, she nonetheless perseveres in her struggle to forge a good life for her girls and herself. Behaving like no ‘‘respectable’’ woman would, she gets a job as a county nurse, learns to drive, and buys her very own Model T. Embittered by her painful marriage to an unfaithful husband, she has no intention of being any man’s victim again. So when widowed carpenter Gabriel Farley begins work renovating her house, Roberta’s first response to him is blatant resentment. But Gabriel’s quiet, vibrant masculinity soon finds a way to soothe Roberta’s heart.

  And in the ultimate test of will and devotion, she must depend on the man she has grown to love and summon the courage to stand up to an entire town.

  ‘‘Deft, unpretentious, and down-to-earth,

  LaVyrle Spencer . . . never fails to please.’’

  — The Anniston Star

  THAT CAMDEN SUMMER

  A Choice of the Literary Guild® and

  the Doubleday Book Club

  Also by LaVyrle Spencer . . .

  HOME SONG

  High school principal Tom Gardner comes face-to-face with a past indiscretion when the son he never knew he had transfers to his school . . .

  ‘‘Like hot chocolate in the dark night of the soul.’’— Kirkus Reviews

  FAMILY BLESSINGS

  After the death of her son, Lee Reston turns to his best friend, police officer Christopher Lallek. As their pain heals, their friendship blossoms—into an unexpected love affair . . .

  ‘‘Ordinary people coming to grips with real problems . . . A moving tale.’’— Publishers Weekly

  NOVEMBER OF THE HEART

  The bestselling novel of love in an age gone by . . . A pretty girl from a wealthy St. Paul family. A common hired man. Would their love survive in a world of rigid expectations and shocking scandal?

  ‘‘One of Spencer’s best.’’— Kirkus Reviews

  BYGONES

  After a bitter divorce, Bess and Michael Curran discover everything they ever wanted was there all along. The dramatic story of a family at the crossroads . . . where hope and heartache meet.

  ‘‘Spencer literally walks us down the aisle from pain to passion. This is a family story that will hit home—in more ways than one.’’— Tulsa World

  FORGIVING

  The heartwarming New York Times bestseller that captures the spirit of the West in a turbulent love affair . . .

  ‘‘Highly recommended . . . Spencer brings an added dimension to her stories. Call it grit, call it warmth, call it whatever you like—it works.’’— Atlanta Journal & Constitution

  BITTER SWEET

  The poignant bestseller . . . Maggie thought she would never love again—until an old high school sweetheart turned her world upside down . . .

  ‘‘[A] journey of self-discovery and reawakening.’’ — Booklist

  SPRING FANCY

  Winn had made her wedding plans and romance was in the air. Only now she was falling in love—with anotherman . . .

  ‘‘You will never forget the beauty and sensitivity of LaVyrle Spencer’s gifted pen!’’— Affair de Coeur

  MORNING GLORY

  Two misfit hearts find a perfect match in a Southern town in this glorious bestseller.

  ‘‘Simply a superbbook . . . it leaves the reader breathless. You’ll want to read this one more than once.’’ — New York Daily News

  THE HELLION

  A sophisticated lady. A notorious hell-raiser. When their worlds meet, the sparks fly . . .

  ‘‘A truly special story . . . superb!’’— Chicago Sun-Times

  VOWS

  The unforgettable meeting of two willful hearts—and one everlasting bond.

  ‘‘LaVyrle Spencer is magic!’’— Affaire de Coeur

  THE GAMBLE

  Sometimes taking a chance on love is the only way to win it . . .

  ‘‘Novel of the Month . . . a grand new bestseller!’’ — Good Housekeeping

  A HEART SPEAKS

  Two of LaVyrle Spencer’s favorite novels— A Promise to Cherish and Forsaking All Others —together in one volume.

  ‘‘Where there’s love, there’s LaVyrle.’’— BookPage

  YEARS

  Across the Western plains, their love held the promise of a lifetime . . .

  ‘‘Splendid!’’— Publishers Weekly

  SEPARATE BEDS

  First came the baby, then came marriage. And then came love . . .

  ‘‘A superb story!’’— Los Angeles Times

  TWICE LOVED

  Years after her husband was lost at sea, Laura Dalton found love again. But now Rye Dalton was coming home . . .

  ‘‘A beautiful story . . . emotional . . . refreshing.’’ — Rocky Mountain News

  HUMMINGBIRD

  The novel that launched LaVyrle Spencer’s stunning career . . .

  ‘‘Will leave you breathless.’’— Affair de Coeur

  THE ENDEARMENT

  Would the secrets of the past destroy the love that Anna Reardon had come to cherish?

  ‘‘A tender, sensual love story, one of those rare books that was so enjoyable I hated for it to end.’’—Lisa Gregory, author of Before the Dawn

  Turn to the back of this book
for an exciting

  preview of LaVyrle Spencer’s

  SMALL TOWN GIRL

  Available in hardcover from

  G. P. Putnam’s Sons

  Titles by LaVyrle Spencer

  THAT CAMDEN SUMMER

  HOME SONG

  FAMILY BLESSINGS

  NOVEMBER OF THE HEART

  BYGONES

  FORGIVING

  BITTER SWEET

  SPRING FANCY

  MORNING GLORY

  THE HELLION

  VOWS

  THE GAMBLE

  A HEART SPEAKS

  YEARS

  SEPARATE BEDS

  TWICE LOVED

  SWEET MEMORIES

  HUMMINGBIRD

  THE ENDEARMENT

  THE FULFILLMENT

  SMALL TOWN GIRL

  in hardcover from G. P. Putnam’s Sons

  Many people rolled out red carpets for my husband and me when we visited Camden, Maine, in September 1993 to research this book. Rarely has a welcome been as total and spontaneous as the one we received in this charming sea-side village. We fell in love not only with the town but also with its people. These are a few of the folks who bent over backwards to help:

  John Fullerton of the Camden Chamber of Commerce

  Elizabeth Moran of the Camden Public Library

  Pat Cokinis, realtor

  Captain Arthur Andrews of the lobster boat Whistler

  Cap’n Andy’s daughter, Cheryl

  Dave Machiek and John Kincaid of the Owls Head

  Transportation Museum

  John Evrard of Merryspring Preserve

  Also, thank you to Victoria magazine, whose July 1993 article on Edna St. Vincent Millay inspired this story; and to author Elisabeth Ogilvie, whose books, with their sublime Maine settings, were a constant reference during the writing of my own.

  Those readers who are well versed in the history of Camden will find that I’ve taken many liberties with the actual dates on which some notable local events occurred. I hope my readers will overlook these liberties and enjoy the story for what it is: a work of fiction.

  LAVYRLESPENCER

  Stillwater, Minnesota

  To our darlings,

  Amy & Shannon,

  as you start your years of parenting . . .

  may they be the best years of your lives.

  And to our grandchildren,

  Spencer McCoy Kimball and Logan Harrison Kimball . . .

  may you grow up like the children in this story,

  knowing love and limitless possibilities

  and the freedom to be yourself.

  One

  CAMDEN, MAINE, 1916

  Roberta Jewett had hoped for fair weather the day she moved her children back to Camden, Maine. Instead, a brew of needly rain and thready fog had followed the Boston boat all the way up the coastline. The water, tumbled to a smart chop by a persistent southwest wind, made for a hellish voyage. Poor Lydia had been sick all night. The ten-year-old lay on the hard wooden bench with her head in Roberta’s lap, eyes closed, complexion greenish. Her French braid was shredded at the edges like an old piece of rigging. Her eyes rolled open and she asked in a puling voice, ‘‘How much longer, Mother?’’

  Roberta looked down at her youngest and pushed the disheveled hair back from her face. Lydia had never been a sailor like the other two.

  ‘‘Not long now.’’

  ‘‘What time is it?’’

  Roberta checked her lapel watch. ‘‘Going on seven.’’

  ‘‘Will we get there on time, do you think?’’

  ‘‘Let me check and see if I can tell where we are.’’ She eased Lydia’s head from her lap and pillowed it on a wadded-up coat. ‘‘Be right back.’’

  She glanced at her other two girls, Susan and Rebecca, asleep nearby with their cheeks and arms flattened on a varnished tabletop. Around them other passengers dozed on the uncomfortable seating provided for those with the cheapest tickets. Some snored. Some had spittle gleaming at the corners of their mouths. Some roused now as dawn approached and the end of the run neared. Had this been a transatlantic voyage bearing immigrants to America, this cabin would have been designated steerage. Since it was the highly estimable Eastern Steamship Line running daily up the coast from Boston to Bangor, the brochure avoided such harsh terms in favor of the overblown moniker third-class lounge. But any mother who had herded her three children aboard and watched them spend thirteen miserable hours in this spartan setting without so much as a cushion for comfort knew steerage when relegated to it.

  No panoramic views here, only minuscule portholes.

  Roberta made her way to one and found it beaten by plashes of rain that streamed astern as if thrown. The glass was fogged. She cleared it with her coat sleeve and peered through.

  Going on seven A.M. and the sky was becoming murkily light. They should have already rounded Beauchamp Point off Rockport Bay. Putting her forehead to the chilly glass, she peered sharply astern but saw only a dark, hulking shoreline so blurred by weather it might have been there, might not. A bell buoy clanged and she peered in the other direction. Yes, there was Negro Island light. Almost home.

  As they passed between the light and Sherman’s Point the sound of the buoy changed from a distant question to a nearby statement, and she watched it rock in the waves. Beyond it, the village at the head of the harbor was smudged by the downpour but visible. She studied it pragmatically, stirred less by nostalgia than by defensiveness.

  Inside the protected harbor the water was calmer and the steamer leveled off. The featureless huddle on the shore took on identity: Mount Battie, which rose behind Camden like a great, black, breaching whale; the wharf where the Belfast would land; the skeins of streets climbing the eastern skirt of the mountain; the spires of familiar churches—Episcopal, Baptist and the Congregational where she had gone until she moved away; the omnipresent smokestack of the Knox Woolen Mill that supported most of the town and where she’d probably still be working today if Mother had had her way.

  Somewhere out there the morning shift was heading toward the mill, probably to turn out wool for the uniforms of the boys over there. Other workers were heading to the lime kilns in Rockport. Grace had written that Camden had a trolley line now, and that the men traveled to Rockport on it.

  Some of those men Roberta knew, she supposed, or had known when they were classmates in school. Some of their wives, too. What would they think of her now, returning as a divorced woman? Probably the same thing Mother did. What a disappointment Mother had been, her letters outspoken and bold: No decent woman sunders a marriage, Roberta, surely you realize that.

  To hell with them all, she thought, let them think what they will. If women could go to the battlefront as nurses, they could divorce as well.

  Mother would not have come down to the wharf this early—her lumbago or some other convenient complaint would be keeping her in bed—but Roberta’s sister, Grace, would be waiting when the steamer landed, along with Grace’s husband, Elfred, whom Roberta remembered only vaguely.

  The lights of the little seaside village poked through the blur, and she returned to her children.

  ‘‘Rebecca, Susan, wake up.’’ She shook each of them, then went to the bench to tip Lydia upright. ‘‘We’re almost there.’’ She sat down and tucked her youngest beneath an arm. ‘‘We’re just entering Camden Harbor. How’re you feeling?’’

  ‘‘Terrible.’’

  At the table, sixteen-year-old Rebecca dragged herself vertical. A yawn and a stretch distorted her voice. ‘‘Is Lydia still sick?’’

  ‘‘No dog has ever been sicker,’’ Lydia herself replied.

  Roberta slicked a hand down Lydia’s ragged braid. ‘‘Not for long. She’ll feel better once we’re on dry land.’’

  ‘‘I never want to ride on this barnacle breeder again.’’ Lydia’s head fell to the hollow of her mother’s shoulder.

  ‘‘You shouldn’t have to. This time we’re staying. The house
is bought and the job is mine and nothing short of a hurricane will force us to move again, agreed?’’

  Nobody answered. Roberta appealed to the pair at the table but they were slump-shouldered yet from sleep, their enthusiasm sapped by the long night at sea.

  ‘‘Girls, come here.’’ She gestured the two older ones over. They rose with limp resignation and sat down at her right, her fourteen-year-old, Susan, resting against her mother’s arm while Roberta spoke to all three.

  ‘‘Listen, all of you . . . I’m sorry I couldn’t rent a stateroom. I know it’s been an awful ride, but we need every penny for the house and to get started here. You understand, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘It’s all right, Mother,’’ Rebecca reassured. Becky never complained about anything. Instead, when the younger ones did, she chastised them. Lydia tried it now, with a slight whine in her voice.

  ‘‘But I wanted to see the staterooms. The brochure said they have private bunks and real brass washbowls.’’

  ‘‘Mother’s doing the best she can,’’ Rebecca chided. ‘‘And besides, what difference does it make if you puke in a brass sink or that galvanized bucket? Puke is puke.’’

  ‘‘Mother, make her stop.’’ That was Susan, becoming lucid.

  ‘‘Enough, Becky. Now listen,’’ Roberta said to all three, ‘‘straighten your skirts, fix your hair and gather up your things because we’ll be at the landing soon. Feel that, Lydie? It’s getting smoother. That means we’re getting close.’’