Tranquil Harbor

By Michele Shriver

Taken from her drug-addicted biological mother at birth and placed in foster care, Emily Howton-Canfield was raised in privilege with her adoptive mothers. Now eighteen and an aspiring musician, Emily is presented with a life-changing opportunity to sing and play guitar on a new record with the winner of a reality singing competition, but when that turns into a regional tour and a backstage love affair, will things get to get too complicated for the shy teenager to handle.

Devin Parker worked hard to leave her troubled past behind. Her family and her career as a photojournalist give her plenty to be thankful for, but every year she is still consumed with thoughts of the child she lost. To keep busy and try not to dwell on the past, she takes on a new assignment chronicling the latest breakout music sensation during a summer concert tour.

With their kids now grown, Kelsey and Sarah find themselves struggling with work-life balance and the transition to being empty-nesters. Traveling and seeing the world sound like a great idea until their daughter's budding romance and Devin's reemergence in Emily's life pull them into a drama they always hoped to avoid.

Love will blossom, lives will intersect, and family lines will be redrawn during one unforgettable summer in New England.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SMC Publishing
• Release date: Mar 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215766156

Michele Shriver

Michele Shriver grew up in Texas and now lives in the Midwest, where she has a general law practice. In her free time, she enjoys bicycling, Zumba fitness and watching sports on TV. She is working on her second novel, a spin-off of After Ten.

Book preview

Prologue 

The social worker nestled the week-old infant into the carrier, ensuring she would be protected from the chilly early May air as she left the hospital. Spring was slow coming to New England this year, and Taylor wanted to shield the baby from winter’s last gasp as she made her journey home. Little Emily wouldn’t be going home with her mother, though. She’d be going to foster care. This part of Taylor’s job never got easier.

She exchanged a few final words with the NICU nurse and got the discharge paperwork, which would be given to the foster parents. The little girl was born with opiates in her system so she wouldn’t be going home with her birth mother. The family court judge didn’t hesitate to order the removal when Taylor called him after hours to inform him of the results of the umbilical cord testing.

Okay, Emmie, let’s go, Taylor whispered to the little girl as she headed for the elevator. I found you a good home, and they’ll take excellent care of you for as long as necessary. Whether that would be a few months, a year, or forever was the big unknown.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, and a young woman rushed out, stopping in her tracks when she saw Taylor.

Her eyes went to the baby carrier in Taylor’s hands. You’re taking her, aren’t you?

Taylor nodded, giving the woman a sympathetic smile. Yes. I don’t have a choice. You know that. Please, don’t cause a scene. Three weeks before, a strung-out young mom facing the court-ordered removal of her newborn had snatched the baby from nurse’s arms and fled the hospital against medical advice and in violation of the court’s order. The baby had been located and safely placed in foster care, but it wasn’t a situation Taylor wished to repeat.

For how long? Devin looked better today than when Taylor first met her after Emily’s birth. Her eyes were clear, the pupils a normal size, and her speech wasn’t slurred. It gave Taylor a glimmer of hope that perhaps the young mother would get her life together. Still, heroin addiction was tough to overcome.

That’s up to you, Devin, Taylor told her. Your attorney can explain more about the process and the timeframes. I think you know what you need to do, though.

The other woman nodded. Yes, and I’m going to do that. I’m going to get clean and get my baby back.

In her two years with the Division of Children, Youth and Families, Taylor had heard those words more often than she could count. Every time, she wanted to believe them. I hope so, Devin. I really do, she said. We’ll arrange visitation for you in a day or so, once she’s had a chance to get settled.

Where are you taking her? Devin wanted to know.

I can’t tell you that. The foster parents have asked that their names and address be kept confidential, Taylor explained. I know them, though, and I assure you your baby will be well taken care of.

Twenty minutes later, Taylor was in the Concord suburb of Hampden Park, pulling into the driveway of a large blue colonial-style home. She’d no sooner no sooner put her car into park when the front door opened, and two women came rushing out. Here we are, little Emmie. Home. For the time being.

She turned off the engine and got out to unhook the car seat as Sarah and Kelsey met her at the car. Hello, ladies, Taylor greeted them. I have your new addition. This is Emily Jo. She removed the car seat and passed it over to Kelsey, who broke out in a grin when she saw the baby. I think she has your hair, Taylor teased the redhead.

Oh, my. She sure does. Kelsey’s smile grew wider as she peered at the baby. Hello, Emily. I’m Kelsey, and this is Sarah. We’re strangers now, but I hope you’ll like it here. You’ve got a home with us for as long as you need one.

I’ve got a few supplies in the trunk for you, Taylor said, although knowing you two, you went shopping as soon as I called you about the placement.

Sarah gave her a sheepish smile. Guilty. She turned to Kelsey. Why don’t you go ahead and take her inside, love? I’ll get the stuff from Taylor and be right in.

Taylor unloaded the car, handing the bags to Sarah. I hope this is everything you need.

If it’s not, we’ll get it, Sarah said. Thank you so much for calling us, Taylor. Kel needs this. We both do.

Taylor nodded. I know your last placement didn’t work out, and it was rough on you guys, but you were both adamant about trying again, she said, so you were the first call I made once I got the removal order from Judge Peters.

We’re thrilled, Sarah said. A little scared, too, but mostly just thrilled.

She was born at Community Hospital, and the paperwork is in the bag, Taylor said. If you have any problems, take her there.

Hopefully that won’t be necessary.

I hope not. Babies are resilient, Taylor said. Still, we may not know the impact of the drug exposure for some time.

That poor innocent baby. Sarah shook her head. What Kel said was right. She’s got a home with us for as long as she needs it.

I appreciate that, Taylor told her. You’re a lawyer, Sarah. You know how this works. The goal is reunification with the parent the child was removed from.

Sarah nodded. I understand, and we’ll do whatever necessary to support that goal, she said, but that doesn’t mean a small part of us won’t be hoping this might be an opportunity to grow our family.

I know. You’re only human, Taylor said. I’ll get out of your way now so you can spend time with your new foster daughter, but I’m only a phone call away if you need anything.

She watched Sarah carry the bags of supplies into the house before getting back in her car.  Good luck, little Emmie, Taylor said as she pulled out of the driveway. I hope you have a great future ahead of you, no matter who ends up raising you.

Chapter One

O kay. That was good , Kenzie praised. I’d still like you to add a little vibrato in the last part, really nail those final notes, but you’re getting there.

Emily exhaled. Getting there. Whatever. She wanted to be there. Then let me try it again with the vibrato.

Not so fast, grasshopper, her vocal coach cautioned. Take a little break. Kenzie opened the small refrigerator in her home studio and took out two bottles of water, passing one to Emily. You’ve been working hard, and the improvement since last week is a testament to that hard work, she said, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a drink. I don’t want you to overdo it and tire your voice out too much, though. Have you ever heard the expression ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day?’

Yeah. Emily rolled her eyes. My mom says it all the time. She uncapped her own bottle and took a big swallow of water. She wanted to try the last verse again, but it was obvious Kenzie wouldn’t let her.

Kenzie laughed. Well, it’s sound advice. She pointed to the couch. Have a seat. Let’s talk for a few minutes.

Do we have to? Emily let out a sigh, but did as Kenzie asked, plopping down on the couch opposite the famous country singer.

She wasn’t a fan of talking. Never had been, since her early years. Emily blamed it on her speech disorder, apraxia, which caused her to sometimes mispronounce certain words and sounds.  She’d been teased all through school, and as a result, she mostly kept to herself and had few friends.

Something happened when Emily sang, though. Any trace of a speech impediment disappeared, and her voice soared. She’d first discovered her love for music when she began to take guitar lessons, and it was her guitar teacher, Jordy Valencia, who encouraged her to try out for the church musical he was directing. Emily had, and earned a lead role which included her own solo. Her performance impressed Jordy so much that he arranged for her to take vocal lessons from his former bandmate’s wife.

And that was how she ended up here, in the home studio of the award-winning singer Kenzie Bolton, being coached on improving her vibrato. Not bad for a seventeen-year-old from New Hampshire who talked funny.

So, what are we talking about? she asked Kenzie. Because I’d rather be singing.

Kenzie laughed. In a few minutes, you will be. She took a drink of water, studied her protégé. You’ve heard of Myriah Banks, right?

Heard of her? I don’t live under a rock, you know, Emily said. She’s amazing. She considered the breakout star, who’d catapulted her win on a reality singing competition into a multi-record deal with a big-time label, to be somewhat of an idol. It didn’t hurt that she, too, was from a small town in New England. If Myriah could make it big, then maybe Emily could, too.

She’s talented, that’s for sure. So are you.

Thanks. It’s always nice to hear that. Especially from a singer of Kenzie’s caliber. Still, Myriah Banks? She was in a class all her own.

How would you feel about singing backup on Myriah’s upcoming album, as well as her summer concert tour? Kenzie asked.

Say what? Emily leaned forward. Are you serious? There’s no way you’re serious.

I might be, Kenzie mused, a smile on her lips. It’s a possibility. Personally, I think you’re good enough, or you can be with more practice, she continued. Myriah is going to be hosting auditions next month down in Manchester to try to find someone to complement her, but not outshine her, on her new album and for a summer concert. That could be you.

Really? You mean that? Emily tried to stay low key, but she wanted to jump up and down. The chance to sing with Myriah Banks? It didn’t get much better than that.

Yeah. It’ll take a lot of practice to get ready, but I think you should you give it a go, Kenzie said. If you want to, that is.

I do. I’d be crazy not to, Emily said, before letting out a sigh. If my parents will let me, that is. She was eighteen, or rather only a few weeks from it, so that made her mostly an adult, at least in her eyes. She had another six weeks of high school, though, and of course they were pushing the college thing. Graduation and all that. She shook her head. The timing’s bad, so they probably won’t.

Don’t be so sure, Kenzie said. I can talk to them if you want me to. Let them know what a great opportunity this. Haven’t they embraced your music ambitions so far?

They have, yeah, Emily admitted with a smile. They’re mostly cool, even if they keep telling me I should go to college. I mean, you didn’t go to college, right?

No, I didn’t, Kenzie said. I lived in Nashville, and I was discovered at a young age by a producer who promised to make me a star. He did that, and all but ruined my life in the process, so I’m not sure that was the perfect route. I mean look at Chase and Jordy and their band, she continued. They started out playing in Chase’s parents’ garage while they were in college and look how big they made it.

Fair enough. I’m just not sure college is right for me, Emily insisted.

Maybe it’s not. I’m merely pointing out there are different paths to potential success. Don’t close yourself to any of them. Kenzie set her water down and stood up. Now, are you ready to try the song again, thus time with a little vibrato?

Emily grinned. You know I am.

Great. Because I want to see you audition for Myriah, and I especially want to see you—and hear you—singing backup for her.

KELSEY PARKED IN THE garage next to Sarah’s car and let herself into the house from the adjoining door. They’d spent more than twenty years in this house, and most of them were great years, even if it had been quieter lately since their son moved out, first to attend college at New Hampshire before signing on to play professional hockey in Texas. These days, he was a breakout star for the San Antonio Generals, and predicted to take home the trophy for the NHL’s outstanding rookie. And to think she hadn’t wanted him to play hockey back when he was nine years old and begging to take lessons. Sarah still liked to remind her of that every time they watched him play on TV and the announcers commented on his natural talent.

She could admit when she was wrong, though. Most of the time.

Sarah? Kelsey called out. I’m home, hon. She set her purse down and went to the kitchen to check on dinner in the slow cooker.

I’ll be down in a minute, her wife called back. And no peeking. Don’t you dare open that lid.

Yes, dear. Kelsey had to laugh at their change in dynamic over the past few years. When she was teaching and Sarah was a family court judge, Kelsey was always the first one home and cooked dinner. Now she served as the school district superintendent, while Sarah had been promoted to the New Hampshire Supreme Court. As a result, she often worked from home and prepared meals.

It smells delicious, Kelsey said as Sarah joined her downstairs. She pulled her wife into an embrace and greeted her with a kiss. I missed you. How was your day?

Good. I’ve been reviewing some of the new cases that came up on appeal to see which ones I might want to take lead on and write the opinion, Sarah said.

Oh? Anything interesting? Kelsey asked.

A few. One in particular, Sarah said. I’ll decide later. I’m glad you’re home. Look what came in the mail today. She gestured to the open box on the kitchen island.

Are those what I think they are? Kelsey reached into the box. Oh my gosh, they are. Em’s graduation announcements. She ran a finger over the embossed logo of Hampden Park High School, and their daughter’s name. Emily Jo Howton-Canfield. I still can’t believe this is happening.

I know. I probably should’ve waited to open the box, but I couldn’t help myself. Sarah smiled sheepishly. Think she’ll forgive me?

Probably. I would’ve done the same thing. Kelsey set the embossed invitation back in the box. It’s so hard to fathom that she’s graduating from high school. I still remember when she came to live with us when she was a week old. At the time, they didn’t know how long she would be with them. It had turned out to be almost eighteen years, and they cherished every single one of them.

I know. We’re going to be empty nesters soon, Sarah said.

Kelsey held a hand up. Please, don’t go there. I’m not ready.

Neither am I. By the way, Ryan called this afternoon to remind us of his game in Boston next week. Sarah rolled her eyes. As if we’d forget?

Right. Unfortunately, with his team based in Texas, there weren’t many opportunities to see their son play in person.

Bailey will be there, too, Sarah continued, referring to their son’s girlfriend, a university track star and Olympic hopeful. She’s in Oregon but will be flying back for the game.

Great. It’ll be nice to see her again. Kelsey opened the refrigerator. How about a salad before dinner? I can mix one up.

That sounds great. I’ll open a bottle of wine, Sarah said. Em should be home from her voice lesson soon. Sure enough, she’d no sooner poured them each a glass when their daughter came in through the front door.

Hey, kiddo, Sarah said. How was your lesson?

Good. Hey, Mom. Mama. She walked through the living room into the kitchen. Something smells good. How long ‘til we eat? I’m starving.

Kelsey glanced at the timer on the slow cooker. Fifteen minutes. Sooner on the salad.

Great. I’ll go wash up, Emily said. Oh, and there’s something I want to talk to you guys about over dinner.

Should we be concerned? Sarah asked.

No. It’s all good. I think so, anyway. I hope you do, too.

DEVIN WAS DEEP INTO photo editing when her phone rang, and she hesitated to answer the call. She hated to be interrupted when she was working. Seeing it was her publicist, though, she reached to answer it.

What? She greeted Marlie. This is a terrible time you know. Devin winced a little at the words, but hell, she’d never been known for tact. Marlie knew that about her.

Yes, I’m aware that it’s a difficult time for you, the publicist replied. That’s why I’m calling.

Devin hated April, but she hated May even more and she would dread turning the calendar when the time came. Most people loved Spring, with flowers blooming and the threat of snow was mostly gone from New England, but Devin remembered the blizzard coming through the night before her daughter was born.

The night before her daughter was taken from her.

For each year since, Devin wanted nothing to do with the month of May. If she could skip it altogether, that would be best.

This year was worse, though. This was the year her daughter would be turning eighteen. She was practically grown up now, and Devin had missed every single one of those years. Yeah, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

She’d find a way to get through it, though, as she always had. She would focus on the family she had, not the one she’d lost. That meant Nate and Hannah, and Nate’s two kids as well, who had finally, after ten years, begun to accept Devin as their stepmother. Hell, even Nate’s ex, Sandy, was civil to her most of the time now.

Twelve years of sobriety had done wonders, and Devin wouldn’t trade this life for anything. Well, except for one thing. 

Is this your attempt to cheer me up? Devin asked. She wasn’t sure it was possible, but if Marlie wanted to try, the least she could do was listen.

Something like that. It’s about a job. A good one.

Devin wanted to reply that she already had a job, but as a freelance photojournalist, it wasn’t technically true. She never knew where her next job would come from, or when, and she still remembered the time when she struggled to pay rent. And she sure as heck didn’t want DCYF knocking on her door ever again.

Okay. Let’s hear it, Devin said, half-listening as Marlie launched into her pitch.

Breakout singing star, someone Devin had never heard of, but she’d won some reality singing competition, was holding tryouts for a backup singer, and because this Myriah Whoever apparently fashioned herself as some big celebrity, she wanted an experienced photojournalist to chronicle the recording of her new record and accompanying concert tour. And because Myriah Whoever was from New England, she wanted someone local.

Whatever.

I’ll do it, Devin announced.

Just like that? Her publicist sounded surprised, probably because it was rare for Devin to hastily agree to anything. Maybe slow down a little. I should let you know... it’s not a done deal. Myriah wants to meet you first, ask you a few questions, make sure it’s a good fit.

Sure. That’s fine. I’ll need to make sure I click with her, too, Devin said, backing off a bit from her initial rush to accept the gig with no vetting. "I’m intrigued, though, and I need the distraction. You said yourself it’s a difficult time for me, but you don’t know how difficult. Maybe this is exactly what I need—to bury myself in work and try to forget it’s been eighteen years since I lost my daughter."

She still missed her, still thought of her Emily Jo every single day. Sure, Devin was grateful to the judge who gave her the chance to raise Hannah and not lose another child to the system, but no matter how hard she tried, Devin couldn’t forget—especially when the calendar flipped to May—that the same judge was the woman whom Emily called Mom.  

Then I’ll set up the meeting and text you the details, Marlie said. Hopefully this is exactly what you need.

Chapter Two

Devin knocked on Hannah’s door and waited to be granted permission to enter, not wanting to face the wrath of her fifteen-year-old daughter for walking in without knocking. When she heard the muffled What? she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Hannah was lying on the bed, a school textbook next to her, but she didn’t appear to be too engrossed in it.

Can I interrupt your studying for a few minutes? I need to talk to you about something.

Hannah shrugged, closing the book. Sure. It’s boring history anyway.

Devin couldn’t argue with that, never having been much for school herself. She’d dropped out in tenth grade, and ultimately earned an equivalency diploma. She wanted better for her daughter, so she hounded Hannah to not only stay in school but try to get something out of it. Maybe it was working, because even if Hannah grumbled about school, she usually earned good grades.

Have you ever heard of a singer named Myriah Banks? Devin asked, sitting down on Hannah’s bed. I guess she’s a pretty big deal.

Um, yeah, Hannah said. "She won America’s Best Voice the year before last, and she’s amazing. I’ve got a lot of her songs on my phone if you want to listen."

Maybe later. By the time the new gig started, Devin figured she’d be an expert on Myriah Banks. Assuming she got the job. You like her then? Or at least her music?

Yeah. She’s, like, the best, her daughter said. But since when are you interested in the music I listen to?

Since I may be in line for a new gig, Devin said, to chronicle the recording of Myriah’s new album, and probably her concert tour, too, if things go well.

Wow. Really? Hannah’s eyes widened. Is it for a magazine or something?

"Mm hmm. A feature in The Record, Devin explained. Print and online." As soon as she’d gotten off the phone with Marlie, her agent had sent her more details, and now Devin was getting excited about the project. It was a great opportunity to further her career as a photojournalist with a high-profile project.

That’s cool, Mom. You take great pictures.

Thanks. Devin smiled. It means a lot to hear you say that, because you’re the reason I started taking pictures in the first place.

I know, because you wanted to make yourself look good for the judge.

Something like that. Hannah wasn’t up on all the details, and Devin preferred it that way. She didn’t need her daughter knowing she’d worked as a topless dancer before Hannah was born but had to find something else to do when her probation officer put her on an eight-p.m. curfew.

Her first foray into photojournalism, even if she didn’t know it was called that at the time, was an assignment for her rehab group. They’d been instructed to write an essay about why they wanted to get clean. Devin had never been much for writing, though, so she decided to take a series of pictures to chronicle her journey. It ended up being a hit with the group, and her love of photography was born.

Devin wouldn’t say she was fabulously successful as a photojournalist, certainly not famous or anything, but she kept busy enough and made a decent living. This job, though, had the chance to be something special. The pay would be good, and she’d gain wider exposure than she ever had before. More importantly, though, she might make her daughter proud of her.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but you’re the best thing I’ve ever done, she told Hannah, pulling her into a hug. Thanks for being a good kid.

Thanks for being an awesome mom, Hannah countered. Want to listen to some of those songs now so you don’t embarrass yourself when you meet Myriah?

That would be good, yeah. She had a lot of work to do to get ready. I don’t exactly have the job yet. I still need to interview. I guess you can be my tutor.

Works for me, but if you do get the job, I want to meet Myriah, Hannah said.

I’ll try my best to make that happen, Devin promised.

Good. Then let’s get to work. She connected her phone to her Bluetooth speaker. Anything will be better than boring history.

EMILY MOVED HER FOOD around on her plate, waiting for the right moment to tell her parents about the opportunity Kenzie presented her with. She didn’t want to get her hopes up too much only to have them dashed, but it was hard not to. This could be the break she needed to launch a music career.

Dinner’s delicious, hon, Kelsey said.

Hey, even I can read a recipe, dump things in a slow cooker and forget about it for six hours, Sarah quipped. She nodded toward Emily’s plate. You’re not eating much. Do you not like it?

It’s not that. It’s good, Mom. Really, she said of the lasagna. Better than the time you tried to make Ryan and me grilled cheese sandwiches and almost burned the house down, anyway, she teased, harkening back to one of her earliest childhood memories.

"I did not almost burn the house