“I’m actually a reporter,” she said carefully, not wanting to scare him off and make him clam up.
His smile slipped a little and shadows darkened his features. “Ah, one of those kinds of writers.” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What exactly are you reporting on?”
“Well, I’m looking into doing a piece on your great-aunt, Kathleen Connor. I’m researching the war, and she’s listed as one of the local schoolteachers.” Emma tried to appear bookish, as if she were researching his great-aunt from a purely literary standpoint. She was afraid he would shut her out completely if he knew she was mostly interested in his aunt’s personal story.
“You don’t fool me, missy. You’re here about the scandal. I figured as much.” He sighed, sounding defeated. Obviously, she hadn’t been the first journalist to inquire about his aunt.
“What I found in the archives about your great-aunt wasn’t much. I was hoping you might know something more about her or her husband? She vanished so mysteriously. I’m trying to figure out what happened.”
Benjamin rubbed his jaw and shrugged. “Not much to tell. The story I’ve heard through my family for years was they got married late in life, had a falling out, then lived the remainder of their days apart. Some sort of scandal caused by her. Poor chap must have been in love with her something fierce. He never did divorce her or marry anyone else or have children. He was the last in his line, so his name died with him, while she took off Lord only knows where.” Ben’s expression was one of pity and disapproval. “Not much was said about my aunt other than whatever she did was scandalous, and no one ever really forgave her for hurting him. Not to mention, she tarnished the family name.”
“What happened to the rest of your family?”
“I heard tell they moved away over the shame of it all, and well, this here cottage is all there is left. They say she was selfish, always wanting something more. Don’t know whatever became of her, but I hope she got what she deserved. There’s nothing left but this cottage, which reverted back to the family after she disappeared. This place has been nice for my grandkids, but I’m getting too old for the crazy weather Maine has to offer, and I’m headed south. Gonna take ‘em to Disney World. Now that’s a real vacation.”
Emma smiled the obligatory smile, when all she wanted to know about was Kathleen Connor. She couldn’t understand why he would want to sell the cottage. It was adorable and perfect and part of his family’s past. She instinctively knew Kathleen would be so disappointed. Emma hid her disapproval well from years of experience. “What’s in the box?” she asked, trying to bring the discussion back around to his aunt.
“Just a bunch of old junk I found in the attic.”
“Would you mind if I looked through it?” Emma asked.
He stared at her, perplexed as to why anyone in his or her right mind would want someone’s old junk. Emma knew most people would feel that way, but there was something about Kathleen she couldn’t explain to anyone. It was like they were kindred spirits. She felt as if her entire future was connected to unraveling Kathleen’s past.
“I want whatever you have that belonged to Kathleen Connor.”
“Why? I’ve been through this stuff. There’s nothing in here that can tell you anything more about her.”
“I’m a journalist. My job is to look at things in a different way than most people. What you deem junk, she must have valued as treasure. If anything, it might shed some light on her personality.”
“Why you would want to is beyond me, but I don’t much care one way or another. Keep what you want, chuck the rest. Just be respectful and don’t bring any more shame to my family name. That’s all I ask.”
“Thank you, and I can assure you, Mr. Reynolds, I am always professional.” Emma took the box from Kathleen’s great-nephew before he could change his mind and quickly stored it in her trunk.
He saluted her, bid her good day, and then disappeared inside the cottage once more as if to sever all ties to his aunt once and for all.
Emma started driving back to her beach house as fast as she could, but halfway there, her burning curiosity got the best of her. She pulled off into a lookout with a stunning view. Quickly retrieving the box, she carried it to a bench, the fresh air making her feel invigorated. The box contained a couple of old lesson plans, a few drawings of nature, and several sheets of random facts Kathleen must have discovered about various things. There was also a journal that drew Emma’s attention. Opening the cover, she began to read.
The first entry was on Kathleen’s wedding day, when she was so full of hope and excitement, but things quickly changed. Her words were so moving, Emma felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, knowing what it was like to invest everything you had in a relationship only to be let down. Her nephew was wrong. Kathleen’s husband must not have loved her at all.
Emma’s suspicions were confirmed. He wasn’t the victim; Kathleen was. Why else would she speak of horrors and being deceived and failed expectations, yet later she also spoke of love and loss? Did she love her husband despite the monster he obviously was and mourned the loss of love when he refused to change? Emma could feel her pain so deeply, she could relate to what she must have been going through—alone and hurting with no one to talk to.
Looking back through the box, there were small little trinkets that looked like keepsakes or gifts maybe her husband had given her. There were also dried and pressed flowers, pine sprigs, fall maple leaves, and other various things that made Emma think of Maine during its four seasons. And lastly there was a beautifully decorated small wooden box. It looked delicate as if it had been whittled and crafted by someone with great skill, patience, and a lot of love. It was confusing to figure out. Her husband almost seemed like two different people. Regardless, Emma smiled with excitement over her discovery and quickly opened the top. Her smile slipped and her heart fell. It was empty inside. Just when she felt like she was getting ahead in figuring out the mystery of Kathleen Connor, Emma hit another dead end.
With a deep sigh, she set the wooden box on top of the other things and lifted the cardboard box to carry it to her car. She opened the trunk and set the cardboard box inside, but not before the ancient wooden box tumbled to the blacktop. The hard pavement was no match for the delicate wood. It cracked and fell apart. Emma dropped to her knees beside the box and picked it up with a heavy heart. She felt horrible for ruining it. She blinked, and her lips parted. She hadn’t ruined it at all. She’d made another discovery.
A secret compartment.
Her hands shook as she opened the secret compartment. Sucking in a sharp breath, she pulled out another coded message signed with the same insignia by Kathleen. There was also the code to the map, but it was ripped in half. With half the code, Emma just might stand a chance of deciphering the messages. These maps led to locations, Emma was sure of it, but she had no clue how to read them, especially with only half the code. Journal entries of love and loss, secret messages written in code, so many questions. She had no idea how she was going to discover the answers, but she had a pretty good idea where to start.
Dr. McGiant.
June 1942: Beacon Bay, Maine
Kathleen Connor didn’t set out to cause a scandal. She couldn’t go on living with the abuse. Her hopes for a brighter future had turned into a nightmare. William had hit her every time she said a word to contradict him. He would explode into a fit of rage, turning into a monster, and then snapping back to his apologetic self. He was a coward. And he always made sure to hit her in places where it didn’t show. The last time he had beaten her nearly to death, his final blow missing its target and hitting her in the face.
That was when she’d found the courage to leave him.
She’d slipped away in the dead of night to her parents’ house. They had taken her in, shocked over what had happened. Yet the next day when news of what she’d done spread around town, they had let her down, scandalized over the possible repercussions to them. Kathleen had brazenly marched str
aight through town so everyone could see exactly why she had left her husband of three months. To her horror, the folks in town had seen her husband as the victim and her as the free-thinking woman who had broken his heart. They said she was much too strong-willed for her own good and had brought what happened upon herself.
That hurt the most. Who on earth would willingly bring upon themselves a beating that would nearly kill them? Yes, she was strong-willed, but she wasn’t a martyr. She didn’t ask for any of this. No one deserved to undergo what had happened to her.
In the end, her parents had crumbled under pressure from the town and turned their backs on her as they focused on her brother, who had married respectably and given them grandchildren. Not totally heartless, they gave her their old fishing cottage on the poor end of the coast. School was out for the summer, and the town added another blow by informing her they didn’t want her back as a teacher in the fall. Teaching was all she knew, and it was the one way she could honestly express herself. With no support from anyone, Kathleen withdrew into herself and accepted her fate as a ruined woman and spinster.
Stepping out of her new home, she wrapped her blue clutch coat around her shoulders and let it hang open, as there were no fastenings. Smoothing her hands over her handkerchief skirt with its many panels, insets, and pleats, she walked out onto the deck and leaned over the rail. The lighthouse across the bay flickered like a steady heartbeat, guiding sailors home. Loneliness filled her being, yet a peaceful tranquility hugged her soul.
She was safe.
This powerful ocean would provide her with strength, and the beauty of her surroundings would heal her heart. Just the thought of William Connor so big and powerful and strong, capable of crushing her with a single blow, filled her with terror. Her own town, the parents of the children she had nurtured and taught, had sided with him. All because she’d had an opinion and a mind of her own. They could see the damage he had inflicted upon her, yet it didn’t matter.
They had turned a blind eye and had forsaken her.
The pain of that alone was almost unbearable, but the worst pain of all was having her parents and brother shut her out. She was truly alone and always would be. Her husband refused to divorce her. Divorce was unheard of, and he kept begging her to come back, promising he would change. But she knew deep in her gut if she went back, he wouldn’t stop. He never did. And the next time she wouldn’t make it out alive.
She tipped her face up to the sky, and warm rays of the waning sunlight caressed her cheeks, trying to help her forget, but she never would forget. The nightmares would haunt her for the rest of her days on this earth. She was broken physically, but she wouldn’t let any of them break her spirit. A shadow settled over her, bringing with it a familiar chill. Opening her eyes, she jerked back a step and let out a cry.
William.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” he said, his face twisted in agony as he stared at the yellow and purple fading bruise surrounding her eye. “I miss you. My life is empty without you. I promise I won’t hurt you again.”
She swallowed past the dryness in her throat and stepped away from the railing. “I know you won’t,” she said carefully.
Hope registered on his face. “Does that mean you’ll come home where you belong? Our house is not a home without you in it.”
She forced her voice not to tremble. “No.”
His gaze hardened. “What do you mean no?”
“That house is your home. This house is mine. We don’t belong together. We never did, and I am never going back. Not after what you did to me.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I told you I was sorry. You brought this pain upon yourself with your defiance of me. I’ve let you have your way, but you’ve pouted long enough. You’re making a fool of me in town.”
“You made a fool of yourself.” She raised her chin a notch, unable to contain the part of her that was her very nature and always had been.
“Careful, darling. I might stop caring and leave you all alone out here like you ask. That can be dangerous, living on your own.” He shook the railing hard, and it wobbled violently. “I would hate to see anything bad happen to you like falling over this shaky deck railing to the sharp rocks below.” He took a menacing step toward her.
Her stomach leapt to her throat and her heart started beating furiously, but she stood her ground. “And I would hate to see something bad happen to you when the whole town finds out what you’ve done.” She refused to step back this time, knowing if she didn’t stand her ground and fight now, she never would. No matter what it cost her, she couldn’t let him win.
“They already know I hit you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “They understand because you drove me to it. Everyone can see that but you.”
“I’m not talking about you hitting me,” she said, and that gave him pause. The first real look of doubt and fear crossed his face. “I’ve been writing a lot in my journal these days since I don’t have a teaching job to go back to,” she continued. “I’ve hidden some very interesting pieces that will surely be found if anything bad happens to me. Don’t come near me, William.” She actually stepped forward, and relished the look on his face as he took a step back. “I know what you did,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I promise you the whole town will know, too, if you ever touch me again.”
“You’re bluffing,” his voice rumbled deeply, the expression on his face warring between fury and fear.
“Am I?” She thrust her face right up into his. People knew he was capable of violence, but they had no idea what he was capable of. She did. Oh, yes, she did. “Something tells me you’re not willing to risk finding out.” She didn’t know how or when, but one day she would find a way to let the whole world know the truth and set the record straight.
4
Present Day: Beacon Bay, Maine
“Thank you, Rebecca, I really appreciate you taking Trevor with you again this summer,” Logan said to his mother-in-law on Saturday morning when she stopped by his two-story colonial house in downtown Beacon Bay to pick up his son. She was a darker shade of blonde than her daughter, but just as tiny. It was enough of a reminder to make every day difficult, yet a gift he wouldn’t squander. He was lucky to have her in his life. It was like having another piece of Amanda still with him.
“Nonsense. We love spending time with our only grandchild,” Rebecca said with a beaming smile, and he knew she meant it. She and her husband Barry were good people. That was part of the reason why Logan had kept his secret and suffered alone. They would be devastated if they knew the truth.
“And Trevor loves spending time with you both,” he replied. “You’re all he has for family.”
“We’re your family, too. I wish we were watching our little munchkin because you were going out for a change and having some fun instead of working your life away. You don’t always have to offer to work the on-call weekend hours, you know. I hope you use some vacation days and do something for yourself this summer.” She squeezed his hand. “Amanda loved life. She would want you to go on living.”
“I know,” he said, but in his heart, he knew the real truth. Amanda did love life. That’s what made what had happened that much harder to accept. Punishing himself was the only thing that made him feel better. If she couldn’t go on living, then why should he get to? “I will,” he lied.
“You say that every summer when Barry and I take Trevor to our summer camp, but you never follow through with it. It’s time, Logan. It’s not too late for you to go with us, you know.”
“I can’t get away from the hospital for the entire summer, you know that,” was all he said, but he couldn’t quite meet her eyes.
“What about part of the summer?”
“It’s too late. Everyone already put in their time. We would be short-staffed.”
“What are you going to do all by yourself?” she asked softly.
“I’ll find something to do that doesn’t involve work,” he looked her in the eye thi
s time as he finished with, “I promise.”
“I certainly hope so.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. “Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself long enough?”
He blinked, and for a moment he was terrified she knew why. She could never know because it would kill her.
“Daddy, Daddy, wait!” Trevor bolted into the room like the Tasmanian Devil and launched himself at Logan in the nick of time, saving him from having to respond to a topic he had been dancing around for over half a decade.
Logan scooped up his bear of a son and threw him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing at all. At six-years-old Trevor was a tank already—a chip off the old block, so to speak. Logan spun him around until he lapsed into a fit of giggles, then he kissed his son’s baby-soft cheek, inhaling the scent of lotion and donuts and the outdoors all rolled into one precious package as he hugged him tight. Damn, he would miss him so much.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” he asked when Trevor didn’t let go.
Trevor buried his face into Logan’s neck, his blond curls tickling Logan’s skin. “You’re not going to be sad if I leave you this summer, are you?”
Logan took a moment to swallow past the lump in his throat before pulling away to look his son in his innocent sky-blue eyes. “When am I ever sad?” he bluffed.
“I miss having a mommy sometimes, but you’re sad all the time.” The answer was so honest and forthright, it was like looking into his deceased wife’s eyes and seeing the pity and disappointment and regret. His son was too smart for his own good and way more intuitive than Logan had given him credit for. “I don’t want to have fun if you’re not.”
Logan’s stomach twisted into knots, and he was pretty certain he was developing an ulcer. Hearing those words was like a sucker punch to the gut. The last thing he wanted was for his self-imposed misery to rub off on his only child. He took a deep breath and said with determination, “I promise I will have fun this summer like you.”
Until Tomorrow Page 4
