The Secrets of Water

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “You look cold,” Sebastian noticed and snuggled against her. Lizzie watched as Melinda tried to figure out a way to scoot in between them, but Sebastian sat in a way that took up what remained of the bench, making any attempt impossible. “Do you need my jacket?” Sebastian offered, shrugging out of his fleece jacket before Lizzie could answer.

  “No, I’m okay,” she said as she tried to avoid the envious daggers that Melinda shot in her direction. “But I am getting hungry.”

  “No doubt the Firebrand has a ham in the oven waiting on you,” Andy boomed and nudged Melinda’s shoulder. The young woman scowled at her brother and hissed at him to shut up. “We should get back, too. Da’s shepherd’s pie should be about done.”

  “I have no doubt that our families are waiting to feed us, and with that, we should be going,” Sebastian announced as he rose from his seat. After depositing the cups back inside, he helped Lizzie out of the picnic table and bade Andy a quick goodbye.

  “I’ll see you around.” Andy clapped him on the shoulder one last time before they all walked to their respective vehicles.

  “There’s a dance on Saturday night!” Melinda chimed suddenly as she tried to pose seductively next to her brother’s mid-2000’s Ford Focus. “I don’t have a date and since you’re in town…”

  “Don’t even think about it, Mel,” Andy warned sharply. “Even if he wanted to date you, there’s no way that Da and I would let him. Besides, he’s got himself a girl already, and a pretty one at that! Besides, you know that it’s not proper to ask a bloke out in front of his girlfriend.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend—” Lizzie attempted to correct him, but Andy had already climbed into the car and shut the door behind him, deafening himself to anything else she had to say. Melinda, however, continued to stand by the open door, waiting for an answer. After a few seconds passed and realizing the answer was no, she thrust her bottom lip out in the most beautiful scowl that Lizzie had ever seen. With a loud huff, Melinda hopped in alongside her brother and slammed the door hard out of frustration.

  “Hey!” Andy yelled and motioned towards the door.

  “Man, she really likes you.” Lizzie nudged Sebastian who let out a lengthy, disgusted sigh in reply.

  “Don’t remind me,” Sebastian scoffed. “She’s been like this since she was fourteen. When I came to visit two years ago, she stalked me around the greengrocers. She wouldn’t leave my side and kept pestering me about how she couldn’t wait to grow up and move to America just so we could finally be together. It got so bad that Nana had to call Harry to come and peel her off of me. I don’t know what I did to make her so obsessive, but I’d like to so I can go back in time and undo it.”

  For the first time, Lizzie saw just how uncomfortable Melinda’s attention made Sebastian. It was clear to see that it not only made him uneasy, but it also embarrassed him.

  “I can see it upsets you,” Lizzie said and surprised herself by extending the olive branch. “I won’t tease you about it any further.” Lizzie fell silent briefly before switching topics. “I really like your friend, Andy, though. He seems like a real salt-of-the-earth type of guy.”

  “I think he’s got a bit of a crush on you, too. Harry, too. It’s not surprise, though. Andy’s a lot like his father. Melinda must be like their mother.”

  “What do you mean, ‘must be’? Don’t you know for sure?’

  Sebastian skipped ahead and opened the car door for her. “No,” he replied as he waited for her to climb in and shut the door. He walked over to the drivers’ side and got in. “Harry raised Andy and Melinda alone. His wife, Eileen, split when Melinda was just six days old and moved to Los Angeles with dreams of being an actress. Neither Andy nor Melinda speak to her. If I’m to be totally honest, they don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

  “How awful!” Lizzie exclaimed, knowing all-too-well what it was like to grow up without a mother. Only in her case, Lizzie’s mother didn’t choose to walk away. “That explains a lot about Melinda’s insecurity.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her anymore, if that’s all right?” Sebastian stated as he started up the car. Seconds later, they pulled out of the car park. “Do you think that Trelawney will find a way to weasel her way in tomorrow?” Sebastian spoke up after they’d driven for a few miles and were halfway to Hazel’s cottage.

  “I am sure of it. I just haven’t figured out how she’ll manage it, though.”

  “I do,” Sebastian slowed and rounded the corner. “She’ll play Jacobs like a puppet. You saw how he was today. It’s like he couldn’t kiss her ass enough. I would bet money that I don’t have that she’ll manipulate him to get herself invited to join your group.”

  Lizzie thought about Dr. Linda Trelawney and all what she’d learned about the former director. Even though there was no damning proof against her, Lizzie couldn’t shake the thought that the good doctor had had something to do with the mysterious death of Allen Chang and the foiled heist at the museum. The thought of Trelawney’s hands on Edith Blackwell’s lost manuscript sent shivers of horror throughout her body.

  “There is a silver lining, though,” Lizzie chimed up suddenly.

  “What silver lining?”

  “Katherine Sargent,” she said assuredly. “It is no secret that Trelawney despises Sargent and that the feeling is mutual. Katherine Sargent is the utmost expert on all things Edith Blackwell. When I was over here before, Dr. Trelawney worked day and night to take that title away but never quite managed to do it. Just imagine what could happen if she somehow got her hands upon the manuscript? I don’t think she’d care so much about the loss of her book when what she’s always wanted is right at her fingertips,” Lizzie explained as they traveled the remaining distance and turned into the drive.

  ************

  A police car with flashing lights was parked in front of Hazel’s door as Lizzie and Sebastian pulled up beside it. Instantly, Sebastian had the car off and was running towards his grandmother and the officer that stood at her side.

  “Nana?” he called out as he rushed towards the older woman and short, slim man in the neon-colored safety jacket. “What happened?” Sebastian carefully scooped his grandmother into his arms, taking pains to avoid knocking into her casted leg.

  “It’s okay,” she said reassuringly as she patted his back and removed herself from his arms. “It’s nothing.” She motioned towards Lizzie who came zipping up behind Sebastian. “I’m all right, sweet girl.” Hazel gave Lizzie a brief hug before letting her go. “Someone broke into the house while we were out. Nothing looks like it’s been taken.”

  Lizzie’s stomach dropped into her feet and before anyone could say anything further, she took off towards her room. Lizzie ran through the house and flew up the stairs. When she reached the room where she’d slept the night before, she was struck with horror. The room was trashed. The bed had been ripped apart and every drawer had been upended, all their contents spilled onto the floor. To make matters worse, the drawer she’d tucked the manuscript in was empty.

  “Oh no,” she cried and broke out into a cold sweat. “No!” she whimpered as the thud of Sebastian’s feet arrived behind her.

  “What?” He panted from the sudden exertion.

  “The manuscript and the letters!” Lizzie cried. “They’re gone! Someone’s taken them.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and with one blink, they cascaded down, wetting her face as replacements blurred her vision. Unable to look at the carnage any longer, Lizzie turned and walked straight into Sebastian’s arms.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Sebastian said soothingly as he held her tightly to him. “We’ll find them. I promise you that we will.” He cradled her close as his gentle fingers stroked the long strands of her auburn hair.

  Lizzie wept against his chest, cursing herself for not foreseeing this from happening.

  “What’s going on up there?” Hazel shouted up from the bottom of the stairwell.

  “The intruder broke into L
izzie’s room. They took the manuscript and the letters.” Sebastian answered for a defeated Lizzie who was unable to speak.

  “No they didn’t,” Hazel said certainly, causing both Lizzie and Sebastian to snap to attention. Both cast their attention down to where Hazel had planted herself.

  “Nana, I can see it for myself. The drawers are all empty and there’s no manuscript or letters anywhere.”

  “Of course they’re not! That’s because I came back just shortly after you left. I forgot to take those cinnamon apple muffins and I made Gladys Hirsch turn back around so I could get them. I also forgot my lucky rabbit’s foot. I keep it in your great-aunt Theodora’s old dresser. When I went to get it, I found Lizzie’s letters. I didn’t want to risk them getting lost or God forbid, falling into the wrong hands, so I moved them to the hidden safe in my bedroom.”

  Lizzie’s breath ripped out of her lungs with a strangled, relieved sob. Wriggling out of Sebastian’s arms, she sailed down the stairs and hugged the older woman, kissing her sweetly on the cheek.

  “Hazel, I don’t know what to say,” Lizzie said gratefully through a tear-streaked haze. “If you hadn’t come back, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “Just be happy that my pain meds make me forgetful and that I’m highly suspicious person.” Hazel lovingly touched Lizzie’s cheek and gave it several affectionate pats. With a proclamation that she was in desperate need of some tea, Hazel had Lizzie escort her into the kitchen. The two women sat holding hands while Sebastian put the kettle onto boil and grabbed them each a cup.

  “I got a call from Katherine Sargent before you came down,” Hazel offered as Sebastian placed a cow-shaped creamer on the table, along with the sunflower-covered sugar bowl. “Martin Beemer requested her help to authenticate your find. He also mentioned that Marc Jacobs, his former assistant, wanted to bring Linda Trelawney in as well.”

  Lizzie sneered at mention of Trelawney’s name but perked up at the mention of Katherine Sargent’s. Lizzie adored her in every way. Katherine Sargent had spent her life studying every single aspect of Edith Blackwell’s life and, after pouring endlessly through all of Edith’s surviving personal possessions, had come to change her mind on several different previous conclusions. All of which were on display at the museum.

  It was Katherine Sargent that discovered that Edith opened up Blackwood Farm as an artist’s colony through a series of previously undiscovered letters. She also had no shame in admitting that there was still much that was yet to be discovered.

  “What did she say?” Lizzie asked after she realized an abnormally long silent pause had descended upon them.

  “Katherine’s excited. She can’t wait to meet you,” Hazel said which tickled Lizzie immensely. “Trelawney on the other hand, she’s not happy, to say the least. When I heard that Jacobs wanted to bring her in, I called Martin Beemer personally. When we spoke, I learned that both he and Katherine objected to Trelawney being there. Katherine, especially. She trusts Trelawney about as much as I do. When she objected to Trelawney’s addition, Jacobs had the nerve to insinuate that Katherine should bow out and let Trelawney take her place.”

  “Surely that wouldn’t happen,” Lizzie said, suddenly alarmed.

  “Martin Beemer struck that down before it could get off the ground. He remembers all the hubbub that went on with Trelawney and refuses to let another scandal tarnish the museum’s reputation. When those would-be thieves tried to steal The Vestal Virgins, Beemer was certain that Trelawney was behind it, he just couldn’t prove it. She should thank her lucky stars that he allows her to give lectures there,” Hazel spat, visibly rankled by her turbulent past with her former colleague. “But that’s not what you want to hear. When we spoke, Katherine told me that Beemer has explicitly forbade Linda from attending. He’s even gone so far as to station a security officer at the door and armed him with a list of who’s allowed in and who isn’t.” Lizzie released a gasp of relief. Visions of Trelawney salivating over what could be a prospective gold mine left her sick to her stomach.

  “So, when I drop you off tomorrow, you’ll have to walk in by yourself,” Sebastian said with an air of dejection.

  “No, she won’t,” Hazel interrupted him. “Beemer added us to the list, as well. We get a ringside seat next to Lizzie while Katherine works her magic!” Hazel’s eyes flashed with delight. Lizzie picked up her cup and sipped slowly as she leaned back against the dependable support of the chair, content that everything was going to turn out fine. That in a matter of days, she’d have changed history and would be comfortably on her way back home.

  SIX

  Two years passed since the publication of Edith’s first novel. Within that span, she’d written and sent off her second novel, The Price of Love, to the editor who’d been hungrily and impatiently waiting for more.

  The Price of Love was the story of a young spinster who, after meeting her new neighbor, became involved with a torrid affair that came to an abrupt end when the neighbor jilted the young spinster at the altar and married a younger, prettier woman with a large inheritance. The story ended with the spinster burning her former lover and his new wife to death in their bed before fleeing to France but drowned when her ship sunk in the Channel.

  The public’s demand for The Price of Love was greater than for her previous novel. Before she knew it, Edith was accruing a handsome income and was an established bona fide best-selling author. During those years, Edith passed her time writing and strolling through the autumnal gardens, choosing to remain inside when spring, summer, and sinter all kept a firm grip upon the world. The only time she’d go out was when autumn settled over them, bringing its array of color along with it.

  ************

  Mr. Wagner visited frequently. Each time he graced her front step, he brought a valise stuffed full of progress reports and went out of his way to heap praise upon Edith for her achievements. With each visit, he hinted at staying longer and intimated at visiting more frequently. The gestures made Edith uncomfortable and because of it, she gave him no encouragement. Mrs. Sargent mentioned a time or two that she believed the older gentleman might have feelings for her, but Edith cast it off.

  “The man is old enough to be my father,” she scoffed at the very idea. “He views me like he would his own daughter, if he had one,” she added, knowing full well that Mr. Wagner was neither married nor had any children. That he’d grown accustomed to bachelorhood and had chosen to remain that way. Edith too, had become set in her ways and refused to think of deviating from them. That was before a whirlwind blew through the house, upending everything as she knew it.

  ************

  “Surprise!” Edith nearly dropped her teacup as a familiar face stood in the entrance to the sitting room.

  “She was standing at the door when I answered. I told her to let me announce her first but…” Mrs. Sargent stuttered, motioning to the impatient face that quivered excitement.

  “Addie?” Edith nearly spit out her tea as she recognized her friend from childhood. “Adelide Grey?” Edith repeated as she set her cup down and got to her feet.

  “Edith!” Addie flew across the short distance and flung herself into Edith’s arms. “I knew you’d remember me!” The young, fiery girl squeezed the calm, shocked one with a grip that briefly stole the air from Edith’s lungs. In truth, Edith wasn’t sure if she would have known her at first. Addie’s soft, pale blonde hair had turned to a dull flax and her once-rosy cheeks owned a touch of sallow. Despite the other changes, Addie’s sharp, piercing eyes still possessed a rough edge that had only been sharpened with age.

  “Addie!” Edith cried happily as her arms briefly encircled Addie before letting her go. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just got back from Europe,” Addie replied, bright-eyed and excited. “When I arrived, I knew that you were the first person I had to see.”

  Edith stood silent for a beat, taking in the grown-up version of the young girl she’d once known.

 
“Please,” Edith said suddenly, remembering her manners. “Mrs. Sargent, could you bring another cup for Addie?” With a quick nod, Mrs. Sargent left. She reappeared moments later with one of the lesser china cups. Edith immediately took notice but chose not to question Mrs. Sargent about it until later. Without missing a step, Edith filled the cup and offered Addie the sugar and milk. Taking just two lumps of sugar, Addie leaned back into the sofa and slowly sipped the sweet, steaming brew. “I have to admit, seeing you today has come as a big surprise,” Edith said as she retook possession of her own cup but held it between her hands instead of sipping from it.

  “Edith,” Addie sighed deeply. “I cannot tell you how much I’ve missed you.” Addie reached out and gently squeezed Edith’s arm. “I wanted to write to you from school, but my parents left specific instructions that none of my letters were to be sent on. A kind lady who worked on the staff admitted to me that every letter that I wrote you saw its way into the bottom of the trash bin.” Addie’s voice fell as she spoke, and Edith was positive that she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know why they wanted to keep us from being friends.” A lone tear finally slipped out of Addie’s eye and coursed its way down her colorless cheek.

  “I don’t have the answer to that, Addie,” Edith said, flabbergasted that her friend had never forgotten her and had attempted to stay in touch.

  “It’s because they were jealous, Edith.” Addie sniffed as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “They were jealous that we were happy and that they were miserable. By ‘they’, I mean my parents. They always thought that you and your aunt were too good for us until they came into Aunt Marge’s money. Then, nobody was their equal. Not even me.”

  “Wait?” Edith said. “I thought you left because your father died. And that your mother died not too long after. I thought your brothers took charge of the old farm before losing it, and a rich aunt paid for you to go to boarding school?” Edith recalled what Mrs. Sargent had once said with vivid clarity.