The House on Blackberry Hill: Jewell Cove #1 (Jewel Cove)

by Donna Alward

  She’d gone slumming just to anger her folks, who had kept the leash pulled just a little too tight. In the end, though, the pressure had been too much and Erin had buckled. It was Josh who’d gotten the parental stamp of approval. Josh, the doctor. Josh, more polished and worldly and a much better prospect to parents who settled for nothing but the best for their little girl. They hadn’t been crazy about her joining the army, but let it go because in a few years she’d be the respectable wife of a doctor who was in practice with her daddy, rather than scraping by with an ordinary carpenter living in a two-bedroom cottage on the beach.

  As much as he’d loved her, it had made Tom angry that she hadn’t fought harder for them. He would have given her everything. He could have given them a great life if she’d only been brave enough to take it.

  That bitterness had lasted far too long. Tom hated that it had driven a wedge between himself and his cousin. Erin had at least been honest when she came to see him just before she left that September. She’d told Tom that even though she cared for Josh and he looked better on paper, she loved Tom more.

  It had been torture. Knowing came with a heavy price—years of loneliness, a half-life—all for nothing. Because the sordid truth was that Erin had come to him one last time, begging him to be with her, and Tom had turned her away.

  It was the last time he ever saw her.

  His maudlin thoughts were interrupted by a cry coming from the hallway; a desperate, keening sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He put the paint roller down as alarm washed over him. There it was again … and he was certain he heard the word “no.”

  He crossed the kitchen in long strides, heading for the hall, panic making him rush. He saw Abby right away, standing at the top of the landing, weaving unsteadily. Her body gave a strange jerk, her hand slipped on the banister, and she leaned forward almost drunkenly. Heart in his throat, he raced up the steps two at a time and barely caught her as she collapsed. With the weight of her limp in his arms, he started to tremble as consequences ran through his head. If he hadn’t been there, she would have tumbled right down the hard wooden stairs clear to the bottom. A fall down those hardwood steps could kill a woman …

  The blood drained from his face. Just like Edith.

  Abby opened her eyes, staring at him with such a stricken look that panic rushed through his limbs. “Shh,” he comforted her, holding her close, the adrenaline rushing from the residual fear of knowing that a split second later and she could have been badly hurt. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Abby. You’re safe.”

  * * *

  After wasting fifteen minutes idly pacing her room and listening to the sounds of Tom working downstairs, Abby knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. This was her house, he was her contractor. What was she going to do, stay upstairs all day? She laughed. Yeah, like that would work. No, what she needed to do was just get it over with, Abby thought as she gathered her resolve and left her room, wondering what on earth she was going to say to Tom. She’d figure it out as she went.

  As she reached the open hallway overlooking the foyer, Abby stumbled and caught herself on the railing. The moment her hand touched the finished wood, she was flung into her nightmare, the one she’d had weeks ago but never finished.

  Suddenly another scene came to life before her eyes. Instead of her gleaming hardwood floors, the hallway was covered in a dark red carpet from the stairs to the railing above the foyer. Creamy gold wallpaper replaced her soothing modern palette. A glance through an open doorway showed her bedroom, decorated in yellow and green. It was her house, yet subtly different. Everything was off.

  Especially the air, which smelled of scotch and cigar smoke, fear and desperation.

  The next moment, Abby could feel herself moving toward the stairs, unable to control her motion, the sounds of her breathing loud in her ears. Her heart seized with fear as she made out a figure standing at the banister. What was going on?

  And suddenly she was at the top of the stairs. Tears streamed down her cheeks. A terrified child with brown curls stood behind her, eyes wide with terror as she clung to her skirts. On the floor was an open suitcase, clothing scattered over the floor as if the latch had been violently ripped open. And in front of her was a man, his face cold and cruel in the shadows.

  Elijah! Abby recognized the man from her dreams. Shocked, she tried to say something, anything, but she was frozen, trapped in the scene like she was reliving a memory, only the memory wasn’t her own.

  She couldn’t breathe. Elijah was holding a baby in his hands, a look of violent rage on his face. The baby was strangely silent, not even crying in the chaos crashing around her.

  Please, Elijah, please! Let me have my baby. Let me have Iris! Abby heard herself say. Only it was Edith’s panicked, pleading voice. Thin at first, as if from far away, and then closer, louder, until it screamed in her ears. I’ll do anything, I swear. Just please, give me the baby! Don’t take her away from me!

  She reached for Elijah’s arm, crying as she begged for him to leave her child unharmed. Insisting that Iris was innocent in all of this and it was her fault.

  She moved toward him, hands outstretched, asking for the baby.

  And his arm pushed her away as he called her a dirty whore.

  That was how it had happened. With weeping and begging and violence. As if in a dream, Abby felt her great-grandmother’s pain and desperation as her own. A cry escaped her lips in shock and pain as a hand tightened on her arm, the fingers strong, digging into her flesh, shaking her. Cold rushed through her body, freezing her to the spot, and she felt the world sway. She was Edith. And she was the one in danger.

  Elijah shoved her away with a thrust of his arm. She heard herself cry out, the dream fading into reality. As Abby felt Edith fall, she was dimly aware of the sound of footsteps rushing toward her as her hand slipped on the mahogany banister and she lost her footing.

  An odd buzzing sound filled her ears as she slid down, down, down …

  A pair of strong arms caught her.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” she heard Tom say.

  When he lowered them to sit on the floor, she began to cry. Abby wasn’t sure what had just happened. She only knew that she’d felt things, seen things, heard things, that were shocking and traumatizing and …

  She was going out of her mind, she thought wildly. This kind of thing didn’t really happen. Oh, God …

  Her body started to shake.

  This was how Edith died.

  Abby remembered the rage on Elijah’s face as he shook his wife. She’d think about the how of what had just happened later. Right now she was simply going to hold on to a warm, full-of-life Tom Arseneault.

  “What is it?” he asked gently. “You’ve got to stop crying. Please, Abs. Please don’t cry anymore, it’s killing me.”

  She took a shuddering breath and sniffled. “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong. You nearly fainted just now. I saw you going and—” His voice broke off on a crack of emotion.

  “I felt so strange,” she whispered, her breath hitching, “and there was this buzzing in my ears … And you caught me. If you hadn’t I’d…” Her breath hitched and she shuddered. She would have fallen head over heels down those stairs.

  “Have you eaten today?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Her head rested in the curve of his neck and his T-shirt was wet from her tears, clinging to the skin of his chest. She pushed away, just a little so she could look into his face. The next words were so hard to say, but she had to tell someone. “Edith was pushed the night she died, Tom. Elijah killed her. He was threatening to send Iris away and they fought. It was terrible. She kept pleading with him and he pushed her and she fell.”

  “Come on, Abby. There’s no way to know that for sure. Not now. It was decades ago.” He rubbed her arms with his hands.

  Abby swallowed. “I saw it, Tom. I saw it all happen.”
/>   Tom froze. “Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “Are you saying you saw Edith again?”

  Abby nodded her head. “Yes, well, no. I mean, I saw her again. The night of Jess’s candle class.”

  They both remembered what happened that night. And what had happened the next morning. He squeezed her fingers, making her look up at him. His gaze searched hers. “The loose board upstairs. It wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

  She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. I saw her, Tom. She took me right up the stairs. Stopped and looked out the back window for a minute and then stood in the very spot where that box was hidden.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “She disappeared.” She blinked up at him, uncertain. If she hadn’t seen it for herself, she would think she was crazy. Did Tom? Or did he think she was making it all up? If he didn’t believe this, he’d never believe what just happened. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  He rubbed a hand over her hair. Did he believe her? Tom wasn’t sure, but he knew Abby and she wasn’t crazy and she wasn’t a liar. He shrugged. “There’s a lot of superstition among fishermen, and I’ve heard my share of stories. Who am I to say? If you say you saw her, I believe you.”

  A warmth filled her then, a feeling so wonderful and pure that she nearly cried again. She hadn’t expected his unequivocal support.

  “That day when we found the box of letters? I’d been dreaming that morning, just before you arrived. I saw bits and pieces of what happened then but couldn’t put it all together. But just now, when I touched that railing … it was like I was there, too, Tom. Like I was her. I can’t explain it. It’s crazy. But this whole thing is crazy. I just know what I know. And what I know is that Elijah shoved her away and she tumbled down these very stairs.”

  Her eyes were deep and sad. “No matter what she did, she didn’t deserve that. She was a mother to those two babies. She loved them and they had to grow up without her.” Abby began to cry again, thinking of her own family, as Tom murmured words of comfort and held her close. She wrapped her arms around his middle, needing his warmth.

  “Are you all right now?” Tom’s raspy voice was warm in her ear when she’d finally quieted. She didn’t want to let go. The moment she did, everything would change. Not in any big, earth-shattering way. But once this moment was gone, it would be gone forever, and she wanted his arms around her just a little longer.

  “I’m fine. Sad, but fine.”

  “You should eat something.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  He took a finger and tilted up her chin. “That’s not a promise I believe you’ll keep. I’ve been working in the kitchen, remember? I know there’s nothing here besides half a box of crackers. Why don’t you wash your face and we’ll get some fresh air. Find you something in town.”

  So much had happened that she wasn’t sure she could keep her balance let alone feel like showing up in public. “Don’t you have work to finish up here first?”

  “I’ll come back early tomorrow and finish up. Day after that we’ll be installing your cupboards. Before you know it, this place will be in tip-top shape.”

  Abby swallowed. And then there would be no excuse left. She’d have to see a Realtor and put it on the market.

  There was something she wanted to do first, though. Especially now.

  “Tom, do you know where Edith was buried?”

  He nodded. “In the Foster plot in the Jewell Cove cemetery. Elijah’s there too, and Marian. It goes right back to Jedediah.”

  “Would you take me there?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now. I want to take her some roses from Marian’s garden. And then I promise I’ll eat something.”

  “I’ll take you. Go clean up and I’ll pack up here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He nudged her with an elbow. “You seriously think I’m going to let you drive in your state?”

  “I’m not exactly helpless.”

  “No, you are definitely not helpless. In fact, I think you’re probably tougher than you realize. Just indulge me. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe. After all, what are friends for?” But his eyes were soft with worry as he touched a finger to her cheek.

  CHAPTER 17

  The Jewell Cove Cemetery wasn’t actually in the cove at all, but on the outskirts, up a long dirt drive that looked like little more than wheel tracks. A set of wrought-iron gates marked the entrance into a field. It seemed an odd place for a cemetery until Tom explained that there’d once been a church just to the south of it that had burned down sometime in the sixties. The church had been rebuilt closer to town, but the cemetery had stayed.

  Abby hopped out of the truck, her hands full of fragrant rosebuds from Marian’s garden. The graveyard was definitely out of the way, but it was one of the most peaceful resting spots Abby could imagine. Cushioned by the crest of the hill, the cemetery was free of traffic sounds. There was just the wind through the leaves and grass and the sound of birds in the trees. A mourning dove had already started a plaintive song nearby. If Abby had to pick a place to rest, this would be it.

  “Most of the town has relatives in here,” Tom said, leading the way through slowly. “My grandparents are over there, as well as their parents and brothers and sisters.” He pointed at headstones bearing the Arseneault name. “Over here is the Collins family. Josh’s dad, Frank—my uncle. He was a fisherman, lost at sea.”

  Abby paused. There was a spot for Meggie beside him, her name already there with the date left to be engraved. A love that deep and abiding seemed incomprehensible somehow, and yet right all the same.

  “The Foster plot is over here,” Tom said quietly, leading her down a worn path. She glanced at headstones along the way—some newer, others so old they were tilting and the engraving was hard to make out. Even though it was off the beaten path, the whole place was well tended, with freshly cut grass trimmed uniformly around the markers. Tom stopped and Abby looked at the headstones. George and Elizabeth. Jedediah and Martha. Robert and Richard, the two sons killed overseas. Abby wondered if there were even bodies there or if the markers had been placed simply in memory. Burton Foster—had he been a cousin? Louisa, died an infant. Elijah. Edith. Marian.

  All the bloodline and spouses except Iris, who hadn’t been a Foster at all, and her son. The line had died with Marian.

  Abby stepped forward and arranged the roses around the base of Edith’s headstone. “She was there that night,” she murmured, her hand gently tracing the carved words on the headstone. “Marian was there the night Edith died. Do you think she remembered it? I hope not. I just hope Marian knew how much her mother loved her.”

  Tom came forward too, squatted down beside her and picked up a stem that she’d dropped. He put his hand on the granite and sighed. “I think Marian knew. Edith made a mistake, but you’re right, she didn’t deserve this. You can’t help who you love. At least Edith had the guts to follow her heart. I used to wish Erin had been willing to risk everything for love. And when she finally was, I would have given everything for her to take it back.”

  Abby paused at the tight thread of pain in his voice. “What do you mean? When she chose Josh?”

  He shook his head, pushing his hands against his knees. They cracked as he stood up. “She was going to leave him. That’s what no one knows. Not even Josh.”

  “She was going to leave him for you?”

  Abby stood up now and looked at him. He was staring out over the waving grass of the nearby field. “Did Sarah and Jess tell you about the night Erin and Josh got engaged? About what I said?” At her silent nod, Tom continued. “See, the thing about that night at the Rusty Fern is that even though I was drunk, I was right. She shouldn’t have married Josh. Later Erin confessed to me that Josh checked all the right boxes. I wasn’t good enough for her family.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Abby dismissed the idea. “You’re wonderful. You have a successful business and you’re honest and loyal and hardwork
ing.”

  He smiled but there wasn’t much heart in it. “Thanks for saying that, but I was a lot younger, trying to get the business off the ground, a manual laborer with a fixer-upper cottage, and Josh was a doctor with better manners than his rough-around-the-edges cousin.”

  Abby’s heart ached for him. “So she let you go and put the military and miles between you. Like Kristian did with Edith.”

  “Only Kristian didn’t have a choice, did he? He had to go. I chose, Abby. When Erin came to me right before she deployed the last time and asked me to leave everything behind and be with her, I refused.”

  Abby’s chest squeezed. Erin had come back and asked Tom to run away with her? What a horrible position to be in. Happiness, but at such a cost.

  “You refused because of Josh.”

  “I refused because I knew we could never truly be happy, not with Josh between us. How could I let her divorce him and be with me? He was like my brother. I couldn’t do that to him. I either had to hurt her or hurt him. I told her to go home and make it work. That she’d made her choice. I told her to…” His voice caught. “To start a family like Josh wanted.”

  “Do you regret your decision?”

  His dark gaze settled on her, accepting the inevitable guilt. “What do you think? Instead of running away with me, instead of going home, she ran away to another tour. And she didn’t come home again. I have to live with that every day.”

  He turned away and began walking to the truck while Abby stood, dumbstruck, in the middle of the cemetery. That was what Tom was carrying around? Because of his decision, the woman he’d loved was dead. That was how he saw it, wasn’t it? He was blaming himself.

  She went after him, crushing a cluster of purple violets as she rushed to catch up. Tom had been there for her more than once, and most of the time she’d given him a hard time for simply being private. Who could blame him now? No wonder he didn’t want to show how he really felt. He’d been burned too often and still bore the scars.