Finding Home

by Irene Hannon

  Much to his surprise, she didn’t.

  “I’ve been reading his journal for the past few days. You’re right. It’s a slow process, and my eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I have to say Elijah had a way with words. I especially liked the April 4, 1898 entry—the one he wrote while he was at sea protecting vessels during the Klondike gold rush. You should take a look at that one. Is the original journal still at the house?”

  “Yes. I’d like to finish processing everything there. I hope to begin transporting items to the historical society next week.”

  “Excellent.” She turned to Scott. “You check out that entry, too. You might learn a thing or two.”

  Scott raised an eyebrow. “About the gold rush?”

  “No.” Gram pinned him with an intent look. “But it was about treasure.”

  Although he had no idea what that meant, he suspected it had something to do with Cindy.

  “Well...” Cindy hoisted her shoulder purse higher. “I need to beat the fog, but I did want to share one other piece of exciting news. Janice told me there was a young couple in the gallery last weekend, and both the husband and wife were very taken with your painting of Humboldt Bay. She thinks they might be back to make an offer on it.”

  For a moment Gram was speechless. “Now wouldn’t that be a kick after all these years?”

  “Janice also wanted me to invite you up anytime to visit the gallery. She’d love to meet you.”

  “Oh, I haven’t been anywhere much except the doctor’s and the E.R. since I fell.” Gram gave a dismissive wave. “That’s too long a drive.”

  “Genevieve and Lillian would like to meet you, too. And the food at the Orchid is fabulous. You should taste their cinnamon rolls. As for the blackberry cobbler...” Scott looked toward the heavens. “Wow.”

  “I must say, you two are tempting me.” As she regarded them, Scott could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain. “I believe I might consider it. Maybe next weekend. If Cindy will introduce me to Janice and give me a tour of the town?”

  Cindy’s rueful gaze connected with his, verifying she was as attuned to Gram’s matchmaking efforts as he was. “There’s not much to see. Starfish Bay is a tiny village stretched along 101 with a family-friendly biker bar at one end, the Orchid at the other and a few shops in between. A tour would take all of ten minutes.”

  “It sounds charming. And afterward, you and Jarrod could join us for lunch at the Orchid. Then Scott could return the favor by showing us around his job site. I’d like to see this inn I’ve been hearing about.”

  “I’m sure Cindy has better things to do with her weekend than spend hours with us, Gram.”

  “She said herself the tour of the town won’t take but a few minutes, and she and Jarrod have to eat anyway. Why not at the Orchid with us?”

  Checkmate.

  To his relief, Cindy seemed more amused than annoyed.

  “Your logic is hard to refute, Barbara.”

  Gram tapped a finger against her head. “My body might be old and stiff, but my brain is as agile as it ever was.”

  “And then some,” Scott muttered.

  “I heard that.” Gram sent him a withering look, then turned her attention back to Cindy. “It would be such a nice treat, my dear. My first real excursion for pleasure since I moved into this place. Scott’s been after me to get out for ages, but I haven’t been tempted until now.”

  Cindy bit her lower lip, and he could guess what she was thinking. She knew how important it was to him to get Gram interested in life again, but she also knew they were being manipulated.

  Yet the excursion would do Gram a world of good. And what could happen with Genevieve, Lillian, Janice and Jarrod around?

  Apparently Cindy came to the same conclusion because she smiled and shrugged. “I’d be happy to show you around. Would Saturday work for you?”

  “Any day is fine. My social calendar is flexible. You work out the details with Scott.” Gram reached over and took Cindy’s hand. “I’ll look forward to the visit, my dear. Thank you. And drive safely going home. Scott will walk you out.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t need to bother.” She took a step toward the door, clutching the satchel with both hands. “I don’t want to disrupt your visit any more than I already have. I’m fine on my own.”

  “Of course you are. You’re a capable, intelligent woman. But a gentleman always walks a lady to the car—and Scott is a gentleman.”

  Circling the bed, he lowered his voice as he bent to relieve Cindy of her satchel. “Don’t fight the current.”

  “I heard that, young man. My ears still work, too.”

  As Cindy smiled, he chuckled and addressed his grandmother. “Don’t go on any more marathon walks while I’m gone.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m done for the night. And you take your time. I’ll amuse myself with these letters Cindy was kind enough to bring.” She tapped the folder in her lap.

  Guiding Cindy out of the room, Scott held his tongue, waiting until they were out of earshot before he spoke again. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. I can spare an hour or two Saturday if it will help motivate your grandmother.”

  “Thanks to you, she’s already motivated. She went to physical therapy today for the first time in months, and she dressed in street clothes.”

  Cindy detoured around a wheelchair parked in the hall, its occupant slumped over asleep. Furrows creased her brow. “She doesn’t belong here, Scott.”

  “I know—and I think she’s beginning to admit that, too.”

  As they crossed the lobby, a rumble of thunder shook the building.

  Cindy shivered. “Looks like we’re in for more unsettled weather.”

  He pushed the outside door open, following after she exited. The weather wasn’t the only thing that was unsettled, he thought, as he walked beside her to her car, her faint floral aroma mingling with the scent of rain, her blond hair swinging close to his shoulder.

  She used the remote to unlock her car as the first raindrops began to fall.

  “Perfect timing.” She slid behind the wheel and he handed her the satchel. “You better get inside or you’ll be drenched.”

  “I’ll call you about Saturday.”

  “Okay.”

  She reached for the handle, forcing him back. With a wave, she pulled the door closed, backed out and drove toward the street.

  He remained standing there until her taillights disappeared in the direction of Starfish Bay. And he didn’t hurry back inside, despite the rain. He needed a few minutes to breathe the fresh, tangy air and regroup.

  Because every time he saw Cindy it was harder to let her walk away.

  But he couldn’t let Gram pick up on that. He didn’t want her to get carried away with this whole romance thing.

  Even if carried away was an accurate description of how he was beginning to feel.

  Chapter Ten

  Cindy’s vision misted, and she rose to fish a tissue from her purse on the counter. Dabbing at her eyes, she slid back into her seat at the kitchen table and scanned Elijah Adams’s journal entry from April 4, 1898 for the second time.

  I read your letter from yesterday again this evening, my dearest Emma. You will never know how your tender sentiments sustain me during our long separations. On this voyage, they are also helping me bear the terrible grief we share. I wish I could speak with you this moment, but I must be content to put my thoughts in writing for you to read when I return, just as you have poured your gentle, loving spirit into these precious letters, which I cherish and eagerly anticipate opening each week whenever the miles and the sea come between us.

  Parting has always been difficult to bear, as you know, but never more so than our last goodbye, mere days after we bid our darling Chloe farewell and commended her to God. I know you continue to suffer, as I do, and to question why the Lord would snatch away our firstborn—our only child—the delight of our days—after four short years. I can find no reason for what
seems to be such a cruel betrayal to faithful servants.

  Yet I trust in His grace and goodness implicitly, as I know you do. So I do as I have always done in times of trial. I ask Him to bless us both with courage and fortitude, and to give us strength to endure. That prayer offers me great solace, but how I wish I could also hold you close and comfort you whilst seeking my own comfort in your loving arms.

  We always knew our life together would bring both joys and sorrows. That fate might not always be kind. That our love could be tested. And surely we have known all of these things. For like the shifting sandbars and the narrow, treacherous passage that leads to the sea from our own Humboldt Bay, life holds many hidden perils.

  But despite my desolation this night, I know I would have chosen no other path. Just as the seafaring life was my destiny, so, too, are you. Your love is the sextant that gives my life direction. The light on shore that guides me home. The stars above that help me stay the course. You are my everything, dearest Emma, in good times and in bad. For from you I have learned the truth of what St. Paul wrote two centuries ago: Love never fails. And it is worth even the risk of loss.

  Cindy’s throat tightened, and she blinked as a wave of fresh tears blurred her vision. If the ribbon-bound letters Emma had sent along with Elijah to be opened each week during his absences were half as powerful as her husband’s journal entries, she’d be a basket case before she finished reading them. For their story was the stuff of romance novels—a sustaining, enduring love strong enough to reach across a century and resonate with vibrant passion and steadfast devotion.

  As she closed the folder containing the copy of Elijah’s journal, Cindy understood why Scott’s grandmother had called out that particular passage this afternoon. Though Barbara might not be privy to all the reasons she and Scott were avoiding romance, it was clear she hoped this long-ago couple would convince them true love could overcome all obstacles.

  And as Cindy rose and turned out the lights for the night, she had to admit Barbara’s strategy was beginning to make inroads on her heart.

  The question was, did Scott feel the same way?

  * * *

  Balancing a mug of coffee in his good hand, Scott yawned and padded barefoot toward the dining room. Might as well track down that passage in Elijah’s journal Gram had bugged him about earlier. She’d be all over him tomorrow night if he reneged on his promise to read it.

  Another yawn snuck up on him. Five minutes, max. That was all he’d give it. Then he was crashing.

  Toby trotted along beside him, flinching at every boom of thunder, and Scott bent to give him a pat. “Hang in there, boy. It’s only noise. But you can stay in the kitchen tonight.”

  The pup already knew that. The minute he’d entered, he’d spotted the blanket-padded box Gram kept in reserve for bad nights. Scott had gotten a vigorous tail-wag in thanks for hauling it in from the garage.

  Letting the dog sleep inside instead of in his cozy house in the backyard had been another promise Gram had finagled out of him, but he’d been happy to make that one. The fact she was worried about Toby being out in the storm was a positive sign.

  He stopped beside the dining room table and surveyed the room Cindy had taken over. The two trunks stood against one wall, and neatly labeled boxes were stacked against another. The table held some of the more fragile items, including the journal, logbook and letters, along with the faded ribbon that had bound Emma’s missives to her husband. A decrepit antique photo album was off to the side, and though he was curious about the contents, he was afraid to so much as breathe on it.

  After taking a sip of coffee, Scott set his mug on the credenza beside Gram’s treasured Waterford apprentice bowl. He ran a finger over the dusty rim, a smile whispering at his lips as he recalled his grandparents’ surprise when he’d presented them with two first-class tickets to Ireland, tucked into a pot of candy gold bullion, on their fiftieth anniversary. Not a week since had passed without Gram polishing the souvenir of that treasured trip. Until her fall.

  But if the Lord answered his prayers, she might be resuming that labor of love one of these days.

  Turning his attention back to the table, he carefully opened the leather cover on Elijah’s journal. The fragile pages appeared to be on the verge of crumbling, and he hesitated. Maybe he should call Cindy. Ask her if it was okay to handle the thing.

  However, talking with her wasn’t going to help him keep his distance. And she hadn’t warned him not to touch it after Gram suggested he read the entry.

  Decision made, he gently turned the pages, searching for the April 4 entry. He saw what Cindy had meant about the old-fashioned script being difficult to decipher. The sections of faded ink weren’t going to help either.

  It took him less than sixty seconds to find the passage, and as he sat down to try and muddle through it another boom of thunder rumbled through the house. Quivering, Toby whined and huddled against his leg.

  “Chill out, boy. It’s okay.” He leaned down and gave the dog another pat as he began to read.

  It took him ten minutes to get through the five paragraphs. The ornate script and odd spelling of some words slowed his reading pace. But while he had trouble translating the passage, he had no trouble understanding Gram’s reasons for highlighting it.

  She thought he could learn a lesson from the deep, steadfast love shared by Elijah and Emma. A love that had overcome many hurdles, including one of the biggest parents could ever face—the loss of a child.

  He read Elijah’s final lines again.

  You are my everything, dearest Emma, in good times and in bad. For from you I have learned the truth of what St. Paul wrote two centuries ago: Love never fails. And it is worth even the risk of loss.

  Throat tightening, he closed the century-old journal and rested a hand on top.

  He didn’t doubt St. Paul’s words. True love held immense power—and it endured.

  Finding it, however, was the challenge.

  And he had a feeling Angela and Leah didn’t think it had been worth the risk.

  Suddenly weary, he stood, picked up his cooling coffee and took a slow sip. He’d thought once, in the early days with Angela, that she’d been the right woman. But he’d been wrong.

  So how did you know when it was the right woman?

  Cindy could be the one. He’d felt different about her almost from the beginning. Yes, there’d been chemistry, but in the weeks he’d known her, that chemistry had grown into something deeper. Something that could lead to love.

  Yet what if it didn’t? His track record wasn’t too hot when it came to discerning the real thing. Or getting out before inflicting damage if it wasn’t.

  A bolt of lightning lit the sky outside the window, strobing across the room. Two seconds later a loud crack of thunder shook the house. The storm was moving closer.

  Inside and out.

  Beside him, Toby hunkered down and buried his head in his paws, blocking out the tempest, hoping for a sunny tomorrow.

  Scott could relate.

  * * *

  “Look, Mom! He brought Toby!”

  As Cindy pulled up in front of Janice’s art gallery, she glanced at the dog in the car parked in front of her, his front paws on the back of the seat, head cocked, ears twitching. He almost appeared to be smiling.

  Jarrod had the door open before she shut off the engine.

  “Watch the traffic!” She checked in the rearview mirror. The scenic coastal route wasn’t usually busy this time of year, even on Saturdays, but not everyone followed the law and reduced their speed as they whizzed through the town.

  A slam of the passenger-side door was her son’s only response.

  Opening her own door with one hand, she grabbed her purse with the other as Scott slid from behind the wheel in the car in front of her.

  She tried not to stare as he walked toward her, but how could she not, when he looked so handsome in his khaki slacks, cotton oxford shirt and polished loafers? She was glad now she’d
bought the new capris and boat-neck knit top she’d donned this morning. Not that she’d needed them. She had plenty of clothes in her closet. Yet after she’d spotted the outfit in a store window on Thursday, she’d behaved completely out of character and made an impulse purchase.

  Her reward was Scott’s thorough but discreet once-over—not to mention his appreciative smile.

  “You look very nice today.” His smile warmed a few more degrees as she exited the car.

  She resisted the urge to fan her face.

  “Thanks.” She brushed the creases out of her capris, trying without success to steady her fluttering pulse. “I see you brought an extra guest.” She gestured toward Toby, who was leaping about the back of the car, scratching at the window, anxious to get to Jarrod.

  “A last-minute addition. I wasn’t certain how Gram would react, but I think it was a smart move. At first she seemed miffed, but she ended up letting Toby ride in her lap for most of the trip.” He took her elbow and guided her off the highway. “Let me help her out and we’ll be set.”

  Cindy waited as Scott opened the back door first and clipped a leash on Toby’s collar. The dog bounded out and barreled straight for Jarrod, who welcomed him with open arms.

  “You’re in charge.” Scott handed him the leash. “You two can entertain each other while we tour the gallery. Unless you want to come learn about art.”

  Jarrod scrunched up his face in disgust. “I’d rather stay out here.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Scott winked at her over her son’s head and turned back to the car to help his grandmother out.

  Once Barbara was on her feet and steady behind her walker, he shut the door. Toby tugged at his leash, straining to join his owner, and Jarrod walked the dog over to the older woman. Gripping her grandson’s arm, she bent down and gave the pooch a pet.

  “I told Scott it was silly to bring you along, but I can see you’ve found a new friend.” The pup nuzzled her hand and gave it a slurp. “My goodness. A doggie kiss. I’ve missed those.” Her voice hitched, and she tried to cover it with a cough.