"Mary," Beth searched for the words to express her thoughts, muddled as they seemed. "In some ways what you set in motion was just that. I needed to talk with my father about this. I needed to talk about it period." And only after speaking with him had she been able to understand how the huge weight the secret she’d kept to herself had worn on her. "I know he's worried," she smiled slightly. "Mostly because he watches me like a hawk, even more than he did when I first arrived. He fixes dinner which he hates doing and insists I eat it which I'd rather not."
Mary laughed at the vision Beth described. She knew how badly her cousin cooked. "He loves you very much. He might not have always known you but he's always loved you."
"I know." And nothing meant more to her.
"Will you let me know if there's anything I can do to help if you need it...please." Mary saw the hesitation, wasn't sure about its cause but because of her own feelings she had a sense, normal or otherwise, of what it might be. "Beth," she waited for her to look back at her before continuing. "I'm the last person to hand out advice on this. I've always wondered why my hunches worked out better than they should, beat the odds I guess you could say, but I always blew it off." She looked beyond Beth, out towards the alley that led to the childhood home of her mother and aunts, the home her family had ties to for over a century. "It was only when I came here a little over a year ago that I gave it any real serious thought. I couldn't tell you why but something drove me to."
"Maybe you weren't meant to until then."
Mary looked back at Beth. "Maybe," she agreed thoughtfully. "I may not have been open to anything outside of normal until then."
"That's one way of putting it," Beth said with a hint of cynicism.
Mary sighed, understanding the emotion. "You've met Jackson, haven't you?"
"Yes." Beth tilted her head wondering what the pastor of the nearby church had to do with this.
Mary smiled at her expression. She didn't need any help reading it. "I spoke with him about this once. Or I should say he spoke to me about it. Sometimes I wonder if it’s something in the water here. He has his own abilities." She smiled as her own thoughts drifted back to their conversation all those months ago. "He has a unique view of such things even more so considering his profession."
Beth found her own gaze shifting in the direction of where the church stood with its elegant steeple rising high above the old neighborhood over which it had stood for decades. Its bells often brought her comfort when little else could. "Maybe his profession allows him that unique view beyond that of others," she offered softly.
"You could be right," Mary agreed. "When he and I spoke of this I still wasn't as accepting as I've come to be." She sighed, the pragmatic person she’d always been still had a difficult time accepting anything outside of the ability to hear what was said, see what appeared in front of you, sense…touch...all those things that were tangible. Though she knew deep down so much that was intangible was real, it had to be taken on faith. Was that why Jackson was so comfortable with it...because his faith in a greater power was so strong? Or, she wondered, if it was that greater power that brought about the ability to see more than what could be seen.
Wasn't that what Jackson had said to her? She looked to Beth as she continued her thoughts. "Jackson explained his way of seeing it as that we’re given more." At Beth's confused look she elaborated, trying to use Jackson's own words, "You know that joke about how someone might have been in the back of the line when God was handing out brains or whatever?" At the young woman's nod she continued. "Jackson used that analogy except in his mind some people, like us," she clarified unnecessarily before continuing. "Some people were in the front of the line and given something extra, something that didn't necessarily make them better just a little different." She let out a deep breath, only now making the connection Jackson must have known she needed to see for herself.
"What?" Beth saw the sudden awareness in the other woman's face as if a light had suddenly flicked on.
"And," Mary spoke slowly as she let it work through her thoughts. "There's responsibility that comes with having that something extra." She looked steadily at Beth, understanding that for her it might not be quite as simple. "Certainly not to abuse it but also..."
"To use it for good," Beth finished for her. "Everything has a cost even if you didn't want it to start with."
Mary reached out to her again, understanding that this was the core of it. "Yes. Even when we don't ask for it." They stood there quietly as both absorbed the impact of their words, their thoughts. "Beth, I'm always here if you need me. But remember that your Dad is too. He wants to be there for you. He might not always understand but he's there to listen and sometimes that's more important than anything else."
"I know." And she did, now more than ever. Just as she felt more linked to this family she'd never known she had until recently. And in so many ways and wondered if her mother had known. As she had so often, she wondered all what her mother had known.
Beth looked out over the river as she and Wes walked along the pathway he had led them to. They'd had an early dinner and after finishing had decided to take a walk. She never tired of the beauty around every corner of this place.
"It's so beautiful here," she spoke her thoughts to Wes. She tilted her head as they approached the cabin overlooking the river. It was rare for them to walk here and not end up at the cabin. She asked Wes why.
"It makes me think about the cabin Sean and Mary must have lived in when they settled here." Wes walked around to the back of the old rustic cabin that was a prominent feature of Crapo Park. It was a replica of one built over a hundred years ago in this spot to remember those who had sacrificed so much to settle this land.
"Your ancestors?"
He nodded in agreement. "They came here in the early 1830's. Built a small cabin that was probably a lot like this one. I grew up on the stories about them and their lives here that were passed down through the family."
"Tell me." Beth took his hand and led him over to the bench they often sat at on the evenings they walked here.
"Their lives weren't easy. I understand that a lot more than I did when I was a kid listening to stories about Indians and bears. Sean died long before he should have and Mary's life before and after wasn't nearly all it could have been. They survived numerous skirmishes with the Blackhawk Indians." Wes looked out over the river as if searching back in time for what had been. "Mary is said to have chased a bear away with a broom though I’ve often wondered how true that one was with all I know now about bears." He shook his head slightly remembering how his grandmother could embellish the stories to keep them quiet and listening. "Fact or fiction, or a mix of the two, their lives weren't easy."
"How did Sean die?"
"An Indian attack. He held them off while Mary and their children escaped through an escape tunnel they'd dug. When Mary came back the cabin had been burned to the ground and Sean was lying dead not far from it." Wes looked at Beth, saw the compassion filling her eyes for those long ago gone. It didn't surprise him in the least. Her heart was gentle and her care for others never-ending. "The story has it that she buried him near the escape tunnel she had taken even as she'd begged him to come with them. Then she laid huge stones that no woman her size should have been able to move over the escape tunnel that he’d dug for them but not taken for himself. But in not doing so he very possibly saved his family by giving them time to."
Beth shifted as his words brought something to mind. "Stones?"
Wes played with her fingers unaware of her sudden increased alertness. "Yeah. She supposedly placed them in the pattern of their initials. So depending on how you looked at them you would see either an S or an M. Sean. Mary."
"Where?" Beth watched his face, knowing even before he spoke he didn't know. Couldn't know she did.
"That's the kicker. We've researched it until we're blue in the face. All we know for certain is the cabin was somewhere north of here, the park
, and within a mile of the river. And believe me. We've looked hard. Word also was that Mary left a treasure behind in the tunnel. I've heard everything from a family bible to gold nuggets as to what she might have left there. I'd just love to know where it is because that's also Sean's resting place. To me that's far more important to know than whatever may or may not be in the tunnel if it even still exists. It's been a long time, it could easily have collapsed in the almost two hundred years it’s been since he died."
"Wes."
He looked up quickly more because of the catch in her voice than anything else. Saw the tears and almost didn't hear her words as he drew her close not even knowing why it was he was trying to give comfort.
"I know where it is."
Less than an hour later Wes stood next to Beth behind the Summer Street house. Across from them stood Court and Carrie who’d been called as Wes drove from the park to the house. Between all of them was the grouping of large stones Casey had first noticed shortly after Mary had bought the house. They had all been down here in the back corner of the yard wondering how the rocks had been put in place. They were definitely in the shape of an S. Or an M depending on which direction you looked at them. Not far from the stones was a slight depression in the ground. It didn't take much to imagine it might well be the location of Sean's grave.
"Maybe we could bring in cadaver dogs," Court spoke softly.
Beth sighed. They weren't going to need them. She spoke in almost a whisper. "He's here." She felt a gentle warmth deep inside her when Wes slipped her hand in his. "This is his place. Mary was right to bury him here. This was his home."
"Okay." Carrie rested her head against Court's shoulder immediately accepting her niece's words. "We need to tell Mary. If I know her, and I do, she'll want to build something special here. Maybe a picket fence or something. I know she's not going to want to just leave it like this."
"We'll get him a marker," Wes said quietly.
"Something simple." Court sighed deeply. Thought about everything his mother had told him and even then there was precious little they really knew about this man and the life he lived. "I think he would have wanted something simple."
"Isn't it interesting that your great-great grandfather is buried on the same land our great-grandparents settled on when they came here from Sweden?" Carrie wondered out loud.
"Mary's great-great grandfather too," Court reminded her.
"That's right." Carrie looked out past the trees that lined the back of the property. How coincidental was it, she wondered, that this land had been settled almost two hundred years ago by a man who was Mary's, as well as Court's and Wes's, ancestor on her cousin's father's side then a hundred years later settled by ancestors on their mother's side of the family. She looked up at Court. "Mary will take this quietly in stride but I think it is unbelievably intriguing."
"What about the tunnel?" Wes asked.
Court ran his hands through his hair. Carrie was right. It was intriguing. Almost to the point of being slightly creepy. This was the kind of stuff he wrote about. Not something that happened in real life. "Let's talk with Mary. I know her well enough that she'll be open to checking out the tunnel to find out if it’s even still there. If it was ever there."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Carrie glanced over at Court as she reached for her cell phone. He looked up from his desk where he sat in front of his laptop. They’d taken to spending most evenings together unless she had plans with Addie. Often Addie would spend time with them but she knew she could always reach her on her cell if she needed. Only minutes before Court had moved over to the desk to make a note so he wouldn't forget it later, something she'd gotten used to and assured him she had no problem with.
"Hi, honey." She answered the phone wondering what Addie needed.
"Aunt Carrie."
Carrie could hear the edginess in her niece's voice and reacted immediately. Even as she spoke into the phone she was standing up, moving to grab hold of her purse, and then to the back door. "What is it honey?"
"Uncle Nick is here."
That stopped her in her tracks. The look on her face must have been similar to her thoughts because Court rose as well and walked towards her with worry etched on his.
"He wants to talk with you," she paused, catching her breath. "If you have a few moments."
"Okay, I'm on my way."
"It's okay, Aunt Carrie. We're just talking." Addie looked into the other room, lowered her voice. "He said he's proud of me." She swallowed hard. "He said I'm just about the most courageous person he's ever known."
"Of course he is, honey. He wants to make sure you know how he feels just in case you don't already." She slipped her feet back into the shoes she'd discarded shortly after her arrival, "I'll be there in a few minutes. Why don't you get your uncle something to drink?"
"Okay, I will." Carrie could still here the nerves that simmered through to the surface but her niece sounded much calmer than when she'd first answered the phone. Now she turned to deal with Court. "Nick's at the house for an unexpected visit with Addie." It sounded feeble even to her own jaded ears. For Addie's sake she desperately hoped she was being overly paranoid.
"I'm going with you," was all he said. Simple and direct.
"You don't need to," she tried without expecting to be successful.
"No problem, I've always wanted to meet a senator."
Lovely, she thought to herself. With a gentle sigh that didn't go far in expressing her feelings on the matter she led the way out the back door and into the alley that meandered around to their destination. She had little doubt Addie would be watching for her. As they passed by the carriage house she sent up a small prayer her mother was otherwise occupied and not aware of their surprise visitor. On the best of days her mother barely tolerated her ex-husband. She didn't want to test her behavior now after what had been an ugly and expensive divorce proceeding. Truthfully, if it weren't for Addie, she wouldn't be up to testing her own reaction to the man.
"Carrie."
"Umm..." she was barely able to utter the sound before she was yanked back and around up against the man who had been quietly walking behind her. It didn't take her long to realize quiet wasn't the state of his mood. After the hard...and there was no other way to describe it...and possessive kiss, she simply looked up at him. His eyes were on hers and didn't waver at her questioning look.
With another sigh she decided to take the cowardly route and not address the caveman attitude. Instead she leaned her forehead weakly against his chest. The man could kiss. Of that there was no doubt. "Feel better?" she asked softly.
"Marginally," he allowed without a shred of apology for his actions.
"Let's go." She moved to do just that to find herself held tight in arms still wrapped around her. She waited knowing whatever it was he had to say would come on his own schedule.
Court let out a deep breath. "I don't like the man."
Carrie laughed lightly, feeling better by the moment. Whatever nerves she had over this upcoming meeting were evaporating with the knowledge the man beside her hated the thought of it even more than she. "You've never met him."
"I don't need to," he said gruffly. "He was married to you." He let his head fall down gently onto hers. He knew he sounded stupid but couldn't help it.
"Yes," she agreed, thinking of what she had learned growing up with four brothers. It wasn't always that their egos were huge, it was that they could often be fragile at the most unexpected times. "And after all those years it was I who divorced him." She reminded him in a soft voice that was all the more expressive because of it.
"Yeah," he said, expelling a long breath held while he waited for her answer. He knew he wasn't being reasonable. He wrote about characters that on their worst days were more reasonable than what he was demonstrating.
Carrie took his hand in hers and walked around the yard to the front door lit brightly by the porch light. She was surprised not
to see Addie's face pressed up against the window pane awaiting her arrival. Reminding herself the man inside no longer had any say in her choices or her life she turned the vintage knob and pushed the door open. The sound of voices coming from the kitchen gave her the direction to take and she did. Entering the room she wasn't surprised to find her former husband and his niece sitting across from each other at the large table. She was surprised that the conversation going on between the two was steady and calm. Both turned to look at her as she walked into the room with Court right behind her.
"Aunt Carrie, you'll never guess what Uncle Nick is going to do!" Addie could barely stay seated and the obvious excitement in her voice spilled over into her every movement and expression. In that moment Carrie found it hard to feel unconditional animosity for her ex-husband. Not when whatever he'd been speaking with Addie about had brought such joy to her face in a way she'd seen only a few times, too few times, since her arrival in Burlington.
With an ease she was far from feeling she moved to the table and took a seat, aware with every movement that Court was right behind her and then right beside her at the table. If the situation weren't so tense it would tilt on the verge of ridiculous. "What's up?" She tried for a casual tone and had no idea if she’d been successful or not. Not that anyone would notice in an atmosphere fraught with so many overwhelming emotions.
"Uncle Nick is going to do a video for our website." Addie could barely get the words out coherently. She had never expected this. And she knew how much this could do to bring even more attention to what had become her way of getting beyond what had happened to her. "And he wants me to be in it with him." She looked to her aunt, knowing no matter what she wouldn't do it if it hurt her. She unconsciously held her breath waiting for what her aunt would say.
Summer Street Secrets (The Hills of Burlington Book 3) Page 20
