by Lynn Bulock
Now Miranda had found a way through the barrier. She couldn’t have found that way by herself; God had to be leading the charge. This all had to be something from God, because it had His fingerprints all over it. Here was this person right in front of him, coming to him unafraid and seeing everything, willing to love him just where he was and just as he was. Does this remind you of anyone you already know? a small voice inside of him teased. Of course it did. The risen Lord that he spent every day trying to serve worked exactly the same way.
Greg realized, in the time he had taken to come to grips with all of this, he had kept the kiss going with Miranda. Drawing back reluctantly, he sat there on the blanket with her, feeling breathless and a little stunned. “Wow,” was all he could say for quite some time.
As if there was an echo mixing in with the crash of waves on the nearby shore, Miranda mirrored his comment. “Wow is right. I’m thirty-three years old and, obviously, I’ve been kissed before. Or at least I thought I had been. After that, though, I’d have to say that I’ve been kissed before but I haven’t really been kissed until just now.”
She was going to think he was a real idiot, but all Greg could do was nod as he sat listening to the waves and holding Miranda’s hand. For a few moments the touch and the silence was enough. Finally he had to break the spell. “Do you think I should take you back to the house?” he asked.
“I do,” she answered. Miranda looked as solemn, in a thoughtful kind of way, as Greg felt. Together they slowly packed up the remains of the picnic, folded the beach blanket and started for the house at the top of the bluffs.
“It feels so good to be out here in the fresh air,” Greg said, enjoying the salt tang of the air and the breeze that ruffled Miranda’s long skirt. “Maybe we can do something else together outside soon. Winnie gave me an idea for another outing that you might like.”
“Oh? Tell me more.” Miranda looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. Her smile picked him up every time he saw it, which wasn’t enough for his taste. “Where we ate lunch down there wasn’t too far from the entrance to some caves she told me about during the tour of the house she gave me. Have you ever been in them?”
Miranda shook her head. “Not really. I’ve been in the part of the cellar that leads to them, but that’s as far as I ever went. And naturally that was with Delia and Juliet egging me on when we were all much younger.”
“I want to really get to know your sister Delia sometime. What little I’ve seen, and everything I’ve heard, makes me think that she must be quite an interesting woman.”
Miranda laughed. “All my sisters are interesting women. What I wouldn’t give to have all six of us sit down with Mama and ask her where we get some of the traits that I certainly don’t see as part of the Blanchard legacy. I talked to my grandmother Eleanor when she was here but somehow it just isn’t the same.”
Greg couldn’t resist coming closer and gathering her in his arms to try to ease the wistful look on her face. “I hope and pray that someday soon you’ll get the chance to ask her, Miranda. If your mother is alive, it’s difficult for me to imagine a situation where God wouldn’t let that happen.”
“And thanks to Cat, our new private investigator, we’re all surer than ever that she’s alive, or at least she was recently.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and Greg had to fight not to hug her too tightly. Miranda brought out a strong urge in him to protect her, but he had to let her be strong and independent, too.
“There you two are,” a cheery voice called out, making Miranda stand up straight again. Winnie, wearing a floppy straw hat and a denim dress came toward them with rose-pruning shears in hand. “Greg, could we induce you to stay a while longer than you’d planned this afternoon? I know you must be busy, but it’s such a glorious day that I’m trying to do something spur of the moment.”
“And what would that be, Winnie? Coming from you, that could mean something quite interesting.”
“Just tea in the gazebo, mostly family. Almost all of the girls voiced their opinion that last night’s party was a little over-the-top, and I thought perhaps we could enjoy the roses at their height and one another’s company at the same time. It’s getting to be a rare occasion when this many of them are home.” Winnie’s brow wrinkled slightly. “And I suppose it will be even rarer as more of them marry. But then, that’s the way God intends things, isn’t it?”
“‘A man will leave his mother and father and join with his wife and they become one,’” Greg said in agreement, quoting Matthew. “And since you seem to be instrumental in a lot of these prospective ‘joinings’ then you have to accept them.”
“Yes, but I certainly hope most of them settle near here so that I can play with their children,” Winnie said.
Greg was about to laugh, but noticed that Miranda was flushing bright pink, so he tried not to do anything that might embarrass her further.
“So, back to tea in the gazebo,” Greg said, redirecting the conversation a bit. “Will Mr. Blanchard be joining us?”
Winnie sniffed. “The only Blanchard male joining us will be my father, Pastor Greg. Ronald is back to work, business as usual. But it’s such a beautiful day that Peg agreed to have Father come down on the elevator so he might enjoy the sunshine.”
“In that case I’d be happy to stay,” he told Winnie. Even though it probably meant he’d be in his office late tonight once he got back to the church, it would be worth it to really get to know Miranda’s family better.
“I think you impressed Winnie with your willingness to move furniture and help set up everything,” Miranda told him about ninety minutes later when everything was all arranged in the gazebo and Sonja and one of her helpers were busy setting the tea tables.
“Hey, you’d be surprised at how many foodservice jobs I can do. It comes from working my way through college and seminary,” Greg told her. “You should see me clean a kitchen.”
“You’re probably much better at it than I am,” she said, smiling.
“Better at what?” Juliet asked as she bounced up the steps to the gazebo. She hugged Miranda quickly on the fly then came over to Greg.
“Good afternoon, Juliet. I’m surprised your father gave you the day off to visit with your sisters.”
She shook her head, laughing. “I’ve got so much comp time coming that I could take off a week already. I even convinced Brandon that he should use some of his and quit early so that he could join us.”
The young woman glowed with health, and her happiness when she mentioned Brandon DeWitt made her even more beautiful. “You certainly look better than the last time we really got a chance to talk.”
Juliet wrinkled her nose. “Nobody looks good after being poisoned. Do you think Alannah put Marc up to that?” she asked, referring to the chef’s assistant who had been planted in the Blanchard household for malicious purposes. “I’ll confess to reading the newspaper articles about her journal, and it makes me wonder…”
“Don’t believe everything you read, kid.” Mick Campbell strode up behind his future sister-in-law and patted her on the head about the same way he might Kaitlyn. Juliet grimaced at him but otherwise let the gesture pass. As the oldest and youngest members of this family group, Greg suspected that they must have their share of run-ins.
Before any more of a fracas could start, Winnie was there directing traffic and instructing the men present on how to position a ramp up the two stairs to the gazebo so that Howard and his wheelchair could join them with ease. It was a good twenty minutes before everyone settled down again and by then other topics of conversation had come up.
Greg looked at the plate in front of him, wondering if he’d ever get used to the kind of household where a woman like Winnie could decide in the morning to have tea in the rose garden and have this array of sandwiches, pastries and cookies at her fingertips by afternoon. Tate Connolly seemed to be wondering the same sort of thing. He caught Greg’s eye and shrugged, smiling. It wasn’t his style, but obviously almost anyth
ing Winnie did met with his approval.
Miranda stood up and the group quieted around their round tables spread through the gazebo. “Before I forget, I’ve got a question. Who’s been inside the caves under the house? Gregory wants us to go explore them and I want to make sure it’s all right.”
“You’re getting my sister in those caves? I’m impressed,” Juliet said. “The farthest we could ever get her was the passageway from the basement. Even though we assured her they were perfectly safe as long as you avoid high tide, she wouldn’t ever go in.”
“What happens at high tide?” Brandon asked from beside her.
Greg knew the answer to that one. “The entrance from the beach floods and you can’t see where the sharp spots are on the cave floor. And in some places it gets deep enough that anyone but a strong swimmer would be in trouble.”
“Now how did you know that?” Mick asked.
“I made a trip to the Historical Society archives,” Greg admitted. “They’ve got great maps of the place.”
“What are they talking about?” Howard Blanchard seemed to stir from the doze he’d been in since Peg Henderson had wheeled him into the gazebo.
“Caves, Grandfather. The ones that join to the house.” Portia, sitting close to him, spoke loudly enough for him to understand.
“Caves? Never liked them myself. But I heard something about them not too long ago. What was it, Peg?”
“I think it was on the television, Howard. You know how you like those nature shows.” She smiled at him indulgently. “Now that you’re awake, do you want a cookie? Andre made those cinnamon ones you’re so fond of.”
Greg wondered what it must be like to come to the end of a long life like Howard Blanchard’s and be faced with all the decisions one had made over the course of eighty plus years. What did he regret? What was he proud of? Looking at Miranda standing beside him, Greg decided that if he got that old, she was the kind of woman he’d want by his side.
Catching his eye, it was as if Miranda somehow understood some part of his thoughts. Sitting down swiftly, she continued to look deeply into his eyes. He took her hand and they sat quietly as the swells of conversation rose around them.
THIRTEEN
“So, are you ready for this?” Greg stood outside the back door, wearing jeans, hiking boots and a sweatshirt over a button-down shirt. “I want to make sure that you’re dressed right for this. Have you ever done any serious hiking before?”
“Not really.” Miranda looked down at her outfit. “I borrowed something from everybody, I think. Juliet insisted I take a pair of her old jeans, Winnie gave me a sweater and Portia made sure I had waterproof shoes. She’s so petite I can’t wear anything of hers, but she knows just what to wear for almost anything.”
“I love it. You’ve been dressed by committee. And they did a good job of it, too. All I might recommend is a hat.”
Miranda felt herself blushing. “I’ve actually got one, but it’s so out of my usual realm that I left it in my room. Mick left a Police Association ball cap here and Portia insisted I take it. I’ve never worn a ball cap in my entire life.”
“I bet you’d look cute in it, though. But then I’m beginning to believe you might look cute in just about anything.”
He was actually flirting with her! Miranda found herself grinning. Maybe with Greg she might even learn to flirt back.
“Come on in and let’s get this going,” she said. “The first thing I want to do is go down into the basement and make sure that the door there is unlocked. I don’t want to go into the cave that way. It would feel like cheating. But if we stay in there past high tide in a couple hours, I want to make sure we have a way out.”
“Good thinking. It sounds like between us we might have this covered.”
For the first time Miranda noticed the backpack Greg carried. “Does this mean you’ve got supplies in there?”
“Just the basics. Sometimes I break the cardinal rule of most outdoor activity and hike alone. I know you’re not supposed to do that, but some weeks my hike on Monday or Tuesday is my only real alone time.” He shrugged. “Janice worries when I do that, so I try to reassure her by carrying this. In it is my cell phone, a couple bottles of water, a flashlight, rope and a very small first-aid kit. All that is probably overkill for a cave that’s directly under your house, but I thought it might reassure you.”
“It does.” She’d known Greg was a clearheaded kind of guy, and now she had proof. Any lingering doubt she’d had about this excursion evaporated. By now they were in the basement facing the heavy door that led into the cellar passageway. Miranda took a set of keys from a hook near the door and unlocked both locks. She tried the knob and, after a little work, the heavy door swung inward, letting in a blast of cold, dank air. “At least we have proof that we can get through that way,” she said.
Leaving the lights on, they went upstairs. Greg followed along while Miranda got her cap. “Maybe afterward I’ll show you my studio,” she told him as they went down the back stairs to the first floor. With Gregory beside her that incident of hearing eerie music several weeks ago felt half a lifetime away.
Outside in the sunshine it felt ever further away. It didn’t take long to get down to the beach and stand before the entrance to the cave. Miranda took a deep breath. “Well, let’s do it.”
“In a moment. I think we should say a prayer together first.” Greg faced her and took her hands in his. How did the man keep such warm hands all the time? “Lord, thank You for this wonderful day. Please keep us safe on this adventure together, and show us the wonders of this small part of Your world. Guide us in the direction You would have us go. We ask all this in Jesus’ name.”
“Amen,” Miranda said. What had prompted Greg to add that part about guidance? She didn’t know whether to ask him about it or not, so she stayed quiet. Greg took two flashlights out of his pack and they went into the cave.
For a while the path was fairly wide, and the size of the entrance let in a fair amount of light. “I can see why it would be dangerous at high tide.” Miranda played her flashlight over the uneven floor. In some places there was smooth rock, but in others sand and piles of beach shale made navigating more difficult. Twice as they went a little farther back into the cave, Greg had to help her step over little rivulets of water. In the half-light it was impossible to tell whether the streams were a few feet deep or bottomless.
After a while the passage narrowed to about seven feet across. “I can imagine smugglers using this for a hideout, can’t you?” Greg motioned with his flashlight down a passage branching off from the main way. “The maps at the Historical Society show at least half-a-dozen places that could have been used as storerooms.”
Miranda shivered, glad now that she had Winnie’s sweater on over her shirt. The deeper they went, the cooler and moister the air in the cave. “Do you think any of the little splashing noises might be rats?”
“It could be,” Greg said. “But I think it’s more likely just dripping water someplace, or maybe a pool back here somewhere that’s deep enough for small fish or some frogs. Even rats need some daylight part of the time.”
He squeezed her hand and Miranda squeezed back, glad that he hadn’t let her go after fording the last little wet spot. Some men might have laughed at her fear, but Greg had simply calmly reassured her instead.
The passageway sloped downward a little and widened into a room. In the light of Greg’s larger flashlight Miranda could see a few crates stacked in a far corner, and several barrels in another. “Probably leftovers from our rum-running friends,” Greg said. “I wonder if we’re looking at evidence of pirates or bootleggers.”
“Either way, it’s good to think that for a change there’s proof of something nefarious going on in Stoneley that didn’t involve my family. Even Grandfather would have been too young during Prohibition to be involved with anything down here.”
“True,” Greg agreed. “Although I imagine the old gentleman might have a few stories i
f we asked him. You know, many people with Alzheimer’s have less trouble relating an incident from their youth than telling you what they did yesterday.”
Miranda wondered what Howard might have to say about the caves and their possible contents. Had the cellar been built the way it was on purpose, to access the smugglers’ caves? Perhaps for a change she could have a conversation with her grandfather that might leave him in a better mood than she found him. The thought made her smile.
Somewhere ahead Miranda heard a small, liquid-sounding plop. Training her flashlight on the area she thought the sound came from, she didn’t see a frog or anything more threatening, but something caught the light and glittered.
“I want to see what’s over there,” she told Greg, pointing the beam of her light. They crossed the broad expanse, and Miranda stumbled a little several times while trying to avoid small pools of water. Once something made the surface beneath them slippery, and she almost fell.
“Maybe you might be better off over there.” Greg motioned to where a stone outcropping made what looked like a low bench coming out of the side of the cave wall. Miranda nodded and splashed over to the spot.
“Do you see anything else?” she asked a few minutes later when Greg reached the spot where she’d seen something that caught her eye.
“I do, but I’m not sure how to make sense of it all. I’ll bring it over to you and maybe with the two lights together it will be clearer.” Greg shifted his light to his left hand and picked up two small objects with his right. Picking his way carefully to where Miranda sat, he put his treasures down beside her.
“Are you sure you don’t have kids from town sneaking around here to party?” Greg’s expression looked fairly serious. “Although there aren’t any cans strewn around, and no evidence that anyone has made a fire.” He seemed to be deep in thought about something, and Miranda looked at the objects he’d laid down.
