They kept rooting through the attic, digging through dusty boxes crammed full of black-and-white photos, old light fixtures, a chair with a torn cane seat, gilded picture frames, and a table that had a large gash sliced down its center. All the pieces had been sent to the attic, a kind of purgatory between the downstairs and the rubbish bin.
“Hey, look at this box,” Natasha said.
The girl knelt in front of a steamer chest. Its edges were neither smooth or feminine, but instead rough and worn. Carved on the lid were the letters JL.
Lucy traced the letters. “James Latimer. Jimmy.”
Natasha rattled a lock fastened to the center latch. “Locked.”
“What would his locker be doing up here? His family should have ended up with this.”
“Wasn’t it just his mom and him?” Natasha asked.
“You’re right. Maybe there wasn’t anyone to take it.” And Claire had loved him.
“You can tell Mrs. B hadn’t forgotten him,” Natasha said. “Her voice always softened when she talked about him.”
The girl was right. Even after eighty years, the woman had not forgotten the man who had saved her from the turbulent bay waters. “Can you help me get it downstairs?”
“Yeah, sure.” She pushed back a dark lock of curled hair. “This is way better than homework, or Nashville, I bet.”
It was all interesting. But was it enough to stay and give up her life?
They each lifted an end and carried the heavy locker down the first set of stairs. After a moment to catch their breath and shut off the lights, they worked their way down to the first floor.
Dolly ran ahead into the kitchen and barked. Lucy followed. When they reached the first floor, they found Hank standing by the center island with two boxes of pizza and a six-pack of soda.
“I’m starving,” Natasha said. “How do you always know when I’m hungry?”
“You’re always hungry,” he said. He flipped open a box, revealing a cheese-and-pepperoni pizza as he shifted his attention to Lucy. “You didn’t eat today. Figured you’d be hungry. And pizza is the only real take-out option in the off-season.”
A smile spread across her face. “Thank you.”
“I’m starving!” Natasha picked up a gooey piece, letting the cheese wrap around her finger. She pinched off a chunk and handed it to a waiting Dolly before she bit into the slice. “We found a chest,” she said.
Hank crossed to the sink and grabbed the roll of paper towels. He tore off a section and handed it to her. “Did you?”
“James Latimer’s.”
“Who’s that?” Hank asked.
Natasha waggled her eyebrows. “The guy Mrs. B loved before Mr. B.”
Hank grinned. “Really? Mrs. B had a secret life?”
“Secrets are like buried treasure here,” Lucy heard herself say as she grabbed a slice.
“My family and I are an open book,” Hank said.
“What’s that mean?” Lucy asked.
“Dad and I had a frank discussion today,” Hank said.
“So is he Lucy’s daddy?” Natasha asked.
“He. Is. Not. Natasha.” He grabbed a slice for himself and bit into it. He always spoke clearly. But now, if it were possible, the words had an extra-sharp edge.
“Is that what he told you?” Lucy asked. “Because sometimes people are not totally truthful, Hank.”
“Not my father. He’s ready to take a DNA test to put this thing to bed immediately.”
“Really?” Lucy asked. “He’ll have a DNA test?”
“Absolutely. Anytime. Anywhere. His words exactly.”
Lucy had learned to spot BS in seconds while tending bar. It was a skill honed while serving thousands of drinks to a cast of characters and charlatans. “I might take him up on it.”
“I hope you do.”
The three ate, talking about the chest, the discoveries in the attic, and Natasha’s excitement to share in school what she’d found today. There was a normalcy about it all that was a little unsettling.
Lucy faced two hard truths. This cottage, this life, was already tugging at her. It would expect a lot from her. And she was afraid she wouldn’t measure up. The second truth was that nothing lasted forever.
Lucy glanced at the clock. “Natasha, it’s almost eight. You need to get ready for bed.”
“I never go to bed before eleven.”
“Not here,” Lucy said. “Lights out at nine.”
“That’s too early. I’m in fifth grade.”
Lucy shrugged. “I feel your pain, kid. I do. But I won’t be far behind you. It’s been a long day.”
“But what about the chest?” Natasha asked.
“I’ll bring some of my tools tomorrow,” Hank said. “We can open it after school.”
“Promise?” Natasha arched a brow, daring Lucy to join the long line of people who’d broken promises to her.
Another promise. Lucy wiped the cheese from her hand and stuck out her little finger. “It’s a deal.”
Natasha wrapped her pinkie around Lucy’s, holding it tight. “Swear?”
“Swear.”
The subtle tension rippling through the kid’s body eased a fraction. She released Lucy’s hand and took another bite of pizza. “Can Dolly sleep with me?”
“Take her out for a quick walk first.”
“Okay.” She grabbed another slice.
Lucy handed Natasha the flashlight. “Stay close to the house. I don’t need you to find a new well the hard way.”
“Got it.” Natasha winked at the dog, and the two dashed outside.
Hank wrapped the last uneaten slices in cling wrap and put them in the refrigerator. When he turned, he looked at her with such seriousness it unsettled her. “I meant what I said about the DNA test.”
“I understand.”
“If he said he didn’t sleep with Beth, then he didn’t.”
She held up her hands. “Accepted.”
He crossed the room until he was inches from her.
“Why do you care, Hank?”
His aftershave blended with his masculine scent and body heat. And the way he looked at her made her chest feel tight as her stomach fluttered.
He raised his hand to her face and cupped it. Rough calluses brushed her cheek. She didn’t want to kiss him, because she knew she’d like it. And liking always led to disappointment.
Still, she leaned in toward him just a fraction. She couldn’t seal the deal and press her lips to his. But she could offer a hint to see if he was paying attention.
He was.
Hank raised his other hand and very gently pressed his lips to hers. The almost chaste kiss vibrated with energy and was about the most erotic experience of her life. She moistened her lips and hovered within inches of him. Again, he pressed his lips to hers, but this time there was a heightened urgency that stirred a primal pull. She imagined taking him up to the pink bedroom and . . .
The front door banged open. “Success!” Natasha shouted. “Number one and two!”
Lucy stepped back from Hank and pressed her fingertips to her lips, drawing in a breath before she turned and crossed to Natasha. She blinked, tried to shake off the kiss, and scrounged a smile. “So you’re headed up?”
“I am.”
Beth had been more of a high-fiver than a hugger kind of mom. She’d treated Lucy like a friend more than a daughter, so whatever mothering had happened between them Lucy had to initiate.
Lucy wasn’t Natasha’s mother, sister, or cousin, but as she stood there feeling blown away by Hank’s kiss and the emotions of the day, she couldn’t let the moment pass. And a high five sure didn’t cut it.
She took Natasha’s chilled fingers in her hand and squeezed. “Thank you for today.”
The girl’s wide-eyed expression softened, and then she frowned. “Yeah, sure. No sweat.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” A lifetime of hiding had her scrambling back toward the practical everyday things that didn’t
require thought. “I’ll take you to school tomorrow. If you want cold pizza, I can pack it for your lunch.”
“Cool.” The girl turned, stopped, wrapped her thin arms around Lucy, and hugged her. For such a skinny kid, she hugged like she was drowning and holding on for her life.
Lucy slowly raised her arms and held the girl. “Maybe chips and a bottled water too.”
“Perfect.” Natasha broke away quickly and bounded up the stairs with the dog on her heels. The girl’s laughter mingled with the dog’s bark.
“I’ll see you back here tomorrow afternoon,” Hank said as he came up behind her.
“Really? Okay?” She swallowed, searched for a steady voice, and faced him. “I’m sorry, why’re you coming back tomorrow?”
He crossed the entryway and paused at the front door. “To open the chest.”
“Right, yes. Of course. Like opening Al Capone’s vault.”
When the door closed behind him, she expelled the breath she’d been holding. Somewhere in the walls a pipe clanged, and in another room, a window rattled.
“Mrs. B, your cottage is sucking me in, and you and I know there’s always another shoe to drop. What aren’t you telling me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lucy
January 18, 2018
Lucy dropped Natasha off at school at eight. The library wouldn’t open for another two hours, so she took Dolly to the shore at the edge of town and walked the beach for almost an hour before she loaded the dog back into the Jeep and took her back to the cottage. After changing quickly, she arrived at the library when it opened at ten.
Mrs. Reynolds was behind the front counter, frowning at a computer screen. When she felt the rush of cold air trailing behind Lucy, she looked up and smiled. “Lucy. How are you doing?”
“I’m well.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to find out more about James Latimer. I think I found his sea chest in the attic of Winter Cottage.”
“Really? Now that’s fascinating. I’ve been pulling anything I could find about the area just before World War I. Retrieving those articles for you just got me to wondering.
“James was a jack of all trades, like many of the men in these parts. He was a gunner for the rich hunters.”
“A gunner?”
“Basically a guide. He took wealthy hunters to the best spots for hunting duck. I read a diary account that said he knew the waterways on this island better than anyone in the county. And when he wasn’t doing that, he manned the lighthouse as an assistant keeper. On top of that, at seventeen, he joined the merchant marines. Jimmy was home on leave, as he often was in the fall, and his first day back, he swam out to a capsized boat and saved a young girl from drowning.”
“Mrs. B talks about him saving her.”
“Really? The girl was never identified in the papers. Interesting. He continued to rise up through the ranks in the merchant marines, and shortly before the war broke out, he was a captain with his own ship.”
“The Mariah and the Reverie?”
“That’s right. But how did you know about the Reverie?”
“Mrs. B’s tapes. She also talked about having dinner with him and the Jessups before he left on his last tour. She was worried sick about him.”
“In this small town, I imagine everyone was saying a prayer for them. And folks were hearing stories about the German U-boats sinking any ships they could.”
“It was awful to discover he died at sea.”
Mrs. Reynolds adjusted her glasses. “He didn’t die at sea. He survived that attack.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“There was an explosion aboard the Reverie when it was struck by a torpedo. The first reports indicated all men were lost at sea, but that wasn’t true. Jimmy was badly burned while saving over a dozen men. When he was released from the hospital and arrived home in the summer of 1917, everyone rushed up to see him. The folks were appalled at his condition. Several accounts mentioned that the right side of his face was a solid, indistinguishable mass of scar tissue. Jimmy retreated to the boathouse and became a recluse.”
Lucy thought about the young, beautiful man Claire had loved. He’d been a man who’d risked his life for the people of this town. “What happened to him?”
“Not long after he returned, he went out in a storm with Robert Buchanan, and neither came back.”
“Why would he go out in a storm with Robert?”
“The sheriff asked Mrs. Buchanan several times, but she said she didn’t know. And if she did, she took the truth to her grave.”
“Were Robert and Jimmy friends?”
“My grandmother remembers Robert. He wasn’t well liked in town. There were rumors that he gambled and drank. His father’s fortune had made him less of a man.”
“Did Mrs. B know her husband’s true nature?”
Mrs. Reynolds shook her head. “There were theories, but no one really knew.”
“What were the theories?”
“Robert and Mrs. B’s marriage did not go over well with the senior Mr. Buchanan. He banished Robert to Winter Cottage with a very small allowance. Robert contracted influenza even before his troop ship set sail for Europe. In the end he never got beyond the New York City docks. He returned to Winter Cottage ready to divorce his wife, but she was very pregnant at that point. He had no choice but to wait, and the longer he waited, the more resentful he became. He drank a lot, and some of the servants saw bruises on Mrs. B’s arms. James Latimer wouldn’t have been the kind of man who would tolerate behavior like that.”
Natasha
Natasha was proud of herself. She’d gone a whole morning without wanting to punch anyone, curse, or cry. She’d paid attention in English class and knew all the answers in math and in history, and she’d shared what she and Lucy had found in the attic. The teacher and kids were really interested. It was a cool story. And it was hers to tell.
So when she came out of the school ten minutes early, she didn’t mind the cold, and she wasn’t thinking about where she was going to sleep tonight, if she’d have food in her belly, or if her father was going to make trouble. She was thinking about the trunk that had belonged to James Latimer. He’d been a sailor. He’d traveled the world. A kind of hero. And maybe he’d brought back buried treasure.
The rumble of her father’s truck engine was her first yank back to reality and a clear sign that the good times never lasted. At first she kept walking and didn’t dare turn around. Sometimes he just hovered, usually in his truck because his knees were bothering him. Old football injury, he once said.
But as the engine grew louder, she tightened her hand on the strap of her backpack and turned to face him. It would only be worse if she ignored him when he caught up to her.
Her father parked and eased out of the cab, but he kept the engine running. A beer can tumbled out after him. He moved slower these days, but she wasn’t fooled. All he had to do was land one punch to flatten her. “Natasha!”
She glanced around and was sorry now for being early. She stepped back, hating herself for not being brave enough to hold her ground. But both knew one of his backhanded slaps always softened up whatever toughness she’d mustered for the rest of the world.
“Come here,” he said. He was smiling, but he always smiled when he wanted something.
Her chin trembled, but she still raised it in defiance. “I’m waiting for Lucy.”
He looked around, didn’t see anyone yet, and took a step toward her. He winced as his knee buckled a bit. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Maybe she could outrun him now, but there’d always be a later. “I don’t want to talk now, Dad.”
The smile melted faster than butter on a hot day. “Get in the truck. I’m picking you up and taking you home.”
She looked around, seeing the first few students trickle out. The last bell would ring soon, and everyone would be out here. “I’m staying with Lucy right now. I’m not staying at home.”
“Let go of me!” He reeked of beer, whiskey, and body odor all rolled up together.
He twisted her arm, and pain shot up through her body. “I don’t appreciate your back talk. Your mama had a mouth on her, and I never did like it either.”
Natasha cried out and dropped to a knee. “Daddy, just let me go.”
“I’m not letting you go until I get you home and you tell me all you know about your new friend.” He wrenched her arm, and she cried out. She could swear bone was breaking. Excruciating pain and nausea overwhelmed her.
And then when she thought she couldn’t draw in another breath, she heard the honking of a horn, a dog snarling, and a woman screaming. It was fury unleashed and closing fast on her.
Her father tightened his grip. As she looked up, Lucy was teeing up her baseball bat, and Dolly was ready to take a bite.
Lucy’s face was twisted with fury, and she looked a little possessed. “I’ll crack your skull right where you stand if you don’t step away from that kid.”
“What do you care how I discipline my kid?”
“I’ve cracked more skulls with this bat than I can remember, and adding yours to the list won’t mean much to me. In fact, I might land in jail. But I promise you that you’ll be eating through a straw for a long time.” Dolly growled and moved forward. “And my dog bites.”
Her father’s smirk faded, and his grip loosened. “To hell with you.”
Natasha jerked away from him, holding her arm and not sure if she should stay or run. She looked toward the entrance of the school, and a teacher with a cell phone was already calling someone.
Her father lunged toward Lucy, but she was already in midswing. She caught him on the shoulder with the bat. He hollered and jumped back. “What the hell? You hit me?”
Dolly got between him and Natasha and started snapping.
Lucy cocked the bat for the next swing. “And I’m just getting warmed up. Maybe I can get in a few more swings before the sheriff arrives. He should be here any second.”
Winter Cottage Page 23
