by Wendy Webb
Kate took the photo from Simon. It was indeed a shot of their great-grandparents, posed sitting on a blanket at the edge of the lake. A picnic basket was in the foreground, and Kate could see a bottle of wine and a plate of food in front of the couples. Along with Harry and Celeste, there was another pair, a man and a woman of approximately the same age. All four of them appeared to be in great spirits.
The image caused Kate to take a quick breath in.
“My God,” she murmured, squinting at the photo to get a closer look. “It can’t be. It just cannot be.”
“What?” Simon asked.
Kate looked up from the image and stared at him, open mouthed. “We’ve got to get this picture into the light where I can see it better.” She scrambled to her feet and ran to the door.
“What is it, for God’s sake?” Simon called after her. But Kate didn’t stop to listen. In an instant she was flying down the stairs toward the second-floor landing, just as she and Simon had when they were children. She burst out of the dimly lit staircase into the vibrantly colored hallway, squinting and blinking at the harshness of the light. Simon was following close at her heels. He found Kate standing in the middle of the hallway under a bright light, staring at the photograph in her trembling hands.
“What?” he asked again.
Kate could barely squeak out the words: “This woman in the photograph, the one with Harrison and Celeste. It’s her.” She grasped her cousin’s arm so tightly it made him wince.
“Who?”
“It’s my woman,” Kate whispered, shaking Simon’s arm and looking deeply into his eyes. “This”—she waved the photo back and forth—“is the woman in my dreams. This is the woman who washed up dead on my beach last week.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Now it was Simon’s turn to stare, wide eyed.
“Simon, I’m not kidding,” Kate whispered. “It’s her. This is her. And that man sitting there with her is her husband. I’ve seen them both in my dreams. I know it as surely as I know my own name.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Great Bay, 1906
Addie awoke and looked out the window—it had to be the middle of the night, as there was no hint of dawn on the horizon. But she saw the purples and greens of the aurora borealis dancing high in the atmosphere. The sight of the northern lights always calmed Addie, and she lay there, watching the show and thinking.
It had been four years since Jess had left Great Bay. As Addie had suspected after the first letters, Jess had not returned home for Christmas or summer breaks, preferring to stay in the city with his roommate and various other friends he had made. Although they did not see each other during those years, Jess and Addie exchanged many letters and in doing so, created a closeness that perhaps wouldn’t have existed without the ability to write about what they saw, did, and felt. Jess enjoyed sitting down after a long day and putting his thoughts on paper. Writing to Addie allowed him to sort out how he felt about all the various things that were happening with him—classes, work, friendships. He wasn’t so much opening up to Addie in those letters as he was opening up to himself.
Neither Jess nor Addie was completely honest in their letters, and neither could detect the other’s dishonesty. Jess did not tell Addie about the women he had courted and, indeed, loved. Instead, he wrote about his roommate and the plans they were making for the future. They were becoming involved with a company owned by a local businessman, Jess told her, working part-time during the school year and full-time in the summers, laying the foundation for excellent jobs once they graduated. Jess’s life in the city seemed to be falling into place—a college degree, a job awaiting him. Friends. Addie wondered where she fit into the plans, and although she did not know it for sure, she had good reason to wonder. As graduation neared, Jess wrote incessantly about the future, but it had been years since he had mentioned their future together.
Jess did not tell Addie that he had long ago dropped the childish notion that the two of them would marry. If college had taught him one thing, it was to look to the future to choose his bride, not to the past. When he married, it would be to the most suitable woman he could find, a woman who could help him in business and in life. A sophisticated, educated woman, much like the ones he had been courting with great voracity these past four years. Someone like that delightful, if vacuous, Sally Reade, who could effortlessly host the kinds of dinner parties and soirees that were so necessary to get ahead in the world of business, who would laugh blithely and flirt with the older men in the firm whom Jess was trying to impress, who would inspire jealousy and envy and cast Jess, as her future husband, in a good light.
All these thoughts were the direct influence of his roommate, who, like Jess, had begun his life as the son of a poor man and was determined, with a passion brushing against zealotry, to rise up from those humble and indeed squalid beginnings, no matter the cost. Jess saw the wisdom in this, shuddering when he thought of a life alongside his father, toiling from dawn to dusk on that smelly, disgusting fishing boat. Jess detested fish. Just the sight of one of those slithery, slippery creatures on a dinner plate brought back the nausea he felt as a child during his first time out on the boat with his father. He had spent the entire day retching over the side. That was enough of that.
His new life in the city was far more appealing. By virtue of their good looks and cultivated charm, Jess and his roommate had begun to move—by design—in the circles of the wealthiest girls shortly after arriving there, girls with ties to the most successful families in the state.
On the strength of a recommendation from their part-time employer, the owner of Canby Lines, they were admitted to a fraternity. The pair of them moved into the fraternity house and began attending the kinds of parties that Jess hadn’t even imagined during his former life in Great Bay. Handsome young men in coats and ties (at first, Jess borrowed these accouterments until he had saved up enough money to purchase his own), glittering young women in party dresses, all of them drinking cocktails and touching his shoulder as they laughed about nothing at all. Jess was dazzled by this different breed of woman. He had never seen their like before—finely dressed, made up, sophisticated. They were a world away from the hard-working, sensible women of Great Bay. A world away from Addie, the child he had left behind. Just thirteen years old when Jess had left for college. That was really what Addie was. A child. Jess could see that now.
Still, that old sense of obligation continued to tie Jess to young Addie. All of their lives, Jess felt that he was responsible for Addie Cassatt. She did not have the sort of flighty, flirty nature of the women he was meeting; she was serious and deep and thought about things like the earth and the lake and nature, and how they all related to each other. They talked about these and other important things, connecting through their souls. As his college years wore on, Jess wondered if he would be able to keep his friendship with Addie that he so enjoyed while being married to another woman. Anything was possible, he told himself.
At the same time, Addie was wondering things as well. Like Jess, she had secrets of her own that her letters did not reveal. But they did not involve other boys, or thoughts that they would not share the future they had imagined. On the contrary, she still believed very much in their shared life together. Her secrets involved her dreams, which continued to plague her as the years passed. Disturbing, garbled images—Jess with other women, someone in danger at knifepoint, unseen babies crying, fog surrounding it all. Warnings from the past. In her darkest thoughts, Addie knew full well what these dreams meant to her, but those thoughts rarely made it to the surface of her young, naive mind. Teenaged girls have a way of holding fast to their illusions, even as those illusions are dissipating into the air. Denial of unpleasant reality is as powerful as the reality itself.
Addie was unconvinced of the truth of the story her mother had shown her on the morning after she’d had the first of the dreams. It seemed too fanciful, too much like a legend, to be true. And yet, didn’t legends start wit
h at least a grain of truth? And she couldn’t deny her rather special relationship with the lake, could she? And there was certainly no denying her great-grandmother’s horrible fate.
Addie imagined that Grand-mère would sit at the edge of her bed, hold her hands, and whisper kind words of consolation when the young girl awoke in the middle of the night, afraid of the images swirling around in her head. She did not know that her great-grandmother was watching all that transpired, that she was indeed sitting on the edge of her bed, whispering words into Addie’s ear. But they were not words of consolation. She was saying, as forcefully as she could muster, “Take heed, girl.”
During the long years of Jess’s absence, Addie passed the time like any other girl in town. She rode the bicycle Jess gave her, attended school, swam in the lake in any kind of weather, helped her parents—although, as she grew, her mother no longer allowed Addie to accompany her father and uncle on fishing excursions. Not a suitable activity for a young lady, she would say. While this bothered Addie somewhat—she hated being told she couldn’t do this or that because she was a lady, and more and more of her life seemed to fit into this category—she knew in her heart that her childhood was ending and young womanhood was beginning. Laughing as her hair blew in the wind on her father’s boat was a childish thing that she must put away as she prepared to create a home and a life with Jess Stewart. She waited patiently for that day to come.
Finally, it came. Four years and two months after he went off to college, Jess Stewart returned to Great Bay. He had not intended to do so, not now at least, but his father had fallen ill, and his mother had implored him to come home for a visit. Jess agreed, not only because he wanted to see his family but also because he felt that paying a visit to his hometown was a practical thing to do at this time. He and his roommate had indeed been offered employment with Canby Lines in the city, and he needed to retrieve some of his belongings in order to set up an apartment.
During the journey, Jess rested his chin on his hand and gazed out the window as the train chugged along the lakeshore toward home. As he watched the countryside pass by—a herd of cattle here, a cornfield there—Jess wondered what he would say to Addie when he arrived back home in Great Bay. He was at a loss. As the train drew closer and closer to the lake and its destination, fog obscured much of the countryside, allowing Jess’s mind to wander, unfettered now by the increasingly familiar sights of home.
Jess knew that he had his pick of any woman he desired in the city, all from wealthy families that could further his career. He had studied and then cultivated the casual air and genial attitude of the wealthiest boys in his fraternity. These men could laugh at the banalities of life, knowing that nothing—certainly not lack of money or connections—stood in the way of their ultimate happiness. It was not a sense of entitlement they radiated, Jess reasoned, it was the lack of burden. They were free of worry. Jess wrapped that persona around himself like a security blanket, believing that acting as though he hadn’t a care in the world would make it so. It did the job, for a while. Life fell into place—the women, the friends, and ultimately, upon graduation, a great job with a solid future. Jess Stewart had succeeded in erasing the specter of his humble past.
The only thing that remained was choosing a suitable bride. His roommate had already cemented a favorable alliance with an altogether pleasant, if a bit plain and dull, woman in town, a woman who certainly could further his career, and Jess was determined to do the same for himself.
Sally Reade, the girl Jess had known since his early days in college, stood out from a wide field of competitors. She was flighty, yes, and a trifle unstable. But her family was among the wealthiest in the state. Not only would she bring a sizeable fortune into the marriage but also a great sense of fun. Oh, Jess had witnessed her bouts of sullen moping, but they were contrasted with periods of wild energy. At those times, she threw fabulous parties and floated among the crowd of guests, chatting, laughing, and keeping people entertained until all hours. She was already building a reputation as one of the finest hostesses in town. Further, her family liked Jess. They found him to be a stabilizing influence on their unpredictable daughter. Her father had said, over and over again, that Jess—strong, solid, sensible Jess—was a good match for Sally. He anchored her. Jess hadn’t proposed outright yet, but everyone saw it coming on the road ahead.
As Jess considered all of this, he felt a twinge of guilt about reneging on the life he had planned throughout his youth with Addie. It was true that none of the women he courted, especially not Sally, could measure up to the intimacy he felt with Addie. Jess tried to brush it aside, but it nagged at him. He told himself that old sentimentality and childhood promises simply could not govern the actions of a successful man bound on securing his future, could they? He would not allow the silly machinations of his childhood to ruin his chances for success in the cold, harsh, adult world of business. Surely Addie would be able to see that, too. Besides, Addie was a child. In retrospect, his relationship with Addie started to look like that of siblings. She was like a little sister to him. Still, he felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of seeing her again. It had been so long.
As the train moved ever closer to the station and Jess ruminated further on his future, Addie was dressing in preparation for his arrival. She had scarcely been able to contain her excitement for days—finally, the long wait was over. She put on the new blue dress she and her mother had made for this occasion, smoothing the skirt and fiddling with the collar over and over again with shaking hands. She brushed her hair until it shone, allowing it to fall freely around her face instead of tying it in the knot she usually wore behind her head. She looked at the clock again and again. Two hours until he arrives.
Meanwhile, on the train, Jess was carefully planning his exit speech. He had thought about simply writing to Addie—words on paper, carefully thought out and considered—it was a much easier way of dealing with a difficult subject. However, he was aware that this young girl had loved him for her entire life. She had been waiting for him for four long years. He needed to let her down as gently as possible. I have met someone else, a woman of substance . . . No matter how much our friendship means to me . . . He rehearsed it over and over in his mind, always failing to find the right words. The vision of her disappointed young face created a gnawing in his stomach. He didn’t want to hurt her. And yet . . .
As the train pulled to a stop at its destination, the fog settled around the station. Jess disembarked slowly, unable to see more than two feet in either direction. It had been so long . . . Where was the station? Which way was home? He was reminded of that day long ago, when he had found baby Addie in the lake. It was the same kind of blinding whiteness, the same kind of tangible cloud that felt like a living blanket had covered the entire earth.
He was standing alone, turning this way and that, watching the few other passengers get off the train and disappear into the whiteness. I should go that way, he thought, when a woman materialized in front of him.
The sight of her literally took Jess’s breath away. He felt as though the fog itself had rushed into his lungs, snatching his ability to breathe and withholding it from him. His heart was beating so loudly that Jess was sure everyone within earshot could hear it.
The woman was Addie, of course. But she was not the young girl Jess had left behind. With all his strategizing about the future, with all his thoughts about finding a bride, he had somehow neglected one detail: Addie was growing up. While he himself didn’t see much change in his own mirror during his college years, Addie had literally transformed from a child into a woman—the most beautiful woman Jess had ever seen or imagined. Her long, auburn hair fell in soft curls around her face. Her mouth curved into a slight, mysterious smile. She was wearing a deep-blue dress that showed off her tiny waist and curvy figure. Jess thought she was absolutely exquisite, completely changed. Only her piercing violet eyes were the same as he remembered.
He stared at her in stunned silence. She, too, s
eemed stunned, but not by his appearance. He looked a bit older, yes, but he was largely the same as the day he left. She was reacting to his awestruck countenance. He seemed overwhelmed by her, and she didn’t know what to make of it. When she imagined their reunion—and she had imagined it over and over during these four years—she thought it would be a joyous encounter filled with laughter, hugs, and kisses. This was something else again. She had not expected him to be mute at the sight of her.
He extended his hand to her face and brushed the curls back, gingerly, delicately, as though she might dissipate like the fog at his slightest touch. He just kept staring as though he was seeing a ghost, his eyes searching for the young girl he had left behind. This was no little sister. What had he been thinking?
“Welcome home,” she said, finally.
His face broke into an enormous smile. He took her hands into his, murmuring, “My goodness, Addie Cassatt. You’ve grown up.”
In that moment on the train station platform, Jess Stewart’s future changed. Or, more exactly, it fell back into its rightful place. He had been dangerously close to veering off course, but now he was back on it. Without giving it another thought, he immediately and absolutely abandoned his well-considered plan to marry a suitable wife from a good family in the city. Sally Reade—or the idea of Sally Reade, a fine society wife—faded from his mind in an instant, the scales fell from his eyes, and he finally saw clearly. How could he have ever considered marrying anyone other than Addie Cassatt? She was his best friend and a stunning woman. Thank God he hadn’t let her down in a letter! He could scarcely believe his good luck. He might have ruined it all, he might never have had her. He had trained himself to fit into the high-society circles in which he now traveled, he could train Addie to do the same. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
Jess took Addie into his arms and said, “I have come home for you, Addie.”
