Southern Rain (Torn Asunder Series Book 1)

by Tara Cowan

  She thought for a minute. “Mary, or Marie? Something like that.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s…” He narrowed his eyes, distracted by his son boarding. Harris held his hand securely, though, and he was soon safely aboard. When they got to the steps, he said, “You go on,” giving her his hand for stability while she climbed the steps. It was like lightening. It made her hand feel like it was on fire, and her arm weak. Good heavenly days, he had nice hands. She just needed to get on the boat and sit down.

  She did, next to Jude and Harris, lifting her pamphlet to fan herself.

  He sat on the other side of Harris, for which she was thankful. She’d just focus on the history for the rest of the tour.

  “Glad to see you found your manners,” Harris hissed once they were heading toward the island. Jude sat between Harris and Ms. Miller, holding the railing as they looked for dolphins and chatted about them.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You were rude to her!” he exclaimed in an under voice. “What the hell, Adrian? It’s not like you.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d be bringing your girlfriend,” he said, raising and lowering his eyebrows.

  Harris sent him a level look. “Dude. There was piss in your cereal this morning, wasn’t there?”

  “That’s two. He’s right there.”

  “Sorry. He can’t hear over the narration.” There was no need for either of them to listen: their grandparents had taken them countless times on their summer visits to Charleston. “You know we just met today. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

  “Just take care you’re not too friendly.”

  Harris looked at him like he’d grown another head. “And so what if I am? She’s pretty, smart, well-educated, owns her own business…”

  “She’s not your type.”

  “She’s more my type than yours.”

  A pause. “True,” Adrian said, conceding that point.

  A slow, small smile began on Harris’s face. It was like a lightbulb went on in his head, though what it was, Adrian was at a loss to know. “You’re jealous.”

  “What? No, don’t be ridiculous.” It felt like he had been playing dodgeball since he’d boarded. He should’ve sat next to Ms. Miller.

  Harris’s dark eyes sparkled. “It’s fine! It’s about time you showed some interest in women.”

  “Will you lower your voice. I have always shown interest in women. Dear God, it’s Nantucket all over again.” He pressed his temples. “And I have no interest in Ms. Miller. As you said, we couldn’t be more different.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Opposites attract, and all that. She could be your Bohemian bride,” he said, eyes dancing.

  “I think you had an extra cup of coffee this morning. Opposites don’t really attract: it’s a myth. And she eats tacos and wears shoes without socks.”

  “Yeah, well, so does ninety percent of America, Adrian.”

  “I’m not interested, alright? Date her if you want,” he said roughly. “I’m not dating anyone.”

  Harris studied him. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not going to bring woman after woman traipsing through Jude’s life. Children don’t need that kind of instability, especially ones with traumatic childhoods.”

  “It wouldn’t be woman after woman. And Jude needs a mother, you know.”

  “He had one: she died. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  Harris’s features softened in a way he hadn’t meant for them to. “I know. Sorry. It’s none of my business.” The boat was now nearing the island, and Jude and the preservationist were enthralled. Jude was attracting the attention of all the old ladies on the boat. He was a beautiful child.

  Harris turned back to him. “You may as well be nice to her, though. I think you’re still miffed she bested you on negotiating live-in status. But she did, so move on. She’s going to be there for months.”

  “I’m perfectly nice. Even cordial.”

  “Alright. Whatever.” He turned as the boat came to a halt and extended his hand toward Jude.

  “D’ya see the dolphins, Uncle Harris?”

  “Sure did,” he said. “Are you sure they weren’t sharks?”

  “Ms. Miller said they were dolphins. She said they’re friendly. They like following boats.”

  Harris smiled at Ms. Miller and then led Jude off the boat. “I’m sure she’s right.”

  Adrian followed her off. He offered his hand, but she said, “I’m good—thanks!”

  They toured the premises for an hour. It seemed like a long hour to Adrian, but Jude was having the time of his life, as was the preservationist. She explained several things to him, in much greater detail than the guides could. It was while they were standing up on the battlements trying to pick out his house that Harris dropped the bombshell.

  “You’re going to have to drive her to Statesboro to get the box from Mom and Dad.”

  “What? No. It was your idea. You drive her.”

  “I live in Savannah, Adrian. I can’t drive to Charleston to pick her up and then back to Georgia. And I’m just trying to help with the house.”

  “I know. But I don’t have time. I can’t take a day off work, and Jane can’t be there this Saturday.”

  “So take him with you.”

  “I’m not taking a six-year-old on a two and a half hour drive, picking up a box, and turning around and coming home. He’d be miserable, and then he’d beg to stay with Mom and Dad, and I wouldn’t get him out of there until six o’clock, if I got him out at all. He’d end up staying the night, and I’d have to pick him up on Sunday.”

  Harris laughed. “True.”

  “Why can’t she just go herself? I’ll give her directions, and–”

  “Oh, come on, Adrian. She’d feel awkward, knocking on someone’s door she’d never met and asking for family documents. And mom would make her feel uncomfortable, which she won’t, if you’re there. Just to warn you: Mom thinks you’re coming, and she mentioned that you hadn’t been in three months. She’ll think you don’t want to see her if you don’t.”

  Adrian sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, but it’ll have to be next Saturday. We talk on the phone twice a week. I don’t know why I’m suddenly the prodigal.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have supper with them every Sunday night,” Harris said bitterly. “It’s enough to make me think about getting a cat.”

  Adrian laughed. “You chose Savannah. What is she doing now? I don’t think she’s supposed to be touching that.” Harris followed his eyes to where Ms. Miller was giving the patient Jude a history lesson. It reminded him a little of his grandma, breaking the rules and then asking the security officer whether he wanted the boys to learn, or not. He smiled a little.

  They wrapped things up, and Adrian put Jude on his shoulders for the long boardwalk back to the boat. Jude gripped his hair, making him wince and untangle his little fingers, giving him his hands instead. “Look Daddy, there’s the bridge. They said it’s the Ravenel bridge. Is it named after us?”

  “I don’t think so. Probably some kin.” He sat him down inside the boat once they were there, not trusting it to someone else this time, and followed him in, letting Harris be her cicisbeo this time. He’d brought her, after all.

  It was late by the time they got home. They had gone out to eat at a cute seafood shack and then, to celebrate Jude’s impending kindergarten graduation, which Harris would be unable to attend, they got ice cream, which was, as Jude had whispered to Adeline, his Favorite.

  Then Harris had driven her to Kudu to get her car. It was already dark, and it felt strangely date-like. Probably because she had caught him looking at her legs earlier, not in an inappropriate way. But male attention always made a girl hyper-aware. He stopped right next to her door. “I’ll wait to protect you
from any lurking creatures,” he said.

  “Are you trying to freak me out?” she demanded, reaching for her purse.

  He laughed. “Thanks for going. It was fun.”

  “I enjoyed it, too,” she answered, reaching for the door handle.

  “Oh, wait,” he said, reaching into the back. “The folder.”

  She looked at it, and then back up at him. “Harris, I can’t take it.”

  “Just to borrow. I trust you—if you can’t take care of old documents, who can?”

  She smiled, finally taking it. “I’ll guard it with my life.”

  He smiled, and she got out, going to her SUV. She waved once she had started it and drove off toward the Battery. Charleston was grand at night. Masterful house after house rolling past. Lights and fountains, hidden worlds behind every expensive window.

  She went in the back way, locking the door behind her, and climbed the stairs. She saw a light beneath Jude’s door and heard the two of them in there talking, Jude giggling now and then. She smiled, strangely lingering, before starting up the next flight of stairs.

  She took another shower and put on her old pajamas. She yawned and looked at the folder, which was beckoning. But she was too tired to make any sense of it, so it would have to wait until tomorrow.

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Chapter Twelve

  Adeline spent the next morning and the three days after that chipping paint and sanding the dining room fireplace. When her stain arrived and the work was complete on the carefully carved mahogany beauty, she commandeered the can before the men could and spent the next four hours oh-so-carefully rubbing it on.

  When she finally stood, rolling her neck, she was pleased with her masterpiece. She quickly took a picture of it to send to her secretary in North Carolina to pair with the before picture on the website of Miller Restorations. She stepped back and admired its breath-taking beauty. But not for long.

  She suspected the fireplace in the library of hiding an older coal-burning one behind it. Two hours later, she had two men in the room with her, prying off the wooden mantle, while she stood behind, her hands templed against her lips as she prayed there would be something behind it, and that, if there wasn’t, they wouldn’t damage the 1880s mantle in their hands.

  “There’s something here,” Jake said, reaching in bravely, while he sat on his knees on the hearth.

  Adeline hovered over them, finally deciding to sit on the desk facing them. She didn’t notice at first that there were obviously signs that the desk was being used currently. But while the guys worked on a particularly treacherous nailing near the base of the mantle for about thirty minutes, she had more leisure to look around her. There were huge tomes of psychological philosophers, old and new, some of them with sticky notes in them, a neat stack of bills which hadn’t been opened, a file organizer with tabs which read, “Work,” “Jude,” “Lauren,” “Taxes,” and “Preserv.” She’d really like to take a long gander at two of those. There was an expensive wooden pencil/sticky note holder, a black and white picture of him and Jude, and a sticky note that said, “Call N.” To have so much stuff on it, it was the neatest desk she had ever seen. She didn’t think she could make it look like that even after an hour. No wonder he had been a little touchy about having the entire house turned upside down at the same time.

  She had just, thankfully, returned her attention to the men when she saw the man himself materialize in the door. She first noticed that he must have just gotten home from work. The man wore a suit as well as James Bond. She second remembered that she was sitting on his desk.

  He was looking in the room, taking note of the men at the fireplace, and then looking at Adeline again. She jumped up. “Sorry. I was kind of enthralled. We think there may be an older fireplace behind it.” He nodded, entering. The men said polite greetings, well aware that he was the hand which fed them. He answered them, perfectly politely, but with loads of reserve. He watched what they were doing with mild interest for about three minutes before coming over to the desk and picking up the bills from it. He hesitated, but, glancing over his shoulder and seeing the men fully engaged in their work, he took his keys out of his pocket and locked one of the drawers.

  She lifted her brows. They had talked about this. He studied her for a moment before taking one of the sticky pads and writing, “Client files.” He slid it toward her.

  Oh, well, she guessed that was different. She just wondered why they were here. Then again, sometimes he shut the door and had long phone conversations. She had thought they might be to a girlfriend, but now she wondered if sometimes he did phone consultations. She nodded, and he ripped the top note off and distractedly crushed it in his hand, looking around for what else he could save from destruction.

  “I’m pretty sure Jane’s in the kitchen with Jude.”

  “Yeah, I’m going,” he said slightly dryly, and with alarming perception. “Hope you find the fireplace.”

  She did, too.

  In about another hour, once the other had been safely removed and the brick behind it demolished, she stood as dramatically as though she were at the opening of Tut’s tomb, awaiting treasures.

  “There it is, ma’am,” Thomas said with satisfaction. “Mantle and grate. It’s missing the cover, and it looks like it hasn’t operated in centuries.”

  She got up, running her hands over the exquisite mantle and the insides, which were cast iron and cool to the touch. Had it been worth it? It would cost a lot of money to fix. “I think… Of course, we won’t actually use it. I can find a cover easily enough.”

  “I think you can fix it,” Thomas said. “I’ve seen you fix worse.”

  She appreciated the vote of confidence. But the materials were going to be really expensive. She’d have to talk to Dr. Ravenel about what he was willing to do. Just then, she felt something, up above the mantle. It was between it and the wall above it, which was standing out from the other walls on either side, and about four feet wide. But she could’ve sworn it was the same wood carving. Heart pounding, she took Thomas’s tool from him and, though they probably thought she was mad, pulled the wall away.

  “Yes,” she whispered, seeing that she had been right. “Thomas, remove this whole wall.”

  He swallowed, looking nervous. But he obeyed. The men’s jaws hung open, the longer he worked, and she covered her mouth, tears starting to her eyes. The mantle continued all the way to the ceiling with exquisite carving, sometimes painted cream (now dirty), sometimes showing little inlays of wood. At the top, it ended in molding that flowed into the ceiling without skipping a beat.

  She shook her head as they all stared in silence. There was not a doubt in her mind that it had come out of a European castle, shipped overseas. Until she looked in the center and saw, very demurely, a coat of arms painted the same color. One almost missed it, for the rest was so detailed. There was an eagle and a lion and a shield with a star and a palm. And the words, “Que sursum volo videri.” She swallowed.

  “What does it say?” Jake asked. “Want me to google it?”

  “’I would see what is above,’” she said. It was rather lofty.

  “A religious thing?” Thomas asked.

  “I think so,” she said. “The family who lived here, if Ancestry.com is right, were French Huguenots. I think it speaks to their commitment to their faith, despite persecution.”

  She could stare at the fireplace for hours. Good heavens, and to think it was hiding just behind this desk all the while, and that she could’ve missed it. It lit a fire in her to find out about the lives, the wealth of the family. And to be able to reproduce their beautiful house just as they would want.

  There was no question: She would be restoring it. And she was finding Santarella.

  Adeline discussed the necessary changes to the original plan with her employer, and he, looking at the fireplace, whose worth he seemed t
o understand, even if it was badly in need of repair, had said, “Yeah, do whatever it takes.”

  She had felt a rush of gratitude for him. So many people couldn’t afford it when they ran into things like this, or weren’t willing to extend the time it would take. But he seemed to be all in, despite the fact that this would extend the project by a month and cost figures which had caused her to wince while she was telling him. She wondered how he had gotten his money, besides his probably exorbitant salary. She hoped he wasn’t a drug dealer, or something.

  Okay, she needed Harris to buy her another one of those coffees. She was loopy, and talking to the silk wallpaper again as she coaxed the layers over it away very carefully. She looked at her watch: 10:00. Officially a workaholic with no life. It was time for bed. She would have to remember to live tomorrow.

  She went upstairs and spent fifteen minutes on the phone with her mom, who not-so-subtly asked if she had found a church in Charleston. She wrote Find Church in her calendar for Sunday. Her mom told her all about her sister’s 5th grade class’s cute production, choreographed and costumed one-hundred percent by Annie, and about Austen’s C in Biology, which she assured her mom wouldn’t harm his chances of getting into a good MBA program. She’d have to text that kid, though. He was a fifth-year senior: he should’ve gotten that out of the way ages ago.

  That finished, she took a shower in the refrigerator, which she had lovingly dubbed it, and put on a big T-shirt. She was tired, but the folder, long-neglected, beckoned her. She reached for it off the tiny nightstand and opened it.

  She skimmed through the letters, at first confused by the constant references to Boston. It seemed that these had been pulled and separated because they were the family’s from the war era. At least, that was what she thought. There were references, sticking out to her in the letters, to Union lines, to naval bases, and “difficulties.” She couldn’t see the whole picture, though, and they hadn’t been writing so that someone who would later read them would know every aspect of their lives. In fact, they seemed to be writing almost cryptically, she thought, in some of the letters.