Undercurrent of Secrets

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  “What?” She glanced at her phone. “It’s only six. There’s still a lot of decorating to finish.” Hanging the twinkle lights. Arranging the display tables.

  “All of which I’ll do. Hubby’s on his way. He’ll help me with the rest.”

  “But—”

  Steph’s head tilted, her face adopting that parental don’t-challenge-me look. “You’re only content when things are under your control.”

  Devyn blinked. “That’s a bit harsh.”

  “Not meaning it to be cruel, hon. Just honest. What happened when things didn’t go according to plan with this ball? You immediately fell into panic mode.”

  “Because this event’s a huge deal.”

  “It is, but not worth losing your mind over. Or your health. When things are out of your control, you struggle.”

  Devyn’s chin sagged in quiet defeat. Steph was right. Devyn had accused Chase for not trusting her, when she’d been the one with trust issues. She’d thought she relied on God, but suddenly realized she relied on herself more.

  “Go home, sweet thing.” Steph squished her in a hug. “You did a great job. Rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow at five.”

  Devyn nodded, too exhausted to put up a fight. She hadn’t made two steps off the Belle when her phone buzzed.

  Mitch.

  She couldn’t handle any more bad news right now. If there was a problem with the—

  Enough.

  That was what Steph was talking about. Devyn needed to open her clenched fists and release her control to God. Let go and let God. If Mitch had terrible news, then she’d view this as an opportunity to trust Him more.

  “What’s up, Bro?” She skirted an enormous puddle. The skies were blessedly clear, but the sidewalks were a hazard to her satin flats.

  “You sound better.”

  “Huh?”

  “When we talked earlier, you seemed close to a meltdown.”

  “I was. But I’m better.”

  “Things are going your way then?”

  She faltered midstep. “Why’d you say that?”

  “Just figured you got a handle on everything, since you sound happier now.”

  Then and there Devyn decided her happiness would not hinge on circumstances. She could be filled with joy despite the changes in life. “Nope. I’m happy because I’m out of control. I’m giving everything to God. Though I think I may need some accountability. Bad habits being hard to break and all.”

  “You know I’m always here for you, Devs.”

  “Thank you.” She inhaled a deep, calming breath. “Now, what’s up?”

  The following beats of silence made her wonder if they’d disconnected. But then her brother’s sigh pushed through the speaker. “Those storms that came through here were bad, but they’re worse in Carrollton. Lots of strong winds. Let’s pray our cabin survives.”

  “I still can’t believe you tagged along.” Mitch gave her a sideways look as they drove up the wooded lane to the cabin the following morning. “Your party’s tonight. I didn’t expect you to come.”

  “I couldn’t leave all this to you. Besides, I wanted to see the place for myself.” Or did she? She glanced out her window, taking in the damage. So many trees were down.

  “I hope the roof ’s okay.” His grimace reminded Devyn of their dad. “That would be a beast to repair. Plus any damage to the interior.”

  Deep breaths. God, I trust You. She’d spent a lot of last night in prayer for the cabin, for her life, for Chase.

  She had a small window before she had to get back and ready herself for the ball. Which she’d attend dateless. She’d called Chase earlier and left an apologetic voice mail for how she’d handled their fight and his subsequent attempts to reach her. With each passing moment he didn’t return her call, worry slipped in that she’d waited too long. Or what if he saw her sending the NDA as a petty act to hurt him? Okay, she’d acted rashly. She’d wanted to send him a clear message that she wasn’t bent on destroying his carefully kept secret. But had she instead sabotaged her chances with him?

  Tears burned. She faced the window, not allowing her brother to see her distress.

  The cabin came into view and Devyn squeezed Mitch’s beefy arm. “It’s okay.” She exhaled relief. “It’s safe.”

  They exited Mitch’s truck and took in the sight of an uprooted pine beside the cabin. Close call. A smaller sapling had fallen into the barn, breaking a window. But the cabin itself stood tall.

  Mitch hefted a branch from their path. “That storm was no joke, but I’m glad the old place held its ground.” His gaze drifted about the property, and he gave a satisfied nod. “I need to check farther out. See if there’s any other damage.” He started toward the barn.

  “I’ll ride with you.” She caught up to him.

  “Better not. There’ll be a lot of brush and debris. You don’t need scrapes and cuts before having to get all purtied up.”

  “Did you just say purtied?” Her brother always had a way to make her smile, most often when he was being dorky. “We’re in this together, Bro.” He was forfeiting his Saturday night to cook a gazillion dessert dishes; it was only fair to help him any way she could this morning.

  “Always.” He slung an arm around her shoulder. “All right. Let’s go.”

  He hitched the cart to the back of his four-wheeler and loaded it with tools in case they needed to clear the trail. They spent the next hour surveying the storm’s monstrous touch. There wasn’t too much harm on the north part of the property, but there was a lot of fallen trees and limbs on the south region by the water.

  They abandoned their quads and walked the path toward the creek. Devyn’s mood sank lower with each step. The memories of picking paw paws with Chase, of their unforgettable first kiss, surged to the lonely realms of her heart. And now everything between them was broken like the gnarled branches she was tripping over. She lifted her gaze and caught yet another wreckage. “Look, Mitch, the sign.”

  A paw paw tree had crashed into the Secret Creek sign, splitting one of the posts. Now only upheld by one wooden pillar, the sign drooped in sorry surrender.

  She could identify with its fragile, humble state. “Think we can fix it?”

  He scratched his stubbled jaw. “Yeah. We can dig out the ground and pour new cement for another post. My schedule’s full over the next few weeks, but I think I can get to it before the ground freezes.”

  She eyed the carved letters on the weathered board. “Let’s take it back with us. The way it’s wobbling makes me nervous. I’m scared it’ll fall into the creek and we’ll never see it again.” She grabbed a shovel from the cart and tore into the soil surrounding the broken post while Mitch focused on detaching the sign from the solid one.

  Judging by the amount of cement, Great-Grandfather had obviously wanted this sign to remain until the next century. She was about to give up, but her shovel struck something tinny and hollow. Using a smaller spade, she dug until a square outline appeared. Her fingers brushed away the dirt, and she gasped. “Mitch, I found a box!”

  “Cool. Think it’s someone’s bones?”

  “You’re such a weirdo.” She crinkled her nose. “Besides, the box is too small for even a femur. But it must be something important. Why else would it be buried here?” Hattie leapt to mind. What if it was something about her and Great-Grandfather’s past?

  Mitch helped pull the rusted box from its earthen home and handed it to her.

  Her gaze took in the sage-green metal pocked with rust.The tarnished latch, when unhinged, could reveal something amazing. Or terrible.

  “Aren’t you going to check it out?”

  She pressed her lips together. “I don’t feel right without Chase.” Though what if it had nothing to do with their search? Her thumb swept over the rough corner. The metal container had been buried directly beneath the word Secret. It had to be significant. But significant didn’t always mean something good. And from what Devyn knew of Hattie’s plight, it probably wasn�
��t. What if it was a memory box of sorts? Used as closure for Great-Grandfather?

  “I’ll take it home and call Chase again.” That was the right decision. Their relationship had started with this mystery. Maybe it was fitting that it ended with it too.

  Chapter 34

  Devyn made her way through the Belle’s ballroom, her breath sticking to one of her vertebrates. She’d worn this designer dress once, years ago, when she’d been under pressure to be a thinner version of herself. But the blue bodice crushing her ribs had nothing on the crowd pressing in from all sides.

  There were more people here than invitations sent. How had that happened? What if they ran out of food? She cringed at the tacky image of herself throwing dozens of fishing lines over the deck to make up the bass deficit.

  The orchestra played river-related music, welcoming couples onto the dance floor. Twinkling lights glinted off the decorative tin ceiling, giving the illusion of a starry sky. Women in formal gowns mingled with men in tuxes, and beyond the indistinct chatter there was a certain energy, a hum of expectation.

  But no Chase Jones.

  On the way home from the cabin, she’d texted and left voice mails like a creepy stalker, practically begging him to attend tonight. Mitch was here offering his support in between blowtorching desserts. Mom kept spamming her phone with well wishes and requests for pictures. But nothing from the man she’d given her heart to.

  Her focus snagged on several camera crews. Were they Once Upon a Wedding’s people? Or had Steph called the local news?

  Her boss strolled by, chatting freely with an older gentleman, and Devyn caught the woman by her gold lamé elbow. With her slinky, sparkly gown, blue eye shadow, and teased bouffant hair, Steph looked as if she’d be accepting an Emmy for her role in an eighties soap opera.

  The second her superior finished her conversation, Devyn pounced faster than one could say Aqua Net. “What’s going on?”

  “Everything’s a fabulous success, if that’s what you mean.” She flapped an exuberant wave to someone on their left, and then aimed her Revlon smile at Devyn. “Love your gown. That blue looks stunning on you.”

  “Thank you. I tried to match the theme.” Though she doubted anyone would draw that conclusion. “I see lots of press, Steph. Is that your doing?” Or had Travis leaked where Devyn worked? Worse, was he here?

  “I went overboard. Pun intended.”

  “How?”

  She shrugged, her hoop earrings bouncing on her shoulder pads. “I invited every source of coverage I could think of.”

  Devyn pressed a hand to her abdomen. Breathe. Well, half-breathe. Dumb dress.

  For the umpteenth time today, she reminded herself to give up the worry. “Okay. Well. God’s got this.” She’d even refrained from nagging about the entertainment. Steph had said she’d take care of it, and that was enough. Devyn was out of control. And maybe a bit out of her mind too.

  The Belle was arrayed in all her finest. Every deck bulb was lit and shining into the sunset. It was as if she’d been waiting for this moment. To shine. Her steam whistle rent the air like a sassy introduction, letting the guests know it was time to leave the dock.

  Devyn would face the evening without Chase. Emptiness pricked her heart. What was all this effort worth if she hadn’t him to share it with? He’d been an integral part of bringing this event about, from the theme to the décor, and keeping her sane through it all.

  The next hour flew by in a fantastical whirlwind. She’d made small talk with some beneficiaries. Avoided Jenna Henry, judger of the contest, loather of Devyn Asbury. Thankfully Steph had run interference where the tall brunette was concerned.

  It was almost time for the entertainment to take the stage. Apprehension crashed into Devyn. What had she been thinking? Should the woman who claimed to have a lip-shaped sofa in her living room really be the one handling such a taste-delicate matter? Then again, Devyn had almost contracted her polka-playing, one-eyed uncle.

  People thronged the stage, packing in like a bunch of junior high girls at a boy band concert. She froze. If Steph booked the Jonas Brothers, Devyn would scour the internet and buy her every lip-shaped accent pillow imaginable. Dozens of cameras and phones were lifted high, aiming at the empty stage. Shouldn’t the band have at least set up? There were no instruments. Only the lone microphone Devyn had arranged for the emcee. The orchestra, situated off to the side, had stopped playing. A hush fell over the room, making her heart jam in her throat.

  Veteran Louisville sportscaster Jim Rogers, tonight’s emcee, strolled center stage. “Ladies and gentlemen.” His low voice floated through the PA speakers. “On behalf of the Belle of Louisville, we welcome you to tonight’s ball.”

  A round of applause and cheers followed.

  “This evening’s theme is Dream River. We hope you enjoy the savory cuisine. All the dishes nod to the Ohio River as well as the décor.” He made a sweeping gesture to the surrounding floral arrangements. “Now, how about a special predinner treat? The officers and crew of the Belle are proud to introduce to you, tonight’s entertainment.”

  Oh here goes. Devyn bit her lip, no doubt smearing her makeup.

  Jim glanced off stage and nodded. “Let’s give a hearty welcome to Louisville’s own celebrity poet, Slate.”

  Hollers and gasps charged the cramped space. Devyn blinked. What was going on? She pushed through the mob, stepping on someone’s foot, knocking elbows with another patron. Her mumbled apologies would have to suffice because she couldn’t pause for anything more. She needed to get to that stage.

  “At his own request, Slate chose the Belle of Louisville to reveal his well-anticipated identity.”

  “What?” Devyn’s shrieked word jarred the room, earning her multiple looks and glances. How was this possible? She snaked her way to the front, ready to storm the platform.

  Chase stepped out, and she almost face-planted into a vase of wildflowers.

  His athletic frame looked right at home in a tuxedo. His gray gaze sought hers and clung. So much filled his expression. Whistles and applause, so grating a second ago, dimmed in the glow of the moment. He flashed her his winning smile, then with sure steps, moved beside Jim and exchanged handshakes.

  The emcee moved past Devyn, leaving Chase alone with an awaiting crowd.

  “Good evening.” He poised behind the microphone as if he were born to stand there. His confident demeanor arrested every soul in the room. “My name is Chase Graham Jones, and I have a confession to make.” He glanced Devyn’s way for a pulse-pounding second then returned to his audience. “My debut, The Fault of My Heart, may have been noted here or there.” Several chuckled at the downplay of his success. “But after its release I struggled to pen a single verse. Believe me, I’ve tried. I wouldn’t claim it as writer’s block, but more of a soul block.” He paused, then deliberately set his gaze on Devyn. “One gloomy afternoon, I stepped aboard the Belle, and everything changed.”

  That day he’d caught her dancing with no one. Heat crept up her neck, and he smiled at her blush.

  “That day set me on a course I never expected. All that I thought dead came to life. The dream revived. My heart was no longer my own.” He stepped toward her and stretched out his hand, inviting her.

  Her heart gave a loud thump, and her ankles threatened to cave. Someone lightly pushed her back. She glanced over her shoulder. Steph.

  With a stabling breath, Devyn joined him on the wood-planked platform.

  He leaned toward her. His head dipped closer, and she feared he’d drop a kiss on her right in front of everyone. Instead, he angled to the side, his lips brushing the ridge of her ear. “You look beautiful.” His warm breath tickled the wisps of hair on her neck. “I love that you’re wearing wildcat blue.”

  She almost snorted.

  With flecks of mischief shining in his eyes, he winked. Chase took her hand and returned to the microphone.

  “In honor of the amazing woman beside me and the Belle of Louisville that
brought us together, I give you the first verse I’ve written in two years. Dream River.”

  There was a collective gasp. Additional phones raised in the air. Chase had not only revealed his identity, but was also presenting new work? It was too much. All too much.

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and angled toward her.

  “Adventure tasted like moonlight and a thousand stolen moments. The water beckons, its silvery voice a tide of longing, sweeping us together. Dream River is what they call it, but to me, it’s our awakening. In those shimmering depths your laughter hints of music, your touch a silky whisper, your kiss a mystery needing a lifetime to explore.”

  “The waters won’t always glitter. The current will cut through storms. But I want this journey with you. Let us drift on this river of dreams. For infinite tomorrows became ours when your heart slipped into mine.”

  His gaze never left hers. One of her most devastating moments had begun with one of Chase’s poems, and he’d sweetly redeemed it. His own words, from his own voice, in a public setting to restore her heart. To free the chains of the past.

  The audience clapped, and Devyn launched into his arms, their lips meeting tenderly until the chemistry between them ignited. Forget the contest. Forget the beneficiaries. This night was theirs.

  From some far-off place, the emcee spoke. The orchestra strummed a jazzy version of “Moon River.” The world began its rotation again.

  Devyn lowered from her toes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry too.” His thumbs caressed her sides.

  “You just told the world who you are.”

  “I did.” He led her off stage.

  “Why?”

  His grin was as full as her heart. “Because someone once told me that love is bold.”

  “Well, that was bold. You wowed everyone.”

  “I did it for you.” His gaze roamed her face. “I’m thinking that’s my new goal in life. To make you happy.”

  “I like that goal.” She laid her hand over his heart. “Thank you for that poem. You know that’s going to be broadcast everywhere on social media.”