Upon a Mystic Tide (45 page)

The money. Elise’s fortune. “What should I do with it, now that Dixie is
 . . .
?” He couldn’t say it again.

The word is dead, dear heart. Truly, it’s not so bad. We’re together and happy. And I don’t hurt anymore. That relief from pain is such a treasure, John. Don’t waste a breath mourning us, or fearing joining us—though don’t be in a hurry—I’m hoping to watch over you until you and your children grow old.

She stared off into space for a moment, as if listening, then looked back at John.

As for the money, your sister Selena’s business is a worthy one, dear heart. The money is yours to do with as you wish, with the exception of a million dollars per year. That I wish you to donate to Selena so that she and her partners can carry on with their work.
She glanced at Tony.
Do you approve?

Most definitely. Children and seniors are most vulnerable.

Clayton agrees—Dixie, too. Wonderful!
Elise giggled.
It’s unanimous, then.

It’d been a long time since John had heard Elise laugh. The sound warmed his heart. “One more question,” John said. “Who is in the other grave?”

Another lost soul, dear heart.

“I thought it might be Thomas Boudreaux.”

No, he’s still alive.

“But the wreckage—”

Was faked.
Elise pursed her lips into a tight little line.
He did kidnap Dixie, John. They were caught in a storm here, and she sighted the island. She thought she could swim to it and dove overboard. Dear child didn’t count on the undertow. Thomas Boudreaux was a terrible swimmer, and a coward too fearful to assist her. And too fearful of being jailed, as well, I expect. The wreckage actually was no more than a few things he tossed overboard to make it appear as though she’d been in a ship that had gone down.

“I’ll hunt him down,” John vowed. “He’ll pay for this, Elise. I give you my word.”

Don’t bother, dear heart. Thomas Boudreaux has paid. He’s gone quite mad—literally. He’ll be institutionalized for the rest of his life. Some people react rather strangely to seeing spirits. The greater the burden on the conscience, the greater the fear. Naturally, Thomas Boudreaux was terrified. When riled, Clayton always has been rather formidable.

A part of John felt cheated that Thomas Boudreaux had caused so much pain and hurt and that he’d eased into insanity and escaped retribution. But insanity forfeited life; John really shouldn’t feel that way. And once he got over the shock, and accepted the truth by talking through all this with Bess, he knew he wouldn’t.

Clayton and Dixie are waiting, Elise. I’m sorry, Jonathan, I wish there were more time.

John nodded. “You were a wonderful mother to me, Elise.” He’d told her he loved her. And just once, he wanted the words.

And you were a wonderful son to me.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, his chest tight. “All the rest of my life, I’ll miss you.”

A
part of me will always be there with you, just as a part of you will always be here with me. Remember what Miss Hattie said?

“You know Miss Hattie?”

Indirectly.
Elise smiled.
Miss Hattie said a part of Tony lives on in her every breath. When you love someone, that’s how it is, dear heart. I never gave you the words, but I felt them with every fiber of my being. You couldn’t have been more precious to me if I had given birth to you, John. I loved you. And never forget this: I will always love you.

A warm flow of contentment seeped through his chest. His eyes blurred, his throat went husky, and a single tear spilled to his cheek. “I love you, too.”

Isn’t it wonderful that the love lives on, John?

“Wonderful.”

Good-bye, dear heart. Think of me.

“I will. You know I will.” John tried but he couldn’t say good-bye. His throat locked tight and kept the words inside.

Tony stepped between them, and again touched his hand to the other side of the doubloon.
Be at peace, Jonathan.

The drizzle of rain stopped and the giant of a man nodded, then closed his eyes. “Thank you, Tony.”

Someone else is waiting for you.

“Who?”

Your wife.

Bess, here? She’d come? His heart raced and his stomach lurched. John opened his eyes. Elise and Tony were gone.

Footfalls sounded behind him. He spun around and saw Bess, rushing toward him. She had come!

Two feet from him, she stopped cold and stared at him, her eyes turbulent, clouded with worry. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Did he dare to tell her what he’d just experienced?

“Was it Dixie?”

A test to see if he’d be honest; he sensed it. “Yes.”

“And Boudreaux?” Bess asked, looking no less worried. “Is he in the other grave?”

“No. It’s, um, another lost soul. I wasn’t told who.”

A breeze gusted through the trees. Raindrops that had collected on the leaves fell to the ground and shimmered on the sandy rocks. “I saw Elise, Bess.”

Bess squeezed his upper arm, knowing how hard that had been for him to admit to her. “I know, darling. I saw her, too. And Tony. I couldn’t hear anything, but I saw them both.” Just as she saw that the haunted grief no longer plagued John’s eyes. He was again content. Without her.

Her heart plummeted. She couldn’t tell him what she’d come here to tell him, after all. It’d be awkward. He’d never lied to her about still loving her. Never once had he said he wanted more with her than two weeks—which she’d foolishly, foolishly, downgraded to one in their agreement negotiations. No, she couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t risk making him feel forced into admitting the things he didn’t feel. Couldn’t risk being rejected by him. In this relationship, she’d been humiliated enough. And they’d both been hurt enough. One of them had to be gracious, grounded. Her.

“You saw them, too?”

That clearly had surprised him. “Yes.”

“Bess, why are you here?” A flash of yellow on the ground caught John’s eye. A petal from Tony’s yellow carnation. John picked it up then put it inside his wallet in the third photo holder, near Elise’s.

“I came to tell you something. And to ask you something.”

He turned away from the graves, stepped closer to Bess, then looked down at her upturned face. “What is it?”

“The case is solved?”

“Yes.”

“That was my question,” she said, looking as guilty as sin. Her face had gone red and she didn’t meet his eyes. Lying.

Disappointment shafted through him. She never could lie to him. They both knew it. So why was she trying to lie to him now? “And what did you want to tell me?”

“That I’m glad it’s over for you, and you can get on with your life.”

“Anything else?” She hadn’t risked coming to him during a storm for this. Not Bess. Not the way she feared storms.

Her eyes widened, then clouded. “No.”

“After what we just experienced here, after all we’ve meant to each other, I can’t believe you’re looking me in the eye and lying to me, Bess.” Oh, it hurt. And it had been so hard to say that and stay civil.

“I’m not lying. I swear it.”

He studied her. No dilation of her pupils, no wringing of her hands, no leaning away from him, no looking anywhere but right into his eyes. Okay, so she hadn’t lied. But she hadn’t told him the whole truth. And that proved beyond all else that she still didn’t trust him. Proved that the case had been solved, but, as he’d always feared it would be, it had been solved too late.

How in the name of God was he supposed to go on without her? He wanted to keep his promise, to come back here with her to watch the sun set. He wanted a life of days and nights with her. But now the truth had evidenced itself. He’d never have the chance. She wanted him. But she didn’t want him forever. She didn’t love him.

He’d thought the pain of that could get no worse. He’d been wrong. He swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. “We’d better get back to the pier. Aaron’s family will be worried about him being out in the boat in this kind of weather.”

With a soulful nod, Bess agreed. Maybe she should have risked telling Jonathan the truth. Maybe she should have risked more humiliation. More
 . . .
pain.

No. No, she’d done the right thing. She’d put him through far too much already. Nearly as much as Meriam had inflicted on Bryce. Bess couldn’t risk harming John more. She had to be strong. She’d done the right thing here. So why didn’t it
feel
right?

They walked back to the dock in silence. At the end of the dilapidated pier, Bess noted something amiss. “Jonathan, the second sign. The one about the shifting sand. It’s
 . . .
gone.”

“Maybe it was never there.”

Maybe it
had
been an illusion, as her secret hopes of them reuniting had been an illusion. “When we get back to Fisherman’s Co-op, I’ll walk with you to bring the doubloon back to Hatch.”

“Okay.” He boarded the boat, then reached back, offering her a steadying hand. “Afterward, we need to talk, Bess. Really talk.”

But even as he said the words, the truth hit her like a center-targeted arrow. They could talk forever and it wouldn’t change a thing.

Alone, the magic wasn’t enough.

After returning the doubloon to Hatch, Bess and Jonathan headed back to the inn. Walking up the front drive, John glanced up toward the roof and grunted. “Have you ever noticed that attic room?”

Bess looked up at it. A raccoon that obviously had its days and nights mixed up ran along the widow’s walk railing. But after the experience on Little Island, nothing that happened here could surprise her. “What about it?”

“I don’t know. I get the eeriest feeling looking at it.”

Bess walked on, glancing at the pretty planter of pink zinnias on the porch, then opened the door. “It was Tony’s room, John.”

“I see.” He followed her past the registration desk and on into the kitchen.

Silk greeted them. A sheet of Seascape stationery lay on the-kitchen counter. John lifted the dog; Bess, the note.

She read it, then put it back down on the counter. “Miss Hattie’s gone to see about Vic.”

“Good. Are you ready to talk?”

Her gaze slipped from his eyes to his chest. “I’d rather not. I’ve decided to go home.” God, did he have any idea how hard this was for her? Any idea at all? “We could talk about everything, but it won’t change anything.”

“We made an agreement.”

“I know.” She leaned against the cabinet for support. “I’ll share Silk with you. You don’t have to file suit.” Looking at the dog in his arms, Bess shrugged. “She adores you.”

“We have five more days.”

“No, we don’t.” She walked to the windows and looked out back, to the lean-to where guests parked, and saw her car. “I’m going to go pack.” She looked back at John and said the word that had brought nightmares with it for as long as she could remember. “Will you help me bring down my bags?”

“Of course.” John’s eyes burned bright. “But Bess, we haven’t agreed on a settlement.”

He hadn’t looked at her as if she were helpless, or as if her asking for help repulsed him. He only hurt because she’d chosen to leave. Or had she misread him? She must have. Wishful thinking. “I know. I don’t know what to say about that. I can’t touch the money, though, I can tell you that. It isn’t a matter of not wanting or needing it. It’s principle. I
 . . .
just can’t.”

“What principle?”

Ashamed.
“It doesn’t matter. Not really. It’s me, and what I’d think of me, if I touched so much as a dime.”

“But you earned some of that money.”

“Yes, I did.” She turned and started toward the door. “But that doesn’t matter either.”

He followed her through the gallery, up the stairs, and then to her room. At the closed door, he paused. “It matters to me, Bess. I won’t let you leave this marriage with nothing. It isn’t right.”

Her hand on the knob, she pressed her head against the cool wood. It smelled of lemon oil and, reminded of Miss Hattie and her nurturing, Bess inhaled deeply. “Choose a sum you feel is fair and donate it to Selena’s company. I hear she’s doing wonderful things for seniors and kids.”

“But that won’t pay your rent, Bess.”

“No, but it will feed my soul, Jonathan.” She gave him a watery smile. “That’s far more important.”

Two hours later,
John stuffed the last of her bags into her car. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to lose her again, and yet there seemed no way to stop her. Bess had decided for both of them. Again. He’d had a second chance, and he’d blown it. Why in God’s name had he lied to her?
Why?

He slammed the trunk shut, then stuffed his fists into his pockets. “I wish you wouldn’t leave.”

“I can’t stay.” The wind pulled at her hair. She didn’t reach up to smooth it. Instead she fished through her purse, rifling for her keys. “It’d only prolong the inevitable, and I think we’ve already hurt each other far too much.”

They had. He stepped closer to her. “I’ll miss you, Bess.”

She didn’t smile. “I’ll miss you, too.”

“May I kiss you good-bye?” His heart oozed pain that thrummed through his veins and left a burning ache in its wake.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She took in a shuddered breath then got into the car.

John stood there, watching her buckle Silk into the passenger’s seat, her hands trembling. Something shiny caught his eye.

She still wore his ring.

Tony. Tony, do something! I know you can. I need time to figure out how to make it up to her. Please, Tony. Help me!

Bess keyed the car. It roared to life.

And a part of John died. No help would be coming. And Bess would be leaving.

The car didn’t move. John blinked and waited, then waited some more. But still Bess didn’t drive away.

She cut the engine, then opened the door and got out. “The gearshift won’t move. Can you get Silk while I go call Jimmy?”

A smile spread across John’s face. She’d done it again. Asked him for help. Did she realize she’d done that only twice in their entire married life—and both times had been within the last five minutes? “Sure.”

She nodded, then walked toward the house. John pulled out the pup and scratched her ears. He should have offered to look at the gearshift, but maybe Jimmy would keep her car tied up a couple more days, and John needed the time.
Thanks, Tony.

No answer. Odd, that. Silk licked at the back of John’s hand, claiming his attention. “Elise says the third time’s a charm, squirt. Let’s hope she’s right.”

John sat at the kitchen table
with two of Miss Hattie’s mouth-watering blueberry muffins and a cup of hot coffee. Silk lay on the rug before the fireplace snoozing. He hadn’t seen Bess since returning to the house, and figured she was hiding out to avoid him.

Miss Hattie came in, her face flushed from the wind and her tidy bun springing loose tendrils around her sweet face. “Jonathan, where is Bess, dear?”

He smiled up at the angel who sounded panicked. “I think she’s up in the Great White Room. Why?”

Miss Hattie’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my. Bess
was
leaving again, wasn’t she?”

He nodded. Now how had Miss Hattie known that? Likely the same way she’d known that the phone had been for him when Selena had called, and for Bess when Miguel Santos had called her.

Miss Hattie plopped down into her rocker. The dangling seat cushion string swept the floor on her forward rocks. She cocked her head, slid her gaze ceilingward, and her emotions flitted over her face: concern, confusion, and finally understanding. With that, came a heart-warming smile.

“Jonathan?”

He finished his muffins and downed the last of his coffee. “Ma’am?”

She stopped rocking. “I asked about Bess because I thought I’d seen her car on Main Street.”

“You likely did. Jimmy towed it to the shop.”

“No, dear.” Miss Hattie shook her head, her reading glasses sliding low on the bridge of her nose. She looked at him over the top rims. “I mean I saw her car being
driven
down Main Street.”

“Driven?” Rinsing his dishes at the sink, John stilled. He grabbed up a dishcloth and dried his hands. “But the gearshift was stuck. The car wasn’t driveable. Unless
 . . .
”

Miss Hattie hiked her brows. “Unless?”

“Unless Bess didn’t want to leave.” Of course. She’d asked for his help. She’d given him her trust and he’d missed picking up on it. That’s why Tony hadn’t answered. He
hadn’t
interceded!

“There’s nothing wrong with that car, Miss Hattie.” A bubble of excitement burst in John’s stomach. “Bess didn’t
want
to leave!”

Miss Hattie nodded. “Far be it from me to say I know your wife better than you do, Jonathan, but if I were a wagering woman, which I’m not, my wager would be that our Bess has taken the leap.”

Tony’s message. The leap upon a mystic tide message. Bess
had
leaped. And now, if they had a snowball’s chance of a reunion, so must he. He headed toward the gallery, his gaze already focusing on the steps.

Miss Hattie smiled at the spring in Jonathan’s rushed steps. “Ah, Tony. I think our dear Jonathan has just realized that his wife has stopped running. How clever of her, to use the car. I didn’t think our Bess would do anything so mischievous, but then she has, bless her heart, suffered more than her fair share of humiliation, hasn’t she?

“Now, we’ve only to wait and see about Jonathan. He hasn’t realized it, of course, but he’s run farther and harder and faster than she
 . . .
”