The music stopped abruptly. It always stopped at this exact same spot.
With a sigh, he climbed the stairs, making his way to the chamber that overlooked the gardens.
At one time, he and Cora had hoped to fill all of the chambers with children. Their son, Robert, was born less than three years after their wedding day, and they’d thought that was the beginning of their soon-to-be large family. But one year passed without a second pregnancy. And then another and another and another until it became clear Robert was destined to be an only child, like his father before him.
But what a fine son he was. In another month, Robert would graduate with honors from the university, ready to launch into a career of his own choosing. Of course, Preston hoped he would choose to come back to Chickadee Creek to help run Chandler Enterprises.
Preston had almost reached the bedchamber when the music started again. It wasn’t the unfinished melody he’d heard earlier—the one Cora had been writing, off and on, for a number of years. This time it was Tchaikovsky. One of his favorite pieces. He listened for a while, then opened the door. The music stopped when she saw him, and she smiled.
“Our guests will arrive in a couple of hours,” he told her as he crossed the room.
“I know. Such a lot of silliness.” The look in her eyes belied her words. She was looking forward to the evening.
“Celebrating twenty-five years together is not silly.”
“No, it isn’t.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “How you have put up with me for all this time, heaven only knows.” She turned and put the violin in its case.
“Put up with you? You gave me exactly what you promised.”
“What I promised?” She faced him again.
Was she teasing him, or did she truly not remember? He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingertips. “You promised that our lives would be rich with meaning and full of joy.”
“Even when sorrow comes,” she finished in a whisper.
“Yes. Even then.”
“And we’ve gone through it all side by side.” Tears shimmered in her eyes as she quoted the promise he had made to her. “And I have never been sorry. Never.”
He embraced her then, pressing her cheek tenderly against his chest, love welling up inside of him. Love . . . and thanksgiving to God.
After a while, she drew back. “We mustn’t dawdle. We have guests arriving soon. Remember?”
“I know. But I have a surprise for you.”
She sent him a small frown. “Promise me it isn’t jewelry. I told you I have no need of more necklaces or bracelets.”
“It isn’t jewelry. It’s Robert. He’s going to be with us tonight. He should arrive at any time.”
“Robert? He was able to get away from school?”
“Only for a short visit. He’ll have to head back in the morning.”
Cora frowned again, more serious this time. “He isn’t driving, is he?”
Preston nodded.
“You should have insisted he take the train.”
“He loves that automobile.”
“I know he does. But all those hours on those wretched roads. There are so many things that can go wrong.”
Preston drew her into another embrace. “He was raised by a strong, adventurous, independent-minded mother. Would you expect him to be different than he is?” He kissed her forehead, still holding her close.
“Mmm.”
“I heard you playing your melody.” He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.
“It’s still not right. There’s something I’m trying to say with it, but the notes aren’t cooperating.” She drew back to look him in the eyes. “Perhaps I should be content with playing music written by others. I’m foolish to think I can compose.”
“I disagree.” He kissed her on the lips. “I believe in you.”
Her eyes lit with love, and the look melted his heart, just as it had on their wedding day.
Chapter 24
Chelsea could almost feel how close Tom was to her hiding place. Perhaps within a stone’s throw.
Liam was close too. She’d seen the lights from a vehicle flashing through the forest, both when it arrived and when it left. But in her heart, she knew the truck had left without him. He was on this mountainside even now, trying to find her. She wanted to call out but resisted the urge. Desperation wouldn’t serve them well. She had to be smart. She had to think through her actions. She wasn’t the girl who cowered in the dark any longer. She’d been that girl once but no more.
“Baby, this has gone on long enough.” Tom’s voice had taken on a new edge. Did he also know that Liam hadn’t left in his truck? Or did he think he’d won and his patience had grown thin?
Help me get to Liam, she prayed. Guide me, Lord.
Unlike the place where she’d awakened earlier, the forest was not completely dark. She could make out the shadows of trees and brush. She would be able to see movement if Tom came too close. But that meant that he could see movement too.
Hide me in the shadow of Your wings, Lord.
She left her hiding place, moving with great care. Very unlike her mad dash up the mountainside when Tom had returned. Thankfully, Tom wasn’t trying to be quiet. He crashed about like a wounded bear. The distance between them grew as she descended the hillside, and she breathed a little easier. But not for long. Movement off to her left startled her. Not Liam. An animal of some kind. A bear? A wolf? A mountain lion?
It came toward her, a darker shadow among dark shadows. She couldn’t stop the soft squeal of surprise from escaping her throat as she drew back. A moment later, the creature lunged at her, colliding with her chest. She hit the ground hard an instant before she felt the tongue swipe across her cheek.
“Chipper,” she whispered, grabbing his head, breathing in his familiar doggy scent. “You’re all right.” Then she sat up. “Liam?”
He was there, even more quickly than the dog. His arm reached for her, and his hand pulled her to her feet. His lips found hers in a quick kiss before he whispered, “Are you okay?”
“Yes. But Tom’s up there somewhere.”
“I know.” Restrained anger filled the two words. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He kept hold of her hand as he led her through the trees.
They were stepping into the clearing when sounds from behind alerted them to Tom’s approach. Liam drew her farther from the trees, then moved her to stand behind him. The dog growled and moved toward the trees.
“No, Chipper,” Chelsea commanded. She touched Liam’s arm. “Call him back. Tom hurt him before.”
Liam took a step forward. “Come, Chipper. Stay.” When the dog obeyed, Liam took a few steps backward, Chelsea moving with him.
The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft light over the clearing, making it easier to see Tom when he appeared from beyond the nearest trees. He stopped, his gaze on them. Chelsea sensed his surprise that she wasn’t alone.
“You’re not welcome here,” Tom said as he eased forward.
Icy tentacles tried to wrap around Chelsea’s heart.
“You’re the one who isn’t wanted,” Liam replied.
His confident tone warmed her heart, chasing the fear away.
“The sheriff’s on his way.” Liam turned on the flashlight and aimed its beam toward the car. “If you want a chance to get away, now would be the time.” He glanced over his shoulder at Chelsea before passing her the flashlight.
She kept the light on Tom’s car, hoping it would encourage him to do what Liam said.
“Liar,” Tom growled. “Nobody’s coming.”
“Do you see my truck anywhere?” Liam’s words seemed mocking. “I sent for help.”
Tom looked around the clearing. For a moment, he stayed frozen in place. The next, he charged toward Liam, fists clenched. Liam took a moment to give Chelsea a protective push backward, then moved to meet his foe. Chelsea watched, heart in throat, as Tom threw a punch. Liam feinted, ducked, and brought a fist
up to catch Tom under the chin. Knocked backward, Tom roared with frustration, then lunged again.
The next moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Chelsea saw each move Liam made. Like watching him in one of his films, more choreography than fight. She could almost hear the score, soaring and swelling at the appropriate times. Only this wasn’t a movie. This wasn’t pretend. Liam was agile and quick, but Tom had a good fifty or sixty pounds on him. Tom would kill Liam if he could. Her heart raced at the possibility.
The dog whined.
“No, Chipper. Stay.” She hoped the words would reinforce Liam’s earlier command.
But she wasn’t about to do the same. She wouldn’t stay. She couldn’t stand there and watch. She’d done nothing to protect herself for most of her life. She couldn’t do that any longer. Especially not if it meant Liam would get hurt because of her.
As she took a step forward, she remembered the flashlight in her hand. She switched it off and stared down at it. It was long and heavy. If she swung it the same way Tom had swung the tire iron at Chipper, she might do some real damage. But how did she get close enough to hit him? The two men were moving constantly. And what if she hit Liam instead?
Turn it on.
The thought was almost a command.
Turn it on.
She slid the switch, the bright beam hitting the ground in front of her.
For whatever reason, the two men slowed in their fight. Tom looked directly at her. A heartbeat later, she raised the flashlight, shining it directly into his face. His arm came up to shield his eyes, and in that same instant, Liam flew up in the air and kicked out. His right foot caught Tom on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. It was the exact same move she’d seen him do in Destination: North Star. And it had the exact same result.
* * *
Breathing heavily, Liam watched his opponent, hoping he wouldn’t try to get up again. He’d never been so thankful for anything as the beam of light that had distracted Tom Goodson. Once this was over, he would tell Chelsea she was a genius. He would tell her that and a whole lot more. Like how much he loved her and couldn’t imagine life without her.
Chipper entered Liam’s field of vision, approaching Tom with a growl, his head low, his muscles tensed.
“Stay, boy,” Liam commanded.
Chipper stopped, but his stance said he wouldn’t let the man on the ground hurt him again.
Liam took a step forward, then stopped when he heard the sound of a truck engine. Several engines. Before he could glance over his shoulder, headlights lit up the clearing. Moments later, other men were dragging Tom up from the ground.
Liam didn’t notice anything else about Tom after that. He was too busy getting to Chelsea, pulling her into his arms, holding her tight against him.
“You’re okay,” he whispered against her hair. “You’re okay.”
“I’m okay. Are you?” She drew back, her hands moving up to cup the sides of his face. “You’re bleeding.”
“Am I?”
She touched a spot below his hairline.
“It’s nothing.” Now he mirrored her action, holding her face between his hands. “Your lip is swollen. Did he do that?” He felt fury rising in his chest again.
She ignored the question. “I knew you’d come for me.” She smiled. “I knew you would. I could feel your love bringing you to me.”
He pulled her close again, her cheek against his chest, his cheek resting on the top of her head. “I’ll always come for you, Chelsea. No matter where you are, I’ll be there.”
Liam's Journal
It’s over a week since Tom Goodson was carted off to jail. He was charged with kidnapping, theft, and a few other things and is held without bond. It seems he’s jumped bail in the past, and the judge isn’t taking any chances. Thank God for that.
Chelsea is doing good. In some ways, I think she’s doing better than I am. She was like a rock after Tom’s arrest. She was interviewed by the police, and I never saw even a glimmer of fear. She just told the facts.
I hired an attorney for her. Not because she’s in trouble, of course, but I want to make sure Goodson doesn’t get off on a technicality. I want to be sure justice is done.
No, what I really want is for that worthless lump of garbage, who used to be her boyfriend, to rot in prison.
Here’s what’s crazy: I managed to stay out of the limelight for nine months. No, even longer than that. There were some journalists that came around when Destination: North Star released, but my parents turned them away, and they honored our desire for privacy (that was a surprise) because of Jacob’s failing health. Then, after I came up here, the folks in Chickadee Creek never said a word to an outsider about me. It was like they made a pact or something. So again, no word in the press.
But Chelsea’s kidnapping and my part in Goodson’s capture put an end to that. It feels like there’s somebody sniffing around every rock in the area. Now there’s talk about the Wentworth movie too.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but while I was falling in love with Chelsea, I worried that she would hate that aspect of dating an actor. A relentless press. I can’t say she’s unfazed by the added attention I’ve brought to the mix. That wouldn’t be true. But she’s handling it with humor and style. She really is amazing.
Filming begins next month. I told her if she needed me here, I wouldn’t go, even if it meant losing the part. She wouldn’t hear of it.
One more reason I know she’s special.
Liam's Journal
I fell behind in keeping this journal while I’ve been in Oklahoma. Been too busy memorizing the script and shooting each day. I talk to Chelsea most every night before I fall into bed. Can’t get through a day without FaceTiming her, at least for a minute or two. The movie should wrap in two weeks, and when it does, I’ll be on the first flight to Idaho.
I’m going to ask Chelsea to marry me when I get home. Playing this role has made me think a lot about the kind of man I want to be, the kind of husband, the kind of dad. And I know it’s Chelsea I want to go through life with. It’s her I want at my side. It’s time I make sure she knows it too.
I’ve had a couple of talks with both Mom and Dad while I’ve been down here. I can’t say things are smooth between us yet, but they’re better. Mom’s gone up to Chickadee Creek to see Rosemary and meet Chelsea. She likes her. “Jacob would love her,” Mom said. She’s right about that. It’s what I’ve always thought.
One last thing before I close this and turn out the light. One of the guys I’ve gotten to know pretty well while on this shoot is a Christian, so we’ve spent time together, talking about the Bible, sharing rides to a church about fifteen miles from our location. There’s a chance he might come in with me on the resort. I’ve decided I want to do it. It would be good for the economy of Chickadee Creek, for one thing. For another, I just like the idea of bringing life to the mansion site again. It seemed kind of a crazy idea at first, but it doesn’t seem like it anymore.
Chelsea has talked a lot lately about how God brings beauty from ashes. That’s another thing Jacob would like about her. Jacob said the same thing, even while he was dying.
We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, God? The first pages I wrote in here were full of pain and more than a little despair. But You’ve brought beauty from ashes. Thanks for that.
Cora
March 1936
Cora stood on the front porch, Preston at her side, waving as Robert, his wife, Rebekah, and their son, Oliver, drove away from the house.
“You’ve had a good birthday,” Preston said.
She cast him a wry look. “When a woman turns sixty, I’m not sure you can say it’s a good birthday.”
“Of course you can.” He tightened his arm around her shoulder. “Because it means we are still here together.”
“How did we reach this age, Preston?”
“By living our lives one day at a time.”
She laughed softly. “You always have an answer
, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
They turned to go inside.
It was true, what Preston said about the passage of time. It did happen one day at a time. But Cora couldn’t help wondering where the years had gone. So much had changed since the day she’d caught a train from New York—a train that carried her to Colorado and then another that brought her to Idaho. The Wild West had given way to cities. Horse-drawn carriages had given way to automobiles. The Great War and the Spanish flu had decimated families. The prosperity of the 1920s had given way to what was now called the Great Depression, a far worse financial collapse than the one that happened in the last decade of the previous century. Or perhaps it only seemed that way because she was older and more aware of such matters.
With his arm around her shoulders, Preston guided her slowly toward the parlor, where a fire blazed in the fireplace, chasing the chill of the blustery evening into the far corners of the room.
“I have one more gift for you,” he said as they neared the settee.
“Oh, Preston. No. I’ve told you and told you. There is nothing I need.”
“This is different.” He drew her down onto the settee, then reached behind it and brought out a thin box with a blue ribbon tied around it. It resembled a box that might hold a handkerchief, only a bit larger. She could forgive him for a handkerchief.
He handed it to her. “Before you open it, I promise you that no one else knows of this. No one else has to know of it unless you decide to share.”
What on earth did those cryptic words mean?
She plucked at the knotted bow and let the ribbon fall to the floor before lifting the lid. White tissue paper hid whatever was beneath it. She moved it aside to see her gift.
Sheet music? Why on earth would he—
She saw the title. Freedom’s Sonata. Her heart quickened. Freedom’s Sonata?
Make You Feel My Love Page 23