December 12, 1879
I’m going out today to find the storm that will send me home. It grieves me that Dave can’t go with me, but he will not leave his family. I understand that feeling all too well.
My heart is heavy this morning. I feel as though a shadow has fallen over me. As they say, I feel like someone just walked over my grave. I find myself afraid to go, but I know I must. Whether I go home or to the watery depths, I must try. I have never before felt this way.
In case I die, I am meeting with my attorney this morning to make final arrangements. I only hope Sally can someday forgive me for not making it back.
I will make it back, or I will die trying.
That was the last entry. She buried her head in her hands and wept openly.
After what seemed a very long time, she stood and made her way back to the sitting room, where she found Frank patiently waiting for her. He gave her a pained smile as he pulled an envelope from his jacket.
“There were instructions that I should give this to you,” he said.
She took the envelope. Inside was a smaller, sealed envelope and a newspaper article from December 18, 1879. She read the article quickly. It announced the death of Mark White, tycoon and architect, who had been lost at sea. His boat had been caught in a storm. Some of the wreckage had been recovered.
He had been right. The storm had killed him. Grief filled her, but also a sense of peace. At last now she knew what had happened to him. As terrible as it was, the not knowing had been worse, in its own way. Now she could go home, hold a funeral and mourn him properly.
She turned her attention to the small envelope. She opened it and instantly recognized Mark’s handwriting.
My Darling Sally,
It was my hope to show you my life here in the past and all the things I’ve done for you and the children. If you are reading this, it means I have failed to find my way home. Please know that I have always loved you, and everything I have done for the past ten years has been for you, the girls, and our baby boy who has yet to be born.
She stopped and reread the last sentence. He said she was having a boy. He knew. Somehow, he knew something she didn’t yet know. The girls would be so excited to find out, since they wanted a baby brother. She continued reading.
There is a coral cave on the grounds of this property with a waterfall. I built that for you. I built so many things in this town for you and our children. Please tell them I love them and thought about them every hour of every day. I would have given everything to see them grow up.
There are a number of investments that the attorney will tell you about. I left something special for you behind the waterfall, though. Reach in and pull on the sharp rock. You will know what to do after that.
I love you with all my heart. I always have. I always will. In this time and in every time. I remain your loving “favorite husband.”
She couldn’t help but smile. It was an old joke between them. She would call him her favorite husband sometimes, just to tease him. She took a deep breath. No one but him could have written that note.
He had signed his name, and she ran her finger over it. She cleared her throat and looked up. “He mentions a coral cave on the property.”
“Yes, I can take you there,” Frank said.
“Actually, if you can just point me in the right direction, I’d like to go by myself.”
“Certainly. I have a number of other documents and things to give you at the office. How about you join me there when you’re done here?”
“Thank you. That would be fine,” she said.
He nodded and handed her the key.
“The grounds here include a fifteen-acre garden. You’ll find the coral cave with the waterfall in the dead center, surrounded by a circle of palm trees.”
She nodded and took the key.
He left, closing the front door behind him.
She wandered through the house for a few minutes, noticing every room had the two intertwined hearts as an architectural accent somewhere within the space. There were more pictures he’d had painted of her and the girls. She even found a purple tulip pattern in the china on display in the dining room.
After some time, she was finally ready to leave the house and explore the cave. She strolled into the gardens and to the circle of palm trees. There, in the heart of them, was the waterfall with the cave. It was a small waterfall, though very beautiful. She reached in, felt for the sharp stone and pulled.
The waterfall parted suddenly, revealing a combination lock built into the stone. She had to walk around to get to the lock. Once again, she used their anniversary as the combination. There was a groaning clunk that lasted a few seconds and then the stone parted in the middle, revealing a chamber inside. She had to pull hard on the door to fully open it. She stepped in and was overwhelmed by what she saw. All around her was treasure. There were gold plates and goblets, chests filled with large gemstones and others filled with gold coins. Mark had left her a literal treasure trove.
She gasped as she saw the paintings and recognized some of them from Art History classes she had taken in college. Rembrandt, Rubens, and so many others. She stared, dumbstruck, wondering how Mark had possibly gotten hold of them. The art collection alone had to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
Her heart swelled. Even in hardship, Mark’s thoughts had been for her and their children. It was as though he was reaching out and caring for her beyond the grave.
As she turned to leave, her eyes fell on a pedestal. There, sitting in an exalted position amongst so many amazing treasures, was something which meant more to her than anything that glittered in that vault.
She reached out a shaking hand and picked up Mark’s phone. Her hand wrapped tight around it. There were pictures, memories stored in there. She held it to her heart for a moment and then slipped it into her pocket. She’d look at it later, when she was somewhere she could spend the time and the tears.
She closed up the vault and moved the stone trigger back into position. The waterfall started back up and even she couldn’t tell what secrets were hidden behind it.
She began to walk the gardens, seeing Mark’s touch everywhere she looked. After a few minutes, she heard singing. She followed the sound and discovered a woman her age placing fresh bouquets of flowers in front of two marble gravestones.
“Hello?” Sally called out tentatively.
The woman turned, startled. “What are you doing--”
She stopped in mid-sentence and her eyes grew wider. She starred at Sally in disbelief for a few seconds then took a step toward her. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me?” Sally asked, wondering how the woman thought she knew her.
“You’re Sally White. You’re great-uncle Mark’s wife.”
She turned and indicated the stone monument behind her. Sally stepped forward until she could read the name inscribed.
Mark White
Beneath it was written,
Beloved Husband, Father, and Brother.
On the gravestone next to his was written,
David Lawrence Whitcomb
Beloved Father, Grandfather, Great-Grandfather.
Sally’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the scream that came to her lips.
She was staring at Mark’s and Dave’s graves.
“I’m sorry. This must be terribly hard for you. It’s just that I’ve been waiting to meet you all my life,” the other woman said with a gentle smile.
“Who are you?” Sally asked.
“I’m Kayla Whitcomb. Dave was my great-great-great-great grandfather. Mark, your husband, was like a brother to him, and an uncle to his children. So, in many ways, that makes you my aunt.”
Sally just stared at her incredulously. “You know?”
Kayla took a deep breath. “Yes. Our family knows the secret, although we’ve keep it very hush-hush so no one thinks we’re crazy. We’ve been waiting for the da
y we finally got to meet you. There were so many stories handed down in the family about you and Uncle Mark and Emma and Jayne. And, if I’m not mistaken, you’re pregnant with a little boy.”
“I guess so,” Sally said.
Sally spontaneously threw her arms around Kayla.
The other woman hugged her back, holding her tight.
“Welcome home,” she whispered.
~
On a beach, a bedraggled man opened his eyes. His clothes were in tatters and still wet from the sea. Every bone in his body hurt. His ears were ringing and his head was spinning. He spit the sand out of his mouth and pushed himself slowly to his knees as his memories came flooding back to him.
The fog had come, and then the blackness and the storm. He stood to his feet, his knees shaking and nearly refusing to support his weight. He gazed around, struggling to see some kind of landmark, hoping to find anything that he could recognize. All he saw was beach in both directions without a soul on it.
He coughed, spitting up more salt mixed with seawater. When he could catch his breath, he straightened up fully.
“Now, when the hell am I?” Mark said.
Epilogue
Present Day
Sally was running late for the museum gala. She had loaned a couple of the paintings Mark had collected for her to the institution for a new exhibit. Tonight was the official unveiling and they expected her to make a speech. She was in the office rehearsing it.
“Purrty,” Mark, Jr. said as he latched onto the hem of her purple dress.
“Thank you, honey,” she said as she smiled down at him.
“Are we going to the party?” he asked.
“No, Auntie Kayla is going to be babysitting you and your sisters tonight.”
The little boy grinned in delight.
Kayla had been such a godsend. Sally wasn’t sure what she would have done without her. Six weeks after discovering that she owned the mansion she and Mark had always admired, she had packed up the girls, left Miami behind, and settled in.
The first year had been rough. Everywhere she looked she saw her husband’s handiwork in the home he’d built for them. It made her miss him more just as his thoughtfulness made her love him more. Kayla had been there, a shoulder to cry on when she needed it. She had told and retold every old story she knew about Mark and Dave with extreme patience.
Indeed, the entire Whitcomb family had embraced her and the children. They really had made it feel like a homecoming.
She glanced down and saw that Mark, Jr.’s shoes were untied, as usual. She crouched down and began to tie them even as he squirmed.
“Knock, knock,” she heard Kayla say as she entered the room. She sounded a little breathless as though she had been hurrying.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sally said without looking up.
“Me, too. I found someone outside who wanted to see you.”
“Yeah? Who is it?” Sally asked.
A deep husky voice answered, “Your favorite husband, I hope.”
Sally froze as her heart stopped for a moment. She recognized that voice. It was older, rougher, but it still made her feel warm inside.
She stood slowly, afraid to look up as her heart began to pound. What if she was wrong? She couldn’t bear it. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Has he come to take me on a second honeymoon?” she asked.
“Paris, St. Augustine, wherever you want,” the man’s voice trembled with emotion.
She forced herself to look up and she gasped.
Mark was standing just inside the door. His hair was tinged with gray, his face was a little more weather-beaten and deeply tanned. His clothes hung in tatters off him and there were scrapes and bruises visible.
“Mark?” she asked, praying it wasn’t some specter.
Mark, Jr. looked up at her, then at the man. “Daddy?” he asked. Suddenly the little boy ran to him.
Mark scooped his son up into his arms. “Hi, pal, I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you,” he said.
It was like a dam inside her broke. Sally ran forward and threw her arms around both of them as she began to cry uncontrollably. A moment later Mark’s lips were on hers and she closed her eyes as she kissed him back.
She didn’t know how long they were that way, but she soon heard running footsteps.
“Daddy!” Emma and Jayne shrieked as they threw their arms around his waist.
“My babies,” he sobbed.
Sally looked at Kayla. The other woman was smiling through the tears streaking down her face.
Sally freed one arm and motioned to her. Kayla eagerly moved forward and hugged them all. “Welcome home, Uncle Mark,” she said.
“Thank you. I can tell you’re one of Dave’s. You have his eyes.”
Kayla nodded. “What happened to you after you left Great-Grandfather Dave?”
Mark gave her a short little laugh and then turned and stared deep into Sally’s eyes. “Tonight is a night for celebrating. That story will just have to wait.”
The Triangle Page 18