“It’s amazing,” he said.
“Something must agree with you,” Riley added. “Yep! And I know exactly what it is!”
Joni blushed. She turned away and put her brown leather purse and a rectangular green gift bag on the floor.
“I guess I could say the same about you two,” she said. “And look what I’ve got!” She held out her left hand and showed off an ornate diamond engagement ring.
Riley screeched with delight and they hugged again.
“When are you getting married?” Paul asked.
“Well, to be honest, not for a while. After all, it’s been rather a whirlwind romance. But who cares when you’re living together. Life’s one long you know what.”
“You bet it is.” Riley grinned at Paul. “Okay. Let’s eat and drink, or rather the other way around. I still have to cook the steak.”
Joni picked up the gift bag and handed it to Riley.
“Happy tomorrow,” she said. “But be careful, it’s fragile.”
Riley carried the bag to the settee while Paul took Joni’s coat to her old bedroom. By the time he got back, Riley had unwrapped a framed photograph of herself and Paul. She was sitting at the stern of a motor launch, looking up at Paul, who was standing. The expressions on their faces spoke for themselves.
“Wow! The Bird Island trip,” said Riley. “Look at this!” She handed the picture to Paul and turned to Joni. “How on earth did you get it? We’re staring at each other like—well, it’s obvious!”
“That’s what I thought as soon as I saw it. I guess it was a complete fluke.”
“And we’d only met once before,” added Paul.
Riley looked at it again. “What a super present. Joni, I love it!”
This set the tone for the evening, which Riley thought she’d never forget.
The following morning, they both awoke early in spite of the night’s festivities. Riley was about to cuddle up to Paul when he opened one eye.
“Is that supposed to be a wink?” She laughed and kissed him. “I mean, do I get my first present now?”
Paul chuckled and said, “It’s your birthday, you sexy little thing. You can have whatever you want whenever you want it.”
Riley drew back and ran her hands over his body. “I’m not sure I can wait, nor can you by the feel of it. But let’s have tea first. A bit of caffeine makes it even better.”
Paul got out of bed and pulled on his underpants. “I’ll make the tea and get your present, the other one.”
While Paul was out of the room, Riley picked up his shirt from the floor beside the bed and put it on. It was an intimate act that she knew he loved. When Paul came back, he was carrying a large cardboard box, the kind that was meant to hold clothes, and another small one.
“Open this first,” he said handing it to her. “It’s very special indeed for the best girl ever.”
Riley tore off some plain brown paper and found herself holding a tiny jewel case. It was obviously very old. Hands shaking with excitement, she lifted the lid and gasped. Inside was a ring made up of shiny gold strands interlaced in a complex pattern.
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” said Riley softly. “It’s…it’s unbelievable.”
“Actually, it was my mom’s idea. It’s a real Celtic eternity ring. I was lucky enough to find one before we left.”
“Darling, it’s beautiful.” Riley tried to put it on her engagement finger but it was too loose.
“Try your middle finger,” Paul suggested. “It’s not meant to tie you down or anything. As a matter of fact, eternity rings are usually given after marriage.”
Riley did as he suggested. It fitted perfectly. “But our marriage is better than a paper one, isn’t it? And as for the ring, I’m going to wear it forever.”
Next, she turned her attention to the large box and opened the lid. It contained a fleecy housecoat in a pale blue and black plaid-type pattern.
“It matches your hair and your eyes perfectly,” Paul commented. “And it’s specially soft for wearing with nothing underneath.”
“Can I put it on?” she asked with a mischievous smile.
Paul didn’t answer, but took the housecoat out of the box while Riley slipped off his shirt.
“You need to stand in front of the mirror,” he said.
Riley jumped out of bed and felt Paul’s gaze following her every move. She shivered provocatively, then pranced across the room to the full-length mirror.
Paul put the housecoat on the bed and came up behind her. The sight of Riley’s reflection aroused him immediately. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.
Riley sighed.
“It’s time,” she said. “I want you now.”
Paul scooped her off the ground and carried her to the bed.
By midmorning, they were both dressed and breakfast was over. Paul was wiping the dining table when the front doorbell rang. Riley jumped and almost dropped the dirty dish she was washing.
“I’ll go,” she said, shaking the soapy water from her hands as she rushed across the living room and down the wooden staircase. Riley had a thing about doorbells and telephones. If the person left or the phone stopped ringing before she could answer, she wouldn’t sleep until the mystery was solved, but she made it.
Blinking in the low November sunlight, she found herself face to face with the postman, his Canada Post cap tilted back a little. He was holding a large envelope with “Special Delivery” written all over it.
“Sign here, please.”
“Is that for me?” she asked as the dark-haired young man, not much older than herself, offered a clipboard and ballpoint.
“Riley P. Barnett. I guess that’s you.”
“Holy cow!” she exclaimed. “You’re the same postman who brought me—but you wouldn’t remember.”
“You’re wrong. I never forget a pretty girl.”
Riley scribbled her signature and took the envelope. This was weird; like the first time, it was from Mr. McGrath.
“Hey, thanks for the compliment. Have a nice day.”
“And you too.” The young man turned and hurried to the next house on the crescent.
Before shutting the door, Riley glanced again at the white, legal-sized envelope. The feeling of déjà vu intensified. “I wonder what this is,” she muttered. “I thought all that stuff was over and done with.” There were two regular envelopes as well, birthday cards in unfamiliar handwriting and postmarked Portugal Cove.
“Who was that?” asked Paul as she closed the upstairs door.
“The postman. I got a couple of cards and a large envelope from Mr. McGrath. I hope it isn’t more bad news.”
“Impossible,” said Paul as she joined him at the dining table.
Riley made a face. “You open it. I don’t want to look.”
Paul went to the kitchen for a knife. He liked to open important letters tidily. Meanwhile, Riley looked at the cards.
When he returned to the table, she held them up. “This one’s from Ada and this one’s from Doris.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” said Paul as he opened the large envelope and pulled out a second folded one. He pushed it across the table to Riley. “This is sealed and has your name on it. There’s a separate letter from McGrath as well. Let’s look at it first.”
Riley drew up a chair while Paul perched on the dining table beside her and glanced through the letter. She picked up the second envelope and stared at it. Something told her the contents were bad. She didn’t dare open it.
“McGrath begins with the investigation of the break-in,” Paul continued. “It seems the police have just about given up. They think the thieves must have left the island almost immediately, either by boat or by an early Air Canada flight to Halifax. It departed at 5:50 a.m. McGrath says that by the time the Halifax police had been notified, the thieves would have been miles away, probably on their way to the US border. I’ll read the next bit in full, because it’s about that envelope.
/> “‘On the afternoon of October 23, which was the day after you left, I picked up the keys from Doris and took them back to the office. It had been arranged that Ms. Dillon would look at the house on Friday, November 3. I wasn’t sure if it needed cleaning so made an inspection on the previous Saturday. While I was there, I checked out the keys on the two rings that you left. They all fitted their appropriate locks except for a rather odd little key. You wouldn’t have noticed it because I don’t believe you used that particular ring routinely. It still has our tag attached.’”
“I remember,” Riley interrupted. “I kept it at the back of a kitchen drawer because all the keys were spares. Go on.”
“Where was I?” said Paul. “Um…’I soon realized it was yet another safety deposit key, but had to wait until Monday before checking the banks. I was lucky. It was registered with the third bank I went to. I opened the box in the presence of a teller. It contained the enclosed envelope and nothing else. I have no idea what it is, but since it bears your name and address, it’s your property and doesn’t belong to Ms. Dillon.’“
Paul put the letter on the table. “That’s it. He signs off.”
Riley picked up Paul’s knife and opened the second envelope. She extracted a legal document stapled to a blue paper cover. Judging from the heading it was a conveyance. Her eyes widened as she began to read and the implication sank in.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered. “I think…I think Uncle Richard’s given me his old home in Jamaica!”
“Come on, Riley-girl! I don’t believe it.”
“But it’s true, darling. And this document isn’t a will at all, it’s a conveyance. What’s more, it’s dated July 1977, which is two months before Uncle Richard signed the second will—I’ll never forget the date on that. Also, his house in Jamaica wasn’t even mentioned in either of the two wills. You know what I think? He felt bad about the whole business and this was to make up for it. As far as I can see, the conveyance is watertight. It has to be. Here, read it for yourself.”
Paul read through the document while Riley got to her feet and stood looking out of the window. After several minutes, he put it on the table.
“It looks like you’re right,” he said. “But there are two loose pages in the middle. I guess you didn’t get that far.”
“Oh?”
“They appear to be something called a time-sharing agreement.”
Riley’s heart sank. It sounded ominous. “What’s that?”
“People rent a house, an apartment or even a hotel room for the same period each year over a set number of years. My parents did that for our vacations while I was a toddler. One of these pages appears to contain the text of an agreement, while the other is a list of names and dates. Hang on while I check it again.”
“Shit!” exclaimed Riley. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
She ran into the bedroom. Paul heard her sobbing and hoped she was wrong. He read the agreement then glanced at the list. It took a couple of minutes before the significance became apparent. As soon as he was sure, he slid off the dining table and hurried to Riley, who was lying on the bed with her face in a pillow.
Paul sat beside her. “It’s not as bad as I thought. Your uncle kept two months each year for himself—January and December. The rest of the leases expire five years from now.” He began to massage the back of her neck. “The only problem is that the money from them has to be paid into his estate, which means it goes to Lisa Dillon. On the plus side, you get two months free vacation in Jamaica every Christmas and the house is yours after five years.”
Riley turned over and looked up at him. “Are you sure?”
“Certain. All we need is for Mr. McGrath to check it out.”
“And we can go, right? For Christmas, I mean.”
“You bet your sweet life we can!”
They returned to the living room and Riley started to clear up the papers. Then she remembered Jean was supposed to visit. Well, she could come to Jamaica too. As she picked up the big envelope to put everything back, a much smaller one fell out onto the dining table.
She held it up. “What on Earth’s this? There’s no writing on it—wait a second, I can feel something solid inside.” She slit open the flap and out tumbled two small gold coins, each about the size of a quarter.
“Holy cow!” exclaimed Paul, picking up one of them and examining it closely. “There are some funny words on it, in Portuguese or—”
“There’s a piece of paper as well,” interrupted Riley. “It may explain what they are. It says, ‘These are for you, Riley, to make up for all the wretched things that have happened. One day, I took a stroll down the trail to see what it was like, and there they were beside the boardwalk in a tuft of grass where the snow had melted. Having done some research, I can tell you they aren’t in any catalogue, but I have other sources of information. I strongly suggest that you go to a dealer called Milton Warbury; he’s in the Toronto phone book. You will have a very pleasant surprise indeed. Please destroy this note. Martin.’”
They looked at each other flabbergasted.
“They must have come from the basement,” said Riley.
Paul took the note from her and glanced at it. “If that’s the case, Mr. McGrath couldn’t have found them on the trail. The thieves didn’t escape that way because you heard their car going down to the road. Do you suppose he was somehow involved?”
“We’d better call him,” said Riley.
Paul slid off the table while she crossed the living room to the wall phone.
When she asked for Mr. McGrath, the receptionist said, “I’m sorry, Miss Barnett, he seems to have disappeared. He hasn’t been seen since he left on a two-day business trip to Halifax and he never went to the company he was supposed to be visiting. That was on the day I mailed your letter. I’m sure he’ll return eventually, in which case I’ll contact you.”
“Thank you,” Riley replied and hung up.
“Well?” he said.
She looked at Paul intently. “He’s disappeared.”
“What?”
“They expect him to return eventually. But what about the coins? Do you really think they’re—”
“Yes.” Paul looked out of the window.
“I don’t care,” said Riley. “I want to see the dealer.”
He turned and took her head in his hands. “So do I.”
They kissed, then she said, “I wonder if Mr. McGrath will ever come back. What do you think?”
Notes
I spent more than twenty years in Newfoundland and have used the setting of the family home for the location of Riley’s house. However, the actual building is quite different.
The story and characters in She Came from Away are fictitious, but most of the places and geographical features such as coves, roads, bays etc are real. The weather office at Torbay Airport is real as well, but it may not have been manned overnight during the late 1970s. Regarding legal matters in Newfoundland, I have done my best, but not being a Mr. McGrath, there are sure to be errors. While I had some direct experience in the clearing of land titles and the buying and selling of property, many of the legal situations and events are largely guesswork.
While standing alone, She Came from Away is a sort of addendum to the Harry Lockwood trilogy in that it mentions his ultimate fate. To read more about the exciting adventures of Harry and his friends during the years going back to World War II, please visit www.dedwardbradley.com.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to Robynn Clairday, Cheryl Jones and Lauran Strait.
About The Author
David Edward Bradley’s fascination with foreign places comes naturally. Conceived on the Dark Continent in the British Colony of Nigeria, where his father worked as a surveyor, he grew up in England during the 1930s. His most vivid childhood memory was seeing the menacing shadow of the Graff Zeppelin floating among the clouds, a portent of things to come.
When he was only four years old, his mother joi
ned her husband in Africa. They were stranded there during much of the Second World War, leaving him with his grandmother. In 1943, his parents returned to England and David moved on to Public School where the privations of daily life and the VI flying bombs left their mark.
Mr. Bradley admits that his early career as a Research Physicist came about through an aptitude for repairing intricate mechanisms and a timely job at a laboratory engaged in the exciting new field of Electron Microscopy. After several years of groundbreaking research, he gained his MSc and PhD degrees in Microbiology at the University of Edinburgh, satisfying his wanderlust by participating in scientific expeditions and conferences around the globe.
In 1974, Dr. Bradley emigrated to Canada where he worked at Memorial University of Newfoundland. There, at the easternmost edge of North America where the passage of years is marked by the southward migration of icebergs from Greenland, he continued his research in Microbiology.
After retiring in 1995, D. Edward Bradley now devotes his time to writing fiction at his home in Kingston, Ontario.
He is also the author of: Leeward; Harry’s War; Another Kind of War; The Iceland Connection
She Came From Away Page 25