“Aren’t there other Wentworths they could travel through?” I asked.
“Once Wentworth understood the power of his paintings, he moved them often and to secret locations. His memoir doesn’t mention where he kept them.” Grace pointed to the book on my lap. “Only that he moved them every few months to keep them from falling into the wrong hands.”
“And on our end? Aren’t there at least five other Wentworths we could find?”
“Isabella and I have searched for them for twenty years with no luck.”
“So if Otto still had his painting, he could bring them back,” I said.
“Addie,” Blake interrupted firmly.
I put my hand up to stop him. “I’m just asking about the painting,” I said, then exhaled audibly.
“Hard to know for sure,” Grace said. “Since he hasn’t. Carolena was the one who really had the gift for finding her way from here to there. At one point she did anchor a red cord to mark the path from here to 1920 so that Otto and other members of our crowd could travel on our own if we wanted to. The twenties were a favorite time for him.
“Christ.” Blake ran his hand down his face. “She marked off the path with a cord? Like breadcrumbs for travelers?”
“Otto was different then,” Grace said. “No one could have predicted that he would —. Anyway, if he still has the painting, and if the cord is still in place, then yes, I guess he could get them back.”
Isabella uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “What we do know is that he has no motivation to bring them back. I mean, why would he?”
“So, they’re alive,” Lexie said. “And why did you keep this from us all these years?”
“Because the two of you have always been just headstrong enough to try this on your own.” Grace’s voice caught in her throat. “And I couldn’t run the risk to lose the both of you as well.” She moved slowly, as if her regret were heavy on the inside. “I never wanted to hurt either of you. But I’d do it again if it meant keeping the two of you safe.” Her expression softened toward Lexie and me. “I’m sorry.”
Grace didn’t apologize for much, but when she did she was authentic about it. Alexa and I read the other’s mind and agreed with a glance. What Grace and Isabella had done was inexcusable, and it might take a long time to recover from it. Though we had to move forward. We nodded at Grace and Isabella in solemn understanding.
Instead of answering or belaboring the point, Grace turned a slow circle and continued. “John and Campbell took trips with Otto and Carolena for the business. They were able to salvage artwork that would otherwise have been destroyed, stolen, or lost in time. Those random announcements that some masterpiece was discovered in someone’s attic or behind another canvas? Those discoveries were actually made possible by the work of these men. And Carolena, of course.” Grace gestured toward Blake, who was barely breathing. He shook his head with regret and I knew he didn’t find any comfort in the good they had done.
“Then, travel became a more casual thing, and we took trips all the time,” she gestured toward Isabella. “I learned how to traverse the depths of the canvas and navigate my own way without a guide.
“We all traveled through Otto’s Wentworth as easily as if we were going to the coast for the weekend. We found the 1920s, you see, and we figured out how to go to Paris…” Grace twisted a long strand of pearls against itself, a faraway look in her eye.
“Anyway, cousin Eva found out through John about our trips.” Grace rolled her eyes. “We think she lost her sense of direction because no one has heard from her since. She always drank too much, so we thought she must have just been careless, maybe traveling tipsy. From that we learned it could…happen to anyone.”
“I thought she was killed in a car accident,” Lexie said.
Grace sipped her wine, her attention directed out the window. A gentle, even rain fell outside and the drops pattered against the slanted roof of the veranda.
“We just made up that story, sweetheart,” Isabella said. “We don’t know where she is, or even if she’s alive.” Isabella stroked Lexie’s hair and gathered it behind her shoulders.
“You were gone for several years when Lexie and I were young,” I said quietly. “Does that have something to do with the Wentworth as well?”
Grace sighed. “Seems I’ve rather a lot to apologize for today.” She sat down for the first time since our meeting began. “It wasn’t an intentional absence. We got lost.”
“We?” Alexa asked.
Grace paused.
“Fowler and I.”
“Oh.” Alexa’s eyebrows climbed.
“Your grandfather and I were on the outs, and we hadn’t gotten along for some time. He wanted to be in New York, I wanted to stay in Savannah. You know I never liked the city. Anyway, I had the bright idea to show Fowler the painting. I guess I was trying to impress him, and we took a wrong turn and got lost.”
“Isabella told us you were traveling around the world with a friend.” There was the faint ring of whine in Lexie’s voice when she said it. Her mouth remained open in a pout and I couldn’t tell if Lex was offended over being lied to or because she had been left out of such a grand adventure.
“Well, I guess I rather was.” Grace stood again, and paced across the room, wine glass in hand. “I didn’t mean to. Just as in the Monet, Wentworth’s emotions ran strong when he painted, and the currents inside the art were disorienting.”
“And that’s when you met the Fitzgeralds,” I said with more enthusiasm than I meant to.
“Well, we didn’t intend to meet them.” Grace’s words suggested another apology, but I felt excitement in her heart, and there was a spark of happiness in her eye I’d never before known her to have.
“You enjoyed the trip.” I thought of her bright smile in the Fitzgerald photo. “How could you not?”
“You’ll have to tell us about them,” Blake said distractedly.
“I will. It was all very grand. But I hated being away from my young granddaughters who needed me,” Grace said. “Though Wentworth moved his paintings before we could get back to them. We were stuck. You know he started moving them every so often once he discovered that they could be a link between his time and another. He was constantly afraid someone would use them for the wrong reasons. In fact, it was just a fluke that we managed to get back at all.”
I felt her heart tangle in a netting of guilt over not being there for Lex and me.
“We survived,” I said to comfort her. “And you did make it back.”
Like the release of a balloon, I felt the old childhood anger of abandonment lift from my heart and drift away. Grace, the steel magnolia we depended on so heavily when we were children, hadn’t left us to travel the world. At least not intentionally.
Alexa, Grace, and I met at the midpoint of the room. We hugged with the fierce love we had for one another and the tears and forgiveness flowed freely.
“Promise me that you won’t try this.” Grace took both Lex and me by a shoulder and looked us in the eyes.
Alexa promised right away.
I thought about the currents that blew crossways through the Monet, and how they tugged me in different directions and knocked me off balance. The last thing I wanted was to be lost in some other time, away from Blake, separated from my family. The idea flitted around in my chest along a path of anxiety.
I wanted to be strong enough, gifted enough to tell her that I couldn’t make that promise. I wasn’t on either account. Much as I wanted to be the hero and rescue my father and grandfather, I thought of what I’d faced in the Monet and didn’t think I could.
“I promise,” I said. And I meant it.
When I returned to the couch Blake squeezed my hand.
“The truth is that I don’t know if we’ll ever get to them,” Grace said. “Though we’ll never stop trying.”
“The best thing you can do now is to leave. Get away from Otto and enjoy your life together,” Isabella said with tears in her eyes.
“Isabella’s right, Addie,” Grace said. “We’ll take care of Lexie. We’ll keep her safe from Otto.”
“I just wish there was something I could do,” I said. “I feel so helpless.”
Blake took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“We all do,” Lexie said. “But they’re right. You and Blake need to be out of Otto’s reach.”
“If Otto becomes unbearable we’ll all take a trip. Somewhere,” Grace said with a smile that was intended to comfort.
The idea that I might not see my family again was not comforting.
“There’re no guarantees in life,” Grace said. “No guarantees that you’ll find the love of your life, or if you do, that you’ll be able to spend the rest of your life with them.”
My chest clenched hard as her words echoed the fear that had haunted me since Blake and I had found one another, and even before then.
Chapter 34
Grace, Isabella, and Lex left the room to take a call from Fowler, who said he had a hit on who was hosting Alexa and Todd’s video footage.
Blake stepped outside to call Carolena. And as much as I wanted to be a part of both conversations, there were two missing pieces of information that I needed: the reasons why Otto banished my relatives to another time, and how they and Grace and Isabella were able to correspond with one another.
I could have waited for Grace or Isabella to answer these questions when they returned, but I had doubts that Grace would ever completely come clean about the secrets she kept tucked away. I had to reasonably suspect that she would always keep a few to herself. Which meant if I wanted to know the answers, as usual, I’d have to find them myself.
My grandfather’s private office swirled with the aura of precious memories. Somewhere in here I’d find the right conduit to the answers I sought.
The distant scent of singed paper brought my attention to the blue binding on the F. Scott Fitzgerald book. Once again there was a tiny, glimmering light. A few seconds later there was another.
A subtle current of electricity ran through my hand and up my arm when I removed the book from the shelf. Another of the folded, yellowed letters slid from the inside and my heart flooded with delight at the sight of it.
Dearest Isabella & Mama,
Dad has secured our access to the basement area. We’ll spend the next few months cataloging and organizing the morass of artwork down here. Though they have not yet allowed us access to the desired area. We are, we hope, closer to the Wentworth we seek.
Your devoted son,
Campbell
And this time a photo was included. The two men wore brown, vested suits, thin ties, and slender jackets. They sat next to one another on a park bench with an early version of The Metropolitan Museum of Art in the background. The slightly haunted, vacant expression that plagued all people in antique photos now reflected on their faces as well. My heart ached when I traced their faces with my fingertips. It was my first visit with them in over twenty years.
There’s something very special about connecting with someone who loved you when you were a child. They forever hold a tender, trustworthy place in your heart. The very roots of your identity can be traced to the way they used to see you.
My father’s and grandfather’s belief in me was like a balloon that could lift me over almost any trouble I encountered. Except, perhaps, their abrupt absence. They were the basis for my hope for the future, and through their eyes I felt I could do anything. For a moment I was back in their world, my tiny hand in the middle of theirs, and the world around me a safe and comfortable place.
When their 1920s world came into focus, though, I didn’t feel the strength they used to share with me. Instead, it felt as though they were soldiers in a battle. They emanated a weighty hopelessness of being stuck, a despair over the loss of their family, and the fear of being only a memory, long before their death.
My once ever-positive father and grandfather appeared to be losing the very spirit that we all had relied on so heavily.
If only there were something I could do to help them.
I picked up a pen and a new sheet of notepaper from my grandfather’s desk, then stopped and wondered if a note from me might worry them even more. What if they had an agreement with Grace that Lexie and I weren’t to know where they were or how they got there. I wanted to ease their loneliness, not create new worries.
Then I ran upstairs, tiptoed past Lexie’s closed door, where three of the Montgomery women held court about Lex’s current predicament, and grabbed my purse from the floor of my room. Inside was a photo Grace had taken of Blake and me when we arrived. Like the mothers and loved ones of young soldiers in any other war, I would stick to the positive.
Dear Daddy & Grandaddy,
You just can’t imagine how long I’ve waited to see your faces and to correspond with you both. Grace has told us everything. Reluctantly, and under duress. Please don’t worry. We understand how dangerous the path is and we won’t try anything stupid.
All is well here. We pray for your safe return every day.
Enclosed is a photo of someone I hope to introduce you to very soon.
With all my love & more,
Addie
I folded the note around the picture, sealed it with a kiss. Then stopped. What if there was only a certain time when the letters could be transported? What if that’s why I saw Grace receiving the letters in the middle of the night? And if they were in New York, how did the letter get to Savannah?
Grace would kill me if I screwed up the pony express arrangement they had going.
I decided I’d ask Grace how it worked before I tried it. Surely, she wouldn’t say no to a letter. Not now that so much was out in the open.
I left both letters and the photos on my grandfather’s desk and sat in his leather chair. I rubbed my hands over the memories that held firm in the rich cherry wood of his desk, and found the one of our last meeting together. There I sat, the essence of childhood summer, cross-legged on the flat of his desk. Pig-tails, white eyelet halter top, rolled up jean shorts, and lightly skinned knees. There was a trace of chocolate ice cream at the corner of my mouth and a serious focus on the hand I’d been dealt.
“Go fish,” my grandfather says with an equally deliberate squint.
“Argh!” I say and draw from the deck.
His eyes twinkle and he laughs. “You always were the serious one,” he says. “That’s a sign of intelligence, you know. Give me all your whales.”
“Go fish. I’m not as smart as Lexie. She gets better test scores than I do,” I say. “Give me all your lobsters.”
My grandfather lays down two large cards with bright red lobsters on them. I snatch them up as if I’d just found gold.
“Eh, smarts don’t come in just one kind of package. Intelligence can’t be measured in only one way. You are smart, my princess. What about your gifts?” he asks, and cradles my cheek in his palm. “That is a very special intelligence, yes?”
I lean into his comforting touch and place my hand over his. Two of my fingers touch his watch, and visions of Vermeer’s The Concert materialize in my mind.
“Oh, Grandpa, you have new art,” I say, and watch him and Otto carry the frameless pieces into a small, vacant room. “It’s so beautiful. Isn’t that Vermeer? Can I read it for you? How did you get a Vermeer?” I stare at him with innocent curiosity.
My grandfather jumps and pulls his hand away. I feel him wage war with a flood of anger, but it shoots through me anyway.
I jump off the desk and step away.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I stand at the side of his office, afraid to move and wanting to run.
He stands and runs his hand across his face. “It’s okay, Addie-belle. Let’s just forget about it, okay?” He walks over to me and hesitates just before he put his arms around me. Through the uncomfortable distance that widens between us, I stare at his expression.
“You’ve…you’ve done something you
weren’t supposed to,” I say while I feel the guilt beneath his anger. “This is the Vermeer, and the other paintings that they talked about at school. Someone stole them from that museum in Boston. You stole these paintings,” I say and step away from him.
He turns in a circle with his hand over his mouth, then he lunges toward me and grips the outside of my shoulders.
“Addie, I need you to pretend that you didn’t see this, okay? This is very important,” he says as he shakes my shoulders once, and too hard. “Otherwise, something very bad could happen to me. And you wouldn’t want that, would you? If anyone finds out, I would have to leave for a very long time. Do you want your grandfather taken away?”
I shake my head and lean away from him.
“I’m going to make sure the museum gets them back,” he says. “I promise. Okay? I’ll take care of it. Just forget that you ever saw this.”
I lifted my hand from the desk and made a white-knuckled fist.
“Reliving old memories?” Grace leaned against the open doorway.
Chapter 35
Uncovering Carolena’s secrets had become his most unwelcome chore in life. Each one bore some new vulnerability that Blake had to conquer, lest they take his family down altogether. She refused to reveal her secrets willingly, insisting instead that they were better left dead and buried. A thing best left to the past. Blake’s warrior mind didn’t see her quiet secrets as a favor, but instead as threats that lay in wait.
“Nothing like having a near stranger tell you about a secret your mother has been hiding from you all of your life,” Blake said.
“What are you talking about?” Carolena scolded.
“I’m talking about a gift that you gave Otto that he used—” He dropped the phone to his side. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he mumbled, then lifted the phone to his ear again.
Somewhere in Time Page 17