Her mother’s arms came around her. It was all she needed.
* * * *
There was a soft tap at Corrie’s door, then it opened and Britt stepped into the room. With no words they were in each other’s arms, Corrie lifting her mouth for it to be adored.
“Da wants you. He has something for us to read. He’s just finished the first diary, even read most of the Dutch script with a little prompting. And I’ve been invited to stay,” he informed her. When she smiled, he added, “And you can stop grinning like that. There will be no hanky-panky late at night. I’d wake the whole house the way I need you, my sweet. Now, Da is waiting.”
Corrie liked the way Britt had said Da. Not your Da, just Da, claiming ownership as well, and she touched her lips to his again...which took a few minutes longer for the bedroom door to be opened.
Halfway down the stairs Corrie stopped Britt to ask, “You do like my parents, don’t you?”
“I certainly do. They made you.” He brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “No more delaying tactics. Let’s hear what Da wants to tell us.”
Hand in hand they walked into the study and sat on a small couch.
“All comfy?” Da asked.
They both nodded, and he opened his wallet, extracting two pages of what seemed to be a handwritten letter.
“This was from my sister, Caroline. She placed it in a birthday card for my ninetieth birthday. She thought it was time I knew the secret that my grandfather, Henry Thomas Nelson-Haigh, had changed his name to Thomas Nelson, confessing in full to all that had happened on Endeavour Island. He wrote this confession after an accident at one of his gold mines in Kalgoorlie, which eventually resulted in his death. His son, Henry Andre Nelson, my father, was nineteen at the time, and he sold the two gold mines and settled his mother in Perth. He has added to the confession as is seen by the difference in handwriting.”
Da stopped explaining to ask, “Is all this making sense? I’m not confusing you, am I? Because I found I had to read most of this letter twice to be convinced it was the truth.”
“It’s making a lot of sense, having read my families diaries,” Britt replied.
“So I’ll continue. My father went to sea and bought a pearling lugger at Broome where he met my mother and had two children—me and my sister Caroline. My parents never married, and my mother left him with the children. When I was sixteen our father died of the bends. I sold the lugger, invested the money, and took my sister to Perth along with all the family papers for safekeeping. Our grandmother had died by this time, so Caroline entered a convent. I returned to Broome and signed on with Arafura Enterprises, boarding one of their trading vessels and sailing to Endeavour. That’s when I met Peter Dutchy Hendricks, your grandfather, Britt. Years later Caroline discovered the written confession and continued to maintain the secret. Not being well, she wrote to me, enclosing the confession to set the record straight, she claimed. We still have her with us, I’m happy to say.”
Da handed the letter to Britt, who quickly read it along with the confession. He lifted his head and said, “I thank you for your honesty.”
Corrie took the letter from Britt’s hand. Within a few minutes, her head snapped up. “Oh, Da, you’ve known for almost over five years our name is Nelson-Haigh, and all that time you’ve been thinking your grandfather had—”
Da’s hand rose. “We’ve done the name of Nelson proud, my girl. Now, having read that diary, it is a blessing to rest easy knowing my grandfather can no longer be labeled a murderer. An embezzler perhaps, but in the face of his partner changing the company’s name, claiming to be the sole owner, I feel things have come out pretty well equal. We have no claim on, or want to have a claim on, Arafura Enterprises. Even in view of the contract.”
“Your granddaughter read your reaction correct. In fact, she was most adamant this is what you would say.”
“And he told me I was being selfish, making that decision without consulting you first.”
Da chuckled, nodding his head. “Corrie has always been my champion. I did speak to my lawyer when I received my sister’s letter, and he has that letter and confession in his keeping. What I showed you was a photocopy. Now, with all this disclosed, my lawyer will be contacted to draw up a disclaimer to any interest in Arafura Enterprises. Of course this will all be discussed with my sons, and I assure you it will go no further.”
“What can I say? I am grateful, sir.” Genuine, humble words from Britt.
Da gave a huge smile. “With your marriage, Henry and Pieter’s descendants will soon be one of the same. The partnership exists again. You’ve succeeded in putting things to right.”
Britt’s eyes went to the other small diary and Da’s gaze followed.
“Britt, have you read that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it imperative I read it? Will anything in it influence the future?”
“Only if you want it to.”
Da rose slowly from the chair, a gnarled finger lightly touching the tapestry diary. “I have my memories, a multitude of them,” he said, his voice becoming soft with introspection. “I would like to keep them as that—memories of the past. The future is up to the young, they will have their own problems to face and deal with. Why encumber them with past mistakes and regrets?”
Da’s eyes sought Corrie’s concerned face, then he turned to pin his gaze on Britt.
“In years to come, when I have long gone, when I won’t see the distress on this special granddaughter’s face,” he said, his hand resting briefly on Corrie’s hair, “I give you leave to tell her of my other life on Endeavour Island.” He pushed all the stacked diaries toward Britt. “They are in your keeping.”
He eased himself into the armchair again.
“Now, if you can offer this old codger a decent bed, I would very much like to be with you on your wedding day on Endeavour Island.”
“Oh, Da! Thank you.” Corrie came to wrap her arms around her grandfather who had been instrumental in her finding her little bit of heaven with Britt, the man who was the love of her life.
Epilogue
Six weeks later
The day was one the gods had smiled on.
The simple ceremony was held on the foreshore of Corrie’s magical island under the mystical Wongai tree with the high ramparts of Edward Island forming the backdrop.
Corrie, in an ankle-length, ivory chiffon dress, carrying a bouquet of frangipani and wearing a wreath of the same in her hair—flowers picked by Wing Lee—stood beside Britt, her Nordic Viking. He wore cream slacks and a soft cream shirt, identical in style to the one he wore the night of Russella and Matt’s engagement dinner.
Rusie, in brilliant pink, with Matt’s help as best man, had shepherded Victor and Jacqui’s small daughters in their duties as flower girls. Dressed in bright flowered sarongs, Wing Lee’s frangipanis overflowed their woven islander baskets.
The congregation, because of the generous open invitation to the whole island, stood many deep. All except Da, who sat with three elderly Endeavour islander friends. Wing Lee stood protectively behind Da’s chair; a close friendship had formed when Da was in resident the previous two weeks before the wedding.
Britt tightly clasped Corrie’s hand, and she welcomed the pressure for her hand was trembling. His smile, full of approval, sent her nervousness off to join the slight breeze.
“You see, the magic of the Wongai tree has worked again. You have returned,” he said, squeezing her fingers.
Corrie returned the pressure. “Never to leave. Only occasionally.”
The minister smiled and cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved…”
* * * *
Lady B lay at anchor in their special cove. Watching the fine lines of the night-darkened clouds etched across the fiery terracotta evening sky, a burnished glow bathed them.
Britt’s lips touched her hair. “Paradise.”
“Perfect. Almost.” Corrie turned slowly. “I’m not pregnant, Britt.”
/> He swung her up into his arms. “I’m relieved. Somehow it wouldn’t be right. I would hate to cause your parents any distress knowing how very special you are to them.”
“Oh, you’re the nicest husband anyone could have.”
“Don’t get me wrong, my darling, for I’m going to try my darnedest to make sure you will be pregnant before our honeymoon is over. You know what Da said—Nelson-Haigh and Hendricks have come full circle, and Henry and Pieter are counting on us to put things to right.”
About Judith Johnson
A country girl, my heart is always in the country as reflected in many of my stories. I love the Outback, although I also love living in my little piece of sub-tropical heaven in New South Wales, Australia. A vivid dream set me off on this journey of writing the stories I need to tell. My love of traveling to many countries also inspires me, and I can’t resist books about Sheiks and Regency “naughty boys”. I had ambitions of becoming an art teacher. It didn’t happen, but I painted in oils until my writing took over. I’m a member of Romance Writers of Australia and also part of a romance writers support group called “Rainbow Writers”.
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