by Gemma Bruce
The other is for you. Hopefully, you and Cas have bumbled though your differences. I’ve done as much as I could to set you in the right direction. Reynolds and I both made a mistake by sending the two of you away. But you’re back now, aren’t you?
You can stay or you can sail away together or go your separate ways. But I think you are meant to join the houses of Reynolds and Excelsior at last. It’s up to you.
There is also a letter that I depend upon you to deliver to Reynolds, Sr. I’ll have the last say, after all.
The last envelope will make all things clear.
If you decide to leave, please see that Maude gets my beauties. She’ll take good care of them as she took good care of me. Nimble fingers, our Maude.
Wes Excelsior.
P.S. Get Cas to tell you about the horse, the chicken and the Harley.
P.P.S. Remember who loves you.
Julie put her hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. Cas slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Open the envelope.”
She moved the bank books and Reynolds’s envelope aside. Then she lifted the flap of the last envelope and extracted three sheets of folded, aged paper. Her fingers trembled and she set the papers on the table to read. At the top of the first page, written in ink, faded brown, were the words: The Confession of Josiah Excelsior—1868.
On the night of September 14, 1863, William Reynolds was mortally wounded by a gunshot to his chest. This is the true account of what happened on that fatal night. William and I were dining at the Roadhouse Inn when we noticed several men going into the private dining room. Two of them, we had reason to suspect, were members of the Knights of the Golden Order. Our suspicions raised, we went outside and crept beneath the window to overhear their conversation. We were appalled to find that they were planning to raid the factory that very night in order to steal rifles meant for our brave Union army and use them in conjunction with Confederate spies to capture New York City.
The meeting broke up in due course and we followed them across the river. We took a position in the trees to watch the proceedings, with a mind toward thwarting them if we could by alerting the head of the New York militia, once we knew in which direction they were taking them.
It wasn’t long before, to our surprise, a barge floated down the river. When it reached the mouth of the harbor, the bargemen threw lines out to shore. A dozen men came from the woods and took them up and towed the barge out of the current and moored it at the wharf. Another dozen men disembarked and went into the factory.
We were astounded to see them gain entrance through a locked door. We watched while they loaded crate after crate of rifles onto the barge.
By mutual consent we crept closer, our pistols drawn, with the idea of cutting the barge adrift while they were inside. Instead we came upon the lookout for the group. As he turned, William and I were struck dumb. It was Andrew Reynolds, William’s younger brother. A traitor to the northern cause! As we stared, he raised his pistol and shot William, his own brother! I killed Andrew in the next instant. He staggered back, hovered on his feet, then dropped his torch onto the barge before he fell into the river, never to be seen again.
His fellow traitors were alerted and I barely managed to throw William over my shoulder and make our escape. I heard the explosion as I rode away with William in my arms. I took him to Reynolds Place and stayed by his bed as he died. His last words to me were to never tell of the perfidy of his brother. To save his family name.
I have kept that promise, though men have reviled me. And I will take that promise to my grave. For though one Reynolds died a traitor, another died a hero.
I killed Andrew Reynolds, a traitor and a murderer. But I never killed another soul.
Written this day, 14 September 1868, year of our Lord.
Josiah Hezekiah Excelsior.
Julie dropped the last sheet of paper onto the table. “He didn’t murder your great-great-grandfather.”
Cas shook his head. “All these years, feuding over nothing.”
“Except a promise.”
“We’re not obligated to keep that secret. The feud ends now.”
“But Cas, your family.”
“Every family has a rotten apple.” He smiled. “So to speak. It also has its heroes. I think it’s time for both Josiah and William to have their moment of glory.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh yes. Come on, gather up these things. We’re going to Reynolds Place.”
“Not me.”
“Yes, you. Because like Wes said, you are about to become a Reynolds.”
Julie stared at him, while her heart skittered in her chest. “Is this a proposal?”
“Yes. What do you say?”
Julie thought a moment, looked down at the sheets of paper spread out on the table. “I say ...” She took a deep breath. “I do.”
Cas pulled her off her chair and kissed her. “I do , too.”
Larue’s eyes grew round when he saw Julie and Cas standing at the door. It was the first time Cas had ever seen him react to anything.
“Is my father in?”
Larue nodded then finally found his voice. “They’re all in the parlor.” And he stood at the door while Cas led Julie across the foyer.
“Just hang tough,” Cas said and pushed Julie into the room.
Reynolds and Marian sat by the fire, Melanie was slouched on the window seat looking bored. They all looked toward the door when it opened. Reynolds’s drink sloshed out of the glass, Marian’s mouth dropped open. Melanie clenched her fist, and said, “Yeah.”
“What—what,” sputtered Reynolds.
Cas held on to Julie and propelled her along until they were standing before his mother and father. “Sit down, Reynolds. Julie has something for you.” He felt her trembling. Wes’s letter to Reynolds was clenched tightly in her hand.
“Get that—”
“Sit down.”
Reynolds sat down and stared, outraged at his son.
Cas pried the letter out of Julie’s fingers and handed it to his father. “Read it out loud.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Melanie come to stand on the other side of Julie and his heart filled with joy. He had the makings of a pretty damn good family here. Reynolds opened the letter. His lips moved as he read, but he didn’t read it out loud. “Never,” he said when he’d finished. He let the letter drop to the floor. Cas leaned over to pick it up, but Marian beat him to it. He watched the color drain from her face as she read.
“What does it say?” whispered Julie.
Cas shrugged.
“He can’t mean this,” said Marian, looking from the letter to Julie to Cas. “It isn’t possible.”
Melanie snatched it from Marian’s hand. Then she read it, too. When she finished, she grinned wickedly at Cas.
“It worked,” she said. “Son of a bitch, it worked.”
“Do not use that language in this house,” said Reynolds.
“You lose,” said Melanie and handed the letter to Cas. He and Julie read it together.
Reynolds. I’m dead now. Obviously, or you wouldn’t be reading this. And with my passing so passes the feud. It’s time to put your energies into helping this town recover instead of obsessing over the past. So these are my last words to you. As much as it pains me to let the Excelsior line die out, I relinquish it gladly. For if I’m not mistaken, the last Excelsior is about to become a Reynolds. And I expect you to welcome her into the family with open arms.
Wes
“The Excelsiors betrayed—”
“No they didn’t,” said Cas. “Josiah Excelsior left a confession. I think you will be interested in seeing it.”
“He confessed?” Reynolds’s eye grew interested.
“Oh, he killed a Reynolds all right, but not William. William’s brother did that.”
“Lies.”
Cas pulled out the envelope and read Josiah Excelsior’s confession. When he finished, no one moved or said a word.
>
“Let me see that.” Reynolds lunged for the letter, dropping his drink on the carpet.
“Charles,” shrieked Marian.
“It’s over, Dad,” said Cas as he steadied Reynolds on his feet.
“Our family name. Our pride.”
“William Reynolds was a hero. He died saving the Union. That’s enough to make any family proud.”
Reynolds slumped down on the couch. “And are you going to marry ...” Reynolds glanced in Julie’s direction.
“Yes,” said Cas. “Congratulate me.”
Marian stood up. “You’re getting married?”
“Yes. To Julie.”
Marian cocked her perfectly coiffed head. “I’m going to be a grandmother twice?”
“Twice?” said Cas.
“Christine and Ian,” said Marian, looking slightly befuddled.
“Well, we’re not quite there yet.” He took Julie’s hand and put it to his lips. “But it shouldn’t be too long.”
“I’ll have to plan another shower.” She looked at Julie. “I think May would be nice, don’t you?”
Julie stared at her until Cas nudged her with his elbow.
“May would be lovely,” she answered, sounding as confused as Marian looked.
“We’ll have to draw up a guest list. I’ll just get a piece of paper.”
“She’s totally nuts,” Melanie told Julie. “But harmless.”
Cas and Julie left a few minutes after that. Marian was making plans. Reynolds was stunned but beginning to accept the idea. Melanie walked them outside.
“Cool ... sis.” Melanie gave them one of her rare smiles.
“So you knew all about this?” Cas asked.
“Pretty much. I didn’t know he was going to leave me money. He was—” She had to stop.
Cas and Julie looked away while she fought not to cry.
Then Julie said, “He sure was.” And put her arm around her soon-to-be sister’s waist.
“But the thing I don’t get,” said Cas, “is the egg.”
“What egg?”
“The answer to the riddle. In marble halls as white as milk, lined with skin as soft as silk, within a fountain crystal clear—”
“A golden apple does appear.” Melanie shook her head. “I told Wes you wouldn’t get it.”
“I did get it. Well, Julie got it. It’s an egg.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “You take everything so literally. Must be those banker genes.”
“Boats,” said Cas. “I build boats.”
“Whatever. Anyway, it isn’t an egg. It’s Julie.”
“What?” said Cas and Julie together.
“Hello. Skin milky and soft as silk? Golden apple is her heart. I know. It’s really cornball. But that’s Wes for you.”
“But what about the thieves? I thought Reynolds had ripped off the Savings and Loan.”
“You’re kidding,” said Melanie.
“No,” said Cas. “And I’ve been worried sick.”
“You are such a dickhead.”
“And you are such a sister to a dickhead,” replied Cas. “You could have helped out here.”
“I did. I stole the chickens, didn’t I?”
“You?” said Cas.
“I thought so,” said Julie.
“Why?”
“To get you out to Julie’s so she wouldn’t have a chance to leave town without seeing you.”
“What about the other chickens?”
“I kinda improvised there. It was a gas. Did you see Reynolds’s face when those chickens were running all over the VFW?”
“That was a cruel thing to do to Isabelle.”
“What? Candy Apple Queen? Give me a break. She doesn’t care about you. Everybody was just trying to marry her off for their own reasons and none of them had anything to do with her.” Melanie shrugged. “Besides, it’s the most attention she’s had in her whole white-bread life. She enjoyed all the pampering she got afterwards.”
Cas took a deep breath. “And the stereos and televisions? Please tell me that wasn’t you.”
“That wasn’t me. I only steal chickens.”
“Well, don’t steal anymore.”
“Don’t worry. My work is done. I gotta go apply to some colleges.” She started back toward the house. At the steps she turned back to them. “Did Cas ever tell you the one about the chicken, the horse and the Harley?”
Chapter 25
She had money. Enough to start over anywhere she liked or even never have to work again. She could stay here and raise chickens. She could marry Cas. She could do anything she wanted. But what did she want?
Julie looked out of the turret window at the front yard, at her little Volkswagen, the copse of trees that surrounded the fishing pond, and thought, I can’t stay here. Not forever. And I can’t really marry Cas, if he decides to stay. Seeing the Reynoldses every day. Marian might be planning a bridal shower, but Reynolds would never let them live in peace.
Bridal shower. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t exactly the bridal shower type. She was more of a Glock kind of girl. How did that fit into married life?
She thought of Tilda and how she was happy because she owned the Roadhouse and had Terrence. Was that enough for Julie Excelsior? She’d seen the real world, and for all its crime and ugliness, she had loved the challenge. She was suddenly afraid that raising chickens or children wouldn’t be enough.
She shuddered. It was time to make her last stop down memory lane. She didn’t want to, but she knew now that Wes was right; to get to the future, she had to revisit the past.
Smitty wanted to go with her, and though she would have appreciated the company, this was something that she had to do alone. She drove down the hill and cut through town until she was at the bridge that led to the mill. She pulled to the side of the road and just looked across the river, suddenly nervous. She didn’t want to remember growing up there.
While she was contemplating turning and running, the passenger door opened. Melanie threw her backpack on the floor and got in.
Melanie scowled at her. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
Julie didn’t answer. She didn’t know the answer herself. “How do you manage to be everywhere at once?”
“I owe it to Wes.”
Julie looked at her, and saw what she had only glimpsed before. A girl on the verge of adulthood, trying to make a place for herself. And feeling the kind of aloneness that came from being cut adrift just when you needed someone to show you the way.
“For now, I’m going to visit my old home.” Julie lifted her chin toward the opposite shore of the river.
“I’ll go, too,” said Melanie and buckled her seat belt.
“Afraid I’ll run away?” asked Julie, only half joking.
“Yes.”
Okay. Julie shifted into first and thought, Did you send her, Wes, this guardian in Goth clothes, to help me through this and make sure I didn’t chicken out?
She drove across the river. The bridge and the road that lead to the mill had been plowed, but the side roads were still covered in snow, which meant a trek on foot if Julie were to complete this last task. She pulled the Volkswagen into a narrow opening where the plow had dumped a mountain of snow into the harbor. Melting snow banks rose up above the car on both sides.
Wordlessly, she and Melanie got out of the car, walked back to the road and looked down it to where the old brick factory seemed to totter on its foundations. It had been closed for Julie’s entire life and she’d never paid it much attention before. Now, she tried to imagine Josiah and William, crouched in hiding, watching the traitors load rifles onto the barge. Andrew Reynolds seeing them, aiming his rifle, shooting his brother dead. And Josiah killing him in turn. The barge catching fire. The long hopeless ride to Reynolds Place where William died. Josiah reviled by the town, despised by the Reynoldses because he had kept his promise to his friend. You wouldn’t see that kind of loyalty these days.
And for the first time in da
ys, Julie thought about Donald, the bribe taker. He was sort of like Andrew Reynolds. An unregenerate man who had to be stopped. And Julie felt a sudden affinity with her ancestor, Josiah. They had both done the right thing.
“Stupid,” said Melanie, breaking the silence. It took Julie a moment to realize that Melanie wasn’t commenting on her, but had been thinking about the same event. “So what if they saved New York? They left our families broken forever.”
“Until now,” said Julie.
“Yeah, sure.”
Yeah, sure, echoed Julie’s mind. Would any of them ever really be free of the feud? Christine’s children would be. And Melanie’s, someday. And what about her? Would she ever be free from the feud or from doing her duty as she saw it? She shook the thought away, turned from the mill and began looking for the beginning of the street that ran past her old house.
Melanie returned to the car and Julie thought she would be making this trip by herself after all, but then Melanie was walking beside her, zipping up a down parka.
Julie smiled, but didn’t let Melanie see.
They waded through heavy wet snow, leaving holes every time they took a step. It would have been smarter to wait a few days until it melted, except then she would be wading through mud. Even so, she wasn’t prepared when she looked up and saw the place where she had grown up. The patch of yard was covered with drifted snow. The wooden front porch floor had completely collapsed. The window panes were all missing, and the roof sagged beneath a blanket of snow.
“There’s no place like home,” said Julie.
“Cool,” said Melanie with no inflection and walked toward it.
Julie followed her, wondering how Melanie could find this anything but tragic. “Maybe to you. But it wasn’t so great living here.”