The Locket

by Brenna Todd

  J.B. pointed a finger at him. "You could have been ruined by her when you were young, Waite, but I didn't allow it. Do you realize the sacrifice I made to make sure your future wasn't put at risk for that worthless piece of trash?"

  Worthless. Trash. Waite ground his teeth. "Shut up, J.B! Don't say another damn word!" It took a supreme effort of will to keep from pounding J.B. with his fists. Eri—no, Della's words came back to him. Waite hadn't thought of J.B.'s treatment of her as harmful, he had only seen him as a strict disciplinarian. Now he realized the man hated Della. "You despise her, don't you?"

  J.B. lifted a brow. "Has she ever given me reason not to?"

  "She was your daughter, J.B!"

  "She was my ward, not my blood. And trouble from the moment Virginia and I took her in." He sighed. "I needed a wife, Waite, and I needed to save you from being destroyed. It was a mistake not sending her away after this last ordeal. I see that now, of course. And I'll correct my mistake."

  Waite remembered her saying she feared J.B. would send her to an asylum. Dear Lord, she hadn't been exaggerating. "No, J.B., you won't send her away. She'll be leaving of her own accord. She should have done it years ago, in fact. With me. But I, too, can correct my mistakes."

  J.B.'s astonishment was complete. His jaw hung slack and he shook his head slowly. "You've lost your mind, haven't you?"

  "Give her a divorce, J.B. Think of her for once in your life. God knows, had you ever treated her with even the smallest measure of kindness, things might have turned out differently."

  J.B.'s jaw clenched. "I am willing to forgive you your momentary lapse in sanity—forgive you, send Della where she won't cause more trouble and get on with our lives. Don't be a fool, Waite. If you have a brain in your head, use it! She will destroy you."

  Waite was stunned. Not at J.B.'s last comment; he'd heard that from the man before. It was his total lack of compassion for Della that was so astonishing. Waite knew their marriage had been a sham, and he'd witnessed J.B.'s anger at her whenever she had "misbehaved," but he hadn't imagined J.B. didn't care for her at all...hadn't imagined he held her in such contempt.

  "Don't do this, Waite. You'll lose everything. I promise you that."

  Waite felt hollow inside. Where once he'd admired his mentor, had respected him and prized their friendship, he now could only feel pity for the man. It pained him to discover he'd been so wrong, so blind about J.B.

  "I pictured this scenario quite differently, J.B.," he said in a low voice. "You say you'll forgive me. I would have thought your pride would forbid such a thing."

  "Foolish to be prideful, Waite. Don't get me wrong, I am angry with you. Disappointed. But we can make a new start."

  "Disappointed..." Waite's mouth tightened in a grim line. "But not because she's your wife. I slept with her, this woman you're married to, and all you feel is... disappointed. Not because vows have been broken, or even because you're sick at heart over our betrayal, but because, like a disobedient child, I went against your plans for me."

  J.B. looked at him with exasperation. "You didn't think I would be disappointed? Waite, there might only be ten years' difference in our ages, but you've been like a son to me, not just a business associate. When I see you take a wrong path, of course it disappoints me." He rose and came around the desk to him, his eyes softening as he placed a hand on Waite's shoulder. "It's what fathers do, Waite. They want only the best for their sons."

  Disgusted, Waite shoved J.B.'s hand away. "And what is it they want for their daughters, you bastard?" He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, turning back to look at him one last time. "She's not worthless trash. She was only made to feel that way by you. You can give her the divorce or not. One way or the other, she's coming with me."

  "Don't do this, Waite," J.B. pleaded, striding forward. "She'll ruin you and you know it!"

  "No. It appears she's saved me."

  I love him, Diary. That shocks you, I am sure. Or maybe it doesn't. Maybe you knew all along that there is a heart, a small capacity to love buried somewhere deep within me. Certainly there has to be, for how could I feel this way without it!

  I thought he was a silly boy at first, though handsome. I met him at the golf course where he was caddying for the summer.

  He didn't know who I was!—I found out later that his family was new to Munro. I considered his flirting with me quite amusing at first. Good Lord, he wore Oxford bags, so I knew he was college age and probably as green as grass. Nothing more irritating than a clumsy boy who thinks petting in the back seat of his father's Maxwell is just the thing! But I was particularly irritated at J.B. that day for some reason I've forgotten now, so you know what I did next, Diary.

  Yes, I told him to meet me later in the woods at the edge of the Munro property. Can you believe it? He referred to it as a date! And he wanted to pick me up at my front door! I told him my father was strict and didn't allow "dates."

  Diary, he treated me as no other man I've ever known! And, as you are aware, I've known too many to count. We talked. Amazingly enough, it was all he wanted to do! I didn't know what to say at first. Me, shy! I never just talk to men. So I asked him about himself. And I found out that he is older than he looks. Though younger than me, it is only by two years. I also discovered that he is very religious. It made me quite uneasy, and I think you know why. I kept expecting lightning to strike the poor man just because of who he was with.

  I feel guilty about meeting him. And about not telling him who I really am. It's been three weeks since that first time, and he deserves my honesty. If anyone deserves it, he does. But, Diary, I will lose him if I tell, so I have made sure no one has seen us together and sworn him to secrecy. He told me last night that he loves me and wants to be with me forever. He also told me of his plans to become a minister. That* s right... Della and a minister. It would be hilarious if it weren't so heartbreaking.

  He kissed me last night. For the first time. And he told me I am beautiful.

  ERIN TRIED TO SWALLOW past the tears that had gathered in her throat. Oh, Della, she thought, closing the diary, I'm so glad you had him, at least. There was so much sorrow for you, and you needed some happiness.

  She glanced around the bedroom Della had slept in, wondering if she'd written these entries while sitting in the chair where Erin sat now. Had she lain in that bed and fantasized about a life with the man who thought she was beautiful? Did she ever gaze into the gilt-framed mirror on the wall and see past her own image of herself to the beauty he saw? Perhaps not, for she had hidden the diary in the guesthouse. Or had that been later?

  Erin wanted to know more, but then again, she didn't. She was curious, of course. And she still had found no clues as to who might have murdered Della. So it was imperative that she read on. But in a way she wished that the diary had ended with those words.

  And he told me I am beautiful.

  Erin opened the book at the page where she had left off and read on. Through five more entries, Della told of their romance. They continued to keep their meetings a secret, though her love had wanted to meet her family and make his intentions known. Della was consumed with guilt for deceiving him, but she was desperately in love. She told her diary that she knew how selfish it was, but the thought of losing the only love she'd ever known was devastating.

  Erin's apprehension grew with each word she read. As though she were living the scenes right along with Della, her heart soared when she wrote of the man telling her for the first time that he loved her. Her palms sweated at Della's terror that J.B. had become suspicious.

  She gasped aloud when Della disclosed she had become pregnant with her lover's child.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PREGNANT!

  Erin's heart rate faltered, her gaze racing back to the date at the top of the entry she had just read. Could that have been—

  Yes! It had happened four years ago. Dear God, this was it, Erin realized—the scandal that had caused Della's banishment from the mansion! This was wh
at Edith had tried to tell Annie about before J.B. had interrupted them that first morning!

  Erin swiftly read on.

  Della had been overjoyed to discover she carried her lover's child, but she was frightened, too. This would destroy everything. She couldn't tell her lover, wouldn't allow this to wreck his chances for a future in the ministry; his good name would be ruined forever. And if J.B. found out, she was certain her fate would not be a pretty one. Marriage to J.B. hadn't turned out as Della had hoped. They'd been estranged from each other in every way that counted almost from the very beginning.

  As Erin read on, the story of Della's emotional ordeal unfolded. She tried ending the affair, but her love wouldn't have it. He refused to believe her when she told him she didn't love him anymore, and he threatened to go to J.B., whom he still thought was Della's father. He was going to ask for her hand in marriage. Finally, realizing the only way to drive her lover away would be to tell him the truth, the complete truth, Della began by spilling the news about the baby.

  It didn't affect him as she'd hoped. He was thrilled, filled with wonder that they had created a child. Della was stunned, speechless and in tears when he had grinned like a complete idiot, then grabbed her up and twirled her in circles.

  Erin smiled. What a guy. For a man in the 1920s, and one who was going to become a minister, no less, he must have loved her very much indeed. But she dreaded reading what would come next, how he would react to the whole truth.

  He didn't take the rest of her news well. He became angry, in fact, just as Della had known he would. The misery in his eyes had nearly killed her, but she watched him leave their meeting place that day with a small portion of relief in her heart. It was over now. She would grieve for her lost love the rest of her life, but she was thankful she had saved him from further shame and humiliation. She had saved him from herself.

  Tears stung Erin's eyes. She fought to hold them back, desperate to know what happened to Della and the baby. She knew from Edith's gossip that Della had been sent away, but what had happened after that? Did she have the baby? Lose it? If it had been born, where was it now?

  Erin forged ahead.

  Della hadn't thought she'd needed to save the man from himself as well as her. She'd had no idea that he would be foolhardy enough to come to J.B. and demand that he give her a divorce so they could marry. J.B. had been enraged, more so than Della had ever seen him. He had threatened her lover with everything he could think of, including the financial ruin of his family. He wouldn't allow scandal to touch the Munro household. On this, he was immovable. And the young man was just as undaunted, determined to have Della and his child with him, where they belonged.

  But Della had known what J.B. was capable of. She knew there was no possible way any man could win when pitted against him. So when he lied, telling her young man that he and Della had been sleeping together, too, Della went along with it. She had shrugged as if the whole matter meant less to her than a tear in one of her expensive gowns, and said that either man could be the father. Watching her love's spirit die before her very eyes, she died inside, too, but twisted the knife with the words: "What does it matter who the father is, as long as I continue to live in the manner I've become accustomed to? And you could never give me that."

  She never saw him again. He'd left, of course, and his family had accepted J.B.'s generous offer to "relocate." Before being quietly sent to an unwed mothers' home in Missouri, Della had pleaded with J.B. to let her have the baby and raise it as theirs. But he wouldn't allow it. He'd set plans in motion for the child to be placed in an orphanage near the home she'd stayed in to have the baby. This was her next entry.

  Dear Diary, I have given birth to a son. He is quite beautiful, though I had hoped he would have his father's dark hair instead of my own horrid red. He does have his father's name. I insisted upon it. Henry.

  There were several more entries. Some spoke of Della's leaving the child at the orphanage, some of her return to the mansion. She'd been almost suicidal the day she had tenderly kissed her child goodbye, mourning her loss as profoundly as she'd loved the man who had given him to her.

  And she had come home forever changed. J.B. had taken the two people she loved most in the world away from her, and she had never again thought of him as the god of her youth.

  She also never truly gave up her ties to the child. Unbeknownst to J.B., she found ways to continue visiting the child at the orphanage. She funneled every bit of money she could put her hands on into the organization, on one condition: that the child not be adopted out.

  Erin closed the book, her hands trembling and her mind reeling. The last entry Della had made in the diary had been only six months ago, which meant the child was very likely still living in the orphanage Della had named.

  And the child's name was Henry. Dear God, Henry.

  Erin's father's name. And Della's son had the same birthday.

  ERIN RAN THE ENTIRE WAY to the guesthouse. She nearly knocked Annie over in the hallway again, putting her off when the maid informed her J.B. wanted to see her in his office. Now her sides ached and her lungs burned from the cold, but she didn't slow down, not until she reached the guesthouse porch. She wrenched open the door, then nearly collided with Waite, who was holding a suitcase in his hands.

  "Waite, you have to take me—" she fought to catch her breath "—to Missouri."

  He set down his suitcase, a cautious smile in his eyes. "You've changed your mind? You want to leave with me now?"

  She frowned at the suitcase, still breathing fast and hard."No... I mean, I do want you to take me to Missouri, but it's only temporary. You're talking permanently, aren't you? I thought you were going to mull this over for a few days."

  "That is what I told you, but—"

  "Damn it, Waite! You didn't tell him, did you?"

  "I did."

  She groaned. "Oh, no. What have you done!"

  "What I've done is something that should have been done long ago. Besides, one of the servants who saw you leaving here last night got to him before I did. He already knew."

  She blinked in surprise."Saw me—"

  "Yes, and went straight to J.B., it seems."

  Waite looked somewhat saddened, but not torn apart over the dissolution of their friendship. "Was he as angry as we expected?" she asked.

  "Yes, but only because I won't be fulfilling his plans for my future. You were right. He never gave a damn about you.. .only about whether you would ruin me." He stroked her cheek with a fingertip. "I told him you had saved me."

  "You're a good man, Waite MacKinnon. You came to her defense. And who knows, maybe you're right. Maybe getting the hell away from him will be best for you."

  "You're what's best for me. And whether you were going to agree to come with me or not, I was going to get you away from here somehow. Away from him."

  Erin felt shrouded in sorrow, and stepped into his arms when he set down the suitcase and opened them to her. She clung tightly, wishing... hoping .. .yearning. She no longer felt she was living someone else's existence, because she knew now that Della had had the love of her life. So had she. Even knowing it couldn't be, she fantasized that his embrace would be there for her whenever she needed it, throughout time.

  A fantasy. That's all it was, all it ever could be. "Waite, I read the rest of her diary." She moved out of his arms. "She... had a child."

  "What?"

  "Four years ago. Think back, Waite. She was gone for nearly a year. J.B. sent her away to an unwed mothers' home in Missouri to give birth to the baby. A son."

  Waite looked incredulous. "A son! J.B. would never send his wife away to have his son. He always wanted—"

  "The baby wasn't his."

  His eyes widened with shock, then clouded with doubt. Erin held up a palm to forestall anything he had to say. "There's no time to try to convince you again that I'm not her. And no time to discuss this next little tidbit. I think that son is another of the coincidences I was telling you about earli
er. He'd be about three years old by now, and still in the orphanage in Missouri. I have to see him. I have to know."

  "You want me to take you there."

  "Yes."

  "And after that?"

  "I'm not sure. But if this baby is who I think he is, I'll have to leave."

  FRANKLIN'S BLOOD RAN cold when he saw her in the passenger seat of the automobile. The image he had thought he would carry with him forever had been of her lifeless form lying on the cold ground in that cave. Seeing her alive, seeing her talking to the man who sat behind the steering wheel as they drove away from the estate, sent a chill through his body.

  He fired up the engine of his own automobile— the run-down Maxwell he'd purchased upon arriving back in Munro. Then he set off after them. Some way, somehow, he would have to separate Della Munro from her companion.

  "OH, MRS. MUNRO!" The woman behind the desk rose from her chair, a smile on her lips. Her hair was unfashionably long, but neatly pinned up, and she wore a plain, serviceable outfit. The nameplate on her desk read, Mrs. Phillips. It was clear from the look of respect in her eyes that Della had been an important patron. She gave Waite a quick, curious look, then centered her gaze back on Erin. "It's been a long while since we've seen you. And I have to discuss something of utmost import—"

  "I want to see him," Erin interrupted. "He is still here, isn't he?"

  "Oh, yes, of course, but—"

  "We can discuss whatever it is later, please." Erin's eagerness to see the child made her words sound curt and impatient, but she couldn't help that. Her father. This child could be her own father! She was beside herself with nerves and anticipation. The three-hour drive from Munro to this Missouri border town had her in a state of extreme anxiety.