“That way, when she died, she’d be at peace because she and Moss would be together through eternity,” explained Aunt Barbara. “No one need know where the body was buried or who was buried in the next unmarked plot. But Necey tended her lover’s grave every day until she could no longer make the trip up the mountain. She told us about the deal she’d made with Bunnell but made us promise not to say a word, for fear he might take retribution on Alec or on Katherine Rushing.”
When Alec told the police about Moss Hathaway’s murder, he also requested a DNA test to verify that it was Moss buried in the grave next to his mother’s and that Moss was his biological father. After weeks of anxious waiting, the results were in. The test had proven Moss’s identity and his paternity.
“Go ahead, Alec, and say a few words over your father,” Aunt Barbara urged.
With tears streaming down his face, Alec whispered, “Daddy, I wish I had known you. I wish you had known me. I wish you could have met Amelia.” He squeezed Amelia’s hand. “Thank you for making my mother so happy, even for a short time. Rest in peace.”
Amelia wiped her eyes with her free hand.
“That was beautiful, Alec,” she said softly. “Now that he’s had a proper burial, they’re truly together.”
Alec and Amelia said goodbye to Alec’s aunts and walked hand in hand down the mountain.
Amelia fixed Alec a glass of lemonade and took some of Alec’s homemade cookies on a paper plate and brought them out to him on the front porch. The rain was steady, but Amelia’s breathing was even. She found the rain calming. It wasn’t the ocean, but it was water, nonetheless.
As they ate cookies and drank in the nature around them, Amelia broached a subject she knew was on Alec’s mind.
“Now I think it’s time to tell the world about Moss Hathaway.”
“What do you mean? The police know, the reporters have been swarming around asking questions. Everyone knows.”
“But they don’t know about his hidden paintings. Your paintings, now that there’s no doubt he was your father. He has no surviving relatives. Everything he had goes to you.”
Alec took a sip of lemonade. “I don’t know, Amelia. I don’t know what he would have wanted me to do. From what your grandmother said, he was a private person. He wouldn’t have wanted a fuss made over his memory.”
“Alec, he was an artist, a world-famous artist. I’ve been thinking. We haven’t sold the cabin. I mean, I know we’ve had offers, but what if we turned the cabin into a museum, if only temporarily, so people could view his new paintings before they’re scattered around the world. It would be a tribute to your father and your mother.”
“Amelia, your grandmother needs the money this sale can bring, to pay for her independent living facility.”
“She has enough for now. We could keep the museum open for, say, a year and then sell the paintings before we sell the cabin.”
“Where would we sell the paintings?”
“Honey, you know what a media furor finding your father has caused. Not only are there new paintings to be discovered for museums, personal collections, or institutions, but the fact that they’ve solved one of the biggest mysteries of the last century adds further cachet and will make the paintings more valuable in the collecting world. Any auction house would love to get control of this collection. Moss Hathaway’s paintings will bring unprecedented prices because of who he is or was and because his life was cut so short, because they are beautifully executed in a completely original style, and because of the rarity of the paintings. Not to mention the remarkable love story surrounding the newly discovered works.”
“You really think people would be interested in my father’s paintings?”
“I guarantee it. And you can’t just sit on these works of art. The world needs to see them. I have some contacts at the auction houses through some of my college professors and the internships I’ve had in the past. I know they would be interested. They’d use a concept like ‘Rediscovering Moss Hathaway.’ Or ‘Moss Hathaway—Lost and Found.’ They always say most paintings become available because of death, debts, or divorce.”
“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I majored in art history in college, and I’d enjoy this a lot more than selling houses. Case in point, I can’t even sell my grandmother’s house. Down and out for the count after the first try. I’ve pretty much failed in the real estate department.”
“You’re not a failure. If you hadn’t come to Confrontation to sell your grandmother’s house, we never would have met. I think we were fated to meet.”
“I think you’re right,” Amelia agreed.
“You can sell her house any time you want to. I didn’t want you to at first, and I’ll admit I might have been standing in your way. I like the idea of honoring my father. But if we refurbish the cabin into a museum, where would we live?”
Amelia’s eyes flew open. “We?”
“You don’t think I’m going to let you go back to Florida, do you, now that I’ve found you? You want to know when I first fell in love with you?”
“Tell me,” Amelia said.
“I had pretty much resigned myself to spending the rest of my life alone, and then, out of the blue, this beautiful woman walks into my office. When I saw that run in your stocking, that did it for me.”
“I snagged it on your poor excuse for a desk.”
Alec chose to ignore that remark. “And then when I found out you were afraid of raindrops, well, that sealed the deal.”
“So you were attracted to my phobias?”
“That and I knew this might be my last chance to find a woman I wasn’t related to.”
Amelia laughed. “How romantic. Tell me more.”
“I realize we haven’t known each other that long, but I’ve fallen in love with you, Amelia, and I would do anything to keep you here.”
Amelia wavered. Of course she’d thought about staying with Alec. But how prudent would that be? What would she do for a living? If this museum project worked out, she could be a curator at this very small but important new museum. She could bring in some of Moss’s earlier landscapes, display the love letters, do some additional research on the artist, and then wow the public with his portraits of Necey and scenes capturing small-town life in Confrontation. This unique museum might even put Confrontation on the map, import some culture. Of course there would have to be a museum shop, and maybe a new restaurant or two to support the new tourist population. Some vacation cabins. Her grandfather’s dream of providing a place for his family to visit could finally come true. More outside people would see the benefits of mountain living, and she could sell property right here in town, if the properties weren’t landlocked.
“Even if we didn’t open the museum, when we sold the cabin, you would have to move out anyway.”
“Yes, but if these paintings are worth as much as you say, I could afford to buy the cabin from your grandmother and build us another one nearby. I know the perfect homesite. We could custom design our dream home, with great views, right by the waterfall.”
“There’s a waterfall?”
“It’s not an ocean, but—”
“There was a waterfall in one of your father’s paintings. I thought he had imagined it. It looked like a scene from paradise.”
“It is a gem. Not many people know about it. I’m sure my mother showed it to him on one of their painting excursions. There is a lot to love about Confrontation. And I think I can clinch the right-of-ways.”
“That’s interesting. My grandmother couldn’t get them for all these years, and now that you’ll be the owner, they’ll just fall into your lap.”
“Family is family. And if you say yes, you’ll be part of my family.”
“You haven’t even asked me a question,” Amelia observed, her excitement mounting.
Alec set his lemonade on the table and got down onto one knee to propose in the traditional manner.
“Amel
ia Rushing, will you marry me?”
He held out a ring. Amelia could hardly believe this was happening. She admired the ring. “Alec, it’s beautiful. How did you have time to buy this? I’ve barely left your side since I arrived in Confrontation.”
“This is the ring Moss Hathaway gave my mother when they planned to run off together. She always wore it, and when she died it came to me. I never understood its history before now. I had no idea who had given it to her. I thought maybe a jilted lover. I romanticized the whole thing in my mind, clinging to any theory except the one I was sure was no theory at all. That Bunnell Brady was really my father.”
The square green stone sparkled in the sun and gleamed against a platinum setting. It was magnificent. She wanted to accept his proposal, but if she did, they would be making their home in Confrontation. A whistle stop, well, not even a whistle stop. Not even an official town. What kind of life could they ever hope to have here? What kind of a life would their children have?
But what kind of life could she ever hope to have if Alec were not a part of it? She couldn’t live without him now. There was only one choice. She stopped all the negative thoughts swirling around in her head.
“Yes,” Amelia said, jumping into his arms, sure of her decision. Alec hugged her and placed the ring on her finger.
“You won’t regret it. My parents didn’t have their chance, but our love story will have a happy ending,” Alec promised.
Alec rubbed his chin hesitantly like he had something else on his mind. “Would you object if we added a room for Marie Antoinette?”
Amelia thought that would be a good idea, since Marie Antoinette didn’t have a dad anymore, and she thought she could be a positive influence on the girl. The wolf was another story, but they were a package, so she’d have to learn to come to terms with Dr. Landrew.
“An instant family,” Amelia reasoned. “I would like that.”
“And there would have to be plenty of room for our other children when they come. My grandmother had nine kids. How do you feel about big families?”
Amelia paused to consider. “Do their names all have to begin with B?”
“No,” Alec said. “You would have complete naming rights. Let’s call your grandmother. I think we should bring her up here and let her live in the cabin until we make arrangements for the museum renovations.”
“She would love that. She hasn’t been up here for thirty years.”
“We can add on an extra room to our new house, if she’d like to live with us. We could make it handicap accessible.”
“You would do that?”
“It sounds like she’s having some doubts about moving into that independent living facility.”
“I think my parents might object. They think they’re doing the right thing for her and that once she gives it a chance she’ll enjoy living in Eternal Gardens. They have services to support her, and she can socialize with people her own age and keep active instead of living alone in that condo with only her memories. And soon she won’t even have those. I dread the day she no longer recognizes me.”
Alec nodded, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and hugged her. His eyes reflected sympathy and understanding. Of course. He had been through the same thing with his mother.
“It’s rough when that happens. Let’s at least bring her up here for a visit. Confrontation is lovely in the spring.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and thought of the song “I Love Paris in the Springtime.” Confrontation wasn’t exactly Paris, but then, Paris didn’t have Alec Brady.
A word about the author…
Marilyn Baron writes humorous coming-of-middle age women’s fiction, historical romantic thrillers, suspense, and paranormal/fantasy. She’s a corporate public relations consultant in Atlanta. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and Georgia Romance Writers (GRW) and winner of the GRW 2009 Chapter Service Award and writing awards in single title, suspense romance, paranormal/fantasy, and novel with strong romantic elements. She’s a member of the 2016 Roswell Reads Committee. She graduated from The University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida, with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism (Public Relations sequence) and a minor in Creative Writing. Born in Miami, Florida, Marilyn lives in Roswell, GA, with her husband, and they have two daughters.
Marilyn says: What’s unique about my writing? I try to inject humor into everything I write. I like to laugh, and my readers do too. I tend to feature older heroines, because—let’s face it—we're not getting any younger. I love to travel and often feature the destinations I’ve visited in my books. My favorite place to visit is Italy, because I studied in Florence for six months in my junior year of college.
Landlocked is Marilyn’s tenth novel with The Wild Rose Press. To find out more about Marilyn’s books, please visit her Web site at:
www.marilynbaron.com
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