When It Feels So Right

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “What makes you think I don’t?” Jacob asked.

  Andre turned to his grandfather, seeing the bright, knowing sparkle in his eye. “You know, don’t you,” he said. Jacob didn’t answer. “Who told you? Ben?”

  “I don’t need a private investigator to get information. She didn’t change, just the things you think you know about her have,” Jacob said.

  “And that’s enough for me,” Andre said.

  “Is it?” Jacob asked.

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “I think you’re trying to protect yourself,” Jacob said.

  Andre didn’t answer, instead he just looked off into the distance. He knew in his heart that this was a no-win situation for him. If he protected his family he’d risk losing the woman he loved.

  “Son, don’t let one bad past experience with a woman cloud your future. You of all people know the tricks of smoke and mirrors. Manipulation is a game you play very well, but sometimes you need to stop thinking with your head and start feeling with your heart. Not everyone is out to destroy the Buchanan family.”

  Andre needed distance. “But then again, some are,” he said plainly. “Tell me something, what made you first hire her?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t?” he asked turning around. “Who did?”

  Jacob smiled. “See, there’s more to this than meets the eye. Let it go for now.”

  Andre nodded. “Los Angeles, New York then Washington. I’m leaving in twenty minutes, so let’s talk about business.”

  Slamming and breaking things wasn’t her style, but right now she felt as if she could tear down the entire house with her bare hands. The steely control of her emotions had long since waned and she wanted to scream. Instead, she paced, which was her preferred choice of anger release. Back and forth she marched, turning tight corners and mumbling to herself. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.” Finally she plopped down in the chair, opened her laptop and started working.

  It wasn’t until her charging cell phone rang did she realize that she’d been working steadily for the last two and a half hours. She grabbed her cell and looked at the caller ID. It was Pam. She answered, “Hey.”

  “Don’t hey me all nonchalant, where have you been? I’ve been calling you for the last two days. Is everything okay?”

  “Don’t ask,” Jo said.

  “Oh no, what happened?”

  “Andre Buchanan happened.”

  “You said you could handle him.”

  “That was before,” Jo said stalking across the room and slamming into the padded chair by the window.

  “What do you mean before, before what?” Pamela asked.

  “Before everything.” Jo broke down and told Pamela about Andre and the past few days together. She started with the kiss in the library the first night and ended with the night they spent together and the argument afterward.

  “Jo, have you gone insane?”

  “Probably,” Jo said, holding back the tears.

  “You’re incredible. You go months and months without a man in your life. You ignore or shoot down perfectly nice guys after one date. And then you do this, have a torrid affair and fall in love with Andre Buchanan of all people in a matter of days. The man specializes in deception, manipulation and breaking hearts. I told you that. He distracted you from your work, didn’t he? What were you thinking?”

  “Again, don’t ask.”

  “Of all the men to get involved with, Andre Buchanan is notorious for his cold-hearted relationships.”

  “His reputation is extremely well-deserved.” She paused a few seconds. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. You feel how you feel.”

  “How can I continue to work with Jacob after everything that’s happened? I can’t. I need to leave. I can finish this at home.”

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m a survivor, you know that. I’ll be fine.”

  “Jo, everything will work out.”

  “I’ll call you later.” She hung up then went back to work. An hour later the phone on the desk rang. She saved her document then picked it up. It was Bane. He called to tell her that lunch would be served in fifteen minutes. She quickly read over the last page of her document, made changes, and then saved it again. She washed her hands and face then went downstairs. It was time to face the music.

  She met Jacob in the dining room. He was standing at the large bay window staring out. She stood in the doorway for a few seconds before entering, making sure Andre wasn’t still there. He wasn’t. She focused her attention back on Jacob. He seemed pensive and distracted. “You look deep in thought,” she said, walking over to stand beside him at the window.

  He turned smiling. “Hello, Jo, yes, I suppose I am.”

  Neither spoke as she looked out at the panoramic view. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful here.”

  “Yes it is. It’s everything my father worked for. It’s everything I worked for. I spent so many hours focusing on getting it all, having it all, keeping it with me. I just assumed it would make me happy in the end.” He shook his head sadly. “I wasted so much time focusing on the wrong things.”

  “We all do,” she commiserated, “but I think that’s what allows us to change and learn from our mistakes. Although sometimes it’s too late.”

  “And other times it’s not.” Jacob turned to her and smiled. “I have a feeling we’re talking about two different things,” he said, “or maybe not.”

  “We probably are. Jacob, we need to talk about the memoir,” she began.

  “Yes, I believe we do. I have some wonderful new ideas to discuss with you,” he said excitedly.

  “Good, great, I can’t wait to hear them.”

  “Ah,” he interrupted again, seeing that lunch was being brought into the dining room. “Excellent, lunch is here. Come, sit. We’ll discuss this over lunch.” They walked to the table and sat down.

  Jo noticed that Andre still hadn’t appeared. “Isn’t Andre eating with us?”

  “No, Andre has business to attend to. He’ll be away for the next few days.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she was. She wanted him gone and now he was. It was supposed to be a good thing, so why was she feeling so empty? Catching herself, she smiled pleasantly, hoping Jacob would buy the charade, but it was obvious he didn’t.

  “I hope you got some rest, because we still have a lot of work to do,” he said.

  “Yes, I did and work is exactly what I need to talk to you about. With all the information I have now, I’m sure I can finish this up on my own. I’ve gone through and organized all the boxes, listened to the tapes you recorded and read all the notes. I don’t need to be here on site any longer.”

  “I thought you always stayed with the client until the end to complete the project.”

  “I do usually, but I think for all concerned it would be best for me to finish this on my own. My flight leaves tomorrow morning.”

  “No, that won’t do,” he said decisively.

  “Jacob, it wasn’t a request, it was fact. I’m leaving.”

  Jacob put his fork down and looked at her, sighing heavily. “This is about Andre,” he said.

  She considered denying it, but she knew he’d see through her. “Yes, in part, but it’s more about me. I made a mistake coming here. I know I gave my word to finish what was started, but I can’t, at least not here.”

  “Allow me to change your mind.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Anything’s possible. I recently came across some old journals that belonged to my father. I think you’ll find them very revealing.”

  “I’ve already gone through the boxes you left me. Some of the information was priceless and some was a bit surprising.”

  “Yes, the Buchanan history is varied. But I think you’ll find these journals particularly of intere
st. They tell about his journey from New Orleans to New York to here. Trust me when I say these journals will highlight the project. But they are not to leave this house.”

  Jo was hesitant. She wanted out as soon as possible, but she also wanted the job done right. And journals from Louis Buchanan might be exactly what she was looking for. “Okay, I’ll stay a few more days.”

  “Excellent,” Jacob said, raising his glass to her.

  “Jacob, I know quite a bit about you and your father since the book was originally centered on your past and present. I know a little about other members of the family, but not a lot about your wife. Tell me about you and Olivia.”

  Jacob stared across the table to the empty chair and smiled wistfully. He seemed to drift off into his own world. “Olivia was a dream, every man’s fantasy. She was beautiful, smart, funny and strong-willed. She had a spirit that was unstoppable.” He looked over and saw Jo smile. “She was special, very special. I didn’t appreciate that when I had her with me. Work and other foolish distractions were too important at the time. If I could have the time back to be with her…” He paused and looked away before continuing. “I knew the instant I saw her that I wanted her. It was love at first sight. She was talking to a friend and I walked right up and introduced myself. I knew right then that she was going to be my wife.”

  “You knew just like that,” Jo stated. He nodded. “Did she know who you were?”

  “You mean the great Louis Buchanan’s son?” he asked. She nodded. “No, we met in France, a world away from Alaska.”

  “Wow, in France, she didn’t tell me that.”

  “Ah see, there’s a lot she didn’t tell you, but that’s why you’re here now. It’s my turn to finish what she started. I just wish she would have told me what she was doing at the time.”

  “She told me that she wanted it to be a surprise. Something for you to have when she was gone,” Jo’s voice trailed to a whisper as she looked cautiously at Jacob.

  He smiled. His reaction was placid. “She never told me she was so sick. I would have never left her side had I known.”

  “I think that’s why she didn’t tell you. She knew how much you loved your work. We talked about it all the time. Our conversations and interviews over the phone would last for hours. Then when we met in person we talked for three days and three nights. That’s why the project was nearly complete when you finally called me.”

  “Where did you meet in person, here?”

  “No. Olivia came to visit me in New Jersey. Obviously I never have clients come to me, but she wanted to meet there. She was a remarkable woman.”

  “Indeed she was. That’s why I intend to finish what the two of you started. When I found her notes I was furious. I have to admit, I would never have agreed to this project when you began two years ago, but now I think it’s time.”

  “I called one day and was told that she passed. I stopped working on it. She once told me that if anything happened to her she wanted me to put it away until you called.”

  “That sounds just like her. She knew I’d find her papers and call you.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Jo said. “I’m sure she’d be happy too.”

  “I promised her I’d finish this and we will.”

  “Yes, we will,” Jo agreed happily.

  “Good, so no more of this nonsense about leaving. I have a few more boxes I’d like you to see.” They finished lunch and then moved to the library. They continued talking while going through the boxes of letters, photos and memories.

  “You’ve accomplished so much. You’re a true visionary.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve been called a lot of things. Visionary is certainly one of the most pleasant. Thank you. That’s why I’ve decided that I want this memoir to be published.”

  “That wasn’t the original agreement I had with Olivia. The surprise anniversary gift she commissioned was just for a personal biography. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It’s time the rest of the world knew the truth and it’s time the Buchanan family faced the past. There’s no such thing as honest wealth. It all begins somewhere. When this is complete the events of our family history will seem like fabled literature, but I assure you it’s quite true. I know this because it’s my family and the history of my family.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He sighed wearily and began. “I suppose the uncertainty of life’s vicissitudes has brought me to this. The history is firsthand in most cases with some relayed from my father. The particulars are in these journals.” He looked down and tapped them gently. “This is the beginning. It’s been hidden away for over a century. This is the proverbial closet of skeletons. In here is shame, deceit, death, theft, lies and betrayal. There are no excuses, except that this was a new land and lawlessness prevailed.”

  “Jacob, you must be mistaken. I’ve researched and read dozens of documents. Nothing I’ve read or seen even comes close to anything like that about your family.”

  “Man records his history as he sees fit. It’s predicated on many things. There’s always another side to the truth.”

  “What’s the other side of the Buchanan truth?”

  “My father was born Thaddeus Boles in 1863, the year the Emancipation Proclamation was signed. He was a Virginia slave. After the emancipation he and his mother continued on at the plantation. At age sixteen Thaddeus ran away. He got as far as the Maryland coast. There he got an apprenticeship position with an engineer named Buchanan building homes on the Potomac. He was indentured.”

  “A black man as an indentured servant in the south, how was that even possible?”

  “Thaddeus was passing. His mother was a house slave and his father, Louis Boles, my grandfather, was the plantation owner. Everyone assumed he was a white man. He didn’t correct their misconception. He passed for years after that. There was a fire in one of the Buchanan structures. His mentor, the engineer, was killed and it was presumed he was too. But he survived. So he killed himself off and Louis Buchanan was born. He moved to New York and worked as an office clerk for a rich immigrant banker. He befriended the owner’s only son, a spoiled spendthrift with wild dreams of making his own fortune out west.

  “In 1885 he partnered with the banker’s son, Alden van Rotmensen, and went west to search for gold in California. In 1899 they headed north just as the Klondike gold rush had started. He was thirty-six years old. The two-man expedition was sponsored by Alden’s rich parents. They had no other family and no other children and they doted on him.

  “The two men mined gold with moderate success. But the first winter here in Alaska Alden died, probably of pneumonia. Nobody really knows. It’s also possible that Louis killed him. But as I said, nobody knows. By now Louis had become a wealthy man financed by his partner’s family, who had no idea that their son was dead.

  “There was a letter from Alden’s parents begging him to return home to New York. They were both gravely ill and didn’t expect to live long. They wanted Alden to take over the business. The next letter was from the parents’ solicitors. They were both dead and their holdings were being transferred to him. By now Louis had stopped mining gold and was supplying the miners. He made a fortune, enough to own the local bank and a few more prominent businesses.

  “The solicitor arrived with the transferred money. He found out that Alden had been dead for years. So Louis allegedly bribed him. With Alden not having any siblings and both the van Rotmensens being only children there was no one left. No descendents, no family, no one to claim the estate. The solicitor transferred the money to Louis, but never made it back to New York. He ran afoul with undesirables in a crooked card game. There is no record of him after that.

  “Louis went on to practically own the town and everything in it. By unsavory means he took by force, bribed, conned and swindled his way to success. At age seventy he married a young African-American woman. It was said he always favored black women. Of course the town was in an uproar over this, but since he owned most of
it, it didn’t much matter. He was a very powerful man and people feared him and his methods. He was the most powerful African-American man in Alaska that no one knew was black.

  “By the time I was born in 1933, the mining company had expanded to other minerals. In 1966, it converted solely to oil exploration. All records regarding Louis’s past are long gone by way of fires, poor record keeping and just plain destroyed over time. There’s nothing left except me and the truth.”

  “That’s an amazing story,” she said when he finished his drink.

  “It is indeed.” He looked down at the journal. “I don’t really know what’s in these anymore. Papers, photos, documents and deeds I don’t know. I haven’t dared open them in decades, they hold too many memories that I didn’t care to relive. Here, take them.” He handed her several old, roughly bound ledgers. “The beginning is here. Write what you will. I’ll be in Anchorage for the next few days.” He stood and walked to the door.

  “Jacob,” she called out. He stopped and turned. “About the kiss you saw between Andre and me, it’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, smiling happily. “What I think is that the two of you shared a special time together.” Jo looked away. “Oh don’t try to deny it. I was young too, a long, long time ago. But it seems that for some reason you’re both too stubborn to enjoy the journey. Trust me when I say that love is a fleeting and precious gift. Treasure it before it’s too late. Love is the here and now, don’t throw it away for later. My grandson loves you and it appears that you love him, just as I loved my Olivia. Our romance was just as swift and sure. Give him time. We Buchanan men take a while, but always come to our senses in the end. Now you get to work, I’ve got to get back to Anchorage for a while. You’ll have the whole house to yourself.”

  Jo watched as he turned and left the room. She considered his last remark about Andre then decided not to think about it. It was a nice sentiment, but it was too late now. In truth she just needed to answer one very simple question. What do you do when trust is gone? The answer was harsh, but simple. It’s what she’d always done. You get back to your life with a vengeance.