The idea hadn’t occurred to her. Not once. Because it was way too ridiculous. Two very different people in two completely different countries with two polar opposite lives? Nope. That seemed too weird even for him, didn’t it?
She shrugged the thought away, weaved around the towering garden wall and knocked on the door to Lornegrave.
“Ah, Eisley, right on time, luv.” Lizzie swept her into another hug and ushered her inside. “Tea? Cakes? Scones?”
The counter boasted a plate overflowing with a variety of delectables, but Eisley ducked her head sheepishly. “I’m okay for now, thanks. Kind of distracted.” She bit her lip and started tapping her foot in an attempt to keep her anticipation in check.
“Very well. Tea can wait.” Lizzie grabbed her arm and started out of the kitchen. “After you phoned last night with Wesley’s brilliant notion about the cellar, it all made perfect sense.” She pulled Eisley down the hallway, lifting a backpack off the table as she passed. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.” Lizzie turned another corner in the maze-like house and tossed a glance behind them. “Wesley isn’t coming along today?”
“Wesley?” Why would Wesley come along? “He had an audition in London.”
Eisley bumped into Lizzie who had screeched to a halt in the middle of the hallway. “Peculiar.” Then she resumed her frenzied pace, leaving Eisley lost in the dust of her confusion.
Maybe Lizzie had lived alone with her father for a little too long. “What do you mean, peculiar?”
“Here.” Lizzie stopped at the cellar door and rummaged through her backpack. “One torch for you and one for me. It’s incredibly dark and cavernous down here. We mustn’t get lost.” A burst of cold musty air blew from the reluctant cellar door.
She started down the stairs without another word, darkness enfolding her like a cave. Eisley placed a palm to the cold stucco wall and followed, shallow breaths keeping step with her descent. Gracious sakes, her throat was as dry as an overcooked turkey. Five hundred years? What would they find?
Lizzie bent to clear the low-lying ceiling at the bottom of the stairs. Eisley imitated her. A vast room of darkness stretched as far as the eye could see. The cavernous feeling closed in with a creepy catacombs prickle, raising the hair on Eisley’s neck. The pale glow of the flashlight disappeared far ahead of her into the thick pitch of the endless cellar. Yep, this gave off all the right sleuthing vibes, maybe even a few thriller ones too.
“Wow, this place is huge.”
Lizzie stepped ahead to the wine racks. “Who knows what is down here? I’ve only been to this front room to store our wines and never cared to search beyond. The blueprints show the cellar is almost the same size as the house, so it must be enormous.”
It may take much longer than two weeks to find anything down here then, and she’d return home a big, fat, freckled failure.
No way. Not again. She resurrected her inner Sherlock.
“Now the half past ten bit of the letter, yes? Wait… let me get this blasted torch to work.” She shook the flashlight and its beam flickered a disco pattern against the earthen walls, causing the shadows to dance along with the beat. “There are ten wine racks housed in this cellar, I believe. Over here—yes, at least ten.”
Lizzie flipped a switch and a shallow glow fell upon a line of black shelves pressed on either wall. The single bulb gave more light than their flashlights, but not much. Only the closest shelves were visible enough to see rows of dusty bottles. The rest sat like dark sentries framing a narrow walk of earthen floor.
Eisley shuddered. “So, what exactly are we looking for down here? Another letter? Maybe one in a wine bottle or something?”
Lizzie’s finger danced in the air, counting each shelf as she passed. “Ten, as I thought.” She stepped around the final shelf and slid a hand over the wall behind it. Eisley followed, but the flashlight’s golden glow revealed only the dimpled wall.
“Nothing.” The pinch of disappointment curbed Lizzie’s tone. “I’m not sure what I expected to find, but at least something.”
Eisley scanned the row of shelves and replayed the words from the letter. Take my wine at half past ten. Half past ten?
She counted back five. “Lizzie, what if it was a twist on the phrase? Maybe half of ten?”
Eisley’s beam sliced like a spotlight down the wall over the previous five shelves, the sound of her breath a whisper in the silence, her hope even smaller. Another crazy delusion of hers? What was she thinking? Her beam smoothed passed a dip in the wall and she stopped. “Lizzie?” Eisley brought the light back to the indention, her breath dropping out altogether. “Lizzie!”
“I see it, luv.” Lizzie came to her side and directed the flashlight’s rays between the shelves.
A wooden slab door, perhaps three feet tall, wedged in the shadows, tucked in an unusual curve of the wall. The old door's faded brown slabs matched the wall color so well it was easily overlooked, especially without the convenience of electricity, and the angle at which the door fit into the wall obscured it from view. It was a perfect hiding place. Maybe even a secret room?
Lizzie moved first, squeezing between the shelves to the wall. “This most certainly isn’t on the blueprints.” She crept along the wall until she touched the ringed handle of the door. “A subterranean passageway, I’ll wager.”
“A…a subterranean passageway?” The words stuck in her tight throat. “Underground?”
Lizzie shoved at the latch. It didn’t budge. She took her flashlight and beat against the metal handle until it moved. “We shall see, shan’t we? Come, give us a hand.”
Eisley rushed forward and pressed against the door. With a clank loud enough to rattle the wine bottles, the door lurched open, sending a screech into the shadows surrounding them.
Creepy.
Eisley stumbled forward into the murky passage, the scent of soil and stale air more proof of its long-kept secret.
Was it an escape route? Julia’s escape route?
Scenes and conversations unwound inside Eisley’s imagination, waiting for a keyboard and a touch of fiction to tie it all together. Her ancestor came to life in her mind, her story itching to be written. Oh heavens, this had to go in Uncle Joe’s book.
The cool air from the midnight-black passage moved over her skin and took her body heat with it. Nothing but darkness stared back. Her stomach wobbled a response. “Do you think Julia was meeting someone?” Eisley’s swallow made an audible click. “Through here?”
Her question hung as thick as the damp air. Lizzie’s golden eyes glimmered in the flashlight’s beam. “There’s but one way to sort it out.”
Their eyes met, and despite a healthy warning shudder, a grin pried open Eisley’s lips. She shoved her fear aside and embraced the adventure. “I’m ready if you are.”
“Follow me.” Lizzie stepped into the darkness without hesitation.
The narrow tube of shadows snuffed away Eisley’s angst, drawing her deeper, further toward the discovery of a lifetime. This was ten times better than anything she’d expected. Did God love her or what? She smiled. Why didn’t she recognize that truth more often? It shouldn’t take a subterranean passageway and a family mystery to remind her of God’s big love.
Darkness enhanced the weird shuffling sound of their steps as the pale light from the cellar faded behind them. The narrow passage only allowed for single file. They crept along, the wisps of breaths and shuffle of feet on dirt their only companions. She hoped.
She looked over her shoulder, but the cellar was too far behind them to give any light. Julia had been here? But why? Sneaking out to deliver Bibles? Fleeing from someone? She paused. Or to someone.
Which reminded Eisley…
“Lizzie, what did you mean about me and Wes? You know, when you said it was peculiar that he didn’t come today.”
“Oh, yes. Well, I might be an old spinster, but I know sparks when I see them.” The tunnel caught her voice and smoothed
out her tones so the words didn’t register as fast as they should. “In fact, I am more aware because of my spinsterhood. It’s a marvelous diversion when one has no romance oneself, to meddle—even prophesy—of others’ romantic futures. Quite dry down here, isn’t it?”
“Romantic futures? Sparks? What are you talking about?”
“Your interest in Wesley.” The cave turned to the right, the flashlight’s beam slicing the darkness ahead like headlights through a moonless night.
“What?” Eisley stumbled as the path took a sudden incline, or maybe because Lizzie’s assumptions finally started clicking into place.
“The passageway is in good order so far. I’m surprised it hasn’t collapsed by now.”
“Interest in Wesley? I…you…he…”
Lizzie craned her neck to look behind her, blinking as if Eisley’s protest belonged in a straitjacket. “If you have eyes, a brain, and half a heart you should set your cap at him. He’s a fine catch with a good family and in need of a kindhearted woman. Your faith and your happy spirit would be a good match for him, especially since his disappointment. It broke him and changed him for the better.”
His disappointment? Broken? Okay, she’d argue about her ‘interest’ and ‘match’ options later. “What do you mean?”
“They were both trying to make their way in the acting world when they met—he and Jane, of course. Her father became Wes’s agent, and both of his daughters wanted a part of Wes too.”
Knowing what the tabloids said about Wes’s previous life as the famous and shameless, she could only imagine what Lizzie meant. She cringed, trying not to bring any visuals to mind with those implications. It was hard to match the guy she’d chatted with over dinner with the playboy painted in the papers.
“I met the ladies at Eleanor’s house parties. And I've not met a pair of more fickle or conniving women in all of England. It was clear what they wanted from him.” She slowed and turned to look over her shoulder. “But Wes is a better man now, a man worthy of a good woman. That’s why he needs someone like you, dear.”
“Someone like me?”
“Exactly. You’re perfect for him.”
Clearly, the woman was going mad. “Whoa there, Lizzie. I’m no match for the likes of Christopher Wesley Harrison. I eat food with my fingers. I only wear clothes that are stain resistant, and possibly flame retardant.” Her voice grew a bit louder with each statement to pin her argument into place. “I shop consignment.”
Lizzie turned and stared at her with a raised brow. “Shallow arguments are all you have? I’m certain you’re cleverer than that, luv.” She shone her flashlight ahead and left Eisley in the wake of guilt and frustration. “Hmm, looks as though we’ve come to the end of our path.”
Eisley lifted her light and her heart sank a little more. A wall of earth blocked their way. Dead end. As blocked as the probable conclusion to Lizzie’s ridiculous suggestion.
Lizzie moved forward and shone the light on all sides of the mound. “'Tis sealed closed, I’m afraid.” She cushioned her words with a sigh and turned around. “No matter. It is still quite the discovery.”
“That’s it, I guess.” Eisley’s head drooped, matching her voice. But why? They’d already discovered more than she’d expected, especially with the letters. This would have been icing on the chocolate-covered cheesecake, but definitely not a deal-breaker. “What could we really expect, Lizzie? A secret room or—”
“Shh.” Lizzie raised a palm to quiet Eisley. “First of all, your insecurities keep you in a constant state of doubt, which blinds you to God’s work in your life. In other words, you’re wrong.” Her pointed look gnawed an exclamation mark at the end of her sentence. “And secondly, another glance from a fresh perspective might afford a clearer view.” Lizzie gestured toward the dead end.
Eisley lowered her beam and the light reflected off the clasp of a small box. Like the one Lizzie gave her yesterday with the miniature and the letters. It lay tilted on the ground, as if thrown at random. Eisley knelt and took the cool metal into her hands. “How did it get here? I wouldn’t have noticed it.”
“A more careful look is always a wise choice.”
Eisley really wanted to ignore the I-told-you-so implication, but she couldn’t. It stung with a truth she needed to hear.
Lizzie slid past her and gave her shoulder a gentle pat. “Any good adventure is worth a risk or two, don’t you think? Especially the adventures worth a lifetime.” Her smile sent all sorts of hidden messages. “We may not have found the end point of our passage, but we made a discovery nonetheless. Let’s take it back to the house and see what we’ve uncovered. This collapsed tunnel business is merely a slight disappointment, and disappointments always inspire my appetite.” She started back toward the way they’d come. “I should think tea is in order, wouldn’t you agree?”
Talk about incorrigible. Lizzie Worthing held the award. And food as a goal? Yep, they were definitely related. Eisley shrugged off her own deprecation and tried to breathe in some courage. Maybe it was time to start praying for God’s way instead of running from her fears. “Excellent idea, luv.”
“Ah, now you sound British, too. I shall peel back the generations in you and draw out the blue blood.”
They walked in silence a few minutes before Eisley hazarded a question. “What happened, Lizzie? With Wes…and his….”
“Suicide.”
Eisley’s quick intake of breath split the darkness.
“Pitiful really, and nearly Wesley’s undoing. But for his father, he might have followed in Jane’s path. Guilt ate at him until he was only a shadow of a man. Blamed himself, he did. It was Wes and the girl’s sister who found the body.”
A shiver passed over Eisley’s skin. More silence gave time to digest the new information. What a price tag to place on poor choices. Guilt? Fear? Yeah, Wes might understand a little better than she thought. Maybe there was much more to him than an actor and a pretty face. “How did Wes recover?”
“Faith and family.” Lizzie glanced over her shoulder, eyes amber in the beam. “Daniel stood by Wesley, supported him, and finally led him to God. As far as I know, he’s not entered into a relationship with anyone since.” Lizzie slipped back through the doorway, her voice tense as she squeezed between the wall and wine rack again. “But for the viper who continues her pursuit of him.”
“Vivian?” Eisley pulled the door closed and followed Lizzie up the cellar steps to the main house.
“Hateful woman. Wants what her sister had, I suspect.”
“Vivian is Jane’s sister?”
And people thought Appalachia held some convoluted stories!
“There are many threads to this history I don’t know, Eisley.” Lizzie entered the kitchen, holding the door for Eisley to pass. “But of one thing I’m certain. Sparks as bright as Roman candles flew between the two of you yesterday, as they should.” Lizzie touched Eisley’s cheek, a nudge of sincerity to accompany her words. “I’ve emailed and phoned you for half a year. I’ve known Wesley since he was born. You’re a beautiful match of strengths and needs. A lovely complement. When I saw you together, all these wonderful points converged at the same place, like—”
“The Bermuda Triangle?”
Lizzie stepped up to the counter in the kitchen. “Blind girl. Open your eyes and stop doubting. Fear will steal something beautiful, if you let it.”
Eisley studied the kitchen counter, battling the urge to shove Lizzie’s words away, a habit she’d developed to move forward in her life. But she’d closed off God’s possibilities by doing it. Her head knew God loved her. Why didn’t her heart act like it? Had she really let the hurt from her past distort her view of God’s love too? She squeezed her eyes closed and rested her face in her hands.
“I understand fear more than you realize. There are reasons why I’m a spinster.” She leaned across the counter, pulling Eisley’s hand away from her face. “Time and experience have made you wiser.” She lifted her brow. “Use t
hat wisdom. Let go of your fear and follow what you’ve learned to be true. Look where your wisdom and a bit of adventure led you today.”
She nudged the box into Eisley’s hands and a little hope followed suit. Maybe it was time to start dreaming again.
***
“Are you going to cast me off like you did to Jane?” Vivian curled up on the lounge in his office, her eyes red and swollen from crying, pink lips trembling. “Get rid of me and Father after all we’ve done for you, after our patience and support?”
Vivian had barreled into his office in tears, not half an hour after he’d returned from his audition. After he’d buzzed her father, it produced an avalanche of anxiety. He’d not openly discussed relieving Carl from his contract, which in turn would remove Vivian, but the implication laced their discussion. Familiar guilt snaked through Wes.
He shoved his hand through his hair, exhausted. “Vivian, this has nothing to do with Jane or the gratitude I have for you and your father.”
“You never loved her, did you? You used her like you’re using me: to get to my father. Now you’re going to leave for that little Appalachian boiler.” She moaned and buried her face in a pillow. “Perhaps my life is as worthless to you as Jane’s was.”
Wes sat down across from her and braided his fingers together. Her tears and her unpredictable nature added mass to the guilt he thought God had removed. Didn’t He promise a clean heart? How could Vivian’s presence rake across his faith and steal his confidence? “Your father’s business hasn’t been my chief concern in a long time, even before Jane died. I have a new vision, one that is certain to disappoint both of you.”
Her azure gaze flooded with a fresh swarm of tears. “You’re going to sack us? I knew it! Ever since that ginger-headed—”
“Vivian.” Just the reference to Eisley pulled up his defenses. He’d not have her slandered. “I plan to discuss things with your father when he returns from Venice and decide on the best course of action for all involved.”
Just the Way You Are (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 1) Page 12